《Bleeding Aegis Series》


 Chapter 1

    Enter a World Unlike Any Other


    Anogwin is a realm incomparable to any other. Here, The Sophic Species, Humans, Elves, Dwarves, Dracose, and many other sapient species have pressed innovation to the furthest limits. Magic is now far more than a mysterious force held by a talented few. Circuit boards of quartz, silver, gold, and Mythril are found in millions of different forms of technology. The raw elemental component of magic, Myst, is used to power everything from day-to-day appliances to vehicles, weapons, War Machines, and so much more. Yet in a world of advanced cybernetics, Zero-G cars, and wonders beyond imagining, there is still strife. Racism remains strong, gangs run whole districts of hive cities, monsters roam the wilds, barbarian tribes raid small towns, drug addiction runs rampant through the weak-minded, mega-corporations tread over the impoverished just as the puppet governments, and there is more than one organization operating from the shadows. Tensions are tight between nations across the globe, and the threat of war looms over the horizon. Do you have the strength and wit to thrive in this world?


    <h2>Chapter 1</h2>


    Deep within the settlement walls of the hive-city of Grimvale walked a distinctly out-of-place figure. The city, spanning hundreds of miles across, dwelled under a perpetual paul of smog that had been gushing acid rain for more than a day now. In the jungle of neon-lights and concrete, a cowled figure swathed in silk and tanned leather pulled his hood farther over his head, and hurried down yet another decrepit alley.


    The tight space was ripe with the stink of dissolving rotten food, ozone, and bodily waste. Dozens of spent and dead crystals littered the ground. Many of these were off-handedly kicked out of the figure¡¯s path to settle into any of the patchwork of potholes and pocked cavities of the asphalt.


    A warbling canine howl slashed through the sound of falling and sizzling rain and the figure quickened his pace. The absolute last thing he wanted was to be caught in a dangerous downpour by a pack of mange hounds. Those Death Magic-infused monsters would make a quick meal from Tave.


    Not for the first time, the half-blood wished that he had some way to defend himself. But he had so thoroughly embraced himself during his Adventurer Entry Exam that he would never try anything that physically taxing, ever again.


    Another howl cut through the air, this one was much closer. Tave gave up any pretence of calm or dignity as he broke into a frantic sprint toward the next intersection. He reached the first space he could find where two alleys intersected and quickly used a thought command to pull up his therra-nodes Heads Up Display to check his map. The translucent street map popped into his vision and he traced his GPS guide route to his destination. One more alley and one more turn. Then he¡¯d be safe.


    A quadrupedal shape blurred by the alley mouth he had just fled from, and it was much bigger than any house dog he had ever known. With true panic setting in, he followed his needed path with pounding feet and frantic breath. His messenger back bounced wildly at his hip beneath the acid-proof leather cloak.


    Tave broke into an open space that had once been a parking lot several lifetimes ago. Occupying center of the concrete courtyard was a three-story structure of stained and aged wood that appeared immune to the caustic downpour. Above the front door was a dancing illusion or hologram of a wood tankard frozen in mid-spill with an enraged face on the mug. Above the image were three dancing, and jumping words. The Cantankerous Tankard Tavern stuck out in this city like a cadaver at a wedding. But Tave couldn¡¯t have cared less, because it was protection.


    Tave rushed through the entry door. He stepped into a homey interior. The lighting was low, not so dim as to interfere with patrons¡¯ sight, but low enough to accommodate those with sensitive eyes. The source of the lighting was a series of faux gas lamps mounted to the walls every few yards; no two were styled the same. Oak paneling stained a dark red-brown walled the interior. Decorating the walls was an odd assortment of monster trophies and scenic paintings from across the globe. The space of the open room was filled with an odd assortment of mismatched tables and chairs. The ceiling was high enough for the taller species like Dracose or Orcs, but a lower ceiling of smoke hung in the air that smelled of pipe tobacco and burning herbs.


    The tavern was all very pleasant, but Tave was more concerned about absolute bedlam going on in the space. Tave jumped in panic as a Human man struck the wall beside the front door and slid to the floor with a moan. When Tave turned back to the rest of the room, he saw a tan-skinned Wood Elf lunge with a dagger at a dark-dressed man who stood beside the bar. The dark-dressed man drives his elbow into the attacking Elf¡¯s solar plexus with enough force to throw him backward several feet to lay prone across a vacant table.


    As the dark-dressed man righted himself, Tave noticed a pair of menacing horns growing from his brow. He was a Darkling. Someone with the blood of a demon, devil, or similar being. Before Tave could examine the Foul-Blood any closer, new members of the fight assaulted. A Dwarf, Human, Dracose, and Orc joined the fray. The Canyon Dwarf with clay-colored skin hurled a bar chair at the Darkling. As that chair flew, a lizard-like Dracose man with a sturdy build raised some kind of magic energy rifle. At the same time, a Human woman pulled two kinetic sidearms loaded with physical bullets and drew aim at the Darkling. The green-skinned and massive Orc started closing the distance with reverberating footfalls as she readied her fists, which happened to be wearing metal-plate brawler gloves.


    Everything after that jump-start moment happened so fluidly and quickly Tave almost couldn¡¯t track it all. The Darkling pointed a fist at the Human woman with the sidearms. A spike four inches in length shot from the fist, expanding mid-flight into a claw that latched onto the woman¡¯s shoulder. Her body seized up with uncontrolled muscle actions as sparks danced from the claw. The Human wasn¡¯t even struck with the bolt when the Darkling made his next move.


    He aimed that same arm at the chair flying toward him. A strange six-limbed, squid-like apparatus shot from within his sleeve and latched onto the chair, launching it back toward the Dwarf that had thrown it, but with a good deal more force. The Dwarf raised his hands in guard, but the chair broke his guard, then broke his nose in short order. It wasn¡¯t until the Darkling thrust his arm to his side that Tave noticed that the squid apparatus was still tied to the man by a wire cable. The chair flew off the Dwarf and struck the Dracose with the rifle in the side of his head. The Dracose was tossed from his feet and his weapon tumbled to somewhere else in the room.


    The only one left was the Orc woman, and Tave did not see how a six-foot-tall man could win against a seven-and-a-half-foot-tall Orc built like she would bench-press small cars. His assumption was proven wrong shortly after, when the Orc woman closed the distance only to be launched off her feet and against the wall beside Tave on the other side of the door than the first Human. The wood buckled and splintered under her weight and speed, and Tave was having second thoughts about this ¡°great work opportunity¡±.


    When Tave turned back to the Darkling, he found some kind of collapsable battering ram retracting back into the sleeve of the one arm that had done all this damage. Tave finally got a good look at the Darkling and gave an audible gulp of nervous fright.


    This man looked every bit the villain. From the floor up, he was dressed in all black. Black combat boots with a single bladed spike on each toe. Black cargo pants with an absurd amount of pockets in addition to reinforced padding on the shins and knees. A black t-shirt with the design of a bleeding mechanical anatomic heart, with what might have been a smattering of actual blood. Over all that was a wide mantle leather duster with installed spell circuits giving a dim multi-colored glow. What should¡¯ve been his left eye was covered with a three-strap eye patch. His other eye was a phosphorus green eye with a disturbing X-shaped pupil.


    The intimidating Darkling gave a single look around the remaining patrons, all of which appeared unperturbed, before turning and sitting at the bar. ¡°This must be the man I¡¯m looking for.¡± Tave muttered under his hood before nervously approaching the bar.


    ¡°Excuse me, sir.¡± Even Tave could hear the quiver in his voice. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t happen to be Mr. Maverick? Would you?¡±


    The Darkling half turned his head to Tave, only glancing sidelong. ¡°Well, that depends on who is asking.¡± He turned to face Tave fully, looking his slight frame up and down. ¡°I¡¯m willing to bet you¡¯re not an organ harvester, debt collector, or adventurer, from your dress. I doubt you have any beef about the mega-corporation toppling spree I went on a while back. Did I wrong you? Maybe killed your secretly evil brother or parent?¡±


    ¡°What? No no no.¡± Tave lowered his hood to reveal Half-Elven features. A young man with slightly pointed ears nestled in a mess of chestnut hair. His skin was pale, only barely touched with the color lavender, and he had a boyish face set with eyes of silver irises and gray sclera. A half-breed Star Elf. Beneath his leather cloak was fine cut, if rumpled, green silk vest over a black t-shirt emblazoned with a stylized blue font that read ¡®To the winner go my pages¡¯. He wore a crisp pair of clean blue jeans that were well pressed, and a black and blue pair of travel-worn sneakers. Perched atop his nose was a pair of square-framed glasses. ¡°We spoke two weeks ago via email. I¡¯m here to write your story.¡±


    Tave pinched a small rune on the inside of his cloak, causing the article to bend, warp, and reshape into a brown leather duster, similar to the Darklings, if much less villainous. ¡°I¡¯ve got to say, Mr. Maverick, you''re a hard man to find.¡± Tave said as he took a seat on his subject¡¯s right side, the side of his remaining eye.


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Please, not Mr. Maverick. That was my bastard father.¡± The Darklings voice rang with tiredness and old pains.


    ¡°Oh.¡± Tave got another spike of nervousness. He would rather not upset this man. ¡°What should I call you? The Pale Raven? Horned Raven? The Shadow of Justice?¡±


    The tired man visibly flinched with each name. He took a deep breath before answering, ¡°Iver. Just call me Iver.¡± At the same time, Iver waved down the Dwarven bartender. The red-bearded Dwarf approached with a single raised brown in quiet question.


    ¡°Something as foul as my blood. Crux Coast Rum, Sickle¡¯s Spirits, Hound¡¯s Haire, and¡­ Muled Mead.¡± The barkeep only gave a nod before setting to pouring and mixing. But Tave noticed several other patrons eyeing Iver with panic, disgust, and worry. ¡°What did you just order? Some of these people seem¡­offended.¡±


    Iver gave a one-shoulder shrug even as the glass was set before him. ¡°Let them be offended. I¡¯ve spent too long caring what others thought. But to answer your question: This,¡± he raised his whiskey glass and jingled the ice, ¡°Is a mottled concoction of potent liquors from around the globe, and None of them were meant to be mixed together, by the decrees of Mortals, Gods, and others. Think of the most foul liquor you can imagine. Now multiply it by ten, mix it with bleach, and increase that all to a new order of magnitude.¡± With that, Iver took a sip of the drink and kept a completely straight face. ¡°Tastes like my childhood.¡±


    ¡°I¡­uh¡­okay?¡± Tave was baffled by this man. ¡°Anyway,¡± He clambered for a topic change. ¡°What was that fight about?¡± Tave thumbed toward the people Iver had demolished who were only just picking themselves up and moving to leave with their tails between their legs.


    ¡°Just some mercs that saw a price tag on my head. It¡¯s a fairly regular thing these days, now that my identity is out on the net.¡±


    That got Tave leaning in closer. ¡°Is that why you want me to tell your story?¡±


    ¡°No, kid. You found my info and contacted me about my story instead of putting crosshairs on my neck. I was honestly half-convinced that you were going to try something stupid. And I¡¯m still not totally discounting it.¡±


    Tave pulled a notebook and pen from his bag and leaned in even closer, like an over-eager child. ¡°Why would I try anything? I want your story. Your whole story. We¡¯ve all heard the whispers and tall tales of deeds of The Pale Raven, The Shadow of Justice, The Blood Fiend, and The Bloody Nightmare, just to name a few of your collected titles. There are rumors about you being part of the winning party in the Gore Games that year that those terrorists attacked. Or the ones about you being caught in a death game with a mass-murdering phantom in cyberspace. I¡¯ve done my research on anyone that could¡¯ve possibly been you. Though, of course, I did throw out all those outlandish ones about you killing Gods and Titans.¡±


    ¡°Outlandish, uh?¡± Iver asked with a note of mild amusement. Without warning, the Darkling threw back his drink, set down the glass with a firm hand, and double-tapped the bar with two fingers in a signal for another.


    Now that Tave had calmed down, he got a close look at this man. It was hard to spy in the dimmer lighting, but Iver¡¯s exposed skin looked¡­strange. He had an olive bronze complexion, but every inch of bare skin had threads of ivory white, like the veins in marble, only the color of bone. At the base of his neck, on the right side, just peeking out from his shirt, was what looked like a black ink tattoo of a sun burst made of black veins around a vicious, circular, white scar. Iver¡¯s right hand, the one that he had exclusively used during the fight, looked stranger than the man¡¯s skin. The hand and the arm that could be seen appeared to be made from some alien black material halfway between robots and organics. A cybernetic? Tave even noticed a serpentine tail hanging off the bar stool, mostly hidden under his coat, but an arrowhead-shaped tip waved slowly back and forth.


    ¡°In the spirit of honesty, kid-¡±


    ¡°Tave. Tave Nightfall.¡± The Half-Elf quickly interjected.


    ¡°Okay, Tave. In the spirit of honesty, I¡¯ll tell you why I¡¯m letting you write my story. I¡¯m tired. I¡¯m really, really tired. Everyone seems to have a piece of my puzzle, but just a piece. Almost no one living knows where it all started or where it all went very, very wrong, let alone the whole story. I guess I¡¯m just fed up with dacker half-brained nuts thinking they have it all pieced together when they¡¯re missing four-fifths of the wretched saga of my damnation.¡±


    ¡°Saga?¡± Tave squeaked in a mixture of excitement and worry.


    ¡°Fraggin right, kid. What I¡¯ve got to tell you will fill plenty of books.¡±


    Iver propped his elbow against the bar and took on a thousand-yard stare as he sighed into his knuckles. ¡°Where did it all start? Before I started a war, even before I lost my arm,¡± He pulled back the sleeve of his right arm to reveal the disturbing limb, ¡°It all started with a box when I was an infant. That box came into my life only a few times, but when it did, it was a disaster every time. I feel like I could blame that black box for everything that went wrong in my life. But before I really start the tale, I need to apologize in advance if things get a bit ¡­ melodramatic, especially this first bit, since I only heard about it from my father, so I filled in the blanks with my own details.¡±


    <hr>


    Night cloaked the thick woods, drawing forth the sounds of midnight under the five moons. Owls, wolves, and insects all sang into the night, little more than wary of the sound of pounding hooves as a cloaked rider drove her steed harder down the road toward the cabin in the woods. Thunder sounded a speedy approach as the looming clouds rolled over the moons, only letting a spare few beams of light through. Lightning lit the ominous cover overhead, startling the mount. The rider of the dark steed was swathed in a large, thick cowl, her features hidden from the few beams of light from the five moons, yet the shape in her arms could not hide its strangely patterned skin from the nocturnal lights. The sparse light shone down upon the face of a dreaming infant, the nubs of horns rising from his brow, the pallor and pattern of his skin sure to make him stand out among the masses. Kella pushed her dark steed even harder as she tried to coo to the child in its sleep. Kella passed around the bend, and she caught sight of electrical light shining from cabin windows in the near distance. As she pulled her steed to a hard stop, the beast reared up on its hindquarters with a distressed whiny, proclaiming their arrival. The harsh braying of the horse shocked the infant awake; its pitiful wails were almost drowned out by a peal of thunder, and the rain patted down as if Neiria, the Titan of Water, wept for the pain that would come this night.


    Shadows moved from within the cabin even as lightning flashed nearby; the rolling thunder could be felt in Kella¡¯s bones as she pulled herself down from her dark mount.


    With a child cradled in her left arm and a messenger bag bouncing at her opposite hip, she took a moment to ready herself for what was to come. The bag at her side was weighted down with something deep within, a hard and dark shape that was the source of almost all of Kella¡¯s worry, and the very reason for this panicked trip.


    The bag bounced off her thigh as she stormed up to the cabin. Kella landed three heavy blows against the oak door before it swung in to reveal a male Wild Elf. The Elf stood in the door frame, about average height for his species at 5¡¯ 11¡±, his short night clothes barely hiding his tanned skin and toned physique. His long black hair hung loose to frame his delicate features, and his triangular teeth were on open display to show his breed of Elf. The Wild Elf, Fermose, rested a wary hand on a dagger at his hip in an unspoken warning, demanding the identity of the figure beating down his door. The rainfall intensified from a light pattering to a drizzle, warning worse was yet to come. The shadowed figure pulled back her hood to reveal pink-purple skin in the shape of a fair woman¡¯s face set with worry, her jade eyes bright with fear, and a pair of horns rising from just behind her hairline.


    ¡°Kella?¡± Fermose gasped as he took a step back in shock. ¡°My love, it¡¯s been two years since you vanished from me. Now you return with a babe in hand that is not of my blood and a look of true distress in your eye. Tell me, my sweet, what do you need of me?¡± Fermose spoke from his heart, seeking to aid his lost love. Kella was the first woman to see him as more than a brute. The two years that she had been gone for were a little over two weeks to the Wild Elf, his lifespan reaching much farther than that of his Darkling lover. ¡°I can provide you with food and shelter, Kella. I will guard you against whosoever comes after you if needed. Please, tell me what you need of me.¡±


    Her motions displaying obvious panic, she shoved the young babe into Fermose¡¯s arms. Frantically, Fermose juggled the infant into the crook of one arm.


    ¡°I am sorry for this, Fermose, but time is short. I need you to raise and guide him. For his own safety, I can not come back for him.¡± She whispered before reaching into her messenger bag to pull free a square, flat box of pure onyx, its corners rounded. No latch or seal shown from the dark shape. ¡°Watch over and protect this. No one can know that it is here. I do not exaggerate when I say this could mean life or death, not only for my boy but for untold thousands more.¡± Kella rasped as she shoved the strange box into Fermose¡¯s free hand.


    Kella turned from her former lover, her newly born son, and the device of her destiny as she mounted her Night Charger. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, darling, but you will never see me again. Raise him well.¡±


    Without another word, she spurred on her mount, galloping off into the night even as the rain grew from a drizzle to falling in sheets.


    Fermose turned away from the door after a long moment of watching his love flee his sight for a second time. He kicked the door shut as he turned away. Fermose threw the box in an old armchair, caring little if what it held was fragile, before setting the babe down on a couch in front of his roaring fireplace.


    ¡°This is insane. This is as mad as Kassidan¡¯s parade.¡± He paced the length of his living room, thinking aloud with gestures just as much as his external ramblings. ¡°She was only gone for two years and comes back with a babe in arm.¡± He offhandedly gestured to the infant, who was hypnotized at that moment by the dancing flames within the hearth. ¡°Who is its father? And why does its skin look so strange?¡±


    Fermose halted his pacing and tried to organize his thoughts with a few deep breaths. This wasn¡¯t like him. He had to work with what he was given. And he was given a nameless infant and a strange box.


    ¡°I can take care of that damned box later; learn how to open it if I¡¯m lucky. But right now, you,¡± He said, pointing at the young babe, ¡°Need a name. Kella never told me your name, so If I¡¯m gonna raise you, you¡¯re going to need a name.¡± Fermose perched his chin atop one hand as he eyed the fledgling. ¡°If you came from Kella and are going to be raised by me, you¡¯re going to need a strong name, a powerful name. You need to be a warrior, able to face down any challenge. How about I name you... Ivor?¡±


    Almost in answer, the babe cooed and gave a burbling giggle around bubbles of saliva.


    ¡°You know what, you right, Ivor is too set in stone. What if we change it to... Iver?

 Chapter 2

    The sapient species of Anogwin are broken down into the Sophic Species (Elves, Humans, and so on), Halflings (the half-blooded breeds that don¡¯t hold to any one species or breed), the Shifted (those that have been turned into something more than they once were such a Blightlings or Thropes), and the Darklings. The Darklings are Halflings with demonic or infernal blood. When a Darkling has a child with any other species, their child will be a Darkling with lesser features from their other parent.


    Darklings have some of the hardest lives. They are labeled as Demon-kin and are marked as villains, thugs, and scoundrels.


    I ran, my breath ripping to and from my lungs so fast that it burned. The surrounding forest was thick with plants and trees. All five of the moons stood full overhead, but I still could not see a thing. I ran, terror pumping my legs, fear keeping me quiet. Things were after me in those dark woods. Several small and fast creatures, no larger than an adult Human, dashed and lunged through the trees on either side of me. But there was something far larger behind me. Whatever was looming behind me had enough raw strength to uproot the trees around it as it approached, but it was the smaller creatures that rushed around me, nipping at my heels, that kept me at my frantic pace.


    My legs ached, my arms burned, and my lungs felt like they had been raked over hot coals, even as I saw the trees thin around me. I forced an extra burst of speed, sure the creatures would not follow me past the edge of the forest. Yet only moments after I pushed myself for the freedom I so desperately needed, I found myself sliding from the tree line, down a cliff¡¯s slope that led to a bottomless chasm. In a panic, I turned away from the pit, fingers clawing, grabbing at the surrounding soil, in a desperate attempt to stop my jarring descent. But anything I tried to get ahold of was too soft or shallow-rooted. As I slid down, I clawed at soft soil, loose grass, fledgling bushes, and new sproutlings that all tore free. Just before I fell into the abyss, I saw a dozen recognizable faces from the village sitting at the edge of the trees, like rabid ghouls waiting for a meal. In the center of all of them was a massive hulking form, its body made of melted wax-like faces, in a frame standing nine feet tall. I saw these shapes melt from my vision before I fell into the bottomless depths, arms and legs pinwheeling, my terrified screams echoing into the nothingness. The last thing I smelled was fresh grass, newly turned soil, and decrepit rot.


    <hr>


    I woke screaming, my arms and legs flailing madly as I fell from my bed. I sat up in my spaceship and monster pajamas. Tears streamed from my six-year-old face at the horrors I had just woken from. Pulling myself from the grasping tangle of blankets around me, I struggled to get my bedroom door open as I tried my best to act like an adult.


    Out of the memories of my early childhood, this day stuck with me. It was a day of realization. I saw both sides of my father. I learned why life was hard and always would be, and most importantly, I learned a key fact that would drive me for the rest of my life.


    I stepped into the cabin living room, the digital clocks reading 7:54 AM. My father sat at the kitchen table, his lucky bottle of brown liquid beside him and his ¡®juice glass¡¯ in hand. He was dressed in a plain moss-green T-shirt, faded and worn jeans, and scuffed boots.


    I ran up to my father, throwing my arms around his forearm, holding his lucky juice glass, the one that I had at the time thought was so cool because of how low and wide it was with the cold rocks that father said made his ¡®adult juice¡¯ taste better. I wouldn¡¯t know for another few years what was really in that glass. At that time, I already knew what the intoxicating fluid did to my father, and I was growing to loathe the stuff as the essence of my misery.


    As I wrapped my arms around his defined and muscular arm, I yelled, ¡°Father, Father! I had a bad dream. The monsters chased me till I fell into a big hole.¡±


    In response, my father shook me off his arm, his drink spilling over the rim of his glass until I stood up and stepped back. He pulled his hand back to his ear, and, as fast as a viper, I felt my cheek light with a burning sting. As the strike threw me to the floor, more tears came to my eyes, and I looked back at my father.


    ¡°You cannot fear something that cannot hurt you.¡± My father lectured, a subtle slur to his words.


    He clearly had had too much to drink again. I pulled myself to my feet, wiping the snot from my nose with the sleeve of my pajamas. ¡°But, father, it was scary. I don¡¯t like being chased by monsters. Can you please teach me how not to be scared?¡±


    My father reached into his pocket and pulled free a cherry wood smoking pipe. Within moments, he had packed the pipe with his ¡®special leaves¡¯, lit it up, and was chewing on the mouthpiece as he thought. His Elven eyes, brown sclera, and green irises stared off into the middle distance.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you go into town, Iver. Look around. Make some new friends. I need to stay here and think.¡± He muttered. So, by myself, I dressed for the day to go into town. The hot summer day was already underway. Maybe today I could make some friends. In my blue jeans and superhero t-shirt, I left the cabin and made my way to town. I made sure not to slam the door or leave a mess because that would make Father angry. I felt the first pangs of hunger, but Father almost never made breakfast when he was thinking with his pipe and glass in hand. I knew that when Father was chewing on his pipe, it meant that he was deep in thought, brooding over something.


    I walked down the dirt road to go into town. Father had once told me it was a whole quarter-mile to walk into town from the cabin. But he had made sure I had well-developed legs so I wouldn¡¯t be tired by the time I reached the edge of town. I walked through the streets, looking at the brick buildings that seemed so colossal at that age. Some of the adults in town made harsh faces at me, like the baker and the butcher, but if they didn¡¯t like me, then they wouldn¡¯t bother me¡­. Or so I thought. Whenever I crossed in front of the only cafe on this side of town, the ladies having their tea in front of the shop would whisper. Father had always said that they were just telling stories about me and to ¡®pay them no heed¡¯.


    I had just stepped into the crossroads where the cook, seamstress, banker, and blacksmith worked when I heard the other kids in town. The cook, seamstress, and banker were always nasty to me, but the blacksmith always gave me sweet treats and showed me his newest projects, which I was always fascinated by.


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    Looking back on it, that may have been the start of my obsession.


    I watched the five other boys leave the cook¡¯s restaurant, The Wood Elf¡¯s Prize. I wasn¡¯t allowed in because of my so-called tainted blood. They all had that roasted meat on a stick I always wanted to try. I gave all of them a friendly smile. I hoped that day, things would be different from all the days before. Maybe they would play with me, I wondered to myself. I had always wondered what it was like to have friends. I remember the holo-shows always made it seem so important to have friends. At the time, I was in the superhero teams phase of my childhood, so of course, I wanted to have a team of my own.


    The largest boy in the group, Josh, looked down at me as I came closer and flashed me a sneer. Father had always said that the children in town worked like a pack of wild dogs, and at the time, I didn¡¯t know just how right he was about the situation.


    Josh was a Human, impressively large for his age of ten. His brown hair was trimmed in a bowl cut. Looking back at it now, I¡¯d bet a gold piece that he treated me the way he did in part because someone else was giving him trouble for his corpulent build and embarrassing haircut.


    Behind Josh was the High Elf, Keenan, with his ears also impressively large, making the rest of his head seem mismatched. The boy¡¯s High Elf eyes shown ocean blue irises and purple sclera. His hair was lush gold color and cut in a well-groomed pattern. At the time, I had thought it odd that high elves based their social standing on the size of their ears and the lightness of their hair, but if I¡¯m honest, it still confuses me to this day.


    Beside the lard cake was Kaggosh, the Orc who was always Josh¡¯s muscle despite him being closer to my age than Josh¡¯s. The brawny boy had a defined brow line, green-tan skin, and a massive jaw with the barest hint of his tusks coming in. His father was the town baker, and everyone knew he had the typical Orcish temper.


    Behind even those two were the pair of twin Ceangar yes-men, Cealy and Keely. Ceangar may stay child-size even into adulthood, but regretting is the person who thinks that picking on the little man is fun. Ceangar is a species that has been dedicated to high speeds and daredevil stunts for untold generations. That meant that their bodies were built with denser bones and corded muscle. These two looked so alike that I could never tell who was Cealy and who was Keely, despite one being a boy and the other a girl. They both had long chestnut hair, olive-tanned skin, slightly pointed ears, and brown eyes.


    I waved my hand and flashed the kids a smile of nervous hope for friendship, only to find Kaggosh holding my hands behind my back. Keenan sneered at me, and the Ceangar twins laughed at me as Josh finished his food, threw his stick in my face, and stepped up toward me in a half-step skip that made his blubber jiggle. He drove a fist into my gut. My lungs deflated in a rush, and I curled over in pain, only barely able to raise my head.


    ¡°Why are you guys always so mean to me?¡± I pleaded.


    ¡°The Hellspawn asks why?¡± Josh asked the others in a mocking tone, the whole time mocking me with false sobs and weeping.


    ¡°I pick on you, Hellspawn, because of what you are. Look at those horns and that tail.¡± He grasped the meager pair of horns that raised from just under my hairline. ¡°These are a sign that you¡¯ve been touched by evil. That¡¯s what my mom and dad say. They say that your freakish skin and eyes are because you have demon blood.¡± The Ceangar twins maniacally giggled at the scene.


    Josh leaned in close enough that I could smell the grease on his breath. He glared into my eyes. ¡°Look that those eyes, those diamond-shaped pupil holes, and that freaky acid green color are more than enough of an example to hate you, you FREAK!¡± With those last words, Josh kneed me in the stomach, driving the wind from my lungs yet again before he hurled me aside by my horns, throwing me from his Orc minion¡¯s grasp.


    In tears, I clambered to my feet and fled home with the others chasing after me, trying to grab my arrowhead-tipped tail. They gave up after half a minute and turned away. For the first few moments after, I was thankful for my developed legs, but then the thoughts set in.


    Again, the other kids beat me. The adults, no doubt, still thought I was strange. I sprinted home, my hands wiping away the tears of pain that ran freely.


    I burst into the cabin, screaming about how the kids attacked me. As soon as the words flew from my lips, I expected another slap because I was being weak. What I found was something far different. Without another word, Fermose set aside his glass, dropped his pipe, and scooped me up in his arms like an infant despite how old I was. I normally would have complained about being treated like a baby, but at that moment, I needed the comfort. He held me close to his chest as I wept. There, as he held me, he bounced me like I was a newborn again. The whole while, he hummed tunelessly as I wept into his shoulders.


    As the wails died down and the snuffling sobs became less frequent, he spoke to me in a gentle and kind tone. ¡°Hey there. Hey there, my boy. Can you look at your hands and tell me what you see?¡±


    Between heavy sobs, I looked up from his shoulder at the pair of hands clutching his shirt in a white knuckle grip. Every inch of exposed skin showed an olive-bronzed color from my days in the sun. But spread throughout the whole of my body were threads of phantom white, the pattern resembling marble veins or a light blanket of cobwebs.


    I buried my face in his shoulder again as I vehemently proclaimed, ¡°I¡¯m a freak, Father! You shouldn¡¯t have kept me. No one should love something as weird as me.¡±


    Ever so slowly, I felt my father lower me to the ground. As I found my footing and gazed at my arms, a single word echoed through my thoughts: ¡®FREAK¡¯. My skin had always had the odd marble-like pattern for as long as I could remember, and it was not natural to any of the Sophic Species. My strange-shaped and colored eyes were just as unnatural. I refused to look at another soul with my then-proclaimed evil eyes. There, in the living room of the cabin, I hid from myself. I buried my face in my hands while I cried. I heard my father turn away from me and pick up something from the dining table that slid with the sound of metal on wood.


    I heard his kind words coaxing me from my self-imposed shell. I ever so slowly raised my head, scared to look my father in the eye.


    ¡°Hey, hey there, my young warrior.¡± I raised my eyes past my fingers to find an arrowhead held between Fermose and myself.


    ¡°Now, now, Iver, I didn¡¯t name you a warrior for nothing.¡± Fermose said as he drew my eyes back up to the arrowhead. ¡°Now Iver. I know you feel out of place and estranged, but look at this arrowhead.¡± As Fermose spoke, I slowly raised my head just a little higher and looked at the arrowhead displayed before me. The arrowhead was set in an X pattern, with the left and right ends curving back and inwards.


    ¡°The point that I am trying to make, Iver,¡± My father said with a teasing note, ¡°is that just because you are outside the norm does not mean that you do not have value. This arrowhead design is one of a kind, made by me. I shaped it so that it could dig deeper into a target. There is no other arrowhead like the ones I have, and everyone knows that I¡¯m the best hunter in town. That is partly because of these arrows.¡±


    I grasped the arrowhead in my young hand and squeezed


    ¡°Just because I am different does not mean that I am worthless.¡± I let the meaning of that thought sink in. In the coming days, I would etch those words into my soul.

 Chapter 3

    Mystech, or technology powered by myst, uses a condensed myst crystal as a power source. These artificially grown crystals of compressed myst are made up of a single type or fusion of two of the fourteen elemental types. The most common myst crystal batteries used for personal tools are either fire (a single myst type), or electric (a fusion of two myst elements).


    Now, you''re going to want to ready yourself for this next bit. My story honestly starts here, and it''s a dark and bloody start. It¡¯s also the start of a long string of traumas.


    The screw gave a shrieking squeal before it popped free. I plucked up the loud bit of metal between my thumb and forefinger before setting it aside and pressing it into a flat of cardboard alongside its brethren. I placed each screw set into the board in the mirror location from where it had been removed. Methodically, I set down my screwdriver before raising my hands over my partly dismantled victim. I bit the lower lip of my small yet eager smile even as my fingers began dancing like a spider over its prey. With practiced precision, I plucked off the back of the myst storage battery to reveal its internals. This nifty little toy I found in the garbage in town was quite the prize for me. This MK 3.2 V-tech battery also doubled as a backup generator. I picked my way around the internals, examining wires and checking the circuits for damage, all while being careful not to touch the capacitor. You only touch a live capacitor once. After that, you either learn your lesson, or you were literally cooked meat. You also had to keep in mind that even if the device was unplugged or its batteries were dead, the capacitor could still hold a charge for a while afterward. I pulled free a circuit board from the control panel, unplugging all the links as I went to reveal what I was looking for. The battery charging rack. What made this model so important for my needs was that, unlike other battery/generators, which had one or two massive rechargeable myst crystals, or RMCs for short, this model had thirty-six smaller RMCs that were designed to be swapped when they broke down.


    From the looks of the internals, this poor toy was trashed because of a broken connector from the control panel. I set aside the quartz board in my hands and plucked up one of my rubber-handled flathead screwdrivers to dismantle the copper mounting brackets and disconnect the high-capacity wires leading to the capacitor. I pulled free the rack of crystals and gave it a close inspection. Some of the dead ones had cracks or chips. Clearly, the device was literally thrown into the trash. But there were a couple of crystals still glowing with a bright, charged yellow. No doubt there would have been more if so many of the crystals were not damaged. It was such a pain when you damaged a myst crystal. Ninety-five percent of the time, a chipped or cracked crystal would leak myst till the once glowing crystal was just a chunk of clear glass-like rock. But with elements like fire and electricity, there was still that slight chance that the power crystal could explode, which could range from a sharp sting and pulling shards from your hand to third-degree burns and/or myst poisoning.


    I plucked free the first of the eight crystals, holding it up to the light between the thumb and forefinger. It was a small thing, about an inch and a quarter tall, with a one-centimeter diameter. These ones were mostly straight as an arrow, only tapering down to a dull point on either end for mounting purposes. For the past couple of years, I had been completely fascinated with everything about Mystech. I think it all started with the blacksmith when he would show me his projects. That got me into crafting. Then, I wanted to learn about mechanical devices. From there, my fascination evolved into an obsession with Mystech and all things Myst-powered. My eighth-grade class had recently gone over only the most basic of the concepts, like what myst crystals were made of, how dangerous they were, and how most technologies were based on rune script, sigil components, mechanical components, and/or electrical components. But I wanted to know more. How did the rune script work? What kinds of components were there? How could those components be put together? So many questions, but all the teachers just kept telling me I could learn more when I was older because it was dangerous. My father thought my interest was odd, but to me, the technology was simple. You made a thing, and it did what you made it for. If you got it wrong, then it just wouldn¡¯t work. Circuits, wires, and gears never got angry at you for no reason or hurt you because you looked strange.


    The only person I knew who didn¡¯t hurt me was my father. Well, Father only hurt me when I did something wrong, like if I broke something or got annoying, but he still was nice at times. He tucked me into bed and gave me hugs after I got picked on by the other boys. He made sure I always had food, clothes, and a home.


    I took one battery and stepped around the kitchen table to pick up my toy hover disk. I had noticed that the silver disk decorated with blinking lights had been slowing down. It didn¡¯t hover as high as it used to, didn¡¯t come back as fast as it should, and the lights were kind of dull now. I figured it must¡¯ve been running low on power.


    I picked up the disk, turned it over, and popped open the battery hatch. Sure enough, the crystal there was glowing a dull red. I thought it was odd that the battery was red, but maybe they worked like the power indicators on some other things that flashed red when they needed a new power source. I pulled out the old battery and plugged in the fresh one. Carefully, I set the dying crystal on the table before I clicked shut the hatch on my toy and flipped the switch. I watched in joy as I heard it spin up, and the lights began to display. But then it started making this odd ringing sound, and one by one, the lights popped with tiny pops. In a panic, I dropped the disk. As it struck the floor, I heard something else break inside with a loud crack, and the remaining lights all blew at once. It went quiet as smoke began creeping up from the battery hatch.


    ¡°Damn it!¡± I cursed.


    ¡°What was that?¡± My father¡¯s voice came from upstairs. His tone carried a note of warning.


    ¡°Nothing, Father!¡± I replied in panic. I wasn¡¯t sure if he was asking about the curse or the broken toy, but I¡¯d rather not find out. In my panic, I rushed to pick up the disk before he found it. The disk was hot to the touch, and to keep myself from getting burned, I tossed it from hand to hand like a hot potato. Suddenly, the toy burst into blue-yellow flames. I heard my father coming down the stairs, his steps landing heavily, meaning that he had been drinking. My panic escalated. In desperation, I hurled the flaming toy into the fireplace. As my father stepped into the room, flask in hand, I saw the aggravation on his face and braced myself for the pain to come.


    He shuffled across the room in a manner only an experienced drunk could, to prevent staggering to fall into his armchair with a heavy ¡®foomph¡¯ sound as the leather cushion compressed under his weight. He had walked right past my tiny disaster and was now looking away from it. He clearly was so drunk that his perception was limited.


    ¡°Stop playing with your gizmos, boy. I think you should go out and practice hunting. A ranger needs to master hunting. While you have made good progress in tracking, evasion, and wilderness survival, you have yet to make a single kill. You haven¡¯t brought home a single rabbit. Either you¡¯re a terrible marksman, or you don¡¯t have the stomach to make a kill. Either way, I don¡¯t want you coming home until you have put down something and brought the body home for skinning, gutting, and cooking.¡±


    I let out a silent sigh at his words before speaking. ¡°Yes, Father.¡± I stood upright, hands behind my back, as my gaze flitted from the back of my father¡¯s head to the burning mess in the hearth. ¡°May I please use the rifle? I can¡¯t work the bow as well.¡±


    ¡°No. You need to know the drive and skill it takes to kill something. There is a meaning in a kill made with a bow that is lost behind the trigger. Go get your bow and quiver. Remember to take those arrows I made for you. And don¡¯t come home until you have an animal corpse with you.¡± Father rumbled before he took another sip from his flask.


    ¡°But... what if I catch an elk or something big? I can¡¯t drag that back.¡±


    He gave a disgruntled sigh, causing me to flinch in reaction. ¡°Then take a knife and bring me its head. I¡¯ll bring the sled and drag it back myself.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Father.¡± I said in sullen resignation as I made my way back to my room to gather my gear. As soon as I was out of my father''s earshot, I began cursing violently under my breath, any curse I could think of, if childishly profane. I continued even as I gathered my recurve bow, hunting knife, and the quiver of arrows crafted by Father.


    I made my way back downstairs, pulling my bow over my head to rest on my shoulder. I had a thought as I reached the bottom of the steps. Stepping into the living room, I faced my father, my hands held together in front of me in trepidation.


    ¡°Hey, father, if I make a noteworthy kill, can I please get a therra-node?¡±


    His response was an indignant snort. ¡°You can buy your own once you sell enough pelts and meat.¡±


    I clenched my teeth at this response, trying to hide the sneer that wanted to creep across my face. ¡°Then, if I bring something back, could you please tell me something about my mother? You¡¯ve told me nothing about her, and I feel like I should know something about the parent that actually gave birth to me.¡±


    I watched as his body responded with a flash of rage before he tamped down on it. I could hear him grinding his shark-like teeth even as I saw him flex his fists before visibly forcing himself to relax. ¡°Maybe.¡± was all he said before aggressively pointing to the front door. I took the message, and as I made my way to the door, he gave one last statement. ¡°And Iver,¡± His tone was gentle, a shock to me after his display of constrained aggression. ¡°Don¡¯t forget my rule about a monster or restless dead. You see a monster, hide and get back here as soon as you see an opening. If you stumble across one of the restless dead, I don¡¯t care if you think you can handle it; get back here as fast as you can.¡± His voice turned hard but with a tinge of concern. ¡°Do not stop till you get back.¡±


    I stepped out from the cabin and into our yard, only barely distinguishable from the wilds beyond. Looking toward the sun above, I shielded my eyes even as I guessed the time to be around 10:00 AM. I turned my gaze from the sky with only sparse clouds down the dirt path that led into town. That town was my personal hell. Anyone my age went out of their way to either mock me or beat me. The adults were all too busy, swapping stories about how I might have come to be there or ignoring me, to help. From the adults, the most I would ever get were curses, telling me to leave, or blatant glares that all conveyed the same message. I turned away from the path that led to my misery to the wilds in the opposite direction. There, I found a thick braiding of trees and bushes that marked the end of the domain of the Sophic Species and the start of the world of nature.


    Anyone who lived near nature knew just how hard it actively tried to take back its domain that the Sophic Species claimed as home. My father had to cut back the foliage every three days and spread herbicide around the perimeter every week. The perimeter of our land was also marked with a fence. Now, this was no chain-link fence like in the city or woodboard fence like in the suburbs. This was an eight-foot high, electrified, razer wire fence with seven-inch thick steel posts every six feet. Anyone from a purely urban environment would think this looked like defenses for war. In truth, this was standard wildlife management. Towns and cities had their defensive walls to keep out monsters and nature, so those who lived out in the middle of nowhere needed a smaller version to keep homes and property safe. Even rural farms needed similar perimeters, but since most farms were corporation-owned, the fat lizards normally flipped the bill to protect their goods.


    I unlocked the small gate to my father¡¯s standard hunting path and passed from the confines of control and into the freedom of the wilds. Within that grove just behind our home, I found peace. No one mocked me or attacked me there among the trees. Out there, creatures fled from me. To the rabbits and squirrels, I was a creature of power to be feared and respected. I pressed into the woods, trekking deep, barely leaving any mark on the land as I passed through. Father taught me how to move through nature with minimal traces. As I went, I left no tracks, broke no branches, and became all but invisible to the surrounding creatures. The few small animals that noticed me fled into the brush, each time giving me a sense of power that let me feel like I was worth something more than a child who was too sensitive to kill another living thing. With every step, I rallied my will, only to second guess it over and over again.


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    I wanted to know about my mother. Father refused to tell me anything other than she was a Darkling, that she dropped me off in the dead of night in a panic, and that the man raising me, Fermose, was not my biological father. He only told me the last bit one night when he had drunk far too much, and I was too young to understand. When he told me I remembered, I made sure to remember this because I needed to know more.


    I pushed into the forest, searching, seeking, for something big enough to be worth earning even the smallest bit of info about my mother. Don¡¯t get me wrong. I was dying to have a therra-node, the most modern communication and interactive device that replaced cell phones. It was the big thing to have among the student body, but if I had a chance to learn about my mother, that meant so much more to me.


    As I dwelled on the thought and fantasized about what kind of person my mother was, I caught sight of something an hour into my hunt. Movement larger than any rabbit or squirrel; I focused on the large shape to find that it was a deer. A buck, a ten-point buck that was grazing beside a pond, completely unaware of me. I flashed a victorious smile as I pulled my bow, nocked an arrow, and drew the bowstring. I drew my line of aim to the stag¡¯s heart as he grazed. I pulled the string back even farther as I thought about the stories of my mother I could get. The muscles of my back were pulled as taut as the bowstring I had in hand.


    I was about to loose the arrow and kill the creature when it raised its head and looked right at me. In that moment, when we locked eyes, I saw so much. Innocence with no desire beyond that to live. An understanding of its own life in all its aspects. Respect for those greater than it, and an understanding that it would one day die. These realizations stayed my hand, but that last bit of understanding gave me a reason to pity. His life was full of fear, just as mine was, waiting for pain to come from another creature, pain that would define my reason when my end came. This feeling was so hard to explain or express. Like no one would understand it unless they were just as alone as me.


    I looked at that stag and saw myself, and I just couldn¡¯t end its life. I felt my arm losing strength, and in panic, I redirected my shot. As my fingers slipped, the arrow flew into a nearby tree, the shaft burrowing five inches past the head of the arrow into an old oak. The stag fled with the twang of the bowstring. I watched the creature flee deeper into the woods and couldn¡¯t help but watch it go. I turned and made my way back home in shame. I couldn¡¯t kill it. I couldn¡¯t take another life. What right did I have to cut short the existence of another breathing thing? Let them live so they could learn to love and understand the world, something I still couldn¡¯t quite understand myself.


    I knew full well that Father would strike me for this, but I didn¡¯t care. I would not take another life unless it deserved to be ended. As I made my way home, I tried to think of things that I could kill without shame. Wolves, bears, or monsters? Creatures that killed others. Those were the ones who deserved to die.


    While I made my way home, in dejected shame, I tried to think of other creatures that I thought were worth the blade or bullet. I couldn¡¯t help but wonder if sapients should be killed. Humans, Elves, and other Sophic Species. Should they be targeted? The sapient races and their ilk comprised creatures that would kill or let creatures be killed, if only for their own good. It was at three-quarters of the way home that I realized what I was thinking of. Killing people. People who could think like I could, reason like me, and feel like me. But sapients were the races that did the most damage. We were the ones who tore down forests for supplies and space for homes. We were the ones who killed for sport and ruined the lives of others because if it would help ourselves.


    I really started wondering what the right thing was when I reached my front door just past noon. I needed to ask my father what the right thing was. I stood there at the door, leaking tears of confusion as I tried to understand what the right thing to do was. I was so confused about when it was right to take a life. I held back a sob even as I tore free my bow and threw it aside. I was a disappointment to my father, unworthy of his teachings. I hated myself for thinking like this, asking these questions. In a rage, I drew my hunting knife and threw it at the oak in our yard.


    I threw open the door to the cabin, tears streaming down my face, seeking answers to so many questions. There, I found a sight that would remain with me for the rest of my life. A man dressed in black leathers, wearing a red skull mask, standing over my father, a dagger in his chest. Even as I opened the door, I watched as Fermose, my father, slid down the wall to land on the floor in a heap, his lifeblood spilling from his chest in a guttering stream before the shadowed figure ripped the large dagger free from my father¡¯s chest. With that single motion, blood flooded from the gaping wound in a torrent.


    There, time froze. My father bleeding out on the floor, and a figure in black wearing a red skull mask standing over him with a bloody dagger in his hand and a black box under his arm. I couldn¡¯t think in those moments. I lost who I was and thought of one thing. I wasn¡¯t Iver the Darkling. I was a son watching his father die at his murderer¡¯s feet. Rage, pure, hot, and restrained, rose from within my chest. In that moment, all I wanted was the death of the man that hurt my father, no matter what. My bow was gone, and my hunting knife was missing. I reached back and grasped the only weapon I had on hand. My fingers closed in a death grip around the shaft of an arrow. I drew the arrow, holding it like I was about to stab the bastard to death with a dagger.


    I clutched the arrow shaft so tight that I broke it in two. I didn¡¯t notice until it was far too late. I rushed the assassin, head-on, full tilt. I didn¡¯t hold back. I sprinted at the masked man, lunging at him with all that I had. With some form of luck, my father¡¯s arrowhead bit deep into the attacker¡¯s right shoulder. I drove the arrow down so deep that it held fast in his right shoulder joint. As soon as I sunk the arrowhead into the bastard¡¯s flesh and bone, I heard a groan of pain. In response, I broke off what was left of the shaft in the killer¡¯s shoulder, leaving the head several inches deep. With the broken shaft in hand, I lashed out against the killer like some rabid ape. In answer, he struck me with a backhand hard enough to send me to the floor like I was little more than a puppet thrown aside by an enraged child.


    I lay on the floor, stunned, the world spinning in my vision while the side of my head burned like someone had pressed hot coals against it. And yet, I pushed the pain aside as I crawled to my father while the killer left out the front door.


    ¡°Father, I¡¯m sorry. I couldn¡¯t stop him. I wasn¡¯t strong enough.¡± I pleaded. I pressed my hands against the sucking chest wound, trying desperately to staunch the bleeding.


    Even as blood seeped from his chest and between my fingers in a rhythmic flow, I saw him smile at me.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you fret over me now, boy. You¡¯ve got bigger things to worry about than this dying feeble cut ear.¡± He coughed up bloody phlegm as he tried to sit up, only for him to settle back down to the floor. ¡°Listen close now, boy. That man. You need to find him.¡±


    I wiped tears away with the back of my sleeve, heedless of the bloody smear it left behind, before giving him a resolute nod.


    ¡°It¡¯s not to avenge me, Iver. That box he left with your mother gave it to me for safekeeping. That box came with you the night Kella dropped you off. She made it clear that the box was never to see the light of day. Find it, and if you can, destroy it. Ruin it. Do whatever it takes. Kella said that it was of world-changing power.¡±


    I watched in horror as my father gave into a coughing fit, scarlet spit flying to paint his fist, and spray across what little of his shirt was still clean. I felt a small droplet of something warm land on my cheek.


    ¡°W-w-what? Father? Why does some damned box matter right now? Father, just tell me what I need to do to help you. Please, I can¡¯t let you die.¡± I said, my pitch rising with my panic as tears overwhelmed me.


    He gave me a weary smile even as his gaze focused somewhere behind me. ¡°Be sure to tell your mother that I-¡± my father spoke before the light left his eyes and his words faded, his last thoughts left unsaid.


    I shook him, trying to bring him back. But his glazed eyes told the truth that no matter how much I wanted Fermose to live, my father was gone from this world. I shook his body for what seemed like hours before I understood that my father wasn¡¯t coming back. He was dead, and anything that I wanted to know was gone. Part of me wondered why I wasn¡¯t dead as well, but that part of me was overwhelmed with grief. The only man who had ever loved me was dead. I was alone. What was I supposed to do? Deep in the back of my mind, I remembered something he had told me.


    In some cultures, those who died an honorable death would be burned in a pyre so their souls could find the afterlife where their achievements would be celebrated. This was what stuck in my head as I went to my room and took what was mine. I collected my tools, my hunting leathers, my bow, my arrows, and Sasha, my childhood safety blanket I¡¯d had since I was barely a year old.


    In the haze of mourning, I set about preparing the cabin to be lit ablaze as my father¡¯s pyre. I didn¡¯t think of what I needed beyond those basics. All of my thoughts were that my father, as flawed as he was, deserved to die as a warrior and hero for what he did.


    I poured out bottle after bottle of my father¡¯s scotch, letting it pool on the wood floor and soak into skin rugs. I staggered to and from the shack beside the house, hauling in plastic jugs of liquid myst used to power the emergency generator outback. Six-gallon jugs sat in the center of the room. I stood at the front door, the last jug in my hands. I surveyed my home one last time through tear-blurred eyes. I choked back a wave of sobs, trying my best to remain aware of everything even as I felt like I was stumbling through a dream. Desperately, I wanted this all to be a dream. I would burn down the house, and Father¡¯s soul would pass on in this dream, and I would wake up, and he would be in the kitchen.


    I could see it so clearly, his pipe between his teeth and scotch glass in hand as he stood at the counter, reading over the news on his therra-node. I would come downstairs, and he would ask how I wanted my eggs cooked. I would tell him the same thing I always did: ¡®scrambled with cheese, sausage, and hot sauce, please¡¯.


    I realized that I was staring into the container of glowing magmatic fluid. I set the jug down and let the cap fall from my hand. I closed my eyes, raised my face to the ceiling, and took in a single, long, shuddering breath. I opened my eyes and forced myself to look at the corpse I had pointedly ignored as I set up for my arsonist''s funeral pyre.


    I looked into my father¡¯s pale face. For a long moment, nothing happened. Suddenly, all at once, it set in that I was looking at a corpse. I gagged reflexively as I keeled over; it was the corpse of someone I knew. Tears flooded my eyes so fast it was physically painful for my tear ducts. It was the corpse of someone I loved. Sobs wracked my body as I shifted from being bent over to falling onto my knees.


    The man who raised me was dead. The only person to not care about what I was had died in my arms. The only person in the world I could count on was gone. The man I trusted abandoned me. He was the man that fed me, the man that beat me. He was the one who taught me how to be a man. The same man who mocked me for my interests. Images from the past flashed through my mind as these thoughts rushed through. Quickly, the images I thought of shifted from pleasant memories to memories of the beatings, the neglect, and the closed-minded lifestyle choices he forced on me.


    I clenched my teeth and fists in rage. This man raised me in what he thought was the bare minimum standards, mocked what he didn¡¯t understand, and beat what he didn¡¯t like. Now, after all of that terrible parenting, he goes and dies, leaving me alone. I clawed my way back up to my feet before storming up to the corpse to punch him in the mouth.


    His head bounced once before lulling to the side, his lower lip torn open. ¡°YOU ABUSIVE ASS!¡± I wailed. ¡°I HOPE YOU GO TO HELL FOR ALL THIS!¡±


    I threw an aggressive kick into the corpse¡¯s ribs, hard enough to make the foot sting. I caught a flicker of movement after the kick that nearly stopped my heart. The thought that my father¡¯s corpse had risen from the dead to kill me for what I had said and done dominated my mind for a moment. When I realized it was a pocket notebook that had slipped out from my father¡¯s jacket¡¯s inner breast pocket. I stared at the small, crimson leather-bound book, wrapped closed with a leather cord. The bottom right corner of the small book had sopped up a bit of blood, staining the pages if only in the smallest mark. But such a small mark could bear substantial weight for those who understood what that little stain meant. I didn¡¯t want to take the notebook, but it was a sign.


    My father had been a very spiritual man, bringing some of what many would call ¡®old Elven culture¡¯ into my life. He made offerings to nature spirits every full moon, equinox, and solstice. He sometimes talked about how the spirits watch over everything and would give aid or guidance at moments in life known as junctures. This, of course, was one such juncture, a moment in my life where everything had changed. I really could use some guidance.


    I picked up and tucked away the journal while I made my way over to the dining room table. There I picked up one of the electrical myst crystal batteries. Stepping back up to the front door, I tipped over the liquid myst jug with a nudge from my shoe. I watched the red, orange, yellow, and blue glowing fluid spread out to mix with the scotch. I tossed the battery into the center of the glowing puddle and turned to walk away, even as the concoction on the floor caught alight.


    Looking back at it now, I question a lot of my choices, but I stand by the thought that my father, Fermose, deserved a warrior¡¯s funeral, no matter how much of an abusive ass he was.


    I would very soon grow to regret burning down my home, but I wouldn¡¯t have been able to keep it with my father dead. I didn¡¯t dare call law enforcement. They¡¯d put me into the adoption system, which was a meat grinder for anyone to fall into the machine.


    So there I stood before my burning home. With nothing more than the clothes on my back, the skills that my father taught me, and an unquenchable loneliness now that my only supporter was gone.


    nquenchable loneliness now that my only supporter was gone.

 Chapter 4

    Most money is handled digitally through a chip embedded in the left forearm linked directly to all of your bank accounts. Physical money, or Deckra, is a coin-based system. The coins hold somewhat the same value across the globe, with varying costs on services and products differing from region to region. Each nation stamps its deckra in a unique pattern. For deckra currency, the value of any one coin is worth ten of the coin valued directly under it. Broken down, the value is as follows: 1 Copper (Three-point coin) =1 Copper, 1 Silver (Four-point coin) = 10 Copper, 1 Gold (five-point coin) = 100 copper. Beyond Gold is a lens (green, glass-like crystal coin enchanted to have enhanced durability) or platinum coin of matching value = 1000 copper, Mythril (Ultra light, ultra-durable metal) = 10,000. And lastly is the Thud. A thud is a large coin made of adamantine with a gem forged into the center. In order of value (each one worth 100 more mythril than the last), pink sapphire, blue sapphire, ruby, emerald, diamond.


    15th, Loyassion, 3012, Age of Divine Knowledge (A.o.D.K)


    It¡¯s been two days since my father died. So here I am, living in the woods just beyond the fence, writing in his journal and trying very, VERY hard not to think about how hungry I am or how much I want to kill that man. It¡¯s not working out as well as planned.


    My father once told me that when you start a journal, you¡¯re supposed to give it a name. Now, I¡¯m not sure if he was talking about a novel name like The Journey of a Thousand Cogs or more of a more personal name like Samsun. So far, naming you my little friend, our options are either A Life of Pain, Loss, Sadness, Alienation, and Abuse or I could name you Mark, like the pen strokes I¡¯m going to leave in your pages. Seeing as the first name is a bit long-winded and just thinking of the title makes me want to cry, I will happily settle for Mark.


    Well, Mark, as I¡¯m sure you know, you were my father¡¯s before mine. Well, my father just had random notes and sayings scribbled throughout the entire first half of you. Not that any of those scribbles can help me undo burning down the house. I can¡¯t believe how stupid I was to burn down my home. Why didn¡¯t I drag Father out of the house and build a pyre or bury him? I could have used the stocked pantry, the bed, and the fireplace. Mark, I am vetoing my right to make any kind of decision when I¡¯m in mourning or emotional shock. Well, I can¡¯t spend all day writing. I need food. Luckily, it¡¯s the month of Tinneus, which is right in the middle of the summer season. I¡¯d better get good at hunting now. I¡¯d rather hunt in winter than try to make it in town. I¡¯ll talk to you again after a few days of hunting


    20th, Loyassion, 3012, A.o.D.K


    Sorry Mark, but I¡¯m still no good at hunting. Five days later, I had four different animals in my bow sights. I¡¯ve caught six separate rabbits in traps, and I let them all go. Damn it! I¡¯ve had nothing but berries, bark, roots, and mushrooms for days. But as badly as I want to cook some meat over an open flame and gorge myself, I keep finding the desire to not hurt them even stronger. But I¡¯m not at the point of eating bugs yet. I¡¯ve just got to keep trying.


    10th, Hemotiove, 3012, A.o.D.K


    I still haven¡¯t managed to put down anything. It¡¯s partly the look of innocence and fear in their eyes and partly nausea at the thought of raw and steaming guts. But last night, I caught my first hint of danger. A wolf pack came within earshot of where I was lying to sleep. I was near the fence to our land, so I managed to get behind the gate before anything came skulking around for me, but it was a near thing. I have pretty good night sight, so I saw the shape of a large canine come sniffing around where I had been sleeping. I¡¯ve never seen a wolf in person, only on holo-vids, but to me, the shape seemed a bit too big for a normal wolf. I¡¯m pretty sure normal wolves don¡¯t get to be nine feet long and as high as a horse. Was it a warg or a dire wolf? I¡¯ve never seen them either other than in shows, but they seemed about that big. But I don¡¯t know the difference between the two.


    13th, Liovid, 3012, A.o.D.K


    Still no luck with hunting, but the leaves are starting to turn, and between that and that close call with the big ass, not wolves, I came into town. Right now, I¡¯m living out of the shed behind Mr.Faillis¡¯s house. The High Elf prick was always waving his pedigree around. I¡¯d love to see the look on his face if he knew he had a Darkling orphan living out of his shed. The shed has some power outlets, and I managed to repair an old space heater. I¡¯ve still got my favorite blanket, Sasha.


    She was my very first memory. For years, I carried her around with me as my first and only best friend until Father made me leave her in bed. But here I am, homeless, almost alone, but not quite, not with Sasha and Mark here. Well, guys, the cold is starting to set in, and I¡¯d like a pillow to go with my best friend. But before even that, I need to work on stealing food from the local shops and markets. Practice is the best kind of study. I hope the merchants are in a good mood today.


    18th, Liovid, 3012, A.o.D.K


    So it¡¯s almost my birthday. Father said I was born on the night of the Howlane festival, the two days and a night that the worlds between the living and the dead are thinnest. Maybe this year I could see Father. Thinking about it now, I¡¯m not sure if that would be such a good idea. He might get upset at my lack of hunting skills, and he may actually murder me if he learned about what I did to the cabin.


    Ha! Wouldn¡¯t that be ironic. A ghost father killing his own living son¡­ Wait¡­ I think that very thing happened in an old play by that famous playwright, Macbeth. Or did Beowulf write it? Damn it, I am no good with this refined culture stuff.


    Anyway, I¡¯ve gotten better at snatching. Now, I only get caught four times out of every five tries. Today, I managed to snatch a whole loaf of bread from the baker at the local supermarket. This loaf should last me for a while if I don¡¯t mind it going stale.


    24th, Liovid, 3012, A.o.D.K


    Happy birthday to me! Today I have officially managed to avoid the assholes that have been picking on me for years for a whole three months. I also got out of the supermarket with a box of crackers, a wedge of cheese, and a handful of raw shrimp. It must be some kind of birthday miracle. Well, now that I¡¯m fifteen, I¡¯m going to need to start growing up. Tomorrow, I¡¯m going to start pick-pocketing, and once I have enough, I¡¯m going to buy my first beer. But today is the first day of the Howlane fest, so spirits are high, spooks abound, and pockets jingle with coin for the rigged game stands. Although, after tonight, getting coin might take a while since almost no one walks around with deckra coin on hand. Maybe I¡¯ll aim for a scotch if I can save up enough. Gods, it¡¯s at times like this I wish Father would have let me have a therra-node. I¡¯ve seen all those shows and read all the comics where some super-smart hacker plugs his therra-node into a network and hacks into dozens of bank accounts and ends up with a mountain of deckra. Just like Father to make sure that my life was harder than it needed to be.


    15th, Deassen, 3012, A.o.D.K


    It¡¯s been almost a month since I wrote in you last, Mark. The festival was rife with pockets to pick, but I didn¡¯t have the nimble fingers and light touch to walk away with anything more than a few coppers. It would have been enough for a beer, but I thought better of it and used the coin to buy myself bulk discount instant noodles. Nothing fancy, the five-pack for a copper, Saisran-style noodles. I spent the rest of the coin on parts to get an old coffee maker working that I found in the trash nearby. I simply brewed my noodles in the coffee pot. I still don¡¯t have any kind of silverware, so I wound up drinking from the pot and biting off the noodles as they came. Mug of noodles, anyone? Bad joke, sorry, Mark.


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    I¡¯ve been spending my free time not hunting for food or attempting to steal or pickpocket, but finding broken tech in the trash. Even after I fixed the thing, it still has erratic temperatures ranging from undrinkable hot to barely above cool. But there isn¡¯t anything I can do about that unless I¡¯m lucky enough to find a much-needed heating element. I¡¯ll just have to keep my eyes open for something that might work as a replacement.


    8th, Sorittal, 3012, A.o.D.K


    Sorry that I¡¯ve been neglecting you, Mark. I¡¯ve been caught up in my attempts to get ahold of food, coin, or workable parts for my tinkering. I managed to work a manageable heating element for the coffeemaker for my noodles out of a narrow copper piping wound into a tight coil to act as a massive resister. Jerry-rigging the super resister to the heat element mount connectors in the brewer, I managed to get something functioning. I had to work in two Lightning Myst crystals to get the whole thing actually working in the end. I¡¯m quite proud of my handy work.


    14th, Hathondar, 3012, A.o.D.K


    I¡¯m starting to get ahold of this pick-pocketing thing. The trick is to distract the¡­ mark? Someone you steal from is called a mark, right? Anyhow, I¡¯ve found the trick is to distract them, anticipate their movements, and keep a light touch. It took a good couple of months and a lot of kicks to the ribs to figure this out, but hey, I got it. I¡¯ve managed to snag over the course of the past week three coppers, two pocket knives, three pens, a couple of packs of gum, two fidget toys, and, best of all, a multi-tool.


    3rd, Chandom, 3012, A.o.D.K


    That multi-tool I got last month has really been a boon. The thing had fillips and flat-head screwdriver heads, needle-nose pliers/wire cutters, a hammerhead, pry-bar head, ruler marks, scissors, a bottle/can opener, a small knife, and best of all, it also had a multi-meter function with test ends included. With that last feature, I¡¯ve been able to test volts, amps, and resistance on anything electric that I can get my hands on. This nifty little gadget has taken my tinkering to the next level.


    I found an ancient cell phone in the trash a couple of days ago, and with a new Lightning Myst crystal that I stole from the supermarket, I managed to get it functioning. Although it won¡¯t do much good without a service provider. And between the lack of credits to my name and the near obsolescence of the device, it¡¯s nearly worthless. Damn it. I want a therra-node so damned bad right now.


    20th, Feadormor, 3012, A.o.D.K


    It took me over a quarter of the year, but I finally have enough deckra to buy myself a few beers. To be precise, it took me seven months, so a quarter year, two months, and change. Although my shoes are wearing thin. Maybe I should skip the drinks and get some new footwear. Well, tomorrow is the winter solstice. Might as well figure out what¡¯s so great about alcohol when everyone is drinking. Shoes can wait a week or two.


    1st, Noctothone, 3012, A.o.D.K


    Never again, never again, never again, never ever ever again.


    Drinking was a terrible idea. I¡¯m technically a year short of the legal drinking age for my species in Ventic. But under all this dirt, I¡¯ve been mistaken for a shrimpy sixteen-year-old. It probably helped that the bartender was a Moon Elf, and Elves are never good at guessing the age of us sprout species or species that only live around a century if we¡¯re lucky. I way over-guessed the cost of alcohol in town. I guess that it¡¯s because Father always got the premium stuff. I found out that with three silver in coppers, I could buy an entire bottle of bottom-shelf scotch, whatever that means.


    I drank to the memory of my father and hated the taste of the stuff, but I just blew thirty coppers on the bottle, so I couldn¡¯t have let it go to waste. So I to another swig, then another, and another. After a bit, I cared less about the taste and liked the feeling that was growing in my head. First, I felt kinda warm and cozy, which was rather nice given the bite of winter just beyond the bar¡¯s door. Then I started to feel really good, like fantastic. I guess the technical term is euphoria, but I could be totally wrong about that. I stopped when the room started to spin a little. In my infinite drunken wisdom, I tried to strike up a conversation with a stranger, a clean-cut Human man in a crisp suit. He sneered at me and told me off, so I moved on to another Human, a large, hairy man in a black leather jacket and worn jeans. I hadn¡¯t gotten three words past my lips when he backhanded me in the mouth. I called him out and said some things that if Father had heard me say them, he would have flogged me. I didn¡¯t realize how much of a mistake that was till the large man stood and only got larger in my eyes. He drove a fist into my gut and picked me up by the neck before I had even recovered to throw me across the room. The entire room laughed at me as I staggered to my feet, and the brute stormed over and proceeded to pick me up and throw me out of the building and into a mound of snow that had formed the night before. I staggered back to my feet. The world was fully spinning in my vision at the time as I made my way back to my shed. I hurled all over the ground right outside my shack. If the drunk bit had been bad, this morning was worse, far worse. My head throbs. Noise and light make me cringe in pain. I¡¯m nauseous, but I need to eat because I haven¡¯t had food in several days. I guess I¡¯ll just sleep this off and go food hunting tomorrow.


    1st, Skephest, 3012, A.o.D.K


    I¡¯m so sorry, Mark. I haven¡¯t written in you for two months. But I haven¡¯t seen you for forty days. Not since I was sick from drinking. Turns out that when I hurled up my guts just outside the shed, I had left behind evidence of my presence. Mr. Faillis found the mess and found me while I was sleeping. I don¡¯t think I need to tell you how ticked off the stuck-up cut ear was. He physically threw me from the shed and kicked me until I fled the scene. I came back that night to find that he had put a padlock on the door. I¡¯ve been spending every night since then, when I¡¯m sure the bastard is asleep, trying to pick the lock with anything that I can find. For all of Skephest and Malther, I hadn¡¯t figured it out. But as of right now, on Pasyon 1st at 2:04 AM, I¡¯ve pulled it off. Turned out the stupid twit didn¡¯t even throw out my stuff. He just left everything, including Sasha, my tools, my electric heater, and you, Mark, in the shed. I had been checking his trash every night for these past two months for my things. Since I had found none of it in his refuse, I could only hope that it was in the damned shed.


    As payback, I took the cut ear¡¯s biggest travel backpack and collected all of my things in it. I also ruined all of his yard care tools. I gutted his lawnmower and weed wacker, snapped or bent anything I could, and made sure to take a long piss on the floor. But now I need to find a new home.


    14th, Malther, 3012, A.o.D.K


    I think I¡¯ve found a workable home. It¡¯s another shed in someone¡¯s backyard. It belongs to some sad-looking Orc guy. I¡¯ve seen him come and go from his one-story little home with a small frown around his tusks. He has a work truck that is full of groundskeeping tools. I peeked inside one night to find things ranging from a rather nice-looking hover riding-lawn mower with a laser base to a thermal snow evaporator to simple hand tools. The guy doesn¡¯t like his backyard shed, so I¡¯ve set up camp here. I¡¯m willing to bet he won¡¯t be coming back here for a long while, seeing as the only thing that¡¯s stored here looks to be old tax documents for his company, one Irontusk Grounds Maintenance and Care.


    I¡¯ll need to hunt down some other possible locations to set up camp in case the shed¡¯s owner finds me. I¡¯ll also need to prepare what my father called a bugout bag. After I have prepped for the case of inevitable disaster, I¡¯ll need to look into finding that murdering scum bag. I¡¯ve spent too long just trying to live. Now I need to start to work on my father¡¯s final wish. Hopefully, once I find the damned box, I¡¯ll figure out what¡¯s going on.


    24th, Pasyon, 3012 A.o.D.K


    I¡¯m here with you, Mark, at the edge of a cycled year, at three strokes to midnight, the summoning hour.


    First stroke, Tell my woes: I am Iver Maverick. This year, I have lost my father, failed as a hunter, failed to get revenge for my father, and burned down my home in the pain of losing my father.


    Second stroke, confess: I fear I do not have the strength to make it through this world on my own. I am in so much pain that I want little more than ease from this burden. I want to learn what it means to love in any form.


    Third stroke, Request: I want friends. I want freedom from this pain. I want a home. I want vengeance for my father. I want my life to mean something.


    There. I never ever want to drink again, but I am thankful that I was sober enough to make this wish. Cheers, Mark and Sasha. Here¡¯s hoping next year will be easier.

 Chapter 5

    There are many organizations that operate outside the perception of society. Some are branches of government, religious groups, or corporations. Other groups live completely in the shadows, only showing a fraction of their true roles or only showing a public mask. A fraction of a whole organization in the shadows, or the whole hidden behind a staged mask, they all have their own goals and motives, both benevolent and vile.


    I woke to the sound of early morning songbirds. My fists clenched in my blanket even as I sank my face deeper into the old, cola-strained couch cushion. I had found the makeshift pillow two blocks away in a heap of trash. As the bird song grew louder and the light of the sun crept between the panels of the shack, I buried my face deeper into the cushion, cursing venomously along the way.


    It was a week into the new year, and I felt like I was a restless dead, a corpse forced from my grave. After five minutes of endless chirping, I threw my head up in defeat. As I tried to untangle my blanket, I growled. ¡°Fine, fine. I¡¯m up, I¡¯m up, you damned birds. I swear to the high spires that if you all don¡¯t shut your beaks, I¡¯m going to have you on a spit before day¡¯s end.¡± I clicked off my space heater, the only reason I wasn¡¯t a meatsicle. I strapped on my knife and quiver, slung my bow over my shoulder, and peeked through the crack between the shack¡¯s door and its frame. The Irontusk van was gone, which meant that it was safe to leave. I slipped out of the shed as quickly as I could, inching around the fence before I sprinted across the street. I felt like a squirrel whenever I did this, but it couldn¡¯t be helped.


    At the time, my plan was to cross through town to get to my father¡¯s old hunting grounds. I was moving to cut through the park near the center of town to cut down on the people who would see me. I hadn¡¯t seen an ounce of kindness from anyone in those past few months. Since I landed on the streets, the best I had gotten from anyone was racial slurs. The worst from people had gotten me cracked ribs, gashes, or bruises and welts. One thing I¡¯ve picked up on these streets is to expect nothing kind from strangers.


    I moved down the street, dashing from tree to tree, bush to bush along the roadside. One thing I was thankful for was living in the suburbs. There was enough decorative foliage that I could stay out of sight of most people on the sidewalks if I stayed street side. Luckily, no driver had decided to turn me into a hood ornament yet.


    I still had yet to catch an animal, but I was determined to make my first kill today. I passed into the town park, unseen and unheard by the light foot traffic. It was still winter, so few people traversed the sidewalks rather than drive anywhere in town.


    As I snooped around for any sign of half-eaten food, I spotted a target. A mark for theft. I had to keep my eyes open for anyone that looked easy to take valuables from. On a bench facing west was an Elf, a man with long black hair, just relaxing and eating a sandwich. Stealthy as a ghost, I slipped up behind him. I eyed his person to find that he had a blood velvet purse of deckra just under his cloak. I slipped my fingers between the slats of the bench and quickly undid the snaps of the strap that held the purse to his belt. As soon as I slipped the strap open, I pulled the purse through the slats. I was about to make a break for it when something caught my nose.


    Frankincense? My father had smelled of frankincense during the holidays. As I recognized the scent, my arms made a slight jerk in recognition, enough to cause the coins to jingle just the smallest amount. I made to turn and run when I heard ¡°Ut, uh.¡±


    I froze, my back turned to the bench from where the sound originated. I slowly turned around to find the owner of the purse looking down at me, his smile full of shark-like triangular teeth in a bronzed face. He was clearly a Wild Elf, his long black hair a wild mess, the sides of his scalp shaved bare. His leaf-green irises set into hazel sclera. A long scar ran from the base of his right ear down to his chin, pale against his dark skin. A battle wound. From a blade? Or maybe a claw?


    I lunged for an escape, only to find that the Wild Elf had an iron grip on the collar of my grimy t-shirt. With unparalleled ease, he hoisted me off my feet and over the bench to set me down, sitting on the bench beside him.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting for you, boy.¡± The strange man said in an amused tone.


    I looked up at him and couldn¡¯t help but see some of my father in the man. ¡°E-e-excuse me?¡± I stammered.


    ¡°You¡¯re Iver, right? Son of Fermose? I¡¯m an old buddy of his from back when he was part of the clan. I caught wind that he had¡­¡± The stranger paused to find the most delicate way to phrase the fact, but in the end, came out with ¡°passed. I hadn¡¯t seen him in a long time, and when I heard that his son was homeless, I thought I¡¯d help.¡±


    I eyed the Elf warily. ¡°What¡¯s your name, mister?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m your clan uncle, Thallos Kiem.¡± He said with a broad grin full of sharp teeth.


    ¡°Okay, then, Uncle Thallos.¡± I said skeptically, ¡°Can you tell me what happened to my father with the rest of the clan?¡± This was a question that my father, Fermose, had me memorize the answer as a passphrase. My father¡¯s old clan had him expelled after he had broken in the clan chief¡¯s teeth over a fight about a girl.


    ¡°Your father had been exiled from the clan after getting into a fistfight with the clan chief.¡± Thallos almost looked pained as he said this, as if the memory held an old wound for him.


    That was the correct answer. This was a world-changing shift. This man was here to help. Help me find a home. Maybe even help me find revenge for my father. But first thing came first. ¡°Uncle¡­ Thallos, I don¡¯t want to be rude. And I mean it when I say thank you for coming to find me from the bottom of my heart. But what I really want to know is anything you can tell me about my mother.¡±


    This was critical for me. I wanted to know as much about my mother as possible, and I hoped that somewhere along the way, the strange box would come into play.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to say that Fermose met your mother after he had left the clan. I had only heard of Kella in passing rumor before I caught wind of what had happened to you.¡±


    I clenched my fists in frustration at the answer. This was a setback, but it didn¡¯t mean that I was done by any means. Trying to garner good faith with my newfound uncle, I raised his purse to him in offering. ¡°Well, Uncle Thallos, what comes next?¡±


    Thallos gently took the coin purse from me. He set the bag into his lap, opened the pouch, and began pulling free coins one by one, only to drop them back into the bag as he spoke. ¡°I¡¯ve got a question for you before I give an answer to your own question.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°If I said that, you could join a group that was dedicated to changing the world.¡±


    ¡°Change how?¡± I asked with a glance, just as wary as my tone.


    ¡°Well, the answer to that depends on what you have the aptitude for. The Order I¡¯m talking about has several sects for a variety of skills. This order has groups for warriors, casters, spies, inventors, and even assassins.¡±


    I looked down into my empty hands between my knees for a long moment before looking back at this strange Wild Elf. ¡°You mentioned warriors and assassins.¡±


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    Thallos gave a snort of amusement as he turned to look at the sky. This drew my attention. His face became more than just that of another Wild Elf to me. I noticed the short yet pointed shape of his nose, the angles of his jaw, the cut of his cheekbones, and the set of his brow. Thallos really looked like he could have been my father¡¯s younger brother.


    ¡°The Order of the Aegis that I¡¯m talking about is a place to train real warriors and others bent on changing the world. The Order¡¯s goal is to improve the world through acts ranging from slaying monsters and saving innocents as adventurers to designing world-changing technology or stopping wars either through knowledge or through killing tyrants.¡±


    The thought of designing things that could change the world did catch my ear, but I had a mission. ¡°Alright, Uncle, I want to learn. Where do I start?¡±


    ¡±That depends on where you want to start. I can see in your eyes, boy, that you want to fight. If you truly want to learn to fight, this academy will teach you to fight harder and fight smarter. If you can learn, you can really leave your mark on the world.¡± As Thallos said those things, my mind latched on to ¡®fight harder, fight smarter¡¯. The image of my father¡¯s masked murderer flashed before my eyes, and my will hardened into a razor-sharp resolve.


    ¡°I want to learn, Uncle. Where do I start?¡± His face split into an amused grin as I jumped off the bench and began shadowboxing. ¡°I¡¯m ready. I need to show the world what I¡¯m made of.¡±


    ¡°Wow, whoa there, my little friend. We need to get you tested first. From what I¡¯ve heard, you¡¯re a shoo-in for the apprentice program. But you need to keep in mind that this is eight years of non-stop training and that you may not end up in the martial sect¡¯s courses.¡±


    ¡°What? I don¡¯t get what you¡¯re saying. I thought you said that I would change the world.¡± I pressed.


    ¡°And in a way, you will. But you need to remember that there are five sects. To put them simply, you could be a warrior, a caster, a spy, an engineer, or an assassin. Each of these roles is highly important and needed to help maintain the balance, but you need to be ready if you don¡¯t get a martial sect.¡±


    ¡°How many years will I have before my sect is chosen?¡± I asked.


    ¡°You are going to be tested for a year on your talents and skills. At the end of the year, they select your sect based on how well you performed in each class. After you are indoctrinated into a sect of the Aegis, you have seven years of specialized training¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care what it takes, Uncle. I will become a warrior or an assassin.¡± I pressed with an eager smirk.


    ¡°Why are you so hell-bent on murder, boy?¡± Thallos asked as he rested a hand on my shoulder.


    ¡°I want to catch the killer of my father and feed him his own spine.¡± I snarled.


    Thallos just looked at me for a long moment, blinking rapidly as he came to terms with what I had just said.


    ¡°Well, aren¡¯t you just a hateful little imp?¡± Thallos commented.


    That quip drew a jagged glare from me. He knew what he had just implied.


    ¡°Sorry, sorry. I didn¡¯t mean it like that, boy. I was just noting on how bloodthirsty you are. But if you really want to get into a martial sect so bad, I guess I¡¯ll need to teach you how to fight and, more importantly, how to not die.¡±


    ¡°Alright, where is the academy?¡± I asked, only barely holding back my excitement for learning how to fight. I was going to be a real warrior. As I worked on becoming a hero, I was going to kick ass and take names.


    ¡°There are several schools. But the one you¡¯ll be going to is a week east of here, so two weeks, given the difficult terrain. We are going deep into the Titan¡¯s Fall mountains. You will attend the school of the Grimmalk.¡±


    I shuffled my feet as I threw a few quick jabs. ¡°I¡¯m ready. Let¡¯s get going so I can prove myself.¡±


    I watched as Thallos eyed me from top to tail with a smirk before he spoke. ¡°How about before we get going, we get you some liveable clothes and shoes, a functioning backpack, and lastly, some damn food?¡±


    Without preamble came a whirlwind of spending and shopping. Thallos bought me two meat pies and a kabob, all of which I downed within moments. He then dragged me into a clothing department and seamstress. I walked out with five pairs of cargo pants, which Thallos said was a must-have for Aegis, three t-shirts of varying colors, two hoodies, and five sets of underwear and socks.


    The whole while, as I was being fitted and dressed like a doll, I couldn¡¯t help but think back to my New Year¡¯s wish. There was no way that some uncle of my father¡¯s past would just jump out of nowhere to help me. Something had to be going on. And yet I still did not think about this topic for the next few days. This man, Thallos, had something planned. But if what he promised was true, then I¡¯d follow till things didn¡¯t benefit me.


    Without another word, Thallos bought enough food for us to reach our destination, and we pressed on. We traveled in a Valcus all-terrain vehicle to cross the threatening wilds of the nation. When we stopped, we would make camp for the night. Living in the woods was nothing new for me, but Thallos made it a challenge every day. Every morning, he would give me an insurmountable amount of physical labor. He would set some impossible goals based on the environment, like climbing a sheer cliff face or crossing a space of woodland without making a sound. I failed every time. After my failure each day, Thallos would assault me with a willow switch, making me defend against blow after blow. When I wasn¡¯t defending myself from the unstoppable onslaught of welts, he made me perform physical training till I broke that way. One hundred pushups, two-hundred and fifty situps, one hundred squats, a workout till body failure. When I broke down, muscles quaking, body shaking, on my knees, Thallos would offer me a salted garlic sausage and a wedge of aged cheese.


    Every night I took the food, only to curl up under Sasha and do my best to forget about reality till the next sunrise. On those nights, I found Father, and I was a hero. I proved my value to the world and pushed beyond my limits. Every morning when Thallos would whip me again with a willow switch only to continue the cycle, day by day, I stood against the odds set against me, never willing to give up.


    My body broke time and time again. The pain mounted day after day till the final day. That Quenchenday at the precipice of the mountains, Thallos let me sleep in. I awoke near noon, my body somehow feeling refreshed. Had he used Life Myst on me to heal my aches? My father had always worked me to be physically fit, yet even those last few days had broken my limits. Thinking back on that week of stress, I think I may have broken a few bones that Thallos healed in my sleep. During those days, Thallos had taught me the basics of martial combat, everything from dagger to spear, Hand Axe to War Axe. I showed no talent with any of the weapons but learned enough to maybe be able to defend myself.


    On the last day, Thallos chased me with a handgun, hurling rubber bullets at me. I managed to run ahead of Thallos so far that I found a cliff face with a small cavern at its base. I stopped beside the entrance as I waited for Thallos. Not two minutes later, the Valcus slowly rolled up the dirt road.


    The Wild Elf jumped from the driver''s seat to stand beside me at the mouth of the cavern.


    Thallos slipped his hands into his pants pockets, leaning back as he gave me a proud grin. ¡°Here is where we part ways, boy. This is the start of your next tomorrow if you can pass this trial.¡± He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He told me to do the same and offer my hand forward.


    I did as I was told. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and put out my hand. The scents of the mountain were sharper and more defined than anything I thought they could have been. The sensations were stronger than anything I had ever encountered. The mist from a fresh brook, damp moss climbing over old stone, pine, rich and strong as the untilled earth it grew from. I felt a cold shape fall into the palm of my outstretched hand.


    I opened my eyes to find an enamel pin in the palm of my right hand, no larger than a bottle cap. The iron crafted into the image shaped an alien feline head. The creature¡¯s fur was grey with blue-green stripes, and its too-large eyes were an acidic yellow-green that reminded me of my own eyes. The creature looked like a cat made wrong. Not only were its eyes too large, but so were its ears, massive things in a pointed-shaped ending in large tufts of fur. Its face was sleek and bony, with teeth too long. The whole strange image was topped with a crown of six silver stars.


    ¡°What is this thing?¡± I asked, my voice laced with equal parts disturbance and curiosity.


    ¡°That is a Grimmalk. Wild, fearsome, vicious creatures native to the magic of the dark fae.¡± Thallos explained.


    I mounted the pin to the neck of my t-shirt. ¡°That¡¯s really fascinating and all, Uncle, but why give me the pin?¡±


    ¡°Think of it as a key. Now, make your way through the cave. I¡¯ll find you after the trial.¡± He gave me a gentle nudge on the shoulder. ¡°Now get going. You''re gonna need to finish this before the sun goes down.¡±


    I took a look at the sun to judge the time. I had about two and a half hours before the light of day faded.


    Without another word, I turned to the mouth of the cave. My father¡¯s face pressed into the forefront of my mind. I closed my eyes in an effort to stop the tears. Then, the image of the masked man standing over his bleeding body shattered its way through my memories. My jaw clenched so hard that there was an audible creak of bone and muscle. My fist clenched as hard as my jaw, nails digging into the skin of my palms. I refocused on my goal and pressed into the darkness.

 Chapter 6

    The Hermetic Order of the Aegis is made up of five sects: The Sect of the Crimson Blade, the warriors, The Sect of the Blackened Crown, the casters, The Sect of the Burning Hand, craftsmen and engineers, the Sect of the Sightless Eye, the spies, and The Sect of the Silent Heart, the assassins.


    The interior of the cave was as expected: dark, dank, and musky. There wasn¡¯t much I could do about the last two traits, but the dark didn¡¯t bother me in the least, given one of the few blessings of being a Darkling. The passage was tight for an adult, but given my thin stature, I was lucky. I never thought I would be happy to be a scrawny, short-height.


    I pressed on through the cave. I ducked under low-hanging stalactites and stepped around stalagmites. The whole while, I followed the winding passage as it twisted and turned at a downward angle. With every step along the way, I focused on my senses of hearing and smell. Thallos had said that this was a trial, so I needed to be ready for a fight. In these tight quarters, with even tighter turns, I¡¯d smell or hear another living thing long before I saw them. Even if that knowledge came only moments before an attack, it would be far better than nothing. I heard dripping water and the subtle echo of my footsteps on the stone floor. I could smell damp stone, algae, moss... and something foul. The stench of rotting flesh hung thick in the air, making my eyes water.


    I slowed my steps and softened the sound as best I could, and focused on that wretched scent. The farther down the path I pushed, the stronger the stench became. The rancid scent escalated to a whole new level as I neared a bend in the tunnel. I drew my dagger and pressed myself against the wall, listening. At first, there was nothing, then came a soft scuttle. A scuff of something across stone. Then came another and the sound of rock tumbling into a body of water.


    The stench of rot, scuffing against stone. I had to be dealing with a zombie or something like it. I peered around the corner, as slow and careful as my nerves would allow, inching my face past the wall to find something I did not expect and honestly really wanted nothing to do with. A tarantula the size of a large dog crouched in the center of a large chamber. Its body was covered in large patches of fungus, one of its forelegs missing, and its swollen abdomen at the rear partly caved in to expose rotting organs. Congealed black blood fell from the wound in large gobbets.


    There was no way I could handle something like that. I had watched several shows back at the cabin when my father allowed me my two hours of TV, that featured adventurers. As much as I liked the action shows with the flashy magic and fights and witty one-liners, I always preferred the shows on the Anogwin Explored Channel. Shows there had interviews with real adventurers and discussions about monsters. I had watched a couple of episodes that said that zombies, while slow and stupid, were also stronger than their living counterparts and far more resilient(resistant) to damage. The shows always said to aim for the head, but what was I supposed to do when the thing didn¡¯t really have a head? It was a face on the front end of a torso. There was no chopping that off with my dagger. I could try to stab it in the brain, but that would put me face-to-face with the thing. I had no doubts that the thing would overpower me, inject me with venom from those horrifically large fangs, and slurp me up like some kind of meat-shake.


    I could feel a panic attack coming on at the thought of that experience. My overactive mind treated me to visualization of myself getting bitten, phantom sensations of the bite, and being pumped full of venom. It started getting hard to breathe. My chest tightened up with a knot of pain; my heart pounded like a war drum fast and hard in my chest.


    I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing, low, slow, and level, willing my bunched muscles to unwind and ease the rate of my heart. I opened my eyes and started looking around the cavern for some way to get around.


    The space was semicircular and looked to be about twenty yards across at its widest in the center. The spider stood near that center, closer to the left-hand wall, near a pool of water of which I couldn¡¯t tell just how deep it was. The space was littered with stalactites and stalagmites of varying lengths, some meeting to form pillars. Directly across from where I hid was a cliff edge. Atop the cliff, past the lip, was a path. The rock wall leading up to the passage looked to be climbable, but I wasn¡¯t sure if I could reach it without getting mauled by the creature.


    There was no way that I could take the Restless Dead head-on. Maybe I could sneak around it? Maybe I could even ambush it, kill it before the foul thing could eat me.


    The thought of getting anywhere near the rotting thing made my stomach turn. Even the idea of trying to kill it made me sick. I would have to sneak around it. But first, I would need to test how responsive the spider corpse was. I looked around for a stone nearby. Near my foot, I found one. A chunk of sandstone was a little smaller than my fist. I gingerly plucked it from the ground and tossed it underhand into the cavern. The stone struck the floor with a loud ¡®clack¡¯. Only half a moment later, I saw the creature crouched and sprung, turning in the air to land hard on the very spot that the rock struck.


    So sneaking by was clearly out of the question. One wrong move, and I¡¯d be dead. Meaning that killing it was no more than a dream. My heart raced. Panic surged at the thought. Blood, gore, pain, screaming. The thought of any of those coming from me made me want to flee. I turned on my heel to do just that. I couldn¡¯t kill. I couldn¡¯t be killed.


    I took three steps, about to make a mad dash for the exit. I was ready to give up and leave. Instead, I¡¯d just ask Thallos for some other way to make a living. Suddenly, I was stuck almost physically with the image of my father dying on the cabin floor. A tangled mess of emotions rose up from deep within. Rage, grief, anguish, regret. The concoction of vitriolic emotions brewed into a storm in my chest that clouded my mind. I fled inward, hurtling my mind into the first pleasant memory of my father.


    I witnessed him in one of the many training sessions with him in archery. As he taught, he also told me of the unnatural taint that the Restless Dead were.


    <hr>


    ¡°It is natural to take a life, Iver. To kill for food or in defense is the nature of the world.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± My seven-year-old self asked as I watched my father draw back his bow to aim at a target mounted to a tree forty feet away.


    ¡°This world is full of things that will want you dead. Bandits, monsters, undead. At some point in your life, something or someone will want you dead. They might see you as food, want something you have, or even just hunt you for their twisted sport. No matter the reason, I expect you to protect yourself. If you want to live, you¡¯re going to need to kill.¡±


    ¡°Father, you mentioned undead. Why do they kill?¡± I asked, in ignorance.


    ¡°Because they aren¡¯t natural. The true nature of the Restless Dead is to kill anything they find. They don¡¯t need food, they don¡¯t feel pain, and they have no sense of self-preservation, so the only reason they have to murder anything with a pulse is for sport. And they will take every time if given the chance. Iver, undead, and even Blightings are abominations. The dead are supposed to stay dead. If you find a rotter, kill it. Put a bullet in its head, burn it, rip it to tatters. You hear me, son?¡± With those last words, Fermose let loose the custom arrow to strike dead-center of the target, spreading cracks across the plank of wood as it buried itself deep in the tree behind it.


    <hr>


    Tears streamed down my face even as my nails bit into my palms for the second time that day. I needed to get past the foul thing. This was the first step down the long road to making myself worth something. Something that can hunt down that sick butcher of a man and get some bloody vengeance.


    My will solidified to iron as I thought about my goals for revenge. I couldn¡¯t turn back now. This was the first step. I needed to prove that I was worth the training I so desperately needed. I turned back to the entrance of the cavern, taking a second look.


    I couldn¡¯t take the putrid thing head-on, so I was going to need to get creative. If I couldn¡¯t overpower it or outmaneuver it, I needed to out-think the mold-brained bastard. If the pool was deep enough, could I drown it? But how would I get it into the pool? What if the pool was too shallow? Did the thing even need to breathe? No, I needed to think of something else. I scanned every foot of the interior of the space until my eyes landed on a stalactite, massive, with a wide crack running along its base. It didn¡¯t take much thinking past that to piece together a plan to splatter the slimy lasher.


    I pulled my bow and an arrow and quietly backpedaled down the path till I reached a safe distance. I had the thought of trying to bring down the stone with just a well-aimed arrow, but I was not about to gamble my squishy insides on the stone breaking from a single arrow strike. It was time to put my talents to good use. I pulled my backpack off and began digging through it. First, I found the penlight Thallos had gotten for me, one of many things he got me for the trip. I clicked the light on and held it between my teeth as I dug deeper. While I had good dark vision, I was going to need to see as much detail as possible for what I had planned.


    I set aside on the stone floor from my bag my tool kit, a camp stove, an electric lantern, a mechanical cooking timer, duct tape, Insane brand adhesive glue, and a spool of nano-fiber utility cord. All the camp supplies were a matched pair to a set of Thallos¡¯s. The mechanical timer was an odd choice that I had questioned him on, but all he said was, ¡°Mechanical is more reliable than digital.¡± and at that moment in the cave, I was thankful for the timer being what it was. I stripped and broke down each of the tools down to their base components and laid it all out for ease of examination.


    With the penlight still in my jaws, I then set about dismantling and combining four arrows from my quiver. The theory was rushed, and the work was going to be a slipshod jerry-rig, but it was the best idea I had. I removed broadheads from three of the four arrows and shaved two of the three fletching of each of those same arrows while keeping said fletching whole. After running a bead of glue along the bare side of each of the three nude arrows, I taped them to the fourth, which remained whole. The cobbled-together madness was set in a Y shape, the remaining fletching of each arrow facing out at 120 degrees from each other. The central arrow¡¯s fletching stood out between each of the added limbs. I then glued the shaved-off fletching to the outer arrows to elongate the fletched area of each. Once the glue solidified, I set about shaving the forward-facing numbs of the neutered arrows to reduce wind resistance.


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Once that all was complete, after a half hour, I turned to my other dismantled gear. I partly reassembled the timer, but not completely. I only assembled the timer dial, mainspring, and balance wheel with a portion of the skeletal frame. Then I picked up the power supplies for the stove and lantern. The stove had three shard-sized Fire Myst Crystals, while the lantern had four fragment-sized Lightning Myst Crystals.


    I¡¯ll spare you the details on how I assembled the whole thing, but suffice it to say that I attached Fire Crystals to one side of the goliath arrow and Lightning Crystals to the other. Then, with copper wire and the partly reassembled timer, I designed the whole thing to go off with a bang when it hit something.


    Now that the straightforward part was done, it was time for me to put all that training my father ground into me to the test. Arrow and bow in hand, I picked up another stone. Judging the distance to be twenty-three feet in, I gauged the angle and strength of the throw of the stone. I tossed the stone just as I had the last, watching it sail through the air to land right on the target location. Even as I saw it near the stone floor, I notched my morbid excuse for an arrow and took aim.


    Now I need to make this clear. My bow was no flimsy thing made of wood and hemp string. What I held was called a Triple Stance Recurve Bow, made of treated steel, with a four-wheel pulley system to ease the pull strength, mounted with a ninety-thousand-pascal strength nano-polymer cord with a draw strength of one hundred pounds. Father spent six mythril to get me this bow for my eleventh birthday. That was almost two months of his annual income to get me a bow that was a little taller than me back then when strung. This bow was hard to pull for an untrained adult, but my father had me draw this bow daily, as many times as I could. I kept up the training even after he died, just so I could have some semblance of a routine, but it was paying off now. I really didn¡¯t think about it, but my back muscles must have been as defined as if chiseled from stone from drawing this bow. Go figure, arms and legs like twigs back then, but I had the back of some demigod.


    The abomination of an arrow contraption was too heavy for me to hold like a standard arrow, so it forced me to draw and aim it horizontally, so I braced the shaft against the bow.


    I drew the notched arrow and aimed as the spider jumped. I gauged the distance and angle of the shot while thinking about how to compensate for the additional weight and odd shape. As the necrotic arachnid landed, I loosened the arrow. The first arrow struck just below the crack head-on. I gave a silent cheer for my precise aim and estimations. But the arrow didn¡¯t detonate, instead striking the stone with a loud clack. As the device began its plummet, a curse slipped from my lips.


    My words must have carried because the vile thing turned toward me, its milky, sightless eyes seeming to stare right at me. In a panic, I fell onto my back while trying to notch and loose another arrow all at once. The rushed shot flew wide, and the reckless actions caused my bowstring to snap. I watched in horror as the spider wound up for a leap at me. My modified arrow plummeted point first to land against the spider¡¯s back as it made its lunge and detonated with a thunderous CRACK! There was a flash of light that rendered me blind, which threw me into a panic. I clambered backward, terrified that the creature was about to land on me and eviscerate me, putting my insides on the outside. But nothing happened.


    As my eyes adjusted to the pitch darkness, I saw something that drew from me both terror and joy, both in near endless amounts at that moment. When the arrow detonated, it devastated the arachnid¡¯s left side, its legs either thrown to the floor a dozen feet away or missing entirely. It lay in a gruesome heap not even five feet from where it had jumped, black-brown goo rolling out its side, grey-white chunks of mystery something mixed into the putrid pile. I slowly crawled to my feet, not daring to take my eyes off the still-thrashing creature. It kept trying to stand as if not comprehending that he lost half its body.


    I began to inch forward, weary of the hobbled abomination, when I heard the sound of cracking stone. There was a massive snap and a blur of motion before an earth-shattering crash and an unnaturally high screech of agony. Dust filled the air, and clumps of gore flew to splatter across the floor and nearby wall. The stench of rot permeated the air so thick I repeatedly gagged, even as I coughed from the dust.


    When the dust cleared, I found that the explosion had jarred the stalactite that I had been aiming for free and fell to land on the spider¡¯s abdomen. Its back end crushed to paste, chunks of chitin stuck to the stone that crushed it and the surrounding ground. Yet the thing still wasn¡¯t dead, even with two-thirds of the spider turned to slime. Its remaining legs still scrambled across the ground, trying to find purchase. Its fangs flexed, and mandibles writhed in frustration.


    I looked away in horror and disgust. I wasn¡¯t sure if this was better or worse than I had planned. The creature wasn¡¯t dead, and I was fairly sure that it couldn¡¯t feel pain, but the sight still turned my guts. I shouldered my bow after I tied the two ends of the drawstring together and drew my hunting knife, silently wishing for a gun to end this mess without getting close. But I was out of luck. I inched my way closer to the fraction of a corpse. I held the blade point down, watching its unnerving arachnid face, half-rotten and covered with patches of mold. Its milky eyes staring at me with... Was that sorrow? Despair? Pleading? No, I must have been imagining things. I raised the dagger up high, aiming to end the creature¡¯s existence. Only I couldn¡¯t. I couldn¡¯t take a life of even an undead freak like this, no matter how much it deserved to be ended.


    I turned away, sheathed my blade, and fled. Away from the beast, toward the exit that I had sought from the beginning. I made my way to the minor cliff face and started to climb. I heaved myself hand over hand to the top. At the edge, I pulled myself to the mouth of another cavern path. This path was even narrower and darker than the last. As I pushed on slowly, the tunnel changed, shifting from unhewn stone to carved walls. From single-form carved walls to walls of old blocks of granite. After a few yards, the walls started to gather pictographs. Warriors, animals, and monsters adorned the walls in some sort of story and pattern. The only thing that really stood out to me was the repeating image of a dragon plummeting from the sky with a spear through its chest. After another fifteen minutes of walking through the passage, I came to a sudden stop at what looked like an odd wall. The wall had seams around the edges and grind marks as if it were a door that would slide into the floor. The door, if it were that, seemed to be sealed by a five-figure dial lock, each segment of the dial etched with an image of a figure from the walls of the hall before.


    That wall was old, eras old. The longer I looked at it, the older it seemed. Before the Age of Divine Knowledge, for sure, but how much older? The Age of Tempered Glass? The Age of Steel¡¯s Grasp? The Age of Hungry Iron? Older? In the end, all that mattered was that it was older than an age. I looked at the designs layer by layer, one by one.  At the center was a handprint that was too small to be one of the larger Sophic Species, like Dracose or Orcs. Its size was more reminiscent of the medium races like Humans or elves, but it also had dimpled prints at the tips of each finger like claw marks, which only raised more questions.


    The first circle in the center showed, segment by segment, bones in the ground, screaming souls, howling demons, a gaping cave, and a wailing inhuman face.


    On the second circle showed leafless trees, trees losing their leaves, blossoming trees, fresh and vibrant trees, and barren stone.


    The third circle bore a bear, a wolf, a stag, and a strange six-legged wild cat of some kind.


    On the fourth circle lay an eagle, no, a roc bearing a calf in its claws, a raven with a skull in its beak, and a speared dragon.


    Upon the fifth circle, a storm cloud displaying lighting, a blazing sun, and a crescent moon.


    Within the final circle stood a leaf, a skull, what would look to be a soul, a sword crossed over a shield, and what looked to be six stones or gems in a half-circle


    I looked at this door long and hard, examining each image and turning the dials to test a few theories. Then I had a thought. Those pictograms had to have been for a reason. I turned back and tried to read the story of the images. There was an eagle with a lightning bolt in its claws under the sun. I found a dead tree with screaming faces over a burning, hell-like image. I found several more images, like those that were closed but not quite like what it showed on the door. In the end, I pieced all the images together. From the center up, I chose a skeleton in the ground, autumn trees losing their leaves, the strange cat creature, the storm clouds, and the six gemstones.


    Once I was positive that I had the right combination, I pressed my palm against the handprint. But nothing happened. I was almost completely certain that I had the right combination, but the lack of response instilled an ember of doubt. I went back to the wall and double-checked everything. The ember of doubt grew to a kindling of panic. I had to have been missing something. I scoured the door, examining every pictorial, looking for any flaw. There was a thin vertical slash in the handprint that went deeper than I could see. I toyed with the small indent, chipped at it with my hunting knife, and even tried to slip a copper through it like some retro arcade machine, but nothing worked.


    It was at this point I got lucky. On the verge of turning back to meet Thallos in shame, I struck the door with a fist as I pressed my forehead against the dial. I felt something crumble away. I pulled away my hand and looked closer at the strange wild cat¡¯s face, which had partly fallen away. I scratched at the face to find that it was mud. Only then did I notice that the cat¡¯s face hadn¡¯t matched the feline on the wall. I had been so focused on the six legs I hadn¡¯t noticed that its eyes and ears were too small. In fact, as I inspected the hollow space that held an imprint of an image that looked familiar. But from where? The answer came to me when I thought of Thallos and what he gave me right before I entered the cavern. An enamel pin in the design of a grimmalk. I pulled the pin from my shirt and tested it in the nitch to find it a snug fit.


    Nothing happened when I tried the handprint again. I had made it another step forward, and this was farther than I thought I would have made, and I wasn¡¯t about to stop now. I turned back to the slash in the handprint. Deep in thought, I eyed the notch, trading my attention between it and the pin that I had just slipped into place. I pulled the pin from its slot and tried to use the point of it to trip some kind of mechanism in the slash. In the effort, I felt a sting of pain on my fingertip. I winced and drew back with a hiss of pain to check my finger. The pin had slashed open the pad of my index finger, but I hadn¡¯t touched the needle tip. Bringing the pin close to my eye, I inspected the fastening end. And what did I find but that the bracing needle was bladed at the bottom and top sides.


    Who in their right mind blades a pin? Then it came to me. That pin was a key for the door in more than one form. I took another look at the handprint, this time focusing on the claw marks. Sure enough, in each davit, there was a small hole for the collection of fluid. No doubt that the slash on the palm was the same. I would not like what came next. But I had nearly been eaten by a necrotized arachnid. I would not let some minor self-mutilation get between me and my future. After all, what was a little blood spilled during training? Plus, I heard girls liked scars¡­ Not that I had yet to meet a girl that would even look at me as a person.


    I shook my head to free myself from the train of thought and readied myself for pain. I took a deep breath and stabbed my thumb. I gave another hiss of pain as I stabbed hard enough to reach the bone. I withdrew and moved to my middle finger. Less pressure this time. I jabbed myself again and again and again. Next came the worst part. I ground my teeth and looked away, and I stabbed into my palm and pulled down. I felt flesh tear and gave a snarl before forcing my hand against the handprint. My hand was smaller than the print, so I started by thrusting my fingertips into each of the claw prints and pressed hard enough to squeeze a good amount of blood. When I felt the door shudder, I slapped my palm against the center and ground my hand against the stone hard enough to sheer off some skin from the flat of my hand. The door gave an even greater shudder before retracting into the ground to reveal a continued passage that ended with a gleaming door of sunlight to enter into my new future.

 Chapter 7

    <h2>The Aegis Academies are the training schools for new entrees into the Hermetic Order of the Aegis. Starting first-year students are titled as Slates, in reference to blank slates. After the first year, students are chosen by the sect that best fits their talents and are trained exclusively to fit the role of each sect. </h2>


    <h2>Day 0, Quenchenday</h2>


    While I made my way through the cavern of christening, Thallos stood before the entry gate waiting for me in his combat leathers alongside the academy¡¯s Mysteriarch and a professor from each sect. This next bit I got from him almost a year after he took me on officially.


    ¡°I bet Iver is gonna butcher that spider. From what I¡¯ve seen, he¡¯s quite the marksman.¡± Thallos boasted.


    Master Mystagogue, Professor Neckar, the head caster of the Sect of the Blackened Crown, a pink-haired Gnome with blue-green eyes, groused audibly, ¡°I doubt it. The damned child was probably the one butchered.¡±


    ¡°Why would you say that?¡± asked Professor Mallock. The old Human tweaking a screwdriver against the cogs of his rough bionic left arm.


    ¡°Why do you think, old man? The Darkling isn¡¯t worth the water he was born with.¡± sniped the Orc, Master Mystagogue Bail, a snarl on her one-eyed face, ¡°Starved little fiend would¡¯ve been turned to slurry. ¡± She was the Master of the Warrior Sect called the Crimson Blade.


    The spymaster from the Sightless Eye, Kellar, shrugged his shoulders. For a Human, he looked remarkably plain and bland aside from his pale cardboard brown eyes.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to agree with Neckar. The spider must¡¯ve butchered him. Little snotling probably made for good bait and sport for the critter,¡± Professor Bail said with a yawn.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be like that, Darrdain.¡± Thallos defended. ¡°Just because he¡¯s a Darkling doesn¡¯t mean he¡¯s scum. I¡¯ve trained the boy, and he works harder than anyone I¡¯ve ever seen. Just wait till you see the footage.¡°


    All at once, each of the masters received a chirping chime on the therra-nodes mounted to each one¡¯s right temple. In an almost uniform manner, each of the masters checked the notification on their devices.


    A long moment passed as each of them watched the video. Master Mystagogue Bail let out a barking laugh. ¡°Warrior, my green ass.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d have to agree,¡± said the 3¡¯ 5¡± form of Master Mystagogue Neckar. ¡°This Maverick boy seems to have no talent, arcane or martial.¡±


    ¡°What about that shot?!¡± Thallos interjected. ¡°That was a marksman shot that killed the critter in one shot.¡±


    ¡°Marksman shot?¡± Bail scoffed as she watched the recording. ¡°The cobbled-together bit of wreckage is not an arrow, and the fact that he made the shot at all is little more than luck. Besides, you know the laws of the trial. Kill by weapon, tool, or element.¡±


    ¡°So what?¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t use magic, so he can not join the Blackened Crown,¡± came Professor Neckar.


    ¡°The kill was not from direct combat.¡± said Master Bail.


    ¡°The kill was not from an ambush.¡± stated Master Keckarra, the Master Mystagogue of the Silent Heart Sect.


    ¡°The kill was not avoided.¡± said Spymaster Kellar.


    ¡°The boy did use what he had on hand to craft his weapon and turned the environment into a weapon as well. Not to mention how easily he solved the door. If he has half as much talent with a wrench and solder, then I think I will be the one to take him.¡± Master Mystagogue Mallock said with a crooked grin.


    ¡°Oh, he will not be amused with this.¡± Thallos said in an almost amused tone.


    Thallos quickly hid his smirk as a figure appeared at the mouth of the cave.


    <hr>


    I cursed and spat the dust from my mouth, seemingly for the hundredth time, as I rose from the mouth of the cavern. I was stressed. I was tired. I was annoyed, and I was bleeding. I passed from the mouth of the cavern into the heart of the mountain, a crater that hollowed out the very core of the natural monument. Within the blasted crater was nestled a forest unlike any other. The leaves of the forest came in shades of blue and crimson alongside the green of a dozen other trees. Some of the leaves held a glow of their own. Standing among the exotic trees stood a series of buildings. Each structure was a squat grey thing lined with runes in black ink. I counted seven buildings set wherever they seemed to fit best. Standing in front of the main building stood Thallos beside another six figures.


    Beside Thallos stood a plain Human man with pale cardboard brown eyes, a scarred Wood Elf, brands only just barely showing along the low neck of her black leathers, a female Gnome, her tuft of dandelion hair a vibrant pink that blended in with her shifting crimson robes, a female Orc, her right eye, and jawbone replaced with steel and machinery, an old Human man with a bionic left arm and eye, his face a patchwork of scars under his long and wild grey hair, and a High Elf, her blond hair partially hiding a scar along the side of her neck, something that would be thought a death blow.


    I climbed up the hill, cursing and spitting as I went. I was so angry; I had half a mind to chew Thallos out. But the more I thought about verbally exploding, the more of a bad idea it sounded. I would never have mouthed off to my father, and Thallos was even more dangerous than my father, albeit with an odd temperament about him. I¡¯d better not make a scene in front of who must have been the head instructors. Thrown into a life-threatening position or not, I need to make a good impression. My future started in those next few moments.


    I marched right up to the group of adults and gave a deep bow. ¡°G-good evening. I am Iver Maverick, and would like to know if I scored well enough to join the academy?¡±


    Thallos broke out into a wide grin as all the instructors turned to glare at him.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t explain how this works? ¡± The scarred High Elf enquired. This close, I got a good look at the scarred, blond woman.


    She was garbed in a long, black, flowing cloak hemmed with silvery-grey embroidery. Adorning the chest of the robes looked to be an odd-shaped compass rose. It was composed of overlapping lines, square in the center, with each of the four of the rose¡¯s points creating a trident of sorts. Her sleeves were deep and wide, masking her hand movements. The form of the cloak cut off to reveal a pair of tight, black, thief''s leather pants, form-fitting hugging her legs padded at the knees, reinforced at the shins, with several pockets, pouches, and slots for tools. The pants covered surprisingly shapely legs that I was old enough to be fascinated by, but too young to know why I liked them. Covering her feet and overlapping with her thief¡¯s pants were what looked like some bastard hybrid between six-inch heels and steel-toe work boots. They looked like they were torture tools. Framing her face was a hood that could easily hide her face and was wide enough to remind me of a cobra''s hood. Crowning the entire dark getup was a crooked wizard cap; its brim seemed to be a foot long, and its point bent and dancing with her every movement.


    If her outfit caught eyes, then her face was a step above. Her left half was the image of Elven grace and beauty. A sharp chin and cheekbones. Her iris, just like every other High Elf¡¯s, were blue, but her sclera looked almost like they were grown from blue-white crystal to complete her face. This side of her face was a symbol of beauty, but her right side, it held a dichotomy between beauty and horror.


    The right side of her neck was a sight of puckered and pale scar tissue, a wound that must have been lethal, yet there she stood, somehow having survived a ripped artery.


    Her right cheek was torn open, and what remained was a scarred mess. The gaping wound of her cheek displayed teeth that had been shattered and repaired with gold into viscous fangs to give the sense of wolf¡¯s teeth all the way to the back of her jaw. Her right eye was framed by a spiderweb of pink scars, the orb itself, a modeled globe of bloodshot tissue, and milky scars that promised this woman would never see from the organ again.


    ¡°Sorry, Lady Mysteriarch. I had him focus on training. I didn¡¯t want to lasher his brain, letting him worry about how it all works.¡± Thallos offered an explanation that sounded cheap, even to me. All the other instructors either groaned in annoyance or massaged their brows or both.


    The robed Elf woman, the one that Thallos called Lady Mysteriarch, turned to me, bending over to look me in the eye. She spoke in a soothing voice that was thick with an accent from the Elven highlands, all hard Os, long Rs, and sharp Ks.


    ¡°Young Mister Maverick, I am the leader and overseer of this school. I am Mysteriarch Maidra Kaydammin, but you can call me Mysteriarch. K. The others here with us are the Master Mystagogues, the Master instructors for each sect. ¡°


    I nodded numbly as I looked deep into her good eye, flitting a glance to her right eye, the reflex completely out of my control.


    ¡°Just by getting through the cave, you passed. The only fact that matters right now is how you made it through.¡± Mysteriarch. K. stood up straight and gestured to the Master Mystagogues, as she called them. ¡°We watched how you dealt with the problem, and your actions show that you have great possibilities with the Sect of the Burning Hand.¡±


    With those words, my hopes broke, shattered to the floor. ¡°B-but Lady Mysteriarch, is there any way I can become a warrior? I-I¡¯m afraid that I have my heart set on being out in the world with a weapon in hand.¡±


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    At this, the female Orc Mystagogue crossed her arms and gave a derisive snort. ¡°Not unless you can grow a spine and some semblance of talent in the next year.¡±


    I felt a flicker of hope rise from the shattered body of my dreams. ¡°Excuse me?¡± I pressed in a manner as polite and as meek as I could manage. I really did not want to offend anyone, so I felt it best not to make too much of a fuss.


    Another figure stepped out of the group. A Human man who looked to be in his late seventies. He stood only slightly above average. The build of his body was an odd combination of a craftsman hunch in his back and the thin, ropy muscle of a blacksmith who skipped a few too many meals. He was mostly bald save for a mane of ash-grey hair that appeared to suffer from a severe static charge as it stood on end, making him look a little mad. He had one blue eye, blue like where the ocean and sky meet. His left eye was an older bionic piece. It looked to be from about a decade ago, but so heavily modified it was hard to tell. His face was pale under a thin layer of black ash, which stood in sharp contrast to the heavily tanned and leathery skin of his one natural arm and mostly bare chest. His left arm was¡­. Fascinating doesn¡¯t begin to express what his arm was. It was clearly a custom job, made of various types of metal, but I could tell just by looking at it that there were dozens, if not hundreds, of tools.


    ¡°Greetings, young Master Maverick. I am Master Mystagogue Kenis Mallock, Master of the Sect of the Burning Hand. We feel that you would fit best learning under me and my other instructors because of how you handled the trial in the cave. You see, if you had attacked the beast and started a fight with the creature and won, then you would have been selected as a warrior with the Sect of the Crimson Blade. If you had snuck around it, you would have been marked as a spy with the Sect of the Sightless Eye. If you had killed it with a single strike while it was unaware, you would have been slated as an assassin with the Sect of the Silent Heart. And if you had used a spell to end the creature, you would have been marked as a caster with the Sect of the Blackened Crown.¡°


    ¡°B-but Mystagogue, I killed it, didn¡¯t I? Why can¡¯t I be an assassin or a warrior?¡± I knew that what I said was a bald-faced lie, but I hoped they wouldn¡¯t notice because I was getting frantic, my hands wringing and feet shifting.


    ¡°You are slated for the engineer sect because you used an abstract form of combat. You crafted a device and used the environment to kill the creature in the cave, which shows a sense of awareness, precision, and complex thought needed to solve problems and equations in our field.¡±


    ¡°But couldn¡¯t I be an assassin by those same standards? I know they often have a need for the same skills.¡±


    The Wood Elf woman stepped closer, but the old engineer raised his hand in a sign of asking for a moment. ¡°I chose you instead of Master Mystagogue Keckerra because we saw your hesitation at the thought of harming another creature. With such a level of empathy, you would do no good as an assassin.¡±


    I opened my mouth to protest but found Mystagogue Mallock¡¯s finger over my lips. ¡°But I see your determination in learning the art of combat, and lucky for you, you have an entire year to change our minds.¡±


    ¡°W-wait. What?¡± I asked, in completely confused consternation.


    ¡°As of right now, you are an entry trainee at the Aegis Academy of the Grimmalk. For the next year, you will be trained in the fundamentals of all sects and will study the foundations of better education as we ready you for the Day of Choosing.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± I asked.


    At that point, Thallos stepped in. ¡°Everyone in any of the academies starts as a Slate. You will find your uniforms and everything you need in your room in Dorm Hall. You are given one fully furnished room, clothes and school supplies provided. For the next year, you¡¯re going to train in anything and everything, boy. If you impress the Master Mystagogues with your skill in another field, then on your Choosing Day, you will be selected to join that sect. ¡±


    Mysteriarch K. turned around and spoke, ¡°We have wasted enough time. Kenis, see that the boy is tended to and ready for classes. Thallos, follow me. I have your next assignment. Everyone else, I will assume that you all know what needs to be done.¡±


    Without another word, the group of adults dissolved; Thallos, Mysteriarch.K., and the Gnome Master Mystagogue all headed to the largest building centered in the crater. The Orc and the Wood Elf made their way toward the right, and the rather bland-looking Human Mystagogue just walked off into the nearest thicket of the forest.


    My head snapped around like rubber, trying to follow everyone heading in their own direction until I felt a weight on my shoulder. I refocused to find Master Mystagogue Mallock with his hand resting on my shoulder. ¡°Follow me to your new home, Ticker. ¡±


    ¡°Ticker? ¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yes, you, Ticker. I give a lot of my students nicknames to express how they act. ¡±


    I followed him as he headed due left toward a seven-story grey slab of a building.


    ¡°You are Ticker. When under pressure, you take your time and think things through, those seconds ticking away like a kitchen timer.¡± I looked to him in shock to see him flashing me an amused grin. ¡°But given time and tools, you answer any question set before you. The only sound that came to my mind as you crafted was that tick, tick, tick of a timer. But you knew you had time and worked diligently to solve the problem set before you.¡±


    For his age, that old master had one hell of a hustle. I was too busy trying to keep pace with him to ask any questions, so he carried on.


    ¡°You¡¯re lucky to have gotten here on Quenchenday. This gives you the rest of the day to relax and get set up. But tomorrow, Igniday, you will start classes. Every Igniday for the next few months will comprise of foundation classes, like biology, history, and basic mathematics. On Smeltesdays, you will study spycraft and social engineering. Temporikdays will consist of all-day combat tactics and team strategy. Castestdays will have magic theory classes and myst mechanic fundamentals. Hornadays will always consist of my classes, mechanics, magic theory, electronics, and all that fun. And Quenchendays, just like everywhere else, is a day of rest and meditation. Oh! And you will have physical training every morning.¡±


    By this point, we had reached the main doors of the seven-story grey building; the dormitory was clearly legible above the entrance in large brass letters. The Master Mystagogue bustled up seven flights of stairs, rambling on about something involving a faulty Water Myst crystal core and a sewage blockage. I lost most of the details trying to climb the stairs, feeling like little more than a wheezing floor rug.


    ¡°And this is your room, Number 780.¡± He pressed a key into my hand, ¡°Now, first-years are always on the seventh floor of the dorm, and every year after you go down a level, seventh year¡¯s room on floor 7.¡±


    I slipped my low-tech key into my low-tech lock, voicing my thoughts as I did so. ¡°This security seems a little¡­.um, lacking. I thought somewhere like this would have more high-tech personal security.¡±


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t fuss over that. Tomorrow afternoon, we are going to run physical, neural, and synaptic tests. During that, we will be sure to add a therra-Node mount and a R.A.T Tail; once those are added, we will add B.I.Cs to your wrists.¡±


    I stepped into my room, noting the reinforced bolt locks set inside the fireproof steel plating on the door and wall.


    ¡°I will leave you to get settled. The DFAC or cafeteria is the closest building to this one, just north of here. They serve food all day. And be up and ready for a challenge by 6 am.¡± Master Mallock turned and began heading back down the hall, only to stop three steps later and turn back to me, ¡°Oh, and be sure to read the handbook to the academy.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir. I will get on it.¡±


    I stepped into my room, closed, and locked my door. Pressing my forehead against the door, my eyes closed, and I took a slow, deep breath. I held that breath and let the last few minutes pass through my mind. It had been a lot to process.


    This was insane, I thought. I wasn¡¯t adventurer material. I was going to get myself killed here. Hell, I almost got killed just trying to join this damned academy. What in Anogwin was I doing? I had about as much spine as a jellyfish. How in the nine circles was I supposed to graduate from this place? This was a place where legends were born. On the journey here, Thallos told me stories of the heroes who were part of the Order. Liquilla the Iron Branded, Morgan Crystal Blade, Tallos Light Fist. The Order¡¯s academies had birthed legend after legend, and if what Thallos said was right, then there were hundreds of other men and women who had done just as much as those legends but kept to the shadows.


    There was no way I was going to make it. I should just talk to the Mysteriarch and ask to leave.


    But then what? Go back to being homeless? Stay powerless, weak, and starving? Live with the nightmare of my father¡¯s death and spend the rest of my brief life kicking myself because I could have done so much more, become so much more.


    No. I started this journey to find that murderer and the stolen box, and I damned well was going to finish it. I was going to join the Crimson Blades, graduate, and find that man, or I was going to die trying. I needed to grow a spine, here and now.


    It was at that moment I decided that the old Iver, the weak, shy, powerless Iver, died in that cave. If I was going to make it here, I couldn¡¯t stay the boy I was. As of that moment, in that room, I was going to be a man.


    I lifted my head from the door and turned to survey my new home. The room wasn¡¯t large by any means, no more than eight by ten, made up of four grey walls with lit trim edging at each wall, emitting a clean white light through the room. The back wall was a holo-window, simply a hologram that displayed what was just past it, currently dormant. The ceiling was also a holo-window. At that time, it displayed the mouth of the crater leading to a grey-white cast sky that made me feel a bit melancholy. Mounted to the right wall was a weapons rack made up of matt-black nano hexagons called a Black Rack. The rack currently looked like an odd, flat, black box protruding from the wall, but if I pressed a weapon against it, the material would mold to the shape of the weapon and hold it snug. Beside the rack was a sliding door that could only lead to the restroom. Against the wall beside me was a wardrobe, no doubt already stocked with uniforms and other necessary clothing items. Set in the back left corner was a full-sized bed, neatly made with a grey pillow and white sheets; the comforter above glistened silver in the room¡¯s light, displaying the symbol that was on the Mysteriarch¡¯s robe in black, red, and purple, it only took me a couple of moments to realize that was the insignia of the Order. The bed frame was a single piece mounted to the floor. The headboard rose and stretched forward to form an overhang, no doubt some form of extra lighting or a vid-system. But what really caught my eye was the workbench against the left wall.


    The bench was forged from steel. Directly above the bench had its own Black Rack with a range of tools. The front face of the desk was lined with row after row of drawers, probably filled with crafting materials or to be filled with them. Feeling a hunger that had nothing to do with food, I skittered over to the desk. I ogled the tools, ecstatic at finally having a more extensive set. Thoughts of what I could do with these raced through my mind. I could fix so much, and I make so much more. I went through the drawers, cataloging everything. Several sizes of screws, solder, wire of varying gauges, nuts, bolts, washers, gears, blank quartz boards, diodes, resistors, capacitors, and more. This was a great start, but I would need some more raw materials if I was going to make something good.


    I was so wrapped up zipping over my new supplies and toys that I almost didn¡¯t notice the book on the bench. Bound in clean black leather and pressed with the same symbols as was on my bed, it was a little larger than a pocketbook. I picked up the book, set aside my bag, and let my bow and hunting knife clatter to the floor with a few quick motions, but I gingerly settled my quiver to let it prop against the bench. I pulled Sasha, my tattered and ratty blanket, from my bag. Her once rich forest green fabric was a faded shadow, one edge fraying and held together with a shabby knot. I draped her over my shoulder and flopped down on my first actual bed in almost a year. Splayed face down across the bed like a corpse, I waved my arms and legs like I was making a snow angel and emitted a muffled groan of pleasure that bordered on decadence. I flopped over onto my back, rolling like a bloated walrus, my arm extended into the air like a guiding sail. I pressed on the overhead light to my bed and turned to page one of my handbook.


    Welcome, trainee, and congratulations on your first step on the path to forging a better tomorrow.

 Chapter 8

    There are more than just Darklings that are defined as Halflings. One of the only Halfling breeds that seem to be respected and even revered are the Brightlings. The dynamic opposite to the Darklings, Brightlings are half angelic, notably marked by their lineage with a pair of wings sprouting from their back, a complexion that is literally glowing at times, and luminous irises. Brightling wings do not allow for flight, but do let them glide from heights. This is only made possible by the race¡¯s hollow bone structure, like that of a bird.


    Day 1, Igniday


    The alarm blared with a wailing horn call. At that moment, it must have been the most horrific tune to wake up to. The handbook called it The Rising and mentioned something about its history and meaning, but at that moment, I didn¡¯t give a griffin¡¯s ass what it meant, I just wanted it to stop. As The Rising started up, I rose from my fitful sleep in a panic, shooting up into the sitting position fast enough to slam my head against the overhang. My ears rang, my skull throbbed, and I probably had just concussed myself. I rolled out of bed and straight onto the floor, the sheets and Sasha coming with me in a tangle. I struck the floor with a slapping thump on the cold tile. The noise emitted from my mouth as my nose pressed against the floor sounded akin to some bastardized mash between a zombie and a mating hippocampi.


    I had half a mind to crawl back into bed and cover my head with the sheets to block out the light that activated with the damned blaring hell noise. It was then that I heard the shouting.


    ¡°Get your worthless asses out of bed, you sorry sacks of shit!¡± Came a furious male voice from down the hall outside my room. I really did not like the sound of that. Then I heard a door open, a male scream of panic followed by a loud thump. I liked that sound even less. To get to the locker, I untangled my naked self from the sheets in a frantic rush, tugging and yanking in near panic. I threw the locker door open and dressed in a blur of cursing, hopping, and stumbling. The uniform was almost solid black, made up of pressed pants, combat boots, and a dark grey t-shirt under a dress uniform jacket top that buttoned down the left side of the breast. Every scrap of the uniform was made from some strange material that felt tough and durable yet somewhat elastic. On the shoulders of the shirts and jackets was a symbol that looked like an eight, made up of straight lines, but the top half was open, ending in two prongs like a bident; the design was done in a deep purple. Only a few years later did I learn that the style of suit was called a double-breasted three-button dress coat with a notched lapel.


    I had just laced up my second boot, still shirtless when my door slid open. The figure that stepped through made me go pale. It was no man; it was a beast that looked vaguely like a man. Clearly an Orc by his grey-green skin, thick body hair, square jaw, and blunt tusks. He was so large, even for an Orc, that he had to crouch and sidestep to fit through my doorway. His eyes were a flat slate grey under a brow so heavy you could have hung your jacket on it. He dressed (and I use the term loosely) in a uniform similar to my own, only his was trimmed in copper, and his shoulders displayed what looked like four bidents merged to make some kind of compass rose. The uniform would have looked nice if not for the fact that it was stretched so tight over his behemoth frame that the buttons and seams strained with every shift and motion. They must have been reinforced to an ungodly degree.


    I¡¯m pretty sure I let out a slight squeak when he loomed over me like a mountain of muscle and wordless threat. He uttered only two words, ¡°Dress, now.¡± and it sounded like a thunderstorm, and a rockslide had a baby. If I was panicked before, with him in the room, I was so terrified I was sure I was going to faint if he so much as looked at me with annoyance.


    I threw on the undershirt and reached for the jacket, only to freeze when I heard the mass of muscle growl. He raised a single massive paw, giving me the urge to flee like a rabbit as he pointed to my belt line.


    ¡°Tuck.¡± was all he said and all I needed to hear. I tucked in my undershirt and slipped myself into the coat so fast I rumpled it. When he saw this, he emitted another growl, and I froze, not even daring to breathe. He stepped further into the room, his steps strangely quiet. But I barely noticed that because I could only just barely manage not to fall off my feet. He lifted his hand toward me, and I stepped back in reflex. This only drew another rumble from the large man that forced me to lock in place. He pressed a single finger against my left lapel, his touch gentle but heavy.


    ¡°Pin.¡± The monster of an Orc rumbled. It took me a moment to remember the enamel pin of a grimmalk that my uncle had given me. I scrambled across the room to the workbench. I made to scoop up the pin from the tabletop, but in my rush, I only slapped it to the floor. As the pin bounced and danced across the tile floor, I threw myself in hot pursuit. I scampered across the floor like a gecko to snap up the pin at the foot of the Orc Mystagogue. He reached down with a massive pallet of a hand and lifted me from the floor with two pinched fingers on the back of my collar. He took the pin from my numb hand and pinched off the damnit backing between his lips with shocking dexterity. He slipped the pin through the lower half of my left lapel and snapped on the damnit before I even knew what he was doing.


    The large Orc turned around and half tossed me out into the hall. He stepped out behind me and pointed to the door that led to the stairs down, and I needed no more command to understand what I had to do. I clambered to my feet and bolted, weaving through the crowd of new students to head outside for breakfast. The moment I stepped outside, I found a Ceangar dressed the same as the Orc, pointing and shouting at students to get into a uniform formation. The Ceangar was short even for his race, standing at around three foot two. His desert-sand-colored skin was laced with raised pale scars across his face and neck. His eyes were the ice blue-white of northern ice wastes, and his gaze seemed to give that frosty stare a bladed edge. His amber hair was slicked back with a copious amount of gel, the sides shaved down to a fade.


    I, just like all the other new students, was completely lost, frantically turning my head, trying to find anyone who looked like they knew what was going on.


    ¡°Move your pale asses, you cock lickers!¡± The Ceangar barked. ¡°Newbies are to stand rank and file over here!¡± He pointed to an open patch of ground to his left. ¡°I want five even columns and as many rows as needed to fit all you dim wits!¡±


    I moved to follow instructions, flowing with the mass of bodies around me toward the space the short and intimidating man had indicated. I faced toward the Ceangar and his Orc counterpart in the rightmost column about six people back. The two instructors began walking around the formation, the Ceangar with his hands folded behind his back, the Orc with his arms folded over his massive chest.


    The two had made it only two rows deep before they both stopped. The shorter of the two stared at the student¡¯s feet beside him. Pointedly moving his gaze from the first student to the student next in the row. Before anyone could respond, there was a blur of motion and a sharp crack of something hard hitting something soft, followed by a shout of pain and surprise. The dauntingly angry instructor was suddenly holding a blunt, long knife. The student beside him was on the ground, coddling his left shin.


    ¡°When I tell you to stand in formation, I want it to be PERFECT! Even arm¡¯s length distance between you and the student in front of you and in line with the student to your left. Now SHAPE UP!¡±


    All at once, we all started making adjustments, measuring the distance with our arms and shuffling. Once we stopped shifting around, he spoke up again. ¡°That¡¯s better. Now, if you are shorter than the person in front of you, tap them on the shoulder. If you are tapped, you are to half step to the left and step back. These exchanges are to be quick and clean and to keep happening till you are taller than the trainee in front of you.¡±


    I was tapped three times and did my best to follow instructions. I looked around and noted everyone around me was either a Human or an Elf. They were giving me fleeting glances, only to look away when I made eye contact. In the formation''s front were the shorter races, the Ceangars, a single Gnome, and a few Dwarves. At the rear was where most of the Orcs and Dracose stood.


    ¡°Great, you now have proven that you all can follow the simplest of instructions when given the proper motivation.¡± As he said this last bit, he slapped the flat of his blade against his open palm hard enough to elicit an audible clapping sound. ¡°Now, what you are going to learn is some basic footwork.¡±


    There was another loud Thuwap of metal striking flesh and another wail of pain. ¡°Stand still, you damned greenhorns. If I catch you twitching, fidgeting, or even sneezing, I WILL break something. Now, whether what breaks is my instructing tool or your bones, that¡¯s all up to you. Now, look to your feet!¡±


    We all looked down. ¡°They should be in the shape of a V with heels touching. When I say RIGHT FACE, you are going to push with the toe of your left boot and pivot on your right heel. You will make this quick and clean, and you will stand in a V stance when you are done.¡±


    We all did as we were instructed. He then had us do the shoulder tap thing again. Then we were directed to do another pivot to the left. By the end of it all, the tallest in the formation, a male Dracose, was in the back left corner. Meanwhile, I was in the third to the left column, five people back out of the ten rows.


    ¡°Great, now that we have the cattle all pretty like in their rows, it¡¯s time for introductions. I am Mystagogue Kellennar, my meat slab of a partner here is Mystagogue Thrasher, and your names are, as of right now, are worthless. You have no name. Today is the first day of your life as a Slate. Your name is based on your location in this formation. Starting from my right, you are going to count off.¡± He pointed to the shortest person in the formation, a tiny female Gnome with fluffy orange hair. ¡°You are Slate one or S1. Now count off, loud and clear, before I make sure you need new teeth.¡±


    One after another, each student shouted a number identifier until it was my turn to squeak out ¡°S 23!¡± but it was barely loud enough to meet Kellennar¡¯s instructions. When he glared at me, I visibly withered under the burning cold gaze of disapproval. On went the count until a resounding silence after the count of fifty.


    ¡°I suppose that was a¡­ tolerable display. Now memorize the faces to your left and right and the back of the skull ahead of you. Till the end of your first year, this will be your position. Your number is your name as far as I am concerned, so remember it better than what your parents used to call you. Now, we are your physical conditioning and combat training instructors. When any Mystagogue speaks to you, you are to respond with either yes or no sir, ma¡¯am, or Mystagogue.¡±


    The response from the students was a chaotic mix of answers that mostly comprised ¡°yes sir.¡± and ¡°yes Mystagogue.¡± There was a long moment of silence that seemed to stretch on. It was after a few seconds, I noticed a couple of things. First was the rising pressure coming from Kellennar. Then I noticed the engorged vein throbbing at his neck.


    ¡°What, did you just call me?¡± he murmured, only just loud enough for me to hear. ¡°DID YOU JUST CALL ME MA¡¯AM!?¡± his murmur rose to a barking yell. ¡°DO I LOOK LIKE A FUCKING MA¡¯AM TO YOU!¡± Kellennar stormed past the first few rows of students to stop in front of a Human boy one row ahead of me and a space to my right. The Ceangar literally climbed up the guy¡¯s uniform till he was pressed nose to nose with the blond-haired boy. ¡°DO I HAVE A FUCKING PAIR OF TITS!? DO I LOOK LIKE A PIECE OF FUCKABLE MEAT?!¡±


    ¡°N-no sir,¡± the poor student stammered.


    Kellennar snarled at the terrified teen before rearing his head back and slamming it into the student¡¯s trembling lips. Kellennar kicked off from the student as he fell to the ground, his lips split and bleeding, several of his teeth chipped, and even one tooth looked to be missing. As the first student fell, the student right behind him only just managed to step aside to avoid being fallen upon, instead jostling me.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Kellennar turned to the student who had just stepped aside. ¡°Did I say you could move?¡±


    ¡°N-no Mystagogue. Sorry, Mystagogue.¡± whimpered the High Elf as he shuffled back into his space.


    ¡°That¡¯s better.¡± Kellennar turned away and strolled back out of the formation, hands clasped behind his back yet again. He deftly spun on the ball of one foot to face us. ¡°Today, instead of you flatheads getting a fattening breakfast followed by a swift beating at my hands, I am to escort you to the medical center for physical checkups, immunizations, and the installation of your R.A.T. Tails, therra-node mounts, and B.I.C¡¯s. To get there will be the maiden flight for this formation, meaning that in order to get to the medical center, you slug cocks need to learn how to march.¡± Kellennar said with relish.


    At that moment, he started pacing back and forth from one end of the formation to the other. ¡°Marching is simple as pie. When I say ¡®left¡¯, you step forward with your left foot. When I say ¡®right¡¯, you are to step forward with your right foot. Not a lunging step or a baby step, but an even step. For you shorter maggots, that means you make a step large enough to not get stuck on the boot of the whore face right behind you. For you giants in the back, I know it¡¯s easy to keep those airheads of yours in the clouds up there, but if I catch you stepping on anyone, I will climb that mountain to the top, I will leave my mark at the summit, and it will be a welt. Am I clear?¡±


    This time, the response was a semi-uniform ¡°Yes, sir!¡±


    ¡°Good. Now, you will be following my marching instructions. They will be as follows: left, left, right, left. That means step to the beat, and I swear to the goddess¡¯s tits, if you try to take two left steps in a row, I will beat you senseless and have you running drills for the next week from sunrise to sunset. Am I clear?¡±


    Another resounding answer of ¡°Yes, sir!¡±


    After that, he taught us how to turn while marching, how to half turn while marching, and how to about-face or turn around in a single fluid motion. I fumbled with each of these, lacking the dexterity to perform any of the commands smoothly, drawing snickers from the surrounding students, mostly from the Brightling directly behind me. When we did an about-face, that very same Brightling slapped me in the face with his dove-white wings.


    As we began marching to Mystagogue Kellennar¡¯s beat, he would circle around the formation that he called a breaker, smacking anyone who didn¡¯t march to his liking with the flat of his long dagger. He hit me three times in the fifteen-minute march for falling out of step. But two of those three times I was struck was because the Brightling behind me stepped on my tail. One time I could excuse it as an accident, but after that, I knew the half-angel was just being malicious.


    When the breaker formation came to a stop in front of a three-story grey building, my tail was throbbing. I hated how sensitive the damned limb was. The only parallel I could draw to just how sensitive it was would be comparing it to a guy¡¯s... man bits. When we came to a stop, I coddled my bruised tail in my hands, holding it close and as gingerly as I could.


    The building before us was a single solid piece of grey stone, most likely synthcrete, dappled every few feet with textured windows that allowed light to pass but obscured vision through the panes. The automatic front doors were also glass, bearing a holographic symbol of an oversized syringe filled with a crossed feather and leaf, the universal symbol for hospitals and medical facilities. We were sent in one column at a time. A few minutes after each column entered, the next was waved in by a nurse. When it came time for my column to enter, I could feel my anxiety, which was already high, spike. I had never had implant surgery before, and my father only had me vaccinated twice in my life, and that was only when the flu was really hitting the town hard.


    I followed behind S18 as close as I dared. S18 looked from behind to be a rather broad Human with no hair. We passed down the entry hall to a nurse, who waved us down a hall to the left. We passed down that hall to be waved right by yet another nurse. Following my fellow students, I stepped into a long room lined with a series of mechanized arms hanging from the ceiling. A nurse at the entryway instructed us to remove our uniform jackets and t-shirts. I did as instructed and proceeded to follow the line. One by one, we stepped into a scanning chamber that, to my best guess, must have measured statistics like race, gender, height, weight, and BMI. It made sense if they had to cater each dosage and chemical type to each individual Slate to prevent adverse reactions.


    I was about to step into the chamber when I was shoved from behind. Stumbling inside, I barely caught my balance. Glancing over my shoulder, I found what I had expected: the Brightling smiling politely, his yellow-gold eyes gleaming with the predatory mirth of an oversized cat playing with prey. I turned back to face forward, taking a deep breath. I couldn¡¯t let the asshole get to me. Brightlings always seemed to have a bone to pick with Darklings, or so I noticed from my many hours watching holovids. But then again, Darklings were always the villains.


    After the scan finished and the doors on either end of the glass chamber opened, I stepped out and passed three paces to mount a slightly raised platform. The moment my weight pressed down on the pressure plate, the perimeter lights switched from orange to blue. I watched as the mechanical arms on either side of me shifted and moved in clean-cut and precise motions. Each arm ended in an injector gun, which inverted as they turned away to socket three vials a piece, each ampul filled with liquids of varying colors. The glass bodies all spun in unison as they locked into place. With all three of the vials fastened, the device flipped and rotated to face me. In quick fluid motions, the injection devices jabbed on either shoulder and pushed the cocktail of gods knew what into me. I winced with each sting of the needles and flinched as I felt fluid get pumped into my body. As the arms retracted, a series of holographic arrows directed me forward and onto the next platform. The process repeated itself another six times. By the end, my shoulders were raw and bleeding, and my eyes barely held back the rising tears.


    I stepped off the final platform and was waved into a room by yet another nurse. The room was one of a dozen along one wall. I stepped into the space to find it was just a normal doctor¡¯s examination room, complete with a model Human skeleton in one corner, a model Orc skull on a side table, and a diagram of an Elven eye on the back wall. An elderly female Wood Elf sat in the chair beside an examination table, dressed in scrubs and a doctor¡¯s coat. Her brown hair was cut in a short bob, and glasses perched on her nose magnified her brown sclera and Wood Elven green irises. Her ID tag displayed her name as Dr. Brooksheen.


    She gave me a polite nod, tapped her therra-node at her temple, and began looking me up and down. She stood and made a circle around me before asking, ¡°Please strip for me.¡±


    I did as I was told, stripping down to my underwear and trying to cover myself out of embarrassment. She gave me a kind smile and said, ¡°Boxer-briefs to my boy. You don¡¯t have anything I haven¡¯t seen before.¡±


    I took another deep breath and stripped out of my last scrap of modesty. She inspected every inch of my body, no doubt scanning me with her therra-node for anything her eyes couldn¡¯t pick up. Grabbing my tail, she ran her hand down the length of it and flexed it in key spots, which drew a wince of pain when she reached the bruise that the Brightling made. She then grabbed my horns and directed my head left, right, up, and down. She continued a very in-depth inspection of my body, having me do certain motions and actions like duck-walking across the room. After what felt like an eternity of embarrassment, she had me put my underwear and pants back on. But she told me to leave my shirts off and just carry them with me.


    ¡°What¡¯s your Slate number, name, and SIN?¡± She asked.


    ¡°Um, my number is S23. My name is Iver Kaser Maverick. And I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t know what a SIN is.¡±


    ¡°SIN or Social Identification Number is a number completely unique to you that our nation of Ventic can use to keep track of you and information connected to you. If you don¡¯t know yours, it¡¯s not a problem. Where were you born, and what are your parents¡¯ names?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, ma¡¯am, but I don¡¯t know where I was born, but I was raised in the town of Blackstone. I also never knew my real parents, but I was raised by a Wild Elf named Fermose Maverick. I hope that helps.¡±


    The doctor began moving her hands in gestures of interactions with holograms only she could see, dragging, pressing, enlarging, scrolling, and typing with her fingers through empty air to my eyes.


    ¡°Interesting. I found your medical records from your doctor, but there is no record of who your biological parents are or of you even having a SIN. The spaces for all of this information are just labeled ¡®N/A¡¯. I will be sure to bring this up with the facility director and the Mysteriarch. They should be able to pull some strings and get you a SIN. Till then, for the purpose of your implant surgery, I will just put down your number as 000-000-0001.¡±


    ¡°Um, I¡¯m s-sorry to bother you, ma¡¯am, but the surgeries... umm,¡± I stammered.


    She refocused on me and, with a single gesture, must have closed the therra-node display. ¡°Let me guess, you¡¯ve never had any implant surgery before.¡±


    I gave a vigorous nod even as I rubbed my palm along my left bicep nervously as my gaze fixed on my shifting bare feet.


    ¡°No need to fret, child. I have checked you over from head to toe, and there should be no complications. And if you¡¯re worried about pain, they will give you a sedative. You go to sleep and wake up with a tender spot at your temple and at the nape of your neck. If you have anything worse than a minor headache in the next week, be sure to come back, and we can give you another full examination.¡± She said with a kind smile even as she pushed her half-moon spectacles up her nose. She then directed me that once I stepped out of the room, I was to head left. After I passed all the exam rooms, I was to take another left at the door labeled WR3. I was to take a seat there and wait to be called.


    I followed my instructions, entering a large waiting room lined with cushioned chairs in metal frames and light blue plastic upholstery. They lined the clean white walls like the rest of the facility with motivational posters, most depicting adventurers being daring and courageous with script underneath reading things like ¡®With a positive attitude and an open mind, you can do anything!¡¯. Several of the chairs were already taken by students. Some gathered in small groups and talked in hushed tones. Others read magazines provided on tables spaced between every few chairs. The seat I chose was in the back corner. I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms and tail around my legs, and just watched and waited. I looked at each of the students in the room.


    The Brightling who had been giving me trouble was in a group with the male High Elf in the row beside me, the one who had bumped into me, an Orc, and a Dracose from the breaker formation. They were cheerfully chattering away and occasionally laughing at an aggravating volume.


    Everyone in the room seemed to have their own story, and that was plain to see by the look of each person. The way they looked, the way they held themselves, even the manner of their dress. Not that I could have told you what any of their stories were, but there were three that caught my eye. Three loners just like me, only they all looked tougher and meaner than me by miles and leagues.


    There was the Wild Elf girl with fiery red hair braided down to her lower back. She was thoughtlessly fiddling with the tips of her hair with her hands, and pink burn scar tissue lined the outside of her left forearm. What really caught my eye about her was her blue sclera. That was almost unheard of for Wild Elves. Most of their scleras were brown or green.


    Then there was S18. From the front, I could plainly tell he was a Halfling Dwarf, probably Dwarf-Human from his stature. He was the only bald student in the room, and he had the start of a brown beard just long enough to have three braids. Dwarves were a very proud species, and Dwarf Halflings were very rare to come across. He was pretending to read a magazine. The only reason I knew he was pretending was that the magazine was upside down, and his eyes were looking into the middle ground. Either he was pretending, or he was practicing reading upside down, and I was not one to judge people for their odd hobbies.


    There was an Elf boy aggressively tapping his foot on the floor as if he needed to get up and move but couldn¡¯t. I couldn¡¯t tell if he was a Wild Elf or a High Elf because he had traits of both breeds, but he couldn¡¯t be a crossbreed. His uniform was a shambled mess even after only two hours in it. His disheveled, dirty blond hair was wild, bringing to mind a similarity to a lion¡¯s mane.


    Lastly, was the most striking of the three. To call her a girl was a bit of a stretch. She was definitely Human at one time, but from her lower jaw down was nothing but cybernetics. Her platinum hair was a sharp contrast to the dark grey matte metal of her body, cut short to frame her face, bringing out the purple scars that looked to crawl up her cheeks. Her lavender amethyst eyes almost seemed to glow beside her pale hair. She kept busy with a tool kit on her lap, small driver in hand, as she tweaked the mechanical internals of her left arm. It was this girl that I found both the most fascinating and the most terrifying. She must have survived something terrible to end up like that at such a young age.


    My already sky-high anxiety began creeping as I thought about what all of these new students must think of me and what they would do to me, given half a chance. I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing. Inhale 1, 2, 3, 4, hold 1, 2, 3, and exhale 1, 2, 3, 4. I repeated this over and again until suddenly, I heard a male voice call out, ¡°Maverick, S23!¡±


    I shot to my feet and quickly hurried across the room to meet a Dwarven nurse. I was led through a pair of sliding doors and escorted with brisk haste into an operating room. The room was dark save for an overhead light above the operating table. Just to the side of the table was an elevated metal plate holding a series of tools that made me pale. I audibly gulped as the nurse instructed me to lie face down on the table.


    ¡°I-is this going to hurt?¡± I asked as I climbed atop the table, my hands and legs trembling.


    In all honesty, I don¡¯t remember her answer, but the next thing I knew, there was a breather mask being mounted to my face. The gas tasted odd, with a bitter tang. That was the last thing I remember before blacking out to the sound of an electric saw.

 Chapter 9

    Cybernetics are a common sight across Anogwin to one degree or another. The modifications and augments can range from affordable and functional to excessive in price and able to make the most meek of men into a threat. Body augmentation can become an addiction, leading people to discard their body piece by piece to eventually become what is called Cyberfreak.


    Day 1, Igniday


    I tentatively touched my throbbing right temple. My temple and the base of my skull were an unsettling combination of burning, throbbing pain, and complete numbness that reminded me I was missing flesh and bone in those locations.


    At that moment, I sat in one of the backmost seats of a lecture hall in the main school building known as the Aegis Hall. The massive semicircular room had its curve set to the back wall. Each row of seats was set three stair steps higher than the row ahead of it. The walls of the room were dark stained cherry wood, lined with the occasional wall lamp to give a dim mood lighting just bright enough to not strain the eyes while reading. The ¡®desks¡¯ were all a single long table on each tier. At each student¡¯s station was a desk-mounted holo display, a graphic interface on the surface with a stylus connected to the desk by a wire cord to prevent theft, and a space for mundane pens and pencils. The student¡¯s chairs were mounted to the floor with a swivel base and sliding grove to allow the seat to be pushed back. Though all the fanciness of the seats did nothing to make them feel any better than sitting in a tin bucket.


    While waiting for class to start, I had been testing and toying with the graphical interface. I found I had access to a slew of textbooks ranging from mathematics to physics to military tactics on both small and large scales. There were maps of the facilities and school grounds as well. I definitely would have to spend some time in the woods on my Quenchendays. There was a cacophonous slam that resounded through the hall. Every other student in the room and I nearly jumped out of our seats, looking up to find a rather surly-looking old Human man stepping into the room from the main door.


    The professor was stooped. His walk turned into little more than a shuffle by a hunch that looked like he had spent years carrying load after load of bricks uphill. Atop his head was a pointed cap with a wide brim made of what once was black fabric. The hat was now a limp, floppy thing that was a more charcoal grey color than black. Over his Mystagogue uniform was a musty cloak that matched his hat, save for the slew of ink stains across his sleeves. As for his physical appearance, his snow-white hair was cut close to his scalp; his eyes hid in the shadow of his cap save for a dark gleam. What was plainly visible were his long, hooked nose and his thin, cracked lips frozen in a perpetual sneer buried deep in the archetypal wise man''s beard, which also happened to have ink stains. In his left hand was a staff, capped with a blue gem that glowed with a dim inner light. Under his right arm was a massive tome, bound in white leather with black iron bands and clasps.


    He shuffled his way to the master¡¯s desk, muttering under his breath the whole way. The only sounds in the room were that of his surly mutterings and the almost angry clacking of his staff striking the stone floor with every step. Once he reached the desk, he dropped the tome as if it were a sack of stones that meant less than nothing to him. He propped his staff against the back wall and turned around to plant both hands on his desk in an authoritarian manner.


    ¡°I am High Mystagogue Joseph, and you will refer to me as such or Professor Joseph.¡± his voice was a whining, growling thing. ¡°I will normally be the instructor of your mathematics classes, as well as geography and politics. But today, I am here to explain what a terrible decision you made in joining this academy.¡± His voice made me think he didn¡¯t normally speak much without that ever-present note of disdain.


    Professor Joseph folded his hands behind his back and shuffled around to the front of the desk, where he continued the lecture. As if on cue, as soon as he started speaking, the desk''s holographic display lit up in unison. ¡°You are training to join the Hermetic Order of the Aegis. No doubt you hadn¡¯t heard of the Order until your sponsor recruited you. This is how we like it. We of the Order work from the shadows, only taking the spotlight when needed, and when those times come around, we do not reveal the existence of the Order. Instead, we simply state that we are a part of something greater.¡± He said this last bit with air quotes.


    ¡°As a member of the Order, you will have access to resources like few others. Depending upon your sect, you will have access to hidden knowledge, almost limitless resources for crafting and experimenting, access to a spy network that is unlike any other, and many of you will also be given an adventurer¡¯s license.¡± This last tidbit had most of the students on the edge of their seats. Every kid dreamed of being an adventurer, despite the fact that the job was, at times, controversial.


    ¡°Many of you will never see graduation from this school. The tests throughout the seven years here are difficult, to say the least, and at many times dangerous. Out of the fifty of you in this room, by the end of this year, most likely, ten will fail out, five will drop out, and another five will be dead.¡± The class met this statement with a cold and brittle silence. ¡°If you fail or drop out, you will have all memory of this place wiped, and you will be gated back to your hometown.¡± This caused a few murmurs among the students.


    ¡°A key component of being a member is right there in the name, ¡®Hermetic¡¯. That means we are not a government organization or some band of well-off adventurers. We are a religious group following The Shattered Goddess. As Slates, your study of the Order¡¯s beliefs and rituals will be purely academic. When you become a Tier One trainee, you will be indoctrinated and take part in your sect¡¯s culture.¡± He shuffled his way around the desk as he spoke, stopping before the class as he continued.


    ¡°No doubt you have never heard of our Fractured Goddess, and there is a reason for that. In an era lost to time, before the birth of the Elves or the rise of the dragons, a great evil rose from the nothingness of the void. This entity was so terrible and unnatural not even the Eternals, who forged reality, dared face it. But where the powers that forged the realms would not stand, a simple goddess did. She stood up to this terrible entity and somehow locked it away, but she fell in the process, broken. Our earliest members were priests and priestesses to this goddess. These forefathers of ours knew that even to remember the entity¡¯s name was to give it power but to forget its name, the people needed to forget its existence, which meant to forget the very name of the goddess they followed. She became known as the Shattered Goddess and was only to be remembered by those that acted on her behalf.¡± Professor Joseph stopped there, letting the silence linger and deepen.


    When the hollowness of the moment was almost unbearable, and I noticed several students about to raise their hands, the instructor crooked a wicked grin and continued.


    ¡°Now you must be wondering why we still worship her if she fell. What blessings could a dead goddess give? What is the point of having faith in a power that has been snuffed out? Well, when she fell, she shattered. Hence the name. She broke into five shards. Each shared a distilled, pure fragment of who she was.¡± The holo-displays at the tables showed diagram images to follow along with his story. A female outline wielding a blade against an entity of smoke, the female figure falling head first and breaking apart into what looked to be five fragments of crystal.


    ¡°Many think that before she fell, she was a goddess that covered a wide range of domains because of a number of titles that have been saved to records. Titles such as The First Mother and The Final Guide, among others. Making many think that she had domains over life, fertility, death, and passing into the next life. But her fragments and their choices of domains raise many questions. Each fragment is powerful enough to be a goddess in their own right.¡± At this point, Professor Joseph began pacing the length of the stage, gesturing wildly with his hands as he continued to explain, plainly ignoring the raised hands of questioning students.


    The holo display zoomed in on a crystal, showing the symbol of a blade crossed over an eye with a slash crossing in the opposite direction.¡°The first of the five is Her Fragment of the Warrior¡¯s Eye. She rules over strategy, war, wisdom, courage, and honor.¡±


    Next, the display showed a fragment with the symbol of a crown with a central gem, a crack splitting both metal and stone. ¡°Then came Her Fragment of the Fallen Lineage. This fragment presides over magic, intelligence, wisdom, and sovereignty.¡±


    The display moved to the next fragment, showing the symbol of a flaming mechanical fist holding a raised hammer as if to strike an anvil. ¡°Next is Her Fragment of the Birthing Forge. She is a goddess of craftsmanship. Her domains are intelligence, innovation, architecture, and engineering.¡±


    The display shifted to the next fragment. The symbol this time was a set of blank eyes, clearly blind, crowned with seven stars and with what looked like swirling wisps of mist flanking them. ¡°Then there was Her Fragment of the Whispering Phantom. A goddess of spy craft and information acquisition. Her domains are intelligence, theft, secrets, lies, and truth.¡±


    ¡°Lastly is Her Fragment of the Beating Stillness. She presides over assassins, the domains of justice, vengeance, life, death, love, and hate.¡± The display shifted to the last shard. This symbol was of an anatomically correct heart pierced by a dagger and leaking blood.


    The lecture continued on; the Mystagogue went over the history of the Order and its transformation from an organization of priests into what it was in the current era. As the lecture ended, we were briskly told to get out and take our lunch and that Mystagogue Kellennar would collect us after. We all hurried out of the study hall and made our way to the mess hall. I walked at a slightly slower pace than everyone else so that I could fall to the rear of the pack without looking suspicious.


    Now I won¡¯t lie. Anyone who has been bullied will have trouble with this next part, and I know plenty that will be upset with how I handled it. But you need to remember that the Iver back then was a timid and sensitive boy and not the Iver telling the story who would crack skulls if the need arose. But if you are willing to push through, I promise that things will get a lot more interesting.


    The mess hall, commissary, DFAC, or whatever you wanted to call it, was a single-story structure with no windows. I passed through the front doors into a massive room filled with evenly spaced round tables in an asymmetric pattern. Along the right wall was a serving area, with a variety of food being dispensed by cooks. The walls around the dining room were painted with murals dedicated to each of the five sects. Between each painting were mounted monster heads, manticore, hydra, roc, chimera, and tomb crawler spider.


    After waiting for my turn, I picked up a tray and utensils. I was served a mess of runny mashed potatoes with thin gravy, a sad excuse for a biscuit, and a slab of some kind of meat by a Bear Primal. I gathered a glass of water and made my way to the furthest vacant table from another living soul. I found a vacant table off in a corner, away from most people. I took a seat and was ready to dig into the less-than-appealing meal when I found several figures looming over me. The Brightling and his crew from the waiting room stood over me, all with smirks. Before I could respond, my tray was flipped into my face, covering me with potatoes and gravy.


    ¡°How¡¯s your meal Freakshow? I hope it feels nice.¡± mocked the Brightling. The others laughed at his curd joke, and I just lowered my head.


    ¡°Nice one, Mallrimor,¡± Came the Dracose.


    ¡°I d-didn¡¯t do anything to you. Why single me out?¡± I asked.


    Mallrimor, the Brightling, flashed me a wicked grin. ¡°It is my duty as a son of the light to punish creatures like you.¡±


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    ¡°B-but I-I¡¯m not a creature. I¡¯m not even evil. I just want to be left in peace.¡± I frantically stammered.


    ¡°Peace? You? Everyone knows that Darklings are the spawn of evil. If you don¡¯t start trying to ruin people¡¯s lives now, then you will later. So I think it¡¯s best to put you in your place now. You are not better than me, and you never will be.¡°


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be better. I just want to graduate and move on.¡± I wasn¡¯t about to tell them about my father¡¯s killer and the black box.


    ¡°Well, we are going to make sure you don¡¯t graduate, and if I have my say, you will have a few accidents along the way.¡± Mallrimor proclaimed.


    I stood up with a jolt and tried to press my way out of the semi-circle. The Orc and High Elf refused to let me pass. Then, after a moment, the Elf stepped aside, stuck out his foot, and shoved me. I tripped and sprawled across the ground. Tears rose up in my eyes as the others laughed with cruelty. ¡°Nice move there, Gellar.¡± encouraged Mallrimor.


    Gellar, the Elf, shifted his chuckle of amusement to a mirthful cackle. I scrambled to my feet and half-ran toward the restroom signs. I slipped into the bathroom and did my best to clean myself off while ignoring the tears running down my cheeks. I washed my shirt, I dried off my cheeks, and wiped the snot from my nose. By the time I was done, lunch had just ended, and Mystagogue Kellennar was calling for the Slates to form up.


    I got into formation and did my best to ignore the snickering behind and beside me. Mallrimor stood right behind me in formation, and Gellar was just to my right. I already loathed my position in the formation and knew it was only going to get worse as the year went on.


    In formation, we marched around the Aegis Hall toward a slightly smaller building that was emblazoned with the title Foundry above the front doors. The Foundry was a circular three-story structure with a conical top, its summit billowing thick smoke of various churning shades of grey, black, and brown.


    As we came to a halt, Kellennar told us that we would enter one column at a time and would receive our needed equipment and instruction on how to operate some of the more critical devices.


    As at the medical facility, we filed in one column at a time. When my turn came, I followed S18 as I had last time. As I passed into the Foundry, I knew that I had found somewhere where I¡¯d be spending much of my free time. The inner walls were made of cinder blocks and concrete, each displaying broken weapons above a plaque with the weapon¡¯s name, owner¡¯s name, date of the break, what broke it, and whether the owner lived or died because of the weapon.


    I stepped into a circular central chamber that accessed every other chamber with a spiraling staircase winding around the outer edge of the room to access other platforms for each of the three floors. I was quickly ushered into a ground-floor room titled Cauldron 3. The room was shaped like a cake slice, with the entrance at the narrowest point. Lining the room were a slew of racks and display boards holding dozens of different items. A Dracose girl, a tier one student from the looks of her, stepped up to me and, without a second¡¯s greeting, met me at the door and, without preamble, tossed a grey rucksack at my face. I scrambled to catch the sack. Only after the fumbling failure did I try to flash her an awkward smile. Her Draconic features were hard to read, but she was one of the smaller breeds of her race, which meant that she was less likely to rip my head off, not that it gave me any safety if she wanted to melt me into slag.


    Her scales faded from a deep royal purple to a dark scarlet ruby around her chest and neck. Where her hair would have been, there grew thick stocks of tendrils. The tendrils faded from the same purple as her body to the same scarlet. The organic ropes were woven together and painted sapphire-cobalt color at the tips.


    She gestured for me to join her beside the first table that was covered in boxed kits. She picked up a plastic case, clicked it open, and turned to display the supplies inside. A pipe cleaner, various strengths of solvents, grease cloth, buffer clothes, grease, wax, gun oil, application tools, leather cleaner, sharpening oil, wet stone, wire brush, and a small set of screwdrivers and wrenches were all things I made a note of when she displayed the box¡¯s contents.


    ¡°This is your weapons maintenance kit. Do not lose it. You lose it, and you die.¡± She spoke with a thick and heavy accent that revealed her origin in the nation of Steel Cast. She closed the kit¡¯s lid and shoved it to the bottom of the rucksack. Taking a closer look at the sack in my hands, I noticed that the thing must have been six feet tall and lined on three sides with smaller pockets, each seemingly with its own purpose. I followed the stern student to the next station.


    She shifted from one table to the next, this time picking up a clear plastic box with individual cubbies for each item. A hands-free toothbrush and accompanying toothpaste, body soap, hair products, razor, accompanying shaving cream, and grooming scissors were all in the case. She shoved this kit atop the last. ¡°Your hygiene supplies are to be replaced every five days at the dining hall.¡±


    She moved on. This table was laden with massive sword kits. Just from a glance at the kit, I could see a variety of hilts in varying sizes and designs and five times as many blades and guards to go with the hilts. It looked like the kit was designed so that you could customize the weapon through a puzzle-like connection system. The larger blade sizes had cut-out designs to slip in a smaller-sized blade. A series of high-powered magnets firmly attached the blade extensions, counter masses, and weighted blade modifications. The magnets looked to be activated by a sensor on each hilt. My best guess was that the hilts would be coded to my palm and would only switch on or off it at my command.


    This massive kit, my guide, slipped into a single long and wide pouch inside the sack that was clearly made for the box it then held. ¡°This is your bladed weapons kit. If you break it, bring it back here. If you lose it, you die.¡±


    And so on it went. She would move to a table, pick up and display the item, give a few lines of explanation, and occasionally end it with a threatening ¡°lose this, and you die.¡±


    I was given a pistol and rifle for basic ranged kinetic weapons along with an elemental handgun, commonly called a snuffer, and a lance rifle for ranged myst combat. I was also given a soldering iron, myst-welder, myst measuring tools, a book of runes for enchanting, a survival kit, an engraver kit, a thieves kit, an armor care kit, a bludgeoning weapons kit, and a taxidermy kit for some odd reason.


    When I was loaded up, bag around my shoulders, I turned around to find another tier one student staring at me. A Primal girl was at the beginning of the line with her own student. She was a Primal of the tiger breed. This just meant that she looked like an anthropomorphic tiger with a young girl¡¯s figure. Only her colors weren¡¯t that of a normal tiger. Most of her fur was silk-black, while her stripes and long flowing hair were a fiery copper color. Her just as fiery yellow eyes shone with interest. Those eyes seemed... curious.


    I was so focused on the Primal girl that I failed to notice a grip around my tail. What I did notice was a strong yank on said tail as I kept walking. Without time to react, my feet slipped out from under me as I tripped and fell flat on my face, the rucksack flattening me under its gargantuan weight atop my slender frame. I heard a chortle from behind me. I was growing to know that mirthful cackle very well, the Brightling, Mallrimor.


    I tried to push myself up onto my hands and knees; the bag mounted to my back made me more than a little top-heavy. With a bit of slipping on the stone floor, I managed to prop myself up on all fours, only to feel a hard kick of a boot slamming against my ass, sending me sprawling again. Mallrimor¡¯s amused chuckle bubbled up as he circled around me to head out the door and no doubt back into formation chuckles trailing in echoes behind him. I pulled myself to my feet and quickly made my way back, not looking past my feet as I tried and failed to hold back tears yet again.


    <hr>


    The rest of the day was just stressful. I got my therra-node and was instructed on how to use it. I was given basic instructions on weapon maintenance and commanded to make it a daily routine. I got back to my room around five o¡¯clock after a half-hearted dinner of limp veggies and dry meatloaf. By the time I made it back to my room, I felt like I had a permanent hunch from the rucksack. I shambled up to my door and swiped my still-tender wrist over the scanner of the door. I was so thankful to have these Bio Identification Chips (B.I.C) in my wrists. The door slid open with a clean whoosh as I continued my shamble beyond the door. I dumped the bag onto the floor and pulled a small, thin case out of my breast pocket. I held the small black tin case between both hands and opened it as gingerly as I could. I looked on at the device within with reverence. I had wanted one of these since I was seven years old. I gazed upon the majesty of a small triangular device with slightly rounded sides and a single triangular light in the center. A therra-node, model V, Valiant class.


    After a long moment of admiration, I set the case on the table beside me and tentatively moved the small node to my right temple. When the device was almost touching the minor, circular plate at my temple, magnets took hold, and the therra-node flew from my fingers. The moment the device mounted, there was an audible click and a feeling like a static shock at the point of connection. Shortly after, a series of holograms popped into my field of view. A loading bar quickly filled and vanished, to be replaced by a diagram of my body filling in layer by layer, stat by stat.


    Skeletal structure:


    Bone density: 94%


    Checking for skeletal damage¡­ None Found


    Circulatory system:


    Blood Pressure: 100/85


    White Blood Cell Level: Normal


    Platelet Count: Normal


    Checking for ruptures...None Found


    Musculature:


    Muscle density: Below Average


    Muscle tensile strength: Below Average


    Nervous System:


    Reflex reaction time: Normal


    Synaptic Elasticity: Above Average


    Neuron Flash Time: Above Average


    Checking System for damage¡­ None Found


    Endocrine System:


    Hormone Levels: Abnormal


    Chemical Levels: Abnormal


    Mystwell:


    Mystwell Reservoir Capacity: (13) Below Average


    Myst Absorption Rate: 2 vp/min, Above Average


    Myst Channel Flow Rate: ERROR


    I was rather confused by some of the readings, so I tapped on them in order with a single finger. The lack of muscle was no shock. I had always been a thin boy, and my time as an orphan only served to shrink my stomach and tighten my frame. Next came my nervous system, but I could already guess that these were the physical reasons why I was overthinking so much, so I ignored that and moved to the more nerve-racking readings of my endocrine. Digging deeper, all that the holo pages told me was that I was suffering from moderate depression, severe anxiety, and what was simply labeled as Unknown. Neither of the first two were really shocking to me. I could have told you that I was dealing with both from the beginning. But that ¡®unknown¡¯ condition had me worried. I would have to get that looked at some point.


    Next, I moved to the oddest readings of the bunch, my Mystwell. The below-average capacity wasn¡¯t surprising. They had tested me when I was younger and told me that I had no magic talent, a dream of every child, destroyed. The next stat, Myst Absorption Rate, had me confused. How could I have an above-average rate if I didn¡¯t even have an open channel? I would have to ask a magic instructor about that later as well. But the last stat, the fact that my flow rate read was an error, could only have been because I didn¡¯t have an open channel, but that fact that it read ¡®error¡¯ instead of ¡®N/A¡¯, ¡®0¡¯, or something along those lines gave me a reason for excessive worry.


    Was I damaged somehow? Could I maybe become a caster if I could fix this bit of me? Could I fix this broken part of me with mystech? Maybe a node of some type? I had no idea what cybernetic body augment would fix this flaw, but I would have to do some digging.


    I tried to do some studying by surfing the LSN (Live Sigil Network), but I got a block notification explaining that I would only be allowed access to the full web during class hours and only when granted by instructors. I did, however, have access to a large series of introductory text documents, diagrams, and training videos. I would apparently gain increased access with each year I graduated.


    I pulled up a few basic diagrams, set them into the corner of my vision, and made my way to my bed. The bed was still an absolute disaster from that morning. I balled up the sheets and threw them onto my bed before I began systematically unpacking my bag and putting everything in its needed place. The weapons went up piece by piece onto the Black Rack. I leaned the rifle cases against the wall beside the rack and mounted the pistols in the rack.


    Once all was put away, I curled up on my bed, gingerly fingering my new R.A.T tail. I brushed my fingers along the perimeter Rear Access Terminal, slowly wrapping my fingers around the ¡®tail¡¯, a retractable cable for interaction with more complex interfaces. I gingerly pulled the cable, feeling a slow rhythm of clicks as the cord extended from one locking position to the next. We were all told the tail could stretch as far as nine feet, but I was not about to test that anytime soon. I plugged the tail into a slot in the overhead above my bed. I lost all sight, and a strange sensation of falling in place took hold.


    A new world came into existence with a flash. A world of blue and yellow lines forming strange shapes, what I figured to be programs. I floated in the air, gazing into the vast expanse of darkness occupied by these shapes and paths of light. I looked down at my hands to find that my body appeared to be made of the same lines, only these were green. The array of my body throbbed with sparks of light that trailed through the lines. Unsure of what to do, I looked around, trying to puzzle out what I could do in the space and how. All the shapes seemed to be made up of sharp angles in varying complexities. Just as I was about to try moving, a cube of blue lines appeared in front of me with an audible pop. The cube had script on its forward face. Yellow lines formed a single blocky word, ¡°Tutorial¡±.

 Chapter 10

    The five sects of the Hermetic Order of the Aegis each worship a fragment of The Nameless Goddess. But rumors persist among the students of a hidden sixth sect that follows a darker fragment of the lost goddess.


    Day 2, Smeltesday


    I held the heavy blade in my hands. The grip chaffed in my palms as I swung with all the strength I could muster. The Arming Sword fell, cleaving the air to strike the dummy with a muffled ¡®clack¡¯. The blade bounced off the wood torso and fell to the dirt, causing me to stagger and almost fall myself. In order to right myself, I was forced to drop the weapon.


    ¡°What the fuck was that SLATE?!¡± Snapped Mystagogue Kellenar. His three-foot frame stormed over to me, a telltale vein bulging at his neck. Before I could respond, he scooped up my training blade. Waving the weapon in my face, he screamed a string of obscenities that, even now, I would not repeat. My vision fell straight to my feet with a weight of shame. The instructor¡¯s response to this reaction was to strike my shin with the flat of the blade. I let out a yipe of pain and shock at the blow to my leg. In answer, Kellenar smacked me across the head with the blade. ¡°You will only cry out when I say so. You will only drop your weapon when I say so. The next time I see a weapon leave your grip without my say-so, I¡¯ll have you doing pushups till you¡¯re bleeding from your nose.¡±


    ¡°Y-yes, sir.¡± I stuttered, trying to ignore the throbbing in my shin and the side of my head. He threw the blade to the dirt and stormed off to assault another poor soul.


    I gingerly scooped up the training blade, my palms raw from the day¡¯s training and on the brink of turning into blisters. I grasped the blade in both hands, took my stance, and inhaled long and slow, exhaling in a rush as the Mystagogue shouted his next command.


    ¡°Right collar bone strike!¡± Snapped the command. I landed the blow as hard as I could muster.


    ¡°Left hip strike!¡± I retracted my blade and struck again.


    ¡°You all call that a hip strike?! AGAIN, like you want to kill the bastard. LEFT, HIP, STRIKE!¡± I struck again with more vigor, a blister on my palm bursting with the blow. I winced with the pain but didn¡¯t dare drop the weapon again, lest worse fall upon me.


    ¡°Good, now, crown strike!¡± I raised the weapon over my head and brought it down on the dummy¡¯s head, visualizing Kellenar¡¯s face over the manikin. The blow landed with a loud ¡®CRACK¡¯. But the blow landed too hard. I staggered and dropped my blade for a second time. Before he noticed, I reached for the weapon. I was inches from the hilt when Kellenar Shouted, ¡°HALT!¡± I froze mid-reach. He stormed over. ¡°AT ATTENTION MAGOT!¡±


    I stood up straight, arms at my side, fists clenched, eyes looking off into the distance.


    ¡°What did I tell you, scum sack?¡± he growled.


    ¡°S-sir! You s-said that i-if I dropped it again, I w-would be doing pushups.¡± I recited, trying to hide the fear in my tone.


    He smirked. ¡°Then you know what comes next. Drop and give me fifty!¡±


    I did as I was told, got onto my hands and feet, and started pumping out pushups as fast as my weak arms could manage.


    ¡°I can¡¯t hear you counting!¡± He mocked.


    I started counting, ¡°One sir, two sir, three sir¡­¡± and so it went while he turned away to continue shouting commands to the rest of the class. I made it to forty-five before my arms gave out. I fell to the dirt, wheezing like an asthmatic, stars dancing in my eyes even as my cheek lay in the dust.


    The next thing I knew, I had a pair of fingers in my nostrils, yanking me up. In a panic, I tried to follow the rising pain in my nose, wailing a repeated ¡°Ow ow ow ow!¡± As I reached my knees, I found myself face to face with the livid, scarred face of Kellenar. Without a warning, he released my nose and struck it with a palm strike, breaking it with an audible ¡®crack¡¯. I fell over, howling in pain as I clutched at my misshapen nose. Blood gushed from the orifices to paint my palms and the dust below with dark droplets. As I whimpered in the dirt, I felt a hand tangle in my dark hair and yank me to a sitting position. A cocktail of blood and snot streamed from my nose. I opened my tear-blurred eyes to find Kellenar¡¯s angry stare burning into me.


    ¡°I warned you, didn¡¯t I? That you would do push-ups till your nose bled. Now, guess what? You and EVERYONE HERE ARE GOING TO RUN LAPS AROUND THE FIELD TILL YOUR NOSE STOPS BLEEDING! NOW GET STARTED!¡± I shakily stood and started to run, even as the other students dropped their weapons.


    ¡°OH NO, YOU PUSS BAGS DON¡¯T! You all are going to run with your blades in hand! Better learn how to run from a monster with a weapon in hand now than in the field. If you all want someone to blame, then look no farther than this sack of shit over here.¡± With those words, Kellenar gestured to me with both hands, venom in every word.


    In shame, I turned back, gathered my training blade, and started running. I ran at a steady jog, the weapon in my hand forcing me to limp at an uneven gait with every stride. Every student in the class glared at me as they passed my sorrowful pace of shame.


    After I made ten laps, Kellenar started chasing students, slapping them with a club to make them pick up the pace. I was struck no less than six times, each time quickening only to slow after a lap or two. Finally, after untold laps, we were sent to our rooms to shower and get ready for our next class. I made my way back to my room, my training blade dragging behind me while the other students passed me with glares and sneers.


    I climbed the stairs, and slipped into my room, leaving my clothes and training weapon on the floor in a trail leading to the shower as I slipped in under a fall of hot water. There, as the steam covered the world around me and water poured down my skin, I cried. Sobs wracked my body as the scalding water turned my oddly patterned skin into varying shades of red and pink. After a while, I tried to fix my nose. The moment my fingers touched the skin of my face, they flinched away at the sharp pain. Anything that touched my broken nose brought bladed twinges of pain. After several tries, I gave up. I stepped from the running water to dry off and get dressed, the shirt drawing a cry of pain as it brushed against my nose while I was pulling it on.


    After I was dressed, I made my way to my next class, geography and politics, with Mystagogue Joseph. One by one, we all filed into class, passing by the instructor to head to our seats. As I passed Mystagogue Joseph, he grasped my upper arm. I stopped and looked him in the eye, or what gleamed in the shadows that could be called his eyes. ¡°I want you to go get that nose fixed before class. Afterward, be sure to get back here post-haste.¡± he rasped before letting out a wet string of coughs.


    In a panic, I nodded vigorously with a vehement ¡°Y-yes, sir.¡± before turning and rushing out of the main hall and out to the medical center. I passed through the main doors, and with one glance, a nurse ushered me into an examination room where I was forced to wait atop the examinee¡¯s table. After a few minutes, an elderly Dracose stepped into the room, their thick tail bumping the door wide open before it closed via its own weight. I couldn¡¯t tell whether they were a man or woman, but their stature was rather large, almost eight feet tall with dark black and blue scales and curving ram-like horns with barbs. They scanned me with a preliminary glance from the top to the bottom of my person, with the telltale blue-orange gleam in their eyes that told me they were using the therra-node at their temple. Beneath the shimmering light, their eyes were a natural sapphire blue and shown with... kindness? I honestly couldn¡¯t tell.


    ¡°Good morning, Master, Maverick, is it?¡± As they spoke, I could tell that they were male, and he honestly seemed kind and respectful. ¡°I can¡¯t help but notice that your nose is not in a natural state. Well, not unless you make a habit of beating it against trees.¡± He gave a deep chuckle. " Or angering rather rude Ceangar instructors. Tell me what happened.¡±


    So I explained what had happened, how I dropped my blade, and how Kellenar broke my nose. ¡°Ah, yes, Mystagogue Kellenar is a rather aggressive instructor. But you need to understand that he only wants the best for all of his students. He is often harsh with them, but he is not immune to bias. If the rumors told among the Mystagogues are true, a family of Darklings wronged him. Some say that the family tricked him out of his life savings when he was a young man. Others say his family was killed for a dark ritual, and he was only spared when a Brightling came to his rescue. Regardless of his past, he has run most of the Darklings out of the academy these past eight years. Those who passed from Slate to Tier One often requested transfers to a sister school elsewhere. Trust me, I know it¡¯s not pleasant, but you must consider this a trial by fire. Many metals are molded in the hottest of crucibles, but the strongest are forged through constant strikes of the hammer. Which will you be?¡±


    I gave him a confused look. ¡°Don¡¯t both give the same result?¡±


    The doctor gave me a warm and patient smile. ¡°The end product may look the same, but they are quite different. A metal that is melted down and poured into the crucible is subject to boiling temperatures for a single long span of time before it cools into its final shape. Metal that is shaped through forging with the hammer is set into the fire time and time again till it is soft enough to be struck into shape. The smith works the metal, folding it in on itself again and again to work out the impurities and strengthen the material. The metal is put through constant abuse until it is quenched. Which do you think is stronger? The one that took the heat and settled into shape? Or the one that was shaped through constant trials to work out the flaws?¡±


    ¡°When you put it like that, I¡¯d prefer not to have any flaws. Though, I¡¯m not looking forward to the process. But how do you know so much about forging, Doctor?¡±


    He gave a rumbling chuckle, followed by a heavy sigh as he stepped closer to inspect my nose. ¡°There was a time before I settled down as a healer when I also stoked a forge for the Order. While I was a student, I was what you call a Mastlok. But enough about me. Now, I know that you no doubt want to break the Mystagogue¡¯s nose in return. But you need to keep in mind that he got all those scars from his time in the field. He saw a lot of his friends die because they didn¡¯t have his flack to get the job done. Now let¡¯s get that nose fixed.¡±


    While I thought about what the doctor said, he had two fingers from both of his massive paws on either side of my poor nose before I knew it. ¡°Ready? I¡¯m going to set it on the count of five. One, two...¡± Suddenly, he tweaked his fingers, and my nose snapped back into place with a burst of agony. I yowled in pain and pulled my face away from his hands in reflex.


    ¡°I know that was pretty unpleasant, but the shock does you good. It would have hurt ten times worse if I had set it on the count of five. Now, why don¡¯t you get to class and think about what I said.¡±


    With a quick thank you to the doctor, I made my way back to the classroom. I slipped through the door as Mystagogue Joseph was lecturing about the geography of the world. A few students glared at me as I made my way to my desk, but not a single word was raised.


    ¡°There are several mountain ranges across Anogwin, and we are nestled in the crook between two of these ranges. Can anyone name the ranges to our south and east borders?¡±


    The Half-Dwarf, S18, raised his hand after a moment of silence. As the instructor pointed to the student, he spoke in a deep and smooth voice. ¡°We sit between the Titan¡¯s Fall and the Rezkane mountain ranges.¡±


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°Almost correct. To our south is the Titan¡¯s Fall range, but to our east is where that range meets and merges with the Rezkane range. This position between two mountain ranges and against an ocean to our north and west is what gives our nation of Ventic such a defensible location. The only nation we have to contend with is that of Affice, which spans the ranges to our south and a portion of east our borders. But our two nations have had a friendly partnership for several hundred years. We defend them from the attacks from the sea, and they defend us from the attacks across the range. In fact, our two economies are so closely linked that should one fall, the other would follow. Now onto the political structure of our nation. Who can tell me what kind of nation Ventic is?¡±


    After a long moment, when no one raised their hands, the professor let out an annoyed grunt and pressed on into the explanation. ¡°We are a Corporatocracy. This means that our nation is run and controlled by a conglomerate of corporations, with a higher ruling company that has our best interests ¡®at heart¡¯.¡± He said this last bit with air quotes and a venomous amount of sarcasm.


    ¡°They care about us because if we are safe and happy, we can keep the company staffed and funded. We are under the rule of the Iron Cypher Corporation. This corporation provides national defense, law enforcement, and a portion of our nation''s cybernetic, vehicle, and weapon production. But you need to remember that as a member of the Aegis, you are beholden to no one nation. We fight to improve all nations of this world. So do not think that our nation is the best because it is one of many. How many nations are there across Anogwin? Can anyone tell me?¡±


    There was another long moment of silence before the professor answered his own question with audible annoyance. ¡°There are twenty-four nations on this globe. Each has its own political system, but we all share one economy that has only slight variations from region to region. Does anyone know what I am talking about?¡±


    A girl near the front raised her hand and spoke before the instructor even pointed to her. ¡°I believe you are talking about the Deckra system, sir. A global currency based on coins and credits.¡±


    ¡°Good, good. Now, can anyone tell me what the coins that make up Deckra currency are?¡±


    Again, S18 raised his hand. Go figure a Dwarf would know the money system. Was that racist?


    ¡°The coin system is comprised of copper, silver, gold, lenzes, mythril, and thuds.¡±


    The professor gave a smile from beneath his cap. ¡°Good, very good. Now each coin is worth ten of the value below it. So one silver is equal to ten copper, one gold is equal to ten silver, and so on until you reach thuds. Now, who can tell me how a blind man can determine what the value of a coin is?¡±


    One student, an Orc, blurted out, ¡°By biting the coin.¡±


    At this, a few classmates snickered. It was common knowledge that several Orc tribes traded in bones and teeth or bartering rather than coins, so they wouldn¡¯t know much of how deckra currency worked. But I thought that was a bit of a typical stereotype of how the Orcs were seen as a brutish people, so I kept my mouth shut.


    ¡°Not quite,¡± said Joseph. ¡°A blind man can tell the value of a coin by the number of sides it has. Copper has three sides, silver has four sides, gold has five sides, a lenze has six, a mythril has seven, and a thud is circular. Now, who can tell me how much one credit is worth?¡±


    The High Elf that was with Mallrimor, Gellar was his name, raised his hand. As the master pointed to him, he spoke in a quick and clear tone. ¡°One digital credit is worth one silver.¡±


    ¡°Very good. Now, who can tell me the role of an adventurer in today¡¯s society?¡± At this question, almost the entire class raised their hands. I was not among them.


    Mystagogue Joseph pointed to a Wild Elf with braided copper hair. ¡°Adventurers are paid to slay monsters and find treasure.¡±


    At this, the teacher gave a long cackle. ¡°Not quite. While adventurers are often tasked with slaying beasts, delving into tombs, and saving damsels, they play a far larger role. They are tasked with taking on the dangerous tasks that no one else is trained to handle. This can range from slaying the dire rats in city sewers or searching ancient ruins for lost knowledge and technology to scouring a man-eating jungle for a rare plant used to cure a curse of a disease or salvaging a farmer¡¯s crops from a horde of thieving goblins. We all hear stories of the brave heroes who slew the lich who tried to fell a kingdom or the ones who felled a Kraken that sank a hundred ships. But more often than not, they are the ones doing the dirty and dangerous work in a dirty and dangerous world that few others want to do, let alone have the training to handle it. And you all are training to be those adventurers.¡±


    The response to this was a lot of muttering and groans as if the whole class was expecting to go off and slay a dragon on their first quest. Don¡¯t get me wrong, at the time, I was dreaming of that very same dragon, but I knew that I would have to work to achieve that goal if I ever reached it at all.


    Mystagogue Joseph continued after the grumbling faded. ¡°Yes, yes, I know that¡¯s not what you want to hear, but that is the truth of things. Now, your homework for the next class. I want you to study a topic on our home nation and write an essay on it. It can be anything as long as it relates to the economy and infrastructure of the nation. Now git, shew, begone with you all. I have work to do.¡±


    I slipped from the classroom, my mind running through adventuring scenarios I could encounter after I graduated. Admittedly, most of those scenarios comprised me slaying monsters, though my mind kept wandering back to the zombie spider in the entry trail. I was in the process of debating the best way to kill an elder hydra when I felt thick fingers clench around the end of my tail, just before the spade tip. I was about to take a sharp turn to see who was about to cause me pain when, in mid-turn, I was yanked hard, harder than I had ever felt before. My feet were swept out from beneath me as I felt a painful pop at the base of my tail. A scream of pain and panic slipped through my teeth before being brought to a sharp halt as my face found a hard stop on the tile floor.


    I rolled over to the best of my ability with my tail still held tight and tout. Tears streamed down my cheeks, blurring my vision so I could only see a massive dark shape. I wiped the tears away only to find a massive, scaled, and fanged snout only a foot away from my face. I followed the Draconian snout up to an even more Draconian brow over a pair of crimson eyes with reptilian pupils. The scales were a mottled pattern of black, brown, and deep scarlet maroon. Sprouting from his heavy brow were a pair of upward swooping horns with jagged nobs. A Dracose, and not just any Dracose, the very same that had been riding on Mallrimor¡¯s coattails since he started giving me trouble. Sure enough, right there beside the brute of a reptile was a Brightling that I was growing to know all too well, smirking down at me. His hands were neatly tucked into his pants pockets as if to claim his innocence in the act and show that he didn¡¯t think of me as a threat, all said in one simple pose. On the other flank of the Dracose was the High Elf, Gellar. The bastard was snickering and not even trying to hide his mirthful sneer.


    ¡°Now, Kesher, why would you be so rude?¡± Mallrimor said in a sardonic tone as he stepped around to stand beside me. ¡°We should help our lessors. Like this.¡± He slipped an arm under one of my own and hoisted me to my feet, the act clearly a strain on him. I got my feet under me as Mallrimor started play-acting, dusting me off, making a big scene of it for all the passersby. Without letting him finish, I turned to hurry away when suddenly there was a pressing pain on my tail, followed by a stabbing pain at its base. I hissed in discomfort, looking over my shoulder to find Mallrimor¡¯s boot pressing my tail firmly against the floor. I looked at the base of my tail to find it set at an unnatural angle. The Dracose, Kesher, must have dislocated it when he yanked it. I wrapped both of my hands around my pained limb as gently as I could manage, just past the damaged joint, and yanked. This brought a flare of agony, but did little more.


    ¡°Oh, how clumsy of me.¡± Mallrimor mocked just before quickly lifting his foot to send me to the floor yet again. At this, the entire crew of bastards chortled as they walked past, Gellar stopping only long enough to plant a kick in my side before moving along.


    <hr>


    I stepped out of the medical center, tail freshly relocated and so tender that even my pants felt like burning sandpaper. Luckily, the class that I was now late for was study hall. I made my way back to the Aegis Halls, doing my best to keep an even walking posture. The manner in which I normally walked gave me a slight bobbing motion that inflamed the rage of my newly set tail. Attempting not to bob with every step while maintaining a quick pace seemed an impossibility at the time, so I quickly gave up the attempt for speed in favor of not being in nearly as much pain. Not even a full thirty paces from the medical center, I tapped my Therra-Node to check the time display on the hud (Heads Up Display). The time read 10:30 AM as I passed through the front doors of the Aegis Halls. I slipped into the study hall adjacent.


    The room was an even square with oblong desks placed throughout the room in a circle. The far wall to my right was lined with crafting equipment, and the corner nearest me was walled off with iron-glass. Behind that were a series of power tools and a simple forge. No doubt the glass wall was enchanted to cancel noise. The wall to my left was lined with tomes and textbooks that, at a glance, seemed to span topics from biology, geometry, and politics to martial weapon forms, spell tomes, and enchantment rune dictionaries. The instructors had been quite adamant that we use books over databanks when at all possible. It had something to do with storing spells online, interfering with the network, and keeping restricted knowledge in only physical copies.


    Meanwhile, the wall directly across from me seemed completely mundane other than the door opposite the corner of the room as the door I was entering from. Of the thirty-some-odd chairs in the room, three-quarters were occupied. A couple of students stood beyond the glass wall, working the forge or working with other power tools, not a sound passing to the rest of the room. At the desks sat students, working quietly crafting with wire, circuits, and the like, or reading tomes and working on papers. A couple of students were moving their hands, making small displays of magic of any variety.


    The massive Orc, Mystagogue Thrasher, sat at a desk nearest to the wall parallel with me, the desk comically tiny compared to his hulk-ish frame. What made the scene even more comical were the half-moon spectacles perched on the end of his wide nose. He looked up from a just as tiny book in his massive hands to raise a single stern yet questioning brow at me. His gaze of calm, pressing weight fell from my embarrassed face to my casted tail and gave a single nod of understanding. He closed his book, set it atop the desk, plucked his spectacles off the bridge of his nose, folded them closed, and set them atop the closed face of the old leather book. He did all of this was done with surprising delicacy and gentleness. He stood from the desk and stepped over to me. As he stepped up to my tiny frame, he looked down at me for a long moment. His eyes seemed... contemplative. After that long moment where I felt like I should have been threatened, but I wasn¡¯t, he raised a large hand to point at the back wall. ¡°Craft area,¡± he rumbled. His hand turned to point at the opposite wall. ¡°Study area,¡± he said next. He then pointed to the door opposite the entrance, ¡°Martial and magic training area¡±. He brought his stoney gaze back to me. ¡°Talking is allowed if kept low. Study or craft, but be productive.¡± With that, he turned and made his way back to his desk.


    I made my way to the nearest table and took a seat sideways across the chair to minimize the pain of my tail. What I really wanted was to look at the crafting tools and supplies, but I felt that I should wait as not to draw any more attention from the other students. So rather than do what I desired, I tapped my therra node and pulled up some of the study material already loaded on it. In the corner of my vision was a small window that simply read ¡®Instructor Observation Allowed¡¯. I could only guess that meant that intimidating Orc could look in on my studies.


    I was half focused on the intermediary guide on the design and implementation of myst circuits. What mainly had my attention was a pair of students at the table beside mine. A pair of girls, one Ceangar and one Dwarf were whispering to each other. One thing I picked up while I lived on the street was that listening in on what might seem like idle chatter could be a great value. A pair of housewives gossiping about which shopkeeper was sick could help me get a meal. A drunk fretting over a missing coin purse that he lost by his car could get me a few spare deckra.


    ¡°You see that Brightling in our class? He¡¯s so cute and charming.¡± The Ceangar whispered with obvious desire in her voice.


    ¡°Yeah, I saw the pretty boy. Not really my type. Too... Elf-ish. I like my guys with more hair and fewer feathers.¡± The Dwarf girl whispered back, obvious disappointment in her tone. ¡°Oh, but did you hear about the secret sixth sect?¡±


    ¡°Wait, what?¡± The Ceangar pressed, her whisper only just audible. ¡°I haven¡¯t heard a thing about some secret sect. What¡¯s being passed around?¡±


    I turned my head just slightly to look at the two gossips. The Ceangar leaned in when she asked the pressing question, and the Dwarf girl mimicked the motion, mock covering her mouth with a hand to hide her lips. ¡°I hear that they are some kind of dacker secret, elite group that works for some even more secret sixth fragment that I heard is some kind of evil goddess thing.¡±


    ¡°Whoow, Whoow, I need more details. Elite how? Secret how? And I especially want to know more about this evil goddess thing.¡±


    ¡°I hear that the members of this sect are super well trained and in more than one sect, like magic assassins and warrior technicians and dreck. I also heard that they hunt down special targets for their goddess.¡±


    ¡°What? Why? What does she do with them?¡±


    ¡°They say that she eats them. That this evil fragment wants the souls of the innocent, and if she¡¯s fed, she won¡¯t kill entire cities.¡±


    ¡°No way. That can¡¯t be true.¡±


    After that bit, the two fell into bickering over pop idles and who was the best. The rumor perked my already pointed ears. A sixth sect following a sixth fragment. It sounded decker, but not impossible. I wanted to believe it. I couldn¡¯t tell you why, but it just clicked with me. Not that the sixth fragment was evil. I couldn¡¯t see this order following an evil goddess. Thallos wouldn¡¯t do that to me. But the rest, it made sense. Especially after the doctor had said that he worked a forge and healed before settling down.


    After a while of thinking about those rumors, I got up and made my way to the crafting side of the room to inspect the tools.

 Chapter 11

    Magic elements can be broken down into Sixteen separate elements. There are the Core Four Elements of Earth, Fire, Air, and Water. Then, there are the twelve elements known as the Six Dualities. A Duality is made up of two opposing forces that form a whole, like two halves of a coin. A word to the wise is to never mix two opposing sides of a duality unless you know what you are doing without question or hesitation.


    Day 3, Temporikday


    I sat in what may very well have been my new favorite class, Mystech and Myst Fundamentals. The instructor was a middle-aged Human woman, Mystagogue Jenna. Her blond hair was a frizzy mess that looked more like a bush of silver-gold wheat than actual hair. Her eyes were an agate blue-green outer iris with a brown-tan inner ring. She was pretty, if not what I looked for in a woman. Her petite frame was completely enveloped in black and blue caster robes that must have been a few sizes too big. The way she taught was full of pep and vigor. Her energy was wild as she jumped around more like a child on caffeine than an adult woman.


    ¡°Myst is the GREAT fuel of magic. Myst infuses all things, both living and not. We are all creatures of the myst made up of a great flowing and burbling concoction of elements that form living things.¡± She skipped across the stage of the lecture hall only to turn on her heel and march back across, one hand pressed behind her back, the other pointing to the ceiling. ¡°There are sixteen elements that make up the whole of creation that can then be broken down. In a simple breakdown, there are the positive aligned, the negative aligned, and the neutral. There are the base four elements of Fire.¡± She lit a flame in her hands that she danced between her fingers. ¡°Water.¡± she extinguished the flames and drew forth orbs of water to float around her hand. The orbs of water floated off over the heads of the crowd to burst into a mist that floated down. ¡°Wind.¡± She flicked her fingers, and a breeze drifted through the classroom, turning the mist into a shimmering cloud over our heads. ¡°Earth.¡± Stones formed from dust to orbit around her head, only to form into glass beads that floated to join the cloud overhead. ¡°These are the core four elements. Each is of a neutral alignment. Next are the Six Dualities. Each of these is made up of polar opposites. Each Duality comprises one Positive Element and one Negative Element.¡± She bit the tip of her thumb before continuing.


    She spun on her heel while wagging a finger in explanation. "First, The Duality of Choice.¡± She snapped her fingers as she stepped back to the center of the stage. ¡°The Duality of Choice comprises Fate, the Positive, and Chaos, the Negative. Fate is the element that sees all that is, was, and may yet be. Often used for scrying and seeing the smallest details of the current moment. Meanwhile, Chaos is the element of chance, probability, and what can be if only given that chance. Chaos is used to alter luck and probability in the moment. Will you win or lose the game of dice? That is decided by both Fate and Chaos.¡± She reached into a pocket of her robe and pulled free a metal piece that, with inspection, turned out to be a copper deckra. She flicked it into the air and left it where it lay on the floor without even checking which face was up.


    She spun yet again on her heel as she continued on her mad rantings of myst and magic. "Next is the Duality of Creation, which is made up of Synthesis and Ruin. Synthesis, the Positive Element, is used to create any form of non-magical material and some magical. While any element that controls a material can create that material, Synthesis allows for much higher myst efficacy when conjuring materials." The Mystagogue pointed to the glass spheres above her head, and they all closed together to meld into a single large sphere of glass. "Ruin, the Negative Element of this Duality, does just what the name implies. Ruin breaks down any material it is pitted against, turning it into dust and ambient myst. But Ruin is extremely inefficient when casting, meaning that it would take you twice to five times more Ruin Myst to break down material than the Synthesis Myst used to conjure the material." She pointed a single finger to the large glass ball over her head, and it began to dissolve into dust that piled at her feet. However, the glass object did not totally break down; instead, it maintained a new form of a cone above Jenna''s head. With a flourish of her hand, the dust that was once glass flew into the air to hover in the cloud and reform into glass beads.


    ¡°Then comes the Duality of the Cycle. Life and Death are the same as the rest of the dualities, two halves of the same coin. Life is used to heal and grow, while death is used to wither and rot.¡± With a flourish of her hand toward a massive pot beside her desk, a thread of vibrant green energy reached forth from her fingertips to slither into the soil. A sapling sprouted from the soil, budding leaves in a matter of seconds as it reached for the roof. She only stopped feeding the plant myst when it passed through the cloud of fog and glass beads overhead and began sprouting fruit. I didn¡¯t recognize the pink-skinned and fuzzy-looking produce, but they had a similar shape to a lemon. The fruit budded and sprouted in a matter of heartbeats before falling onto the students. There were exclamations of panic that quickly shifted into amused joy as the class understood what was going on.


    One of the strange fruits rolled to a stop near me, and I took the opportunity. I snatched the hot pink thing and peeled off the plush rind. Under the strangely soft fur was an outer layer that felt closer to a grapefruit than a lemon. The flesh under was a yellowish purple skin and had a definite citrus texture. Tentatively, I pressed my tongue into the wound to be pleasantly surprised with what I found. The taste was, as expected, akin to lemon and a bit of grapefruit but with a sweeter flavor rather than a tart base. The best way I found to describe the flavor was like drinking the citrus punch made in Sollarra nation to our south but with extra sugar added to the drink. Only later would I learn that the fruit was called a Geeka Lemon and was native to southern Eathra in the tropic region.


    I picked at the fruit and nibbled at it while I focused back on the Mystagogue. She spun around the tree with her hand hooked around the light-colored trunk. Clearly, she was enjoying the result of her teaching, though I couldn¡¯t tell if what she was enjoying was the fruit or the students. She released her loose clutch on the trunk and gave a single twirl on her toes before taking a dramatic stance and snapping her fingers at the tree. A bolt of violet energy shot from her hand and struck the tree in at its trunk. Black rot spread from the point of contact in a web. As the rot reached the upper boughs, the whole plant began to crumble to dust. The trunk rotted through where the decay started, snapped with a shattering crack, and fell toward the class. Screams burst out as students fell from their seats and scrambled to get free of the crash zone. All this passed by in a flash as I just sat there in my seat like an invalid.


    As the class panicked and I sat frozen in place, Mystagogue Jenna let out a light-hearted giggle before throwing a web of violet lightning. Thunder resounded in the closed confines of the room. The violet energy lanced into the cloud of mist and touched dozens of the glass beads. The mass of beads began to glow with a toxic purple-blue light before hurtling into the falling tree. The small bodies of glass tore through the still-decaying tree, and from my seat, I got a perfect view of what actually happened. As the other students toppled over each other and clambered for safety, the beads, having been enhanced with what I could only assume to be more Death Myst, the glass bodies punched into the frail wood, the rate of rot was expedited to the point of dissolving the whole tree into black mulch.


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    The instructor clapped her hands to get the class¡¯s attention as they realized there was no threat. ¡°Now, now, class. Please take your seats, and we will continue.¡± After a long moment of shock, the class slowly organized and brushed the mulch off their seats. As everyone calmed down, I noticed that the room was now saturated with the scent of rotting plants. I wrinkled my nose at the stench, but even more noticeable was the look of complete amusement that the Mystagogue had at the escapade. I glanced up at the still-hanging fog cloud overhead and noticed glimmering dust and shards mixed in with the water. My best guess was that the glass beads shattered after shredding the tree. My main question was why the glass was still floating. Did she still have a use for the fragments?


    ¡°Now, where were we?¡± the instructor asked in an amused and almost mocking tone. ¡°Ha, yes." Mystagogue Jenna turned her back to the class. ¡°Then comes the Duality of The Dichotomy. A tricky topic. This duality comprises the elements of Lumina and Umbra. Each element is made up of more than sunlight and shadow while each encompasses them all the same. Shadow, used to conceal or weaken.¡± She spun in a dramatic circle, her body cloaked in shadows. ¡°Lumina is used to illuminate and enhance.¡± From within the shadows encasing her body, an arc of light shot forth, focusing into a beam toward the glass cone above her head. I realized the cone was actually a lens as the light refracted and shot into the cloud above. The light further refracted through the cloud and back down to shine among the students in rainbows and shimmers made from the water and glass dust.


    "Next is The Duality of Progress. This one is made of Stasis and Morphic Myst. Stasis forces an object or material to hold its shape against changes to its form or structure. This element is often used to keep a dying person in a stable state, if all be it, an unchangeable state, while this element is in effect." Jenna waved her hand, and the glass shards flew to her to form two larger orbs on either side of her. From seemly nowhere, she produced a small mallet and struck the sphere on her left, causing it to shatter and fall to the floor. Jenna then touched the remaining sphere on her right, producing a flicker of amber-colored energy that passed through the object. She struck this one with the hammer, just like the last. But the hammer bounced off, dealing no damage and forcing the instructor to take a step back from the redirected force. "But, just like Ruin Myst, Stasis Myst is incredibly inefficient and costly to use. Also..." The indestructible glass ball flickered with amber light as the energy destabilized and dissipated. Instantly, the sphere cracked, then crumbled. "Stasis Myst does not make anything completely immune to damage. If enough force or power is thrown against a Stasis object, when the element wears off, it will suffer at least a portion of the damage."


    Jenna then snapped the fingers of her right hand, and the lens above her shattered. all of the glass shards magically collected into a pile at the instructor''s feet. "In opposition to Stasis Myst is Morphic Myst. Morphic Myst is the raw energy of change. All living creatures have at least a spark of this element in their being, which allows an individual to grow, adapt, and change. On a much larger scale, Morphic Myst is the cause for the process of evolution, which is the progression of minute alterations to each creature over the course of thousands of generations." She gave a flamboyant flourish of a hand, and the glass at her feet sparked with flashes of purple before melting into a puddle of some mysterious translucent green slime. The slime rose, climbing up into a pillar as tall as the Mystagogue before shifting back into glass. "In spellcasting and mystech, Morphic Myst can temporarily change an object or material into a completely different object or material. But the bigger the change, the more myst it costs. So changing water into wine is relatively simple, but changing water into a cat is much harder." The glass pillar sprouted cracks and shattered to fall back into a pile of shards. "And, like I state, temporary changes."


    ¡°Lastly comes what we often think of as the most dangerous duality, the Duality of Synergy, comprised of Resonance and Distortion. Both of these are on the more ephemeral side of cosmic forces, much like Fate and Chaos. Resonance Myst holds sway over patterns, frequencies, and similar. Your heart beats at the rate it does, in part, because of this element." Mystagogue Jenna pointed a finger at the pile of glass at her feet, and with a flash of teal energy, it began to hum in an audible pitch. With a flash of white, the humming stopped, and a single beam of light shot from her finger to point at the glass shards. "If Resonance Myst is applied to Lumina Myst, you can convert the frequency of energy from visible light to something a bit more... hazardous on the electromagnetic spectrum." The ray of light vanished, but the pile of glass started to glow with heat. After a moment of confusion, I realized that she had changed the lightwaves into microwaves.


    "Distortion, on the other hand, interrupts or alters set patterns or frequencies. You should be aware that all things have an innate frequency at which they innately hold their state. These are constant molecular vibrations that allow for objects and materials to hold their shape. With enough Distortion Myst..." Instead of continuing her explanation, Jenna stopped the Lumina and Resonance spell she was fasting and shot a single needle of vermillion light at the glass shards, and the pile broke down into powder. This wasn''t like the dust the Ruin Myst had turned the glass into. That had been a heap of dull gray. What was at her feet was still obviously glass, but in pieces so small, you couldn''t even call it sand. "And just like Ruin and Stasis Myst, Distortion is incredibly inefficient during spell casting but can be just as incredibly useful if used right."


    The Mystagogue rolled her shoulders and neck as if she was tense as she said, "And that, my sweet little chitlins, are the Core Four Elements and the Six Dualities. Before I call class, does anyone have any questions on spell casting that I haven''t covered to this point?"


    A hand among the students shot skyward. Attached to the hand was the strange Human girl that was mostly metal. Professor Jenna pointed to the girl without a single word but with a nod as a sign to speak. The girl lowered her hand and spoke in a voice that was strong yet somehow held a note of timidness. ¡°Mystagogue, could you please explain the magic circles for us? We have yet to learn about them.¡±


    The instructor gave a vehement nod with her hands propped upon her hips, ¡°Certainly, my young disciple. Casters are ranked by circles based on the highest level spell they can cast without a ritual. Circles range from one to ten. Casters of the First Circle are only really able to cast the simplest spells, known as cantrips. From simple spells, like making a candle flame on the end of your finger, they will rank up higher and higher. Second Circle casters can cast a fire shot with little effort. The Third Circle can cast a fire bolt in the same manner. At the Fourth Circle. You could cast a fire blast at the Fifth. It could become a fireball at the Sixth Circle. It could evolve into a beam at the Seventh Circle. It could become a cone of flame, and at the Eighth Circle, it could become what is called an inferno or devastation class spell. The spells beyond the Eighth Circle are classified as black-market because very, very few Mages pass the Eighth Circle. Those that do are so powerful they are put on watch lists. Now, you need to keep in mind that I only used the element of fire as an example in this explanation. Each caster classification has its own affinities and uses any other element to equal effect as the flame example, depending on their Circle and their affinities. Any of the elements can be used to cause just as much devastation as fire if used correctly.

 Chapter 12

    All Technology across Anogwin is powered by myst. Myst batteries, myst cores, myst generators, myst circuits. Myst fuels our world down to even the cybernetics in our bodies. As a power source, myst can be used in fluid or solid states. Solid-state myst power sources are known as crystal batteries that can come in a variety of sizes, shapes, and elemental types based on what they are used to power. Liquid myst is a form of consumable energy akin to early-era gasoline, only more eco-friendly and more easily crafted.


    Day 28, Castesday


    The lunch hour was drawing to a close. I eyed the holo-clock in my vision from my therra-node to keep track even as I hid in the Foundry, working on my project. I was in Cauldron 7, on the second floor of the structure. I hid against the far wall in the left corner, farthest from the wall of tools and supplies. The second years all ignored me as I tinkered away, none caring what I was doing so long as I didn¡¯t burn a hole through the desk or detonate anything volatile.


    For the past three weeks, I had slaved away at this project of mine, skipping meals and spending sleepless nights working on it. At first, I had only based my work on what diagrams and equations I could find in the data banks. But when Master Mystagogue Mallock, the cooky old man who gave me words of advice on my first day, took up the instruction of my Myst and Mystech Fundamentals class, he almost seemed to know what I was attempting. He moved the class to the Foundry and began teaching about power consumption rates, myst power source types, and so much more. The Master left most of my fellow students baffled and reeling from the push-and-flow information, but I seemed to soak it in like a sponge. And an eager sponge at that.


    I folded plating and casing into shape, sealed rubber, and stitched fabric. I cut out quartz circuit boards and pressed out the circuits in mythril. I gauged the wire, compressed springs, set receivers, set in diodes, resistors, and capacitors, set in myst batteries of air, fire, kinetic force and lighting, and so much more. I did this over and over again, testing tirelessly. I learned from each failed prototype and adjusted accordingly. At that time, I was on Mark 5.


    What was I making? A tool, something to keep me safe and keep others at arm¡¯s reach. Why? Because of Mallrimor and his thugs. Every chance they got, they picked on me, pulling my tail, tripping me, shocking or burning me with magic, and taking every opportunity in martial combat training to spar me and beat me to tar. I had to replace several uniforms because of stains from ink and blood, tears, and burn holes. The quartermaster was going to have my measurements memorized soon if this kept up. Every lunch, they found me and ruined my food. I was fed up with this abuse. I had spoken to instructors, but they all said the same thing: ¡°Deal with it in your own way¡± or ¡°Talk it out¡±. If the masters wouldn¡¯t save me, and I had no friends to stand up for me, I would have to defend myself. I couldn¡¯t outfight them, and I had no magical talent. I couldn¡¯t talk or threaten them into backing off, so this was my only chance.


    The week prior, Mystagogue Kellennar, the Ceangar that seemed to derive deep pleasure from pairing me with the problematic thugs, gave us permission to carry training weapons on our person and perform duals under a nonlethal standard. So if I couldn¡¯t outfight them, outcast them, flush out their secrets, or outmaneuver them, I¡¯d have to out-think them with tech.


    Only moments before the lunch hour ended, I slipped on the gauntlet, most of the tool hidden just under my sleeve, albeit a tight fit. As my alarm went off for me to head to my next class, I pulled down my sleeve and made my way to Myst and Mystech Fundamentals, just one floor down.


    <hr>


    Master Mystagogue Mallock marched across the room, his hands clasped behind his hunched back. The classroom, Cauldron 2, smelled of hot metal, stone dust, melted plastic, and the ozone scent of discharged myst. Against the far wall, forges burned with constant heat, making the air in the room thick and uncomfortable. The room was filled with thirteen oval tables, each with five seats. Each seat had a set of simple crafting tools set into carved notches on the table for easy organization. I sat alone at my table in the far back corner, my back to the wall, watching the master with an eager hunger for knowledge. The master marched along the wall of forges. How he managed not to sweat at that proximity had me baffled.


    ¡°Last class, we discussed the needs for and uses of resistors and capacitors when working with electricity and general shop safety when working with the raw power sources that are myst crystals. Today, we will first discuss the concept of Elemental merging between the core four elements and will later move on to what Vells are and what a Vell can create. After those brief crash courses, I¡¯ll have you craft a simple myst clock.¡± At this, several students groaned in annoyance.


    ¡°Come now, children, this is all fairly simple stuff you will need to master before you can truly perform anything of use in later crafting classes.¡± Master Mallock scolded. His tone was that of a grandfather chiding his grandchild to eat their vegetables before they could have dessert.


    The master spun on his heel and strode back to his desk against the back wall near my table. He bent over to rummage around in the drawers of his desk as he continued to quiz the class. ¡°Now, who can tell me what the core four elements are?¡±


    A couple of hands went up among the class in ready answer. The instructor glanced up from inside his desk just long enough to point to a student to provide an answer. He pointed to S18, the Half-Dwarf. ¡°Earth, Fire, Air, and Water.¡± the student recited from memory with ease.


    ¡°Very good, my boy. Now, can anyone tell me how two elements react when mixed?¡±


    No hands went up this time. ¡°Good, good. This means that we are venturing into unfamiliar territory together. Put simply, when you cross two elements, a new substance is formed.¡± Mystagogue Mallock pulled from his desk a strange mechanical device made up of glass cylinders, clear tubes, circuits, wires, and what looked to be a pump. ¡°This is a Myst Infusion Apparatus, or MIA, not to be confused with the term for Missing In Action.¡± He said this lame joke with an amused smirk. Next, he pulled a pair of crystals from another drawer, the glowing shards no bigger than my pinky finger, one red, the other yellow, both emitting a low glow. He held the red crystal ¡°Fire¡±. He thumbed the crystal in a metal slot in the apparatus, then held up the gray-green crystal ¡°Air¡±, then slipped that crystal into a slot on the opposite side.


    ¡°What would you say the traits of the element of Air are?¡± He asked, gesturing to the class with a sweep of his hand.


    There were several long moments of dead silence before someone blurted out, ¡°It¡¯s a gas.¡±


    ¡°Close but not quite. The fact that the element is called Air is a bit of a misnomer. The element can create any non-magical gas when influenced by the wielder. So, let¡¯s clarify the question. What are the traits of gasses?¡±


    ¡°The lack of a solid shape?¡± another student asked.


    ¡°Good. Now, would you say it¡¯s mobile?¡± The class nodded in unison. ¡°Would you say that it can be quick?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I guess.¡± came another student.


    ¡°Now, what do you think would be made if we applied the quick mobility of Air to the element of Fire?¡±


    He was answered with dead silence. The master answered his own question with a demonstration. He flipped a switch, turned a dial, and pressed a button. The pump on the device kicked into motion. Raw myst sucked from the crystals, the energy flowing through tubes to meet in a central glass chamber. First, the red energy filled the chamber, turning to flickering and dancing flames. Then, the gray-green myst was added. The pale green vapor entered the chamber, and the whole cocktail swirled and churned before coalescing into pure, raging electricity, the yellow-white power reaching the walls of the chamber, searching for an escape.


    ¡°And there you have it!¡± Mystagogue Mallock cheered with a mad grin, gesturing to the apparatus with both hands like he had just unveiled the next big invention of the decade. After a half moment, the professor straightened as best he could, his manic smile fading. He calmly set a clear crystal into a slot in the apparatus''s bottom and pulled another switch. The lightning was sucked from the holding chamber to filter into the crystal, giving it a lively glow of yellow. The color in the shard, as the professor held it up to show the class, shifted in flickering spasms of wild light.


    ¡°We will discuss what elements will create what when merged in a later class, but for now, we will discuss the topic of what a Vell is and what the measurements of one Vell will equal in regards to The Four Core Elements.¡± He moved the Myst Infusion Apparatus under his desk, out of sight. The Master then stepped to the back wall behind his desk to activate a holo board. He began writing out words with his finger that lit up on the board with a green-blue light. As he wrote, he spoke.


    ¡°A Vell is a single measurement of myst. One Vell can create, destroy, affect, or alter the following measurements of each element. One Vell can affect eight fluid ounces, half a pound of earth, one square foot of gas, one Joule of flame, twelve volts and forty-eight amps of electricity, or twenty-five foot-pounds of kinetic force. All other combinations of the Core Elements will fall into these measurements, falling into the category measurement of the element with the naturally closest physical state to the Compound Element. For example, if I were to combine Water with of Air, the result, Zero Oil, would be measured by the standards of Water, not Air. This means that one Vell could affect eight fluid ounces of Zero Oil, NOT one cubic foot of the magical oil.¡±


    I followed along with ease, but a single glance around the room showed that much of the class was lost or bored. Some looked at the board in confusion, with brows raised or scratching their head. Other students simply played with the tools at their stations, ignoring the class as if it were something boring. I couldn¡¯t understand how anyone could find this boring. Meanwhile, I was fascinated by this topic, typing out the notes with ease on the GUI (Graphical User Interface) of my therra-node.


    ¡°Now, next week, we will discuss the other elements that can be formed by merging the Core Elements and will touch on myst crystal sizes, purity, and potency. But for now, I need you all to access the Academy training archive. Under Mystech 101, look for the file titled Simple Myst Clocks. Follow the diagram and steps to create the device. I will grade you on whether or not the item works, how fast you can craft the item, the precision of the item, and the power efficiency of the item. They will be powered by basic Lightning Myst Crystals, and I have them stalked in abundance in the Cauldron, so take as many tries as you need. But while working, please remember the safety practices we learned about last class.¡±


    This time, it was my turn to show a manic grin. I quickly pulled up the diagram of what he wanted us to craft and looked it over. Annoyed with how simple the clock would be, I closed the file and searched for a more advanced version. It didn¡¯t take long for me to stumble across a diagram of a myst clock that was powered by two Lightning crystals with a backup thermal crystal battery in case of failure. This clock would not only measure hours, minutes, and seconds, but it would also measure them via three separate digital faces for easy reading alongside an analog face. It could also count milliseconds and measure the amount of power remaining in the batteries with a simple warning light when the power source would get low. Looking it over, I noticed that I could add a chiming alarm whenever the clock struck at exactly noon every day. I examined the diagram several times, making sure I could grab everything that I needed before standing and nearly dashing across the room to gather my supplies.


    It took me several trips, but I got all the parts that I needed and the extra tools I would need to make this whole design function as smoothly as possible. We still had half an hour to craft the project when I started, and I worked as fast as I could manage with the precision that I needed. By the time I had completed it, three students had already brought their projects to display to the master. I had kept a careful eye on each of these as I worked. The first student was sent back because of a loose gear alignment. The second got a low B grade for finishing on time, but his clock was using too much power to function. The last student was sent back because his clock, while intact and complete, failed to function at all.


    I triple-checked the time on my therra-node as I set it on my project, down to the last millisecond. As I closed the face and sealed it, I said a silent prayer to whoever the Nameless Goddess really was. I stood up, clock in hand, and slowly made my way to the Master¡¯s desk. As he noticed me, he raised a single brow at the very moment I set down the project on his desk.


    ¡°This is not the project I asked for, Tick. What is this?¡±


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    ¡°I-It¡¯s an improvement, Master Mystagogue. I¡¯m sorry.¡± I stammered, keeping my eyes locked on the edge of this desk. At that moment, I had second thoughts about not just following the Mystagogue¡¯s instructions.


    The Master gave a single slow nod as he eyed the product of my work. I dared to raise my eyes to his face as he opened the face of the clock. I watched as his brows raised in surprise. He looked at each shifting cog with his magnifying glasses. His head shifted from one segment to another. He murmured to himself the whole time. He closed the face and read it, clearly comparing it to his therra-node display several times.


    ¡°It¡¯s off by two milliseconds.¡± Those were the first words that he said. I flinched at this comment, almost as if I had been struck with a fist across the jaw¡­ again.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Ticker, but I can only give you a grade of¡­¡± I squeezed my eyes shut and cringed as I waited for the terrible grade I expected for not following his orders. ¡°An A+¡±


    I stood there for several moments, not believing what I heard. An A+? ¡±What?!¡±


    I slowly tried to relax as I met the Master¡¯s eyes. ¡°Excuse me, Mystagogue. Did I mishear you? A+?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that I can¡¯t offer you a higher grade. Between you exceeding the project parameters and your project being off by two milliseconds, I only give you a score of 110% instead of 120%. You will only be allowed to do more advanced projects than is necessary after week five. This means that next week will be the first week that you can really show your skill. But don¡¯t worry, my boy, you have just proven that you have a massive talent for crafting. I can¡¯t wait for you to join the Sect of the Burning Hand.¡± He gave me a grand smile of approval paired with a wink that could only have been given by an old man with a few screws loose. ¡°I¡¯m going to expect great things from you in the weeks to come.¡±


    This brought a burning blush to my cheeks that had nothing to do with the heat from the forges. I scurried back to my seat with a goofy grin on my face. That was the first compliment that I had ever been given without some severe scolding for some mishap. My father had never given me any compliment without it being weighed down by some way to improve that seemed to matter far more than the feat I had completed. I sat back in my seat and watched the other students as they hurried to finish the class project. I decided I was going to return to the Cauldron after school was out to collect my project because I was going to hang the thing in my room. A sign that I can do something without being told that I needed to improve.


    It was only after I made that decision that I remembered what he said about me joining the Burning Hand. My grin faltered as I thought about my goal of becoming a warrior. My father¡¯s corpse flashed in my mind, and my heart ached. But I shook the image free. I wouldn¡¯t let this moment be ruined by bad memories.


    <hr>


    As class let out, I stepped through the door to the Cauldron with an almost comical grin on my face. Mallrimor hadn¡¯t picked on me the entire class, and now I was about to head to Basic Science class without any issues. I strolled through the door to the Cauldron and made my way down the entry hall into the Foundry when I passed Mallrimor. He and his group¡¯s focus was centered on the cyborg girl. Mallrimor had his hand pressed against the wall beside her face while the rest of his group let out low chuckles as he mocked her. ¡°What¡¯s the matter, bot-chick? Need more oil to help you cry? Maybe you need a tweak or two to help you learn to respect your betters.¡± He goaded the girl, her head turned away, looking at the floor.


    I slowed as I passed, happy that I wasn¡¯t the one to be picked on for once. Five steps past the group, I stopped and turned to watch.


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter, gear-girl? Your cogs loose?¡± Mallrimor mocked as he reached for her face. She turned her head further against the wall, trying to keep her face away from his fingers. As she turned her face away, I watched as the Brightling snarled in anger. He stepped back, snapped his fingers, and pointed to her with the simple words, ¡°Pull her apart.¡±


    The Dracose and Orc, Kesher and Brecken, stepped forward, massive paws reaching for the girl. I watched, my gut tightening as one began to pull her arm from her shoulder, segments separating and snapping under the force, while the other shoved a hand into her gut, between the soft non-combat plates of her abdomen. As the Dracose pulled free a fist pull of tubes and wires, I couldn¡¯t take it.


    I took two steps forward to end in a defiant stance, fists clenched, chin high. ¡°Back off ass hats!¡± I demanded. As one, the group turned to look at me. The girl¡¯s face curled in an expression of agony as she bent over the claw before her gut, holding her internals.


    ¡°And what are you gonna do, freak?!¡± Snarled Gellar as he stepped up to stand between the girl and me.


    Without another word, I rolled up my right sleeve and raised my hand, pointing my fist at the High Elf. With my other hand, I pressed a button on my gauntlet, and a wave of kinetic force launched from my glove to knock the bastard on his ass. I launched him from his stance to land on his back and slide several feet. The air was knocked from his lungs. The two brutes turned to face me. Before Brecken, the Orc, could react, I turned my tool on him and pressed another button. A ball of flame shot forth and struck the wall of meat and set his uniform ablaze. The muscle head staggered back, trying to put himself out in a panic. Before Kesher could move, I turned my gauntlet to face him and loosed a net of electrified steel webbing. The net ensnared the Dracose, taking him to the floor even as he convulsed from the low voltage. Without sparing a second, I stepped up to Mallrimor and punched him in the jaw with my metal gauntlet. I sent the winged freak reeling with the blow.


    ¡°How about you fuckers pick on someone your own size.¡± I snarled with a mad grin even as I helped the girl stand, the damage already causing her problems.


    ¡°Thanks.¡± she muttered moments before she fell into my arms. She was surprisingly heavy for her size, but I held her up as best as I could manage as I taunted the bastards.


    ¡°You sick scumbags need to learn how to treat a lady before I turn you all to pummeled heaps of meat.¡±


    I chose my words poorly as Gellar pulled himself to his feet, rage etched on his face. He threw himself at me, only leaving me half a moment to throw the girl aside as he struck me and took me to the floor. I heard the girl strike the wall with a yipe of pain or shock only milliseconds before I felt a body atop me, beating me with bare fists. Blow after blow landed against my face, breaking my nose and bruising my jaw. In a panic, I brought my arms up to defend my face. Blows rained down against my arms from the High Elf. Moments later, I heard a deep grunt and smelt smoke followed before a heavy foot struck my side. I cried out even as the wind left my lungs from the first few blows. I heard another, even deeper grunt, followed by something light and metallic clattered to the ground. Soon after, a clawed foot struck the side of my head, dazing me.


    I heard a girl¡¯s voice yelling for them to stop. There was the sound of something heavy striking flesh, followed by a body hitting the wall to slide to the floor. I bore the stikes with the resolve of a man ready to die, waiting for the end. Even in what I thought to be my last moments, I wanted to help the girl. She cared enough to try to stop them from killing me. As my vision blurred, I got an infinitesimal moment of joy at the fact that someone cared about me, if only in the smallest way. Suddenly I heard a muttering of words, and the beating stopped. I held myself in the fetal position until there was no pain for several long moments.


    I looked up to find a small Gnomish girl. She looked familiar, and only later did I place her as an upperclassman. She stood between Mallrimor and me even as he eyed me before he and the others walked away. The Gnomish girl gave me a long look before the class bell rang, and he hurried off. For a long moment, I thought about that look she gave me. Was that look in her eyes... Pitty? Sympathy? I wondered only for a heartbeat before I remembered the girl I tried to save.


    I rolled over onto my other side to find the cyborg girl in fragments and pieces. Synthetic ribs and bones broken, and ligaments sprained or torn. I staggered to my feet, my whole body screaming at me to just lie back down. I limped over to check on her. Her breath wheezed and gurgled. Her left leg was hanging on by cords and tubes. Her right arm was in even worse shape than her leg, barely hanging on. Her abdomen was a mess of mangled wires, tubes, gears, and circuits. Oil and several other unknown fluids were spilling out from the wounds to form a slick puddle beneath her. I needed to hurry.


    Almost losing my balance in the puddle, I knelt down and slipped her good arm over my shoulder and around my neck. I heaved her to her remaining good foot with all the strength I could manage. With the shift, more fluids spilled out from her damaged areas, and I thought I might have seen some blood in the mix, but I was too busy panicking to tell. ¡°Come on.¡± I wheezed, ¡°Let¡¯s get you to a shop.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± was all she could manage to say, oil bubbling from her lips, even as I helped her hobble back to the class that we had left.


    ¡°Why? Because you need help, and I can help.¡± I tried to keep my tone light and strain-free, but I was failing miserably. ¡°My dad always said I should help those I can when I can afford to.¡±


    During the whole staggering trip back to the Cauldron, I muttered curses to my dead bastard of a father for teaching me to be a good person.


    ¡°Can¡­ you...afford? You¡¯re..hurt.¡± She gurgled as she hopped beside me on her good leg.


    ¡°I¡¯ll manage,¡± I said with a manic grin under a blackened pair of eyes. ¡°Besides, I don¡¯t see anyone else helping you to the shop. If the Master is still there, I¡¯ll see if he can patch you up.¡±


    I turned to enter the door into the Cauldron, helping the girl along as best I could. We entered the room, the Master rummaging through his desk. I hobbled her to the nearest table and helped her to lie atop it before the elderly Human looked up to notice us. As he saw us, I croaked out, ¡°Mystagogue, she needs help.¡±


    I watched as his non-obscured eye widened in surprise. With shocking speed, he limped toward us, reaching the table in moments even as I took a seat to breathe. He flipped through lens after lens and on his right eye as he examined the girl and her wounds.


    ¡°Tick,¡± He said, his tone hard as adamantine, ¡°I need you to follow me. We¡¯re taking her to Cauldron 15, and I¡¯ll need another pair of hands.¡± Without another word, the hunched Master scooped up the heavy girl with ease and left the room at such a pace that I struggled to keep up in the state I was in.


    We reached the stairs and rushed to the top floor, myself tripping several times on the accent. I followed him into the Cauldron, which was labeled as restricted to tier 5 students and higher. As I entered the room, I paused for a moment in wonder at the room. The whole place looked to be dedicated almost solely to cybernetics. Limb components and modifications lined the walls. One far corner of the room was dedicated to vats of various fluids, while the other appeared to have tools or limb removal, and I might have imagined it in my brief glance, but I thought I saw bloodstains.


    The Master Mystagogue recaptured my attention with a harsh ¡°Boy!¡± He had just laid her in a reclined seat against one wall that had limbs extending from the rear, ending in numerous tools. I hobbled over as fast as I could manage. I hadn¡¯t even made it within seven feet of the pair when he started giving me commands.


    ¡°I need you to fetch components.¡± Without even taking a breath, he listed off fifteen or so items rapid-fire and pointed to where I would find them with his organic hand. As he gave me the list, his cybernetic arm unfolded into several small arms, several ending in tools, while others looked to do little more than hold components and parts. The arm that I thought looked shoddily put together when we first met, I found a deep respect for at that moment.


    Her breath became more and more labored as I hobbled from wall to wall, gathering everything needed as fast as I could manage. I made several trips, dumping armloads of parts onto a table beside the Master. Within moments of me dumping the first arm-load of supplies on the table, I watched in wonder as the old man began to work proverbial magic without myst. With speed and grace, he merged separated parts, replaced broken segments, and mended fractures and tears. The whole while, he told me what he was doing and explained how each part worked and what each segment was meant to do, even as I transported more parts.


    After what must¡¯ve been five minutes but felt much longer, Master Mallock pointed across the room without looking to where the vats of fluids were. He rattled off the amounts of each fluid he needed and said that there were beakers in a cabinet adjacent to the vats. I fetched the needed liquids, and he fixed the young woman in a matter of minutes thereafter. As he wrapped up the operation, he explained every step as if he expected me to do the same the next time it happened. I drank in every moment of work, memorizing every word of wisdom I could in my addled state. I knew at a fundamental level I would need to know this for a later date.


    As Master Mallock sealed the last gasket, he leaned back, his cybernetic hand collapsing back into its standard state as he wiped his brow and looked me dead in the eye. ¡°Speak with her, understand what a friend really is, and never let go no matter how hard things get.¡± I stood there gaping like a fish drowning in the air, lips flapping as the Master turned and left the room.


    As the cyborg girl sat up and tested her arm and leg, I watched, too timid to speak a word. I watched as her blond hair fell around her ears. The scaring along her cheeks, just above the synthetic tissue, blushed a deeper purple. ¡°Thank you for helping me. You saved my life.¡±


    I looked at the floor and shrugged. ¡°Those assholes have been picking on me since the first day. I was planning on standing up to them anyway. The fact that they were picking on you only made it that much more important that I stop them.¡±


    ¡°Even if they kicked our asses?¡± She asked, a tone of friendly mocking.


    I felt my cheeks heat with a burning blush as I intently stared at the floor.


    ¡°I know. I need to work on my gauntlet. It was supposed to knock them on their asses just long enough for me,¡± I stuttered, ¡°I-I mean us, to get away. I guess I got a little too cocky.¡±


    ¡°Maybe you should make more tools like that to help you beat bastards like them.¡± I could hear the smile in her words. She was trying to be nice, but I felt like she was only trying to make me feel better for my brutal failure.


    ¡°I-I, yeah,¡± I stammered, ¡°I guess. I need to make more tools.¡±


    ¡°I saw you make that clock in class. You have a real talent for making gadgets. Maybe you could make more to help you with bullies like that.¡±


    ¡°I-I guess. But I want to be a warrior. I need to get better at fighting.¡±


    ¡°Well, till you get better at fighting, how about you make nifty gadgets and tools like that gauntlet to help yourself out... and maybe me, too?¡± She said this last part with her own bit of timidity. At those words, I looked up with sharp interest. I saw her burn-scarred cheeks turn a deep purple rimmed with a burning pink-red.


    I think I had just made my first friend. I shot my right hand out in an offer for a shake.


    ¡°I¡¯m Iver Maverick. It¡¯s n-nice to meet you.¡±


    She gave a half-smile before grasping my hand with a firm grip and a reply of ¡°Nice to meet you, Iver, I¡¯m Nennel Darrdane.¡±


    ¡°I-I hope we can be good fr-friends.¡±

 Chapter 13

    Early cybernetics required batteries that would need replacing every few weeks, then they were upgraded to every few months, then every few years. The current power designs of cybernetics draw directly from the body¡¯s Mystwell. A stable and constant draw that doesn¡¯t threaten the user¡¯s life, only reduces their natural maximum capacity of their well.


    Day 30, Quenchenday


    The day following meeting Nennel was the day of rest Quenchenday. I was lounging in the woods encircling the academy grounds within the crater cavern of the mountain. My back propped against a red-leafed elm tree. My body still ached from the beating that I had taken the day before, but this was a pain that I found a level of pride and satisfaction in. While I had done little more with my actions than piss off the batch of thugs with inflated egos, I had stood against the assholes of my own free will and in the defense of someone else. I felt good. Useful. Like I had done something of value by possibly saving a girl¡¯s life. The very girl who sat perched in an oak tree across from me. She swung her legs back and forth in lazy arcs as she methodically plucked and shredded leaves from the branch beneath her. The woods were thick with the scents of fresh soil, wet grass, and damp bark.


    We had spent the whole day together, talking about class, hobbies, and other light topics, both of us pointedly not asking about each other¡¯s past and not bringing up our own. The companionship that I found with her didn¡¯t have the feeling of romantic interest. Rather, I felt more like I had found someone I could be myself around. This was an unfamiliar experience for me. Everyone in my life until that point had held something over me. My father, while loving, was harsh when punishing me for seemingly small missteps. Any children I had ever met had always been aggressive toward me. Thallos had been his own kind of harsh in his teaching style, and even the instructors who didn¡¯t act like they wanted me dead still held the power of authority that could be used to make my life miserable if I misspoke or acted out of line. Around Nennel, it just felt natural to relax around her.


    ¡°Say, Nennel, you happen to have any talent for martial combat?¡± I asked as I plucked at the grass beside me.


    ¡°Iver, you can just call me Nel.¡±


    ¡°Oh, uh, sure thing, Nel.¡± I tentatively spoke, testing the name.


    Nel hooked her legs around the branch she perched atop and fell backward. Her arms spread to either side. She hung upside down from the brunch. ¡°But to answer your question,¡± she let go of the branch, turning over in the air to land on her feet at the base of the tree in a T pose. ¡°Yeah, I guess. I mean, because of my body, I¡¯m quick, with good balance, I¡¯m not bad. But if there¡¯s one thing I¡¯ve learned from class, it¡¯s that it takes more than speed and balance to make a good warrior.¡± The tone of her words reflected her true thoughts. She thought that what she had just done was nothing so impressive. She honestly believed that she was nothing special.


    ¡°Are you kidding me, Nel?¡± I said with a confused grin and raised brow even as I pulled myself to my feet in a manner that seemed crude compared to her elegant landing.


    She looked at me with her own cocked brow. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°You do realize most people can¡¯t just do what you did?¡±


    ¡°Get out of a tree?¡± She looked back at the tree as if checking to make sure it was the same one she had just left.


    ¡°That was not just ¡®getting out of a tree¡¯.¡± I make sure to put emphasis on the very words she just spoke. ¡°Nel, that was backflipping out of a tree. I can¡¯t even do a standing backflip. With dexterity like that, I don¡¯t know what would make a real warrior if you aren¡¯t one already.¡±


    She looked at her feet and gave a shy smile. ¡°Thanks, but you need to realize I¡¯m only good at avoiding attacks. I have none of the technique, physical strength, or knowledge that would make me a real threat to anyone.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not even good at avoiding blows,¡± I openly gestured to my bruised and battered body. ¡°As my display yesterday provided beyond a doubt.¡±


    ¡°If it hurts so bad, then why don¡¯t you go see a healer?¡± She prodded. Before I could even respond, I saw her grow a scheming, tiny, knowing smirk. ¡°Is it because you¡¯re trying to impress me?¡± Her words rang with teasing mirth that didn¡¯t feel like it was meant to hurt.


    ¡°What?¡± I looked at her in sheer confusion. ¡°No, no. I¡¯m not trying to be tough.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± she said with a playful jab to my ribs that drew a wince of pain from me. ¡°Because I¡¯d tell you to stop being a damn idiot and get mended.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s just¡­¡± It was my turn to look at my feet, afraid to speak the truth out of fear of her mocking me.


    ¡°It¡¯s just what?¡± She pressed. She leaned forward and tipped her head to look into my eyes.


    Nennel laid a hand gently on my shoulder. ¡°Iver, what¡¯s wrong? You look scared.¡± She asked with genuine worry in her words.


    For a long moment, I didn¡¯t look into her eyes, instead stubbornly staring at my feet. It was a challenge meeting her eyes, even for a moment. Her eyes spoke for her. She was truly worried about me.


    Should I tell her? Would she think I¡¯m strange or weak for this fear?


    ¡°Do you promise not to make fun of me?¡± I asked, my words a low murmur filled with years¡¯ worth of caution brought about by experience.


    ¡°I promise.¡± She said with a tiny smile. Was that smile supposed to be kind? Or was she trying to hide it because it would have shown how funny she found my need to ask? Was she looking for a reason to get away from me?


    ¡°You mean it? You promise you won¡¯t even joke about this.¡±


    ¡°I swear on my father¡¯s ashes, I won¡¯t say anything rude or hurtful.¡± Her words were serious as she straightened and drew an X over where her heart should be.


    She lost her father, too? Maybe I can trust her. If she knows what it¡¯s like, what I went through, then maybe I can tell her.


    ¡°I-I¡¯m- I don¡¯t want to have healing magic used on me.¡± My words shifted from a stammering mutter to a rush of words, almost yelled, as I tried to force them out as fast as I could. The moment the last word left my mouth, I clamped my eyes shut, clenching my whole body as I waited for the inevitable mocking. When nothing came, I timidly opened one eye to find her looking at me with worry and confusion.


    She put her free hand on my other shoulder. ¡°Let¡¯s sit down and relax.¡± Her words were gentle as she moved to help me off my feet, my body still aching. As I lay my back against the tree again, Nel took a seat beside me, her knees loosely held to the crook of each arm, her feet crossed. I eyed her for a seemingly endless moment, not sure if I could believe that she really wasn¡¯t about to mock me. Even as I eyed her, she looked up into the canopy above, watching the leaves dance in the breathing of the academy cavern. After a long moment, she spoke. Her tone was like she was commenting on the weather, so uninhibited by doubt or worry. ¡°You know, I¡¯m positively terrified of gremlins.¡± She laid back and idly kicked her feet in small motions. The motion seemed like a simple desire for movement. Thoughtless fidgeting.


    I looked at her for a long moment, waiting for this to be some part of a joke to mock me. ¡°Gremlins? The little Fae critters? The ones that steal or break everything they find?¡±


    She physically shivered before saying, ¡°When I was little, I saw a show where they stole this man¡¯s cybernetic arm, an entire pack of the nasty little things. They broke down his arm piece by piece as fast as lightning, then they were gone, and he was armless. For weeks, I had a nightmare of a swarm of the disgusting little things and of them taking me apart. To this day, any time I see even one, I panic.¡±


    I watched her for a tense few moments, trying to figure out if she was just messing with me or if it was an honest fear of hers. I saw the visible discomfort in her gaze as she stared into a far off place despite her eyes being locked on the ground at her feet.


    I let out a sigh of relief and understanding. ¡°Hey, in your case, it¡¯s a valid fear, unlike mine. But if I had a body, that was what, seventy or eighty percent mechanical? Of course, I¡¯d be terrified of the devious little critters. The thought of being taken apart would scare anyone, cyborg or not.¡±


    Nel gave an amused snort. ¡°Yeah, I can see your point.¡±


    It was then I had a thought. A question that had me itching for an answer. It was probably a rude question, but I needed to know. ¡°M-mind, if I ask what fleshy parts you still have left?¡± I timidly asked.


    ¡°What?¡± she asked in surprise.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry!¡± I blurted out, recoiling from the blow I thought was coming. But when no strike came, I looked up to find her looking at me in evident confusion. I sat back up, not daring to make eye contact as I explained. ¡°I-I was just won-won-wondering how much of you is still organic. You know, s-squishy bits.¡±


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    ¡°Why?¡± was all she said.


    ¡°Well, t-the thought came to mind when I heard you mention gremlins taking you apart. I j-just remember seeing Master Mystagogue Mallock poking around y-your chest cavity. I saw nothing that looked organic in there.¡± Even as the words left my mouth, I felt like a total fraggen idiot.


    She blushed and made to cover her chest with her arms. ¡°Now, that is a very personal thing to ask a girl.¡±


    On immediate reflex, my eyes, which had been locked on a tree across from us, were back looking at the ground between my legs as I muttered a hurried apology.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll tell you what, Iver, I¡¯ll answer that question IF you answer mine after. It¡¯s only fair, seeing as I already told you my worst fear, why I have it, AND I¡¯ll answer another question.¡± Her words shifted from embarrassed to intrigued as she bartered for a question of her own. I wasn¡¯t sure, but I felt like I had been played. She wanted to know something, and I was a little nervous about what she was going to ask, but I gave a small nod because this could open a door to asking about her father.


    ¡°If you must know that, the only ¡®fleshy parts¡¯ I have left are my brain, most of my skull and face, and a bit of spine.¡± She listed it all off like a grocery list, counting off on her fingers.


    More questions popped into my mind. What all was she made of? How was she so dexterous? How was she so precise? How was everything connected? What was her mystwell depth, and how much was taken up by powering her body?


    Before I could ask another question, she turned to face me, legs crossed, as she leaned in. ¡°Okay, my turn.¡± She gave me an eager look as she narrowed the distance between us. ¡°I want to know what scares you so much about healing magic.¡±


    I squirmed in place. ¡°You promise not to make fun of me?¡±


    ¡°I already promised, didn¡¯t I, moron? I¡¯m not going to make fun of you, Iver. I just want to know why Life Myst is so scary to you.¡±


    I took a deep breath and let it out long and slow before I started. I explained how Mallrimor and his thugs had beaten me pretty badly and how I woke up in the medical center. I continued into Dr.Brooksheen¡¯s explanation of why they won¡¯t use healing magic on anyone unconscious and the need for scans.


    ¡°Okay, yeah, I totally understand your fear. Getting a wound healed just to wake up with cancer or something growing where it shouldn¡¯t, now that¡¯s pretty terrifying. Lucky for me, I¡¯m more likely to need a mechanic or a Cy-doc than Life Myst. But what are you going to do when you break a leg or an arm? There is no way the instructors will let you sit out of martial class for months while you heal.¡±


    I winced at the thought. They had warned us that injury was more likely to occur than not in the training courses. ¡°Well, then, I guess I¡¯ll just have to stay awake through every moment of the pain to make sure nothing goes wrong.¡± We both knew that was total crap I was spewing, but she didn¡¯t push the subject.


    ¡°Earlier...you swore on your dad¡¯s ashes.¡± I brought up with no small amount of worry that I was about to step over a line.


    ¡°Yeah, what of it?¡±


    I draped my arms over my legs and fidgeted with my fingers. ¡°Mine too,¡± I muttered as I looked at the grass and roots between my legs. ¡°My dad, I mean. He¡¯s dead.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sorry to hear that. Losing my dad was hard. But it was harder on my mom.¡±


    I gave a sad little half-grin as I loosed a snort of self-mocking. ¡°I don¡¯t even have a mom.¡±


    ¡°She died too? Was there an accident, or bandits, or something? Did it kill both of them?¡±


    ¡°What? No¡­ No. I never knew my mom. Hells, my father wasn¡¯t even my biological father.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Nel asked. I didn¡¯t have to look at her to know that she wanted the entire story. I wanted to tell her. To tell someone what all I had been through, from an abandoned start to a painful pitiful present. I¡¯d told no one everything that I had been through, not even Thallos. I hadn¡¯t wanted to seem weak, but at that moment, under the tree with whom I would soon realize was my first friend, I wanted to let everything out.


    And so I told Nennel everything. My mother¡¯s abandoning me with Fermose, how my father¡¯s form of love had an edge to it, my father¡¯s murder, his dying words about a box, how I was spared by the thieving murderer, how I was homeless for months, stealing what I needed until Thallos found me. I saw her brows rise when I mentioned Thallos as a proclaimed uncle. I explained everything up to when Mallrimor started picking on me.


    ¡°What does Mallrimor have against you?¡± She asked, clearly offended for me. The look on her face told me she was tempted to knock out the prick''s teeth.


    I gave a grunt of amusement. ¡°Up until you, it was just how everyone treated me. I¡¯m a Darkling. That¡¯s all anyone needs as a reason to treat me like trash. I¡¯ve picked up a lot of nicknames, freak, scum, stain, parasite, hellspawn, demon semen, hell whore, devil dick, goat boy, and lots of comments about my odd skin pattern.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never met a Darkling before, but my mom always said to never judge someone on their species. Instead, judge them based on how they treat others. But I¡¯ve been meaning to ask, why is your skin like that?¡±


    I closed my eyes and took another long breath. My skin had always been a sore subject, mentioned more often than my horns some days when I was getting picked on. I opened my eyes and looked at my hands, turning them back to front. Perpetually tanned-looking skin, laced with webs of ivory white. Some people said it looked like I was covered in cobwebs, but my father always said it looked like my skin was made of marble. ¡®Tough skin for a tough boy.¡¯ as he always said.


    ¡°I don¡¯t really know. My skin has always been like this, or so my father claimed. But I know that neither the skin nor my eyes are really normal for Darklings, from what I can tell. But I can¡¯t say it with certainty. I-I¡¯ve never met another Darkling.¡±


    ¡°Really? Wasn¡¯t your adopted father at least a Darkling?¡±


    ¡°No. Fermose was a Wild Elf. Besides, if the holo-cast shows are to be believed, all Darklings are terrible people. The cultist, necromancer, assassin, or terrorist kind of terrible people.¡± I mentioned this last bit with a sulking sneer.


    Nel let out a cackling laugh of honest amusement. I shot her a look of confusion and half-hearted offense. ¡°What¡¯s so funny, tin-girl?¡±


    She flashed me a knowing smirk. ¡°If those holo-cast shows were true, then Brightlings would-be heroes, toppling demon kings and turning arch-liches to ash. Could you honestly see that prick Mallrimor doing anything like that?¡±


    I let out an amused huff with a broad grin at the thought of Mallrimor quivering before a massive demon, wetting himself before being turned to ash himself. ¡°Yeah, I can¡¯t see him doing anything good. The sick bastards get too much glee from pushing people around. But why did he pick on you?¡±


    Nel closed her eyes and sat back against the tree. There was a long, silent moment where I thought she wasn¡¯t going to answer. ¡°He saw me in class, working on the internal components of my arm. The lasher knocked my tools from my hand and mocked me for being what I am. He called me a robot girl. He had been making snide remarks for the past two weeks, but last class, he stepped up to being physically aggressive. He thought I was a simple target. But you stood up for me. Think you can help me some more?¡±


    ¡°Of course, Nel.¡± I said without thinking twice. After the words left my lips, I started thinking about how I was about to get beaten more by those thugs.


    ¡°I¡¯m more than happy to help,¡± I said, ¡°But I feel like I need to ask, how did you end up like¡­ this?¡± I gestured to her whole body with a sweep of my arms.


    I watched as her scarred cheeks heated with a blush, turning an even darker purple.


    ¡°My dad crossed some less than pleasant people. They lit our house to ruin him since he worked out of the garage, but I was working inside helping him. I was trapped, stuck in a hole that Dad broke open in the wall. The docs tried to save my body, but I was so badly burned, almost dead. It took three healers to keep me breathing and my blood pumping while they replaced everything critical. And yeah, I was unconscious during the operation. They stopped the bleeding, but most of what was left was so deformed from damage and poor healing that I was left with this.¡± As she said this last bit, she gestured to her body with both hands.


    I gasped, covering my mouth in shock. I could imagine the horror of the scene. But I could never imagine the pain of being burned so terribly. ¡°By the gods, Nel, I¡¯m so sorry. I w-wish I could have done something.¡± I stammered.


    She shrugged. ¡°The damage is done. Now, I need to live with it. I need to have my body parts replaced every few months to keep up with the growth of my organic parts. As much as I would love to blame my dad for crossing the wrong people¡­ I just can¡¯t. He was only trying to do right by me, my mom, and my siblings. He died in the garage when it burned down anyway, so blaming him is pointless.¡±


    I was speechless. I had no idea what I could say to something like that.


    ¡°Mom and my older brother spent every scrap of saving on getting me this body, ¡®the best parts for my best girl¡¯, she said. But I¡¯m here learning how to fight while my brother is only gods know where, trying to make ends meet to keep the family fed.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯d you get into the academy?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Well, you got creative with the rotting thing in the entry trail. I just snuck around. In my trial, it was a wolf. I skirted around it until it noticed me, then I jumped over it and ran.¡±


    ¡°Does that mean you¡¯re going to be a spy?¡± I asked.


    She only shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ve got no idea where I¡¯m going. All I know is that I need to be the best at whatever they put in front of me, or I go home to a burned shop.¡±


    ¡°I guess we are in the same boat.¡± I said with a half-smirk as I looked at the grass between my fingers while I shredded them piece by piece. ¡°We have nowhere to go, but we need to pass, no matter what. I need to be a warrior so I can find my father¡¯s killer. But I have no doubt that you are a shoo-in for being a spy with the Sect of the Sightless Eye.¡±


    ¡°Well, it all depends on how I score on the end-term reviews and whether or not I can hide my very noticeable body.¡±


    ¡°Oh, come on, how hard could the test to become a spy be?¡± I asked, half-mocking. The other half of me was thinking of the worst possible tests that could be pitted against her. Stealing secured documents, charming the noble of a royal court, going undercover as someone easily forgotten.


    She shrugged yet again. ¡°I¡¯ll just have to do my best in each of the trials to prove my worth.¡±


    A thought came to mind with those words. ¡°What about myst?¡± I asked.


    ¡°What about it?¡± She asked in obvious confusion.


    ¡°I mean, what¡¯s your Mystwell like? You know, how is your casting ability?¡±


    She seemed to curl in on herself at that question. ¡°I have almost none.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I asked.


    ¡°You heard me!¡± she snapped defensively. ¡°My cyberware takes up almost all of my well. I couldn¡¯t cast a spell if I needed to save my life. That¡¯s if I had an open channel, which I don¡¯t. I¡¯m as mundane as they come.¡±


    I sat back against the tree, deep in thought regarding her words. ¡°Then I guess I will have to compensate for that deficit.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I mean what I just said. I will have to design tools for you to make up for your lack of magic. You will end up being a spy or warrior, no question about it. Either way, I¡¯m going to build tools to even the playing field.¡±


    ¡°How? Your last gadget got you beaten into pulp.¡±


    ¡°Ah!¡± I exclaimed, ¡°But it saved you. And I swear by the Nameless Goddess that I will make you tools just as effective as those that I will use to make myself a warrior.¡±

 Chapter 14

    The species of Gnomes is a minute but powerful species. Hailing from the realm of dreams, forced out by an unknown species, they are a great power in the world of magic. Their life span is based on their desire to learn. A Gnome child can grow to adulthood in a matter of months and live for centuries or die in just as many weeks as it took them to grow to maturity. The species is few in number and breed very rarely, but they have an immense level of power in manipulating myst should they live only enough to discover their talents. With their exotic colors of skin and hair, they stand out even in the densest of crowds. The only fragment of the history in the Dream Realm is only mentioned in hushed whispers of the title Dream Eaters in tones of fear.


    Day 33, Temporikday


    I lashed out with all of my strength against the opponent across from me. I aimed for the Orc¡¯s head with my two-handed blade. The green and brown-skinned brute that was Brecken deflected the blow with ease, swept his blade below my guard, and jabbed me in the gut. The strike was hard enough to force the wind from my lungs, along with no small amount of spit and bile. I staggered back, gasping and wheezing, clutching my abdomen even as Mystagogue Kellennar stepped up beside me.¡°How about you not overextend yourself, skavy taint-blood.¡± He sneered as he adjusted my training blade with the tip of his own weapon before striking my ass with his own training blade. ¡°But if you die, it doesn¡¯t dull my blade.¡± he said with grim amusement as he stepped by.


    I rubbed my ass with my free hand even as the mass of muscle across from me bared his teeth and tusks in a brutal grin. Moments later, he lashed out with his own overhead strike. I tried to block, but the blow broke my guard and collided with my shoulder. I let out a wail of pain that was only drowned out among the many. With clenched teeth, I snarled at the tusked nog before taking a renewed grip on my hilt with both hands. I threw a sweeping strike aimed at his knees with as much strength as I could muster.


    Brecken looked surprised for only a fraction of a second before he blocked my strike, forced it away, and, cleaving the blade back, struck my chest. I cursed my lack of talent with every pained breath I took. The Mystagogue was right to call me a skavy taint-blood. I truly was a worthless and talentless Darkling.


    I silently vowed for the hundredth time that I was going to be a warrior, even if it killed me, as I pushed a thrust aimed at Brecken¡¯s chest at top speed. The mass of meat sidestepped my attack and slapped me across the caff with his weapon in a teasing blow. I drew back and swung again.


    <hr>


    ¡°Today is going to be a busy day.¡± Master Mystagogue Mallock said with a mad grin on his lips. ¡°Today, we will discuss the Core Compound Elements AND the levels and qualities of Myst Crystals. I hope you¡¯re all ready for one hell of a class!¡± His voice told everyone just how giddy he was to dump all of this information on the class. In all honesty, it excited me to learn about all of this. The more I knew about magic and technology, the better things I could craft to help me in the field.


    He set out several crystals of varying colors on his desk, each no larger than his thumb. He waited a long moment, letting us notice the glowing crystals and inspect them from a distance before he took striding steps across the room to open the classroom door for the most oddly intimidating Mystagogue to enter.


    A tiny Gnome entered the room, her skin an orange-bronze tan, her hair a vibrant pink with the texture of a dandelion head, and her eyes were a blue-green of the sea only moments before a storm and almost seemed to glow. In her black and red robes of office as Master Mystagogue, she was an odd mixture of cute and utterly terrifying. As a Gnome, she was only a third of the height of any other master at most. Despite her tiny stature, she emanated enough power to leave the class speechless with fear.


    ¡°This is Master Mystagogue Neckar. She oversees all studies in the Sect of the Blackened Crown. Put simply, she is the headmaster of the sect of casters and scholars. She is here to display just what can happen when mixing elements.¡±


    Mystagogue Neckar stepped up beside the desk, her hands folded behind her back, her posture rigid as stone. Mystagogue Mallock shuffled up beside her.


    ¡°Now you may ask why I didn¡¯t invite her during our last class. My answer is simple. The element of electricity is volatile and erratic by nature. I felt it best to introduce you to the most volatile element to catch your attention while holding it in an enclosed environment. I feel that now it is time to show you what a real Mage can do to show you the combination of elements.¡±


    Mystagogue Mallock stepped back behind his desk, picked up a brown crystal, and held it beside a gray-green crystal. He held up the brown crystal, proclaiming it as ¡°Earth¡± before he pointed it towards the gray-green crystal that he proclaimed as ¡°Air.¡±


    Mystagogue Neckar held her hands together with a space of about six inches between them, and a clear bubble came into creation between her fingertips. Mystagogue Mallock set down the crystals and produced a simple stone from within his desk, and set it atop the desk. He raised his mechanical left arm over his head and brought it crashing down to turn the stone into pebbles and powder. He then stepped up beside Mystagogue Neckar and slammed his fist against the globe with no effect. After this display, the elderly Mystagogue stepped up to the holo-board to flip the hidden switch to reveal the small bunker-like room just behind it. In the small space was a crash test dummy, one of the models designed for moving on its own with only the simplest level of intelligence. The dummy stood there as the Gnomish Mystagogue turned towards him, shifting her hands slightly so they both pressed wrist to wrist behind the clear sphere of energy. As soon as she did this, the bubble popped, and the energy holding it together was released and directed toward the mannequin. A wave of kinetic force blasted the dummy against the wall, cracking the composite plating on its chest. After a few seconds, the crash test dummy stood back up, unphased by the abuse it had just taken.


    Mystagogue Mallock spoke with a sideways grin in response to all of our shocked faces. ¡°When you combine the solidity of Earth to the element of Air, the result is Kinetic Force. The technical term is Evulsion Kinetics and Static Kinetics. Kinetics is a force that can be used to stop attacks or can be used as an attack in and of itself. Evulsion Kinetics is a common choice for attacks when physical force is needed. Static Kinetics can resist incoming physical forces, making it ideal for repelling weapon attacks and even repelling Evulsion Kinetics if enough Vells are used to counter the force. With precision, one could even use it to interact with objects like opening a door or pressing a button. One Vell equals twenty-five foot-pounds of force. That¡¯s enough to push an unprepared man off his feet. Defensively one Vell would stop twenty-five foot-pounds of force, and while any force stronger would push through the object or energy passing through, would still face the resistance and be slowed to a degree.¡±


    Next, he held up the same brown crystal and pointed it towards a blue crystal of the same size, proclaiming it as ¡°Water¡±.


    Mystagogue Neckar pressed her hands together, merging two energies, one blue, the other brown. The result was a thick black substance. The Gnome Mystagogue sprayed thick black fluid across the floor of the blast chamber. In response, the manikin tried to take a single step forward, only to find its feet stuck fast to the floor.


    ¡°When you apply the solidity of Earth to the element of Water, it becomes Trapp Tar. This magical element is not like naturally found tar. This Trapp Tar manifests traits based on the will and desire of the caster. It could be even more adhesive than standard tar, or more liquid, or dry more quickly. We use Trapp Tar in a wide range of fields. In industrial practices, it''s used as an adhesive for short-term purposes. Trapp Tar, just like any magically conjured material, has a half-life, meaning that it will break down into ambient myst after a set amount of time. The more Vells used to keep its state stable, the longer it will last. Because of this, Trapp Tar is used as an instant, if temporary, binding agent while a mundane binding agent takes hold and dries. When the element is put to use for combat or defensive means¡­¡± He gestured to the immobilized manikin. ¡°I think the answer is evident.¡±


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Master Neckar released a jet of hot water into the blast room, thinning and dispersing the tar to flow into drainage grates in the floor as the class laughed at Mystagogue Mallock¡¯s humor.


    Master Mallock picked up the very same brown crystal from before and pointed towards a burning red crystal he had freshly picked up. The moment he did so, Master Neckar pressed her hands together to release a spewing vomit of molten stone and metal into the blast room. The jet of molten stone struck the manikin in the right shoulder, slagging the arm and separating it from the dummy¡¯s body.


    ¡°When you combine Earth with Fire, you get the result of Scorriomagmic Slag.¡± Mystagogue Mallock said even as he pressed a hidden button under his desk to trigger a fire extinguishing system. Gray powder shot from holes in the ceiling to smother flames and absorb the heat. A small mound of black rock with a half-melted mechanical arm lay on the floor of the room. ¡°Now you might, after witnessing Master Neckar produce raw molten material seemingly from thin air, think this could be a source of infinite resources for metalwork. You¡¯d be wrong. Scorriomagmic Slag, or Mage Slag, is only useful in its fresh and superheated state. It, like Trapp Tar, has a short half-life. Even when it¡¯s been designed to stay for long periods of time, it is not malleable when reheated, dissolving instead. Even if it¡¯s poured straight into molds, items made from Scorriomagmic Slag do not have the durability of natural iron or steel. What it is used for is deforestation, material destruction, temporary patch welds, and combat.¡±


    Mystagogue Mallock made a show of tossing the elemental crystal of Earth over his shoulder like it was mere trash before he picked up the gray-green crystal of Air in the opposite hand and pointed it to a blue crystal. ¡°I¡¯ve already shown you what happens when you combine Air and Fire Myst. If I need to remind you, the result is Lightning, or the technical term, Voltreonic Current. But what happens when you apply the traits of Air to Water?¡±


    There was a long silence as the class seemed to think all at once. When no answer came, Mallock answered. ¡°When you apply the mobility of Air to the element of Water, you get the magical lubricant simply called Zero Oil. Now, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve picked up on the pattern this far, and Zero Oil, or Mage Oil, isn¡¯t like natural oil. Like any other magically conjured material, Zero Oil will dissolve after a set period of time. Like Trapp Tar, this substance can have its traits altered and set by the caster.¡±


    Neckar discharged a stream of Zero Oil across the floor at the crash test dummy¡¯s feet, fluid, black, and slick. The automaton tried to take a step forward, only to lose its footing and fall yet again. ¡°This element is well known to be the best lubricant for vehicles and machines due to its total zero-traction trait, hense where it got the name Zero Oil. This substance is used in almost all forms of machinery and industry. Because of its limited life span, the substance needs to be replaced regularly, much like natural oil, only there is no waste product.¡± As Master Mallock gave his little speech, Master Necker loosed a geyser of water again, the Zero Oil washing away.


    Mystagogue Mallock set down the crystals only to pick up yet another set, pointing a red crystal towards a blue. ¡°When you combine Fire and Water Myst, you get Devorrick Acid.¡±


    On cue, Master Neckar loosed a small jet of acid into the blast room, melting the pile of cooled molten stone and metal. The clear dark gray-green fluid ate away the dark mound, then ate through the poor dummy. Within moments, everything that had been in that room was flowing down the rain, even what was once stone, metal, and circuits. Strangely enough, the room was still undamaged. I made a note to ask about that sometime later.


    Mystagogue Mallock watched the magical acid dissolve and wash down the drain, helped along by the Gnome Master with yet another jet of water. Then Mallock turned around and continued his lecture. "Devorrick Acid, just like Zero Oil and Trapp Tar, can have its chemistry specially tailored by the caster upon conjuration. It can be alkaline or base, which gives it a special role when used in combat or other dangerous situations." He pulled four things from his desk: a lighter, a vile of water, a stone, and a whoopie cushion of all things. "The Core Elements can counter each other like a four-option game of rock paper scissors. Water beats Fire, Fire beats Air, Air beats Earth, and Earth beats Water. While that is a gross oversimplification of the truth, the example holds with the Compound Core Elements. Zero Oil beats Devorrick Acid, Devorrick Acid beats Scorriomagmic Slag, Scoriomagmic Slag beats Voltreonic Current, Voltreonic Current beats Static Kinetics, Static Kinetics beats Evulsion Kinetics, and Evulsion Kinetics beats Zero Oil. But just like how Kinetic energy has two places in this example, Devorrick Acid would too, as you can technically counter either alkaline or base Devorrick Acid with the opposite type, but only if it is of equal potency and volume or more than that of what you''re attempting to counter.


    Mystagogue Neckar stepped forward, drawing the eye of every class member with her dominating presence. ¡°I feel that before anything else is said, I should provide you a warning now that you¡¯ve seen what the Core Elements can do. Be aware and be forewarned. Should you use too much of any one element, be it of the Core Four elements or the Dualities, you will be affected. You will become cursed and forever changed to be known as an Elemani. Your body, mind, and personality will take on traits from the element. Overuse of any one element can result in this change, so use your magic sparingly lest you fall to such a curse.¡±


    With that decree, the Master Mystagogue took several steps back and almost seemed to flee from the room. I didn¡¯t know about the rest of the class, but I had images running through my head of me getting blue skin or literal flaming hair. In my mind, the process of that change would not be pleasant.


    Mystagogue Mallock let out a low, slow whistle as he clasped his hands behind his back and strolled out from behind his desk with over-exaggerated steps. ¡°Well, I was planning on breaching the Elemani topic at a later date and with a lighter touch. Don¡¯t worry about spontaneously changing. I will say it takes years, if not decades, of regular and frequent use before you need to worry about the transformation.¡± The instructor scooped up the Myst crystals off his desk and plinked them one by one into a leather bag. ¡°Now, how about we talk about something a little less scary? Let¡¯s talk about nice, safe crystal classifications.¡±


    As half of the class bemoaned the new topic and the other half seemed to let out a unified sigh of relief, the Mystagogue dropped a larger leather bag on his desk on his way to close the blast door to access the holo-board. Without a second glance, Mallock tapped the holo-board, then tapped the therra-node on the side of his head. As he stepped back to his desk and opened the bag there, a grid was automatically taking shape on the board.


    ¡°Let¡¯s start with size classifications. The first and smallest is the fragment.¡± He held up a glowing blue shard the size of a fingernail. He set the fragment on the desk, and a similar fragment appeared on the board display. ¡°Next comes shard.¡± He pulled out a crystal the size of half a grown man¡¯s thumb and pressed it onto the desk. Again, an image of a crystal to appropriate scale with the class compared to the last appeared on the display. ¡°Next largest is the gem.¡± Mallock pulled free a crystal that could fit into his palm. ¡°The last size class for commercial use is the cluster.¡± This last crystal that was pulled from the bag was the size of a man¡¯s fist, protrusions sprouting from a central mass.


    The Mystagogue pulled from seemingly nowhere behind his desk, a brick of crystal, almost a foot long, half a foot wide, and half a foot deep. ¡°This is classified as a battery. Obviously, we aren¡¯t talking about the kind of batteries you put in kids¡¯ toys or even power tools. This here is the kind of battery that powers cars, small boats, and the like.¡±


    He stepped back around the desk. ¡°There is one size class larger called a core. Cores are used to power war machines, cruise liners, airships, and other large mechanical contraptions. Something to note is any size crystal can be any shape and can be grown based on what it is designed to power with a frame mold.¡±


    ¡°Now, there are more factors than just size to consider. There are varying classifications of potency: least, lesser, moderate, greater, and grand. Potency classifies how much power the crystal can put out consistently or per-use.¡±


    ¡°The last factor to keep in mind is quality. Raw, flawed, refined, honed, and flawless are the levels of quality. A crystal¡¯s quality determines how much power is stored in it or how many times it can be used before depletion.¡±


    I diligently took notes as the Master spoke. This information, every scrap of it, was going to be critical when I was designing my gear and tools. I had no doubt that the rest of the class was bored by this mundane lecture after such a dramatic and exhilarating display of elemental combinations. But I was devouring this information, every statistic, measurement, and law. The more I knew, the more complex equipment I could craft. I may be a skavy fighter, but I just might be able to compensate for that lack of prowess. I was coming to terms with the fact that I would never become a master fighter. But if I had anything to say about my future, I was going to be a warrior, even if it was through cheating with gadgets. And I loved gadgets.

 Chapter 15

    The Sophic Species, known as Primals or beast-kin, are humanoids that closely resemble mammal animals. Claws, horns, fangs, antlers, ears, fur, and snouts are all traits that can be found in the species. The breeds of Primals are broken down into clans such as Feline Clan or Canine Clan. From there, they are further broken down into what they call tribes, such as Tiger Tribe or Wolf Tribe. Beyond this, they are separated into houses and then into families. A clear example of this would be Yedder Longtooth of House Grayback of the Wolf Tribe of the Canine Clan. But the distinction is too long-winded for most people, so the clan and tribe are normally left off when in person since they are visibly obvious. Even over the net, the individual will only refer to themselves by family name and only go into depth when prompted.


    Day 66, Quenchenday


    I pressed my soldering iron down, binding a fine-grade wire to a connection node. I remeasured the wire for the third time as I checked the power coupling. I was in the middle of questioning my power ratio for the umpteenth time when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Looking up, I found Nel glaring down at me. I took a second look around the shop in the cauldron I was working on. The room was empty.


    ¡°Come on, Iver. We were supposed to have lunch today. What the hell are you working on?¡± she scolded, pointing a sharp accusatory finger at me, then shifting the finger¡¯s trajectory from me to my new gear.


    I looked from her to the six disks on the table, each no larger than two and a half inches.


    ¡°Sorry, Nel, I was trying to wrap this project up before lunch. Obviously, I lost track of time.¡± I said with a bashful smile. ¡°Sorry, I missed lunch.¡±


    Nel picked up one of the finished disks, turning it over in her fingers like little more than a large coin and not a tool of chaos. ¡°It¡¯s fine, I guess, but you know that this is breaking the rules by working on the day of rest.¡±


    I let out a derisive snort. ¡°Sacred day of rest, my ass. I can do what I want on my day off from class. Besides, it¡¯s not classwork. It¡¯s a personal project.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yeah?¡± she asked. ¡°What kinda project are we talking about?¡± She turned the disk over again in her hand, tracing her finger around the button in the center.


    I plucked the disk from her fingers with a deftness I could only dream of having with a blade, pressing it down against the table with a firm finger and thumb. ¡°The kind that I can use to get me where I want to be.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re still going for the warrior path?¡± She asked, her tone reflecting that she knew she was treading on thin ice.


    ¡°I don¡¯t give two shits about what others have to say. Even if I need to cheat my way into the Sect of the Crimson Blade. Even if I¡¯m building tools day in and day out. I¡¯m going to pass, get into the field, and find the time to hunt. And when I find the slither-spined malrupt, I¡¯m gonna make him regret the day he took my father.¡±


    I really didn¡¯t need to call the killer a coward or refer to him with the slang term for someone who lives in sewer filth, but it made me feel just the slightest bit better.


    ¡°Iver, buddy, I think you have a problem.¡± She said tentatively.


    I scoffed in response. ¡°Problem? Would you have a problem if you were hunting the viletempt neffers that did,¡± I gestured with an open hand to her body. ¡°That to you?¡±


    ¡°I-I,¡± she stammered, ¡°FINE!¡± She snapped. ¡°Yeah, I guess I would want to hunt the bastards. But I think you need to take a step back and look at this without feeling.¡±


    I pushed myself away from the bench with force. As I stood up, I slapped my hands against the table. I picked up my side bag, threw open the cover, and swept the entire set of disks into the bag with vicious force, even the half-finished last two. ¡°Look, Nel, I love you like a sister, but I would really rather not talk about this. You know that I have goals. You know I need to do this. Let me do what I can to get where I need. Other than that, let¡¯s talk about anything else, do anything else.¡±


    She folded her arms over her chest, her face scrunched up in a pouting manner. ¡°Fine.¡± she spat with a depth of snark that brought to mind visions of a quicksand pit, an inescapable trap. ¡°I want to do something fun.¡±


    ¡°What kind of fun?¡± I asked with weary trepidation.


    ¡°Well, we aren¡¯t allowed any holo-games or video games till next year. We don¡¯t get any elective classes until, again, next year. And we don¡¯t get access to board games until-¡±


    ¡°Next year. I get it, I get it.¡± I interrupted. ¡°So, what do you want to do? Play tag? How about bear paws or hatches?¡±


    She took in a sharp breath between her teeth. ¡°Those are all kiddie games. We are almost adults. Let¡¯s do something fun that adults do.¡±


    I shot her a skeptical look as I picked up my tools and systematically put them away. ¡°Almost adults? Nel, we are barely in our teens. Now, I know that Humans grow up around the age of nineteen or twenty, but I have no idea when Darklings mature. For all I know, I could be an adult when I hit forty, like Elves. I¡¯m not even sure what adults do for fun.¡± I mounted the last Allen wrench in its set case before slipping it into my bag. I turned on my heel and made my way to the door. Nel hopped into step just behind me.


    ¡°Well, what did your dad do for fun?¡± Nel asked.


    I let out an exasperated sigh as I descended the center spiral staircase. ¡°It¡¯s a short list, so let¡¯s start from the top. He did a lot of drinking, which we can¡¯t do being underage. He watched a lot of holo-casts, but we are restricted to educational videos. He used to go hunting regularly. He may have found it fun, but there¡¯s no game here other than birds and squirrels.¡±


    ¡°Well, we could still hunt small game.¡± she pointed out, her footsteps on the stairs sounding like someone three times her size.


    ¡°With what tools, Nel? We don¡¯t have access to firearms ammunition and no ready access to bows outside of class. We don¡¯t even have bladed weapons.¡±


    It was Nennel¡¯s turn to let out an exasperated sigh.


    ¡°What about your dad, Nel?¡±


    ¡°My dad? I¡¯m not sure. He liked working on cars and monocycles. I think he would have a beer occasionally, and I know he smoked like a brazier full of damp logs.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it? What about your mom?¡± I asked as we passed through the front doors of the Foundry.


    ¡°My mom is even more boring. I know she read a lot, the cringey romance kind of stuff. She also did some baking. OH! And she loved barbequing. She made the Best pulled pork, marinated it in pickle juice and brown sugar.¡± I made sure she could not see the contorted face of disgust I made on reflex.


    ¡°Well, the only reading material we¡¯ve got is study material. And we aren¡¯t allowed to do any cooking.¡± I pointed out as she stepped up to walk beside me.


    ¡°Then we both have a whole lot of nothing.¡± She threw her hands in the air, defeated. ¡°What do you want to do?¡± She laced her fingers behind her head and slowed to a stroll with me as I started thinking.


    What I wanted was to keep tinkering with my disks or designing something new. But I promised her we could do something fun. She wants fun but no game that could be childish. The only thing remotely like a game we were allowed was a deck of playing cards. I had no desire to play anything involving cards. What would be a suitable compromise? Well, I knew that tinkering was out of the question, but a good backup would be combat training. If I added a point system to the fight, she might be entertained, and I could be productive.


    ¡°I think I may have an idea.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯re you thinking?¡±


    ¡°How does point sparring sound to you?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t we do that in class already?¡± She asked with skepticism. She gave me a look that said she thought my idea was less than impressive.


    ¡°Well, yes, but that¡¯s always the same weapon used on both sides. I¡¯m thinking a free-for-all.¡±


    ¡°You want to spar, me? Iver, you know I¡¯m gonna cream you, right?¡± She pointed out, her tone showing that she felt this was a sensitive topic.


    An amused snort slipped out before I could tamp down on it. ¡°Oh, I have no doubt you¡¯re gonna beat me around the field like a half-deflated Scaffor Ball. But I want practice, and you want fun. I thought this would be a fair compromise.¡±


    If you aren¡¯t familiar with Scaffor Ball, I¡¯ll give you a crash course. It started as a child¡¯s game among the Ceangar but became a professional game played across the globe. There are three teams, each made up of between eight and thirty-two players. The goal is to kick a ball the size of a large melon into the goal zone of another team. You can hold the ball, but you can¡¯t move while it¡¯s in hand. Scaffor ball is a full-contact sport that allows tackling, tripping, and kicking, but the big draw of the game is that there is a secondary goal. Besides scoring points, another goal is to kick the ball into an opponent¡¯s head. If the person hit in the head with the ball falls or loses their footing, they sit out of the game for five minutes. The game is huge on the Kasis continent but is also played on Yerrim and Quevna to a less fanatical degree.


    Nel let out a grunt of disgust. ¡°I don¡¯t even like the sport. It¡¯s just so¡­ brutal.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re just saying that because you can¡¯t play on a standard team. I hear Chrome teams are far more aggressive.¡±


    They ban anyone with cybernetics from playing on a standard Scaffor team. Instead, anyone with even the slightest augmentation needs to join what is called a Chrome team. I wasn¡¯t sure if the name came from the fact that the professional world trophy was made of chrome for the cybernetic division or if it was because, in some parts of the world, chrome was a slang term for cybernetics.


    ¡°Are you a Scaffor junky?¡± Nel said in an accusing tone.


    This time, the snort I let out was more derisive. ¡°Do I look like I get wild for a bunch of meat-heads abusing each other over a ball or with the very same ball?¡± It was more of a statement than a question as I gestured to myself with both hands. ¡°Hells, I think the sport is stupid. I don¡¯t watch it, let alone play it.¡±


    By this time, we had just reached the Slate sparring grounds, a fenced-in space of packed earth. The far wall opposite us was the stone wall of the cavern. Mounted to the wall were rack after rack of padded weapons of a variety of shapes, sizes, weights, and styles. While we had our own training weapons, the medical staff frowned on us breaking each other¡¯s bones on a regular basis. We were allowed to carry our personal training weapons for dueling purposes as a manner of dispute resolution. Even I carried my training Shortsword just in case, though I had yet to use it despite Mallrimor¡¯s abuse.


    We made our way across the space to set our things along the stone wall, my bag, and Shortsword, Nel¡¯s two training daggers, and her own bag. I slipped out of my uniform jacket, folded it, and set it atop my bag. While Nennel stripped out of her own jacket, I eyed the wall of padded training tools, fingering the weapons that caught my eye and noting them before I moved on in case I found something better. I settled on a Longsword Shortsword combo. I picked these two because of a show I had seen before my life had fallen apart. The program was based on a story that I vowed to read at some point. Its main character was a tall, brooding Human with long dark hair who used this fighting style, and he always made it look like a dance of death as he slew thugs and villains in every episode.


    I stepped into the nearest sparring ring, twirling both padded blades back and forth to get a feel for their weight and balance. The Longsword was a bit blade heavy, and the Shortsword felt slightly thicker on one side of the blade than the other. Nel stepped into the ring across from me, wielding a pair of curved training daggers. I pulled up the hud of my therra-node, brought up a sparring program, and tagged my blades and hers, using my eyes. My weapons lit up in my vision with a blue light, while Nel¡¯s lit red. In the corner of my vision was a point counter, a red zero, and a blue zero with a thin line separating them. Next, I designated the field, filling out the dimensions of the vacant space. A standard sparring arena was ten feet by ten feet with an eight-foot overhead space for very specific circumstances. A yellow bar rose from the surrounding ground in the set dimensions, hovering four feet from the ground. Finally, a yellow-tinted digital lid covered the set space but didn¡¯t alter the lighting of the field.


    I checked to make sure she was ready. When she gave an affirmative nod, we both stepped into the center of the arena. I pressed the guards of both of my weapons together and held my arms out and at a downward angle, the blades pointing up. Nel did the same. I tapped the back of her left hand with the back of my own, then she tapped the back of my right hand with hers. This was a sparring ritual everyone in the school did. According to the Mystagogues, this was a sign of mutual respect and an understanding that both would adhere to the combat initiation rules of nonlethal non-crippling actions. It was a sign of honor which the Order devoutly held to. The Sect of the Crimson Blade had an attachment with honor bordering on obsession that I wanted to respect, but it just seemed weird.


    Nel and I sparred for about two hours, taking breaks for water, rest, and the occasional weapon swap. As expected, she beat me six ways to Temporikday. I tried switching to a mace and shield, two-handed a Longsword, dual-wielding Shortswords, using a Towartha set, and even took a daring attempt at wielding an Orcish Kaykith. Every single time she outmaneuvered me, dodging every attack, slipping past my guard, and leaving holographic red lines wherever her blades contacted my body. Every single time by the end of the match, I looked like a red-striped zebra-like person. The most points I scored was five while I was using the Towartha. But in that match, she scored seventeen points. The worst was when I used the massive Kaykith blade. I failed to score a single point while she finished with almost fifty points.


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    The Towartha and Kaykith are two completely opposite combat styles. The Towartha is an Elven blade set, gracefully serrated and meant to be used in pairs. One blade curves along the outside of the defending arm while the wrist remains straight, and the other blade has a standard straight hilt for extended reach in offensive use.


    Meanwhile, the Kaykith is a massive sword cut into the shape of a right triangle that is designed to be as tall as the user. One-third of the whole weapon is a long hilt with an even longer chain at the end. While the Towartha are used in close quarters, in fast-flowing motions, the Kaykith was made for large cleaving motions to keep an opponent at range. The chain is to be wrapped around the wielder¡¯s arm and to be a point of control when you fling the blade out and spun. Trust me, I know that this sounds horrifically stupid in the midst of combat, but this was an Orcish weapon made for battlefields packed with opponents. As stupid as the tactic sounds, these weapons were a crucial tool when they rebelled against their fiendish masters in the First Age.


    I fell flat on my ass, panting and damp with sweat. The massive blade fell from my grip as I fell backward. I just didn¡¯t have the size or muscle mass to use the Orcish weapon. I would never admit it to Nel, but I was thoroughly embarrassed by how badly I had been beaten in that last match. At that moment, then and there in the dirt as I dripped with sweat, I vowed to myself that I would never try to use heavy weapons ever again.


    Nel stepped up and offered me a hand to pull me back to my feet. To hide just how bad I was feeling, I flashed her a half-grin as I grasped her wrist. She pulled me to my feet, and the quick motion drove all the blood to my head, and the world swam and spun for a good few seconds as a cascade of lights filled my vision.


    ¡°Well, well,¡± Came a snide voice from behind me. ¡°What in the Light¡¯s grace did we just walk into? Are the freaks pretending at being warriors, or are they making goo-goo eyes at each other?¡±


    I knew that voice all too well, but if I needed any more confirmation that it was Mallrimor, the feeling of Nel¡¯s hand that still held my wrist clenching hard enough to make my bones ache was enough. I shook my head to clear off the lights and spinning as Nennel stepped behind me. It wasn¡¯t an over-exaggeration to say that the winged viletempt and his crew had traumatized her when they gutted her. I couldn¡¯t blame her for that terror. As bad as they scared me, I knew they scared her more. That meant I couldn¡¯t run when she was with me. Trust me, I wanted to run. Even at that moment, my legs were shifting to jelly. But how could I run and leave Nel behind? The answer was simple: I couldn¡¯t, I wouldn¡¯t. Besides, they stood in the only entrance into the yard.


    I took a deep breath to steady my nerves before I let go of Nel and stepped forward to take a defiant stance. ¡°What¡¯s the matter, you feathered skavy?¡± I hissed in my own derisive tone. ¡°You can¡¯t hold a blade to save your life, so you hide behind a wall of meat and step on the toes of honest people who just want to improve. You know what that makes you?¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah?¡± Mallrimor sneered at me. ¡°What would a slither-spined freak like you know about me?¡±


    I shifted a hand behind my back and gestured to get Nel¡¯s attention. I pointed to our things against the back wall and waved two fingers in a ¡®come hither¡¯ motion. As she began backstepping, I kept the attention focused on me by stepping forward threateningly. I then started pacing to the right in what I hoped was a way that seemed threatening, defiant, and unworried.


    ¡°Who would know you better than someone who you show your hateful and sinvious nature to? You mock and pick on those that stand out just because we stand out. When we show what you think is weakness, you get bold.¡± I stopped and pointed an accusing finger at him as I turned my pacing in the other direction. ¡°You, Mallrimor hide behind your goons because you can not fight. You pick on the odd ones out because you feel weak and want to be stronger than someone else. You act bold and brash because you are scared. So what are you going to do, coward? Are you gonna take a stride and show that you''re the slither-spined one and not me?¡±


    With every word I spoke, I watched the Brightling¡¯s face turn deeper and deeper shades of red. As I watched the ego-saturated half-angel losing control over his emotions, I felt a strange cross between pride and terror. Even as I watched his face darken to a shade of crimson I would normally only associate with an overripe strawberry, I noticed something else. At first, his hands clenched into fists, then they shot open. By the end of my proclamation, they looked to be convulsing between rabid claws and white-knuckled fists, each finger moving slightly off time from the rest.


    When he spoke, his words rose from a venomous hiss to a seething snarl. ¡°Get him. Get HIM NOW!¡±


    The Orc, Brecken and the Dracose, Kesher gave each other worried looks, but the High Elf, Gellar didn¡¯t hesitate. As I saw the Elf draw his blunted scimitar, I half-turned toward Nel, raised my right hand into the air, and shouted to her, ¡°Sword me!¡± Only after everything was over did I realize that the line did not sound nearly as badass as it sounded in my head.


    My one and only friend seemed to be expecting this and threw the weapon at me before I even finished the second word. My intent was to catch it in my single raised hand and look like a badass. The result was far less dramatic. I caught the hilt, but the weight and speed were more than I expected. The weapon pulled me off my feet and forced me to grasp the hilt with both hands and adjust my footing, spinning on my right foot. As I made to spin back around to face front again, I only just managed to get the blade up in a block as Gellar lashed out with a downward chop aimed to crack my skull. My block only diverted the blow, his blade striking my own and sliding down the edge to slam harmlessly against the packed dirt.


    I dredged from my memory of combat class something I could use. I drew back my blade and thrust at his chest. Gellar reversed his grip and deflected my blow harmlessly to the side. Flowing smoothly from the deflect, he thrust the hilt into my gut, knocking the wind from me and forcing me to curl in on myself, saliva spraying from my lips as I gasped for air. I staggered back, trying to get some distance, only barely holding onto my own weapon as I fled back a few steps.


    ¡°I want him bleeding and weeping!¡± Howled Mallrimor.


    The other two thugs stepped up, ready to obey the viletempt¡¯s wishes, though they looked a little uncomfortable. At the thought of being outnumbered, I took several more steps back, almost reaching the back wall, where Nel tried to stay out of sight. I wouldn¡¯t call what she did cowering, out of respect because she was not a coward. She just had a healthy fear for the group that, at the moment, faced me down.


    When I looked back to check on Nel, I had a small chain of ideas. I reached out my free hand toward my platinum-haired cyborg. ¡°Nel! Throw my bag, slide your dagger!¡± She knew just what I meant despite her fear and acted in a fraction of a second. That was a testament to the girl¡¯s bravery and ability to keep her head despite her fear. She snatched up my satchel and swung it by the strap before launching it to land just behind me. Without skipping a beat, she snatched up one of her blunted daggers and flung it, her arm acting like a whip to slide the weapon across the dirt to bounce off my ankle.


    I still had some distance between the bullies and me, so taking those precious seconds, I threw the bag so the strap lay over my shoulder. As I shoved my weapon in my belt, I slipped my tech glove onto my right hand from within the bag. I pulled the blade free at the same time as I scooped up the dagger and thrust it into my belt where the sword had just been. Brecken drew his pair of axes as Kesher pulled free a great sword. The two moved to flank me while Gellar pressed toward me, head-on.


    I needed to act fast if I was going to make it out of this with even minimal harm, let alone alive. I reached into my bag and drew out a disk that I had been working on while at the foundry. The disk was about two and a half inches across with a gray rim. I pressed the center button on the disk and turned the timer ring just outside the button to a two-second delay. I flung the disk out. It landed perfectly between the bullies and me. As the timer struck zero, smoke shot from small holes in the disk''s edge, obscuring their vision and causing them to cough. I turned back to Nel, pointed to the exit, and shouted, ¡°GO!¡± She got the message and sprinted around the group at a safe distance. I lost sight of her when she passed behind the cloud, but I knew what I heard next. She shoved Mallrimor to the ground and fled to safety. When I knew Nennel was safe, I let out a sigh of relief. I would take the beating if it meant my friend was safe. At that thought, I saw an odd duality. My father and Nel. My father was abusive, but he cared about me. I fought and lost him. Nel had never done me wrong. I saved her, and she supported me. They both valued me, but I lost the first person who ever cared about me. He was the only person who valued me till I found Nel. I cared about her, and I would sooner burn at the stake than lose her. So I would fight and take the beating and do it with a smile. If it meant Nel was safe, if it meant I showed some spine for once in my life, I would take this abuse and do so with some semblance of honor.


    I pulled free from my bag two more disks, both with light blue rims. I turned the timers on each to ten seconds and dropped them not three feet ahead of me. I knew I was going to regret this next bit, but I was going to pay the price. Both Brecken¡¯s axes and Kesher¡¯s great sword would have enough force to overpower my smaller blades. Part of that was the size and design of their weapons, the other half was because of the figures¡¯ size and natural strength. I pulled free the dagger from my belt and readied myself for a serious beating. I would not enjoy this.


    Kesher closed in and threw a vertical swing at me. I stepped to the right, just barely avoiding the blade. But Brecken saw me moving closer to him and took advantage of that. The Orc threw a low swing aimed at my knees with one blade. I stepped back to avoid the hacking strike, only to find the Orc throwing another swing with his other blade in a downward chop at my shoulder. I tried to block the strike with my Shortsword, but I just barely deflected the blow. I only diverted the attack enough to let the strike break my right foot and not my right shoulder. I screamed in pain and fell to my right knee. My shattered foot throbbed with a pain that screamed as hard as I had, but I wasn¡¯t about to give up.


    I rallied my mind, pushing the pain to the side just long enough to strike Brecken in the knee to force him off me. The strike forced the massive Orc to fall to a knee, my blow clearly caused some pain, if not enough damage, to break the leg. I could tell Brecken was only going to get back to his feet, so I needed to take this time to my advantage, regardless of my position. As fast as I could manage, I threw the training dagger into Kesher¡¯s face, the blunted blade striking his right eye. The Dracose backed off, clutching at his stuck eye, but I couldn¡¯t tell if I caused any lasting damage.


    Gellar saw these actions and, in panic, he rushed forward to strike me even as my disks released blue-green gas. I rolled to the right only a fraction of a second before the blow landed. As I landed on my knees and the gas released, I took my moment. With my still experimental tech gauntlet, I launched electrodes to latch to the High Elf¡¯s chest. Electric current rushed from my fist to the sadistic Elf, and as planned, the current lept from my linked target, through the Secorus Gas to strike everyone else, myself included.


    Secorus Gas is hydrogen-based magically infused gas designed to obscure vision, clump into clouds, and is unnaturally conductive to electrical currents. The gas has plenty of uses in mechanical industries, but I planned on using it for combat. Where did I get it, you might be wondering. The Foundry had an ample supply and I had stocked up on it.


    I felt a kind of pain that I had never felt at that level before. I hadn¡¯t felt a shock like this before, white fire rushing through my body as my muscles clenched and flexed faster than I thought possible. My body locked, and tears streamed down my face as I fell onto my right side. I landed on my broken foot, multiplying my pain and drawing a howl from my clenched jaw. My vision shifted in and out of focus as I tried to keep my consciousness. The only thing giving me a foothold enough to stay awake was the pain from my foot. Pun intended.


    The Dracose, Orc, and Elf fell to the dirt, unmoving other than rhythmic breathing. I wasn¡¯t sure what caused the shock to subside. Either the gas dissipated enough to lose the charge, or the batteries of my gauntlet died. Regardless of the reason, I was thankful beyond words for the ability to move again, even if moving my right leg was agony. I pushed myself clumsily to stand on my single good foot. My balance was unsteady at best, and I needed to use the Shortsword as a crutch, but I felt a swell of pride looking at the unconscious bodies of the brutes that tried to put me down.


    My pride was crushed when I saw Mallrimor standing across from me, his face painted with furious rage, hands outstretched with a bolt of fire building between them. My eyes went wide, and I tried to turn and flee the attack. I only managed to half-turn before I felt a searing burn strike me in the side. I fell with a cry of pain, losing hold of my weapon. I landed on my chest and tried to crawl away even as I heard the others rising with groans from my surprise attack that I thought would put them down for a while. I vehemently cursed as I redoubled my efforts to get away.


    ¡°Get up, you pathetic fools. The worm is crawling away.¡± Mallrimor snarled. As he spoke, I thought I might have heard the sound of him kicking one of the others on the ground.


    My already racing pulse jumped to a gear I never thought possible outside of running for my life. My still quivering muscles were little help in my futile attempt to escape. At the time, I didn¡¯t think about how I was crawling toward the back wall, where there was no escape route for me.


    I could hear as each of the thugs pulled themselves to their feet and staggered over toward me. I felt a clawed foot press down upon my back, forcing me to stop before it shifted to roll me onto my back. I raised my hands to guard my face from the figures looming over me. I could feel the malicious intent radiating from them.


    Until that moment, I had never prayed for anything in my life. In sheer desperation, I sent up a silent prayer to the Nameless Goddess for some way out of this. I just knew that I was going to die if something didn¡¯t happen.


    I saw the figures above me moving, about to end my short and meaningless existence, when a new figure appeared. Above me, because of the sun overhead, I only saw the shadowed outlines of a large reptilian figure, a large and muscular figure with what looked to be an axe raised over his head, a slender figure with massive pointed ears standing in a menacing stance, and the outlined figure I could only describe as a feathered neffer. The moment that title came to mind, a fifth figure stepped in. Slender and svelte with hints of toned muscle, all under long hair and large cat-like ears. I watched what could only have been a ¡®she¡¯ strike Brecken in the back of the knee with a brutal downward kick. The Orc fell, and the others turned towards the newcomer. The stranger spun with feline grace before planting a sidekick in Gellar¡¯s gut, sending him staggering back. Kesher lashed out with his massive blade in a wide swing that would have turned my skull into a paste. The stranger dropped into a squat and swept out the Dracose¡¯s legs from beneath him. The massive training blade in his hand flew from his grip as he toppled like a felled tree. Both the oversized lizard and his weapon sent up plumes of dust as they struck the packed dirt, one landing with a clatter, the other with a meaty ¡®Thud¡¯. Without skipping a beat, the unfamiliar figure spun on the ball of their foot to bring an arcing kick to the side of Gellar¡¯s head as he closed in for an attack, throwing him to the ground, limp as a rag doll. Mallrimor staggered back, hand raised as he summoned another bolt of flame.


    I sat up in time to see a streamer of copper hair, a flash of black fabric, and¡­ black fur? The figure dashed towards the Brightling with lithe grace and fluid motions. In a panic, Mallrimor cast the bolt of fire, but the figure sidestepped the shot and closed the distance to land an uppercut to the boy¡¯s jaw that lifted him from his feet and dropped him to the dirt.


    This stranger, this girl who just saved me, turned around to look at me with a cocky smirk. She was a Primal. Her body beneath the black uniform was covered in a hide of shining black fur with copper strips like that of a tiger. This was only noticeable because her uniform coat was missing, her arms bare, and her upper torso covered in a dark gray t-shirt. Her face was almost wholly feline, with only the lightest hint of humanoid features, but even under the fur, I could see that her face was shapely and touched by beauty if an animalistic kind. Her long hair was a fiery copper, the same color as her strips, flowing in a river down to her mid-back. Her slit pupil eyes were a radiant yellow with flecks of green-gold. Those eyes emanated with the power of confidence even as the motions of her body whispered of danger as she swaggered toward me. I looked back towards the gate to find Nel, half-hidden behind a steel post. My best guess is that Nel ran for help, and this woman was the one to come answering.


    As the Tiger Tribe Primal stepped up to me, she offered a hand in to help me get out of the dirt. ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry about those cock thistles anymore.¡± She spoke in a tone that reflected the finality of her knowledge that the bastards were down for the count.


    In total numbness, I clasped her wrist, and she lifted me up and off my feet for a moment with little effort. I waggled my even more numb jaw, trying to find the words to express just how thankful I was. She watched my speechless state with a smirk. ¡°What¡¯s the matter, cat got your tongue?¡± She flashed me a wild grin after the terrible joke, shocking me out of my state.


    ¡°S-sorry.¡± I stammered. ¡°But thank you. You just saved my life.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± she asked, perplexed. ¡°Na.¡± She brushed off the comment with a wave of the hand as she turned her head to the side, trying to hide the obvious pride written across her face. ¡°The numbskulls would have just broken a few bones¡­ maybe a few dozen at the most.¡± Her look shifted from pride to thoughtfulness, tapping a talon against her chin in thought, the other arm folded under her modest bossom. ¡°Other than that Brightling. There is something wrong with that guy.¡±


    ¡°Still, thank you. I¡¯m sorry, but what¡¯s your name?¡± I asked.


    She flashed me an honest grin as she said, ¡°The name¡¯s Roserra, but my friends call me Rose. And I think I¡¯ll call you a friend.¡±

 Chapter 16

    The Sect of the Sightless Eye is an information network made up of spies. The members of this sect can take up any number of roles needed to keep an eye and ear out for critical information of any sort. Each national branch of the Order has regular feedback on political schemes, royal drama, corporate plots, gang actions, and even events, both major and minor, in the adventuring field of work.


    Day 75, Temporikday


    As it turned out, Rose was a year ahead of me, a Tier-one trainee in the Crimson Blade. She had come outside for some sun just as Nel came running, desperate for help. Since then, Rose had spent Quenchendays with Nel and me to ¡®keep us out of trouble¡¯. She was an authentic badass at the age of sixteen. Her father had been a member of the Order but died in the line of duty three years before, stopping a rampaging ogre. Until his death, he had trained Rose whenever he was home because he knew she wanted to be an Adventurer. When he died, Rose knew she was going to join the Order to make her father proud. Three years later, she was at the top of her class and working to earn a sponsorship to become a Mastlok, a member of two sects or more sects. She wanted to specialize in martial combat and assassination. The desire to learn deeper violence was definitely concerning, but it was fairly obvious that she had a hero complex. Rose wanted to save people and do the right thing, but most of all, she wanted glory and to be revered. From what I had learned of the Order, they would commonly kill if it would mean saving more lives than were lost. As they drilled into our heads, the greater good was our goal, to measure the needs of each person and decide the best action needed. The phrase ¡®for the greater good¡¯ was almost a mantra for the Order.


    But clearly, ¡®for the greater good¡¯ meant me sitting through a class on spycraft that I was clearly failing. Master Mystagogue Kellar stood at the head of the class, lecturing on adopting and maintaining a persona.


    The bland man was so plain in appearance that you could have overlooked him in a crowd of six people. He was a Human with mildly tanned skin, his eyes were a pine brown, and his hair was a medium-length light brown. He was so generic that it extended into his speech, and it was almost painful to listen to him speak.


    ¡°When you are infiltrating any location, during public hours and often even in the site¡¯s off hours, you are to take up a role.¡± He droned in the same monotone as he had for every class. ¡°We refer to this role as a persona. The persona is to be someone inconspicuous most of the time. A maid or janitor, an office worker or grunt, a maintenance technician or construction worker. The key is to select a role that gives you a reason to be where you are required. It should also be noted that there are some set circumstances where you may need to play a high-profile role, such as a noble or celebrity, but that is a lecture of higher classes. But regardless of whether you are a Count or maid, the identity that you take up needs to be complete. History, contacts, likes and dislikes, childhood memories, goals, and even needs.¡± As the Master went on, I felt my eyelids growing in weight.


    ¡°You must become your persona. You are the maid, the technician, the office worker.¡± The sudden, strong emphasis on this phrase caught me off guard, jarring me from my doze. ¡°You must both become this character and, at the same time, become a shadow,¡± he spoke with an enthusiasm that faded back into a soulless monotone. ¡°Your goal is to hide in plain sight. You are to be overlooked, even when they are looking for you.¡±


    As he monologued about blending in with the environment, I noticed something odd. My senses snapped back to alert. I kept a sharp eye on the bland man. The holo board behind him showed a list of traits to not display while acting as a background figure. But he gestured to it with a laser pointer in his left hand. The class before, he had been pointing topics out with his right hand. After noting this, I also noticed that he frequently touched his nose with his free hand. This caught my interest. I hadn¡¯t noticed this pattern before. Almost on reflex, I pulled up a new notebook document on my therra-node and made a note of these odd behaviors. After I made the note, I second-guessed myself, thinking I had noticed something that was always there. That was until the professor made direct eye contact with me as I saved the notebook. The moment of contact only lasted a fraction of a second, but somehow I knew. From the gaze he laid upon me, I knew that I had picked up on something. What I picked up on, I had no clue, but I knew I was onto something.


    As the class continued, I carefully examined the Master for anything out of the ordinary in his actions. But I found myself uncertain of anything I thought might have been out of the ordinary. After the lecture, we were moved as a class out of the lecture hall and to a set of large elevators near the center of the building. We were ushered down to the third sublevel in groups of five. I was part of the last group to descend with the Mystagogue beside us.


    We stepped from the mirror-walled elevator into a black-surfaced viewing room. The walls reflected the light like dyed glass. The seams between each wall, the floor, and the ceiling weren¡¯t right angles; rather, they were curved slopes. This gave the room a sense of being a single massive bubble of hot glass that had been expanded inside a cube and left to cool into this glistening black. Holo screens lined one embankment, displaying an empty white paneled room. Set into the wall to our right was a door, just as black as the surrounding surface.


    Mystagogue Kellar stepped in front of the class with his hands behind his back. ¡°This is the viewing room. Through the door on that wall,¡± he pointed to the door I had only just noticed, ¡±you will each enter one by one into the adaptive test chamber. Needless to say that the chamber will alter its shape, design, and pattern to a foreign environment. I will give you a scenario. You are to pick a role and act it out as I play an opposing role. To help you take on your needed persona, you will find a selection of props and outfits in the room linking this viewing room with the testing chamber.¡±


    One by one, classmates were called out at random, given a scenario, and sent to enter the prep room, while the Mystagogue would cast a blink teleportation spell to vanish into the testing room. The test environments ranged from an office to a manor to a government facility to a woodland road. With every failure, which was inevitable, Mystagogue Kellar would point out each and every failing that came through the acts.


    Soon, my turn came. ¡°Iver Maverick.¡± the Mystagogue called out. I stepped forward, my feet shuffling, wringing my hands. It didn¡¯t take much to tell that I was excessively nervous about this act. I stepped up to the Master, unable to make eye contact. It was as if my gaze was pressed down beneath leaden weights.


    ¡°Your environment will be a government facility. Your goal is to get past the guard at the checkpoint. Step into the preparation room. You have five minutes to prepare yourself.¡±


    I mechanically nodded and numbly stepped into the prep room. I passed into a gray room that continued to my left. The entire space was devoid of features aside from a row of tables laden with props and a number of racks holding uniforms and outfits. Both the props and the clothes varied extremely in theme and style. Just from a glance, I saw business suits, military uniforms, punk and goth regalia, and a slew of information brochures for a variety of company types. The range of props was so mind-bogglingly varied and random-seeming that I couldn¡¯t comprehend the spread without thorough scrutiny.


    I made my way deeper into the long room, my mind racing. Government facility. What should I wear? Military uniform? Maybe a high-ranking military? No, that would draw attention. Janitor maybe? But what if I need to get into highly classified areas? If I was caught rifling through eyes-only documents, I¡¯d get sniffed out in an instant. File clerk? I didn¡¯t know. But I¡¯m on the clock, so I needed to act fast. I threw on a pair of tan khakis and a navy blue dress shirt and slipped into a pair of black wingtip shoes.


    In a panic, I turned towards the tables of props for designated roles. The sheer variety of times could be seen as a menagerie of tools and items. Such as a series of sidearms, a series of files on a range of subjects, hair ties, nail polish, wigs, books of varying subjects, glasses, towel trays, and even a maintenance tool belt, and a range of palm-sized martial weapons.


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    With the clock counting down, I scooped up a handful of files at random. As an afterthought, I picked up a pen even as I made my way to the training entry door.


    I stepped through the entrance into the blank, white room. The Mystagogue was in the center of the large space. Once he noticed my attire, he made a series of gestures in the air, no doubt interacting with his therra-node. The room altered in response to his actions, shifting into a hallway. The surfaces of the newly formed passage rippled in a single continuous wave from the end opposite me, rolling forward. Where the wave passed, the environment shifted and adapted, saturating with colors, growing texture, and objects, displacing me into a new world.


    One moment, I was standing in a blank slate of a room. The next, I stood in a hall of steel and glass. The wall to my right comprised large panes of glass looking out across a city skyline. A blanket of clouds veiled the cityscape below, the massive scrapers that seemed to form a city in the heavens. To my left, the wall was lined with paintings and ornate corner tables displaying fine art.


    Halfway down the hall was a multiphase scanner arch. Just ahead of the scanner stood the Mystagogue. He stood in his general attire, looking distinctly out of place. After a quick observation of the room, the instructor slipped on a ring as he had done a dozen times before for the previous trainees. His bland appearance shimmered and shifted to settle into a set of new clothes. His features remained the same, but his clothes were the clean-cut, gray-blue uniform of a security guard. He stepped in my way, arms crossed over his chest, feet set wide. His stance showed authority, his gaze scrutinizing my very person for any hint of duplicity.


    ¡°Halt. You are approaching a restricted zone. Please provide your name, department, and reason for entering.¡± Kellar sounded like a bored guard who had said the same line a thousand times but still knew that he needed to do his job.


    I came to a hard stop, my mind racing. Who was I? What¡¯s my name? What¡¯s my job?


    ¡°Umm, m-my name is Gavin S-Sislock. I work in production. I need to drop these files off with the product testing manager.¡±


    He looked me up and down before giving a single nod and stepping aside. I let out a sigh and hurried past. Three steps beyond the Master, the pen slipped from my grip to clatter to the floor. I stopped and stooped to pick it up.


    ¡°Stop!¡± the Master snapped with resounding authority. I froze mid-crouch. ¡°Turn around and face me.¡±


    I did as I was ordered, forgetting the pen. I turned and stood, my posture reflecting my mood of shame. I could not meet the Master¡¯s eye. This time, it was his gaze that carried a pressing weight. ¡°First, the good. You chose a reasonable outfit for the role, I would recommend adding glasses and a wig to further hide your true self. Choosing the props of files and a pen were safe choices.¡±


    I let out a heavy sigh. Knowing that I wasn¡¯t a total failure gave me something to cling to. I straightened by just the smallest amount and raised my gaze from the floor to the instructor¡¯s chest. I stared hard at a single point on his sternum, doing my best to bore holes there with my eyes. ¡°And what did I do wrong?¡±


    ¡°There were many flaws to your approach. Starting with your props, when using files, you should choose them with care. Your files should be pertinent to your cover. I can see that you have files on finances, network schematics, and even fashion designs. If you were inspected by a guard in a real scenario, they would certainly catch you. Even if you have files on multiple topics, make sure that they are all related or that you have a reasonable excuse for having a range of topics. Additionally, you could use a briefcase as extra security to insulate your forged documents from excessive scrutiny. Even just the act of the files not being in sight will have an effect. If at all possible, I would recommend using a locking briefcase with biometric locks. I would recommend taking notes now if you want to improve.¡±


    With that comment, I immediately opened up a fresh document on my therra-node and started typing out everything pointed out or recommended in bullet points.


    ¡°Continuing with flaws, you need to have your persona prepared before you even enter the site. Avoid using the phrase ¡®umm¡¯ or stuttering while speaking unless they are a key point of the persona. These both draw unwanted attention if thought out of place. The last factor you can change is the slip-up of dropping the pen. When you perform this action near security, it draws attention to how nervous you are. But you can still intentionally drop a pen in a key position to postpone moving or to hide your face for a moment.¡±


    I took careful note of each of these points, typing them out as fast as I could manage. After half a moment of silence, I realized his word choice. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Master, but what do you mean by ¡®last factor I can change¡¯?¡± with this question, I did meet his eyes.


    He raised a single brow at me. ¡°What is a permanent factor about you that would impact your cover?¡± He threw a question back at me in answer to my own query.


    I chewed on my lower lip, throwing my gaze to the floor as I put my brain to the task of puzzling out what he meant. It only took a few moments for me to realize what he meant. ¡°You mean the fact that I¡¯m a Darkling?¡±


    ¡°That is part of it. Another factor that you overlooked is your skin pattern. I have never seen anyone of any species have your skin pattern. This means that by mundane means, your blending will be very limited.¡±


    I nodded slowly, even as I looked down at my own hands. I turned my hands from back to front slowly.


    ¡®Mundane means, I thought to myself.


    ¡°I understand, Master Mystagogue. I¡¯m assuming that I failed this test?¡± I asked, my voice seemed distant, the question only of moderate importance as I started thinking about workarounds.


    ¡°Yes, you failed the exam. Your score in class is not looking hopeful if you want to join the Sect of the Sightless Eye.¡±


    ¡°I understand.¡± I said as I turned back to the entryway and left, my eyes downcast as I pinched my chin in thought. I was vaguely aware that I was leaving without being excused. But the misconduct was at the furthest reaches of my awareness. I offhandedly set aside the files I had used as props and absentmindedly stripped from the outfit and redressed in my class uniform. I passed back into the viewing room, almost completely unaware of the snickering from many of the other students.


    I really should have thought about how much I stuck out. Between the horns, eyes, and skin pattern, I was terribly conspicuous. The test made me realize something. I needed to become a Mastlok. To find my father¡¯s killer, I¡¯d need to hide who I was. The bastard would hear rumors of me from a city away. I was going to need to blend in to get close once I found the bastard¡¯s identity. If I couldn¡¯t hide by mundane means, then I¡¯d just have to use Myst then. Master Kellar used a ring to change his clothes, so why couldn¡¯t I use magic to change my skin and hide my horns?


    Even as other students took their exams, I was lost in thought. I pulled up documents and diagrams of illusion-based items and body-altering enchantments. The complexity of the spell will determine the host object. The lesser the enchantment, the smaller the host item. But I was going to need something on the more advanced side of spells, meaning I was going to need a larger item.


    What type of spell should I use? Illusion spells were based on the elements of Lumina, Water, and Air, but I couldn''t use Lumina naturally. Meanwhile, alteration magic was going to be based on the Elements of Morphic, Life, and Distortion, but I didn''t have access to Life Myst. Illusion would technically be easier if I had the elements, but if someone touched me, it would break the spell unless I linked it with my mind using Resonance Myst maintained focus, and projected it into the mind of whoever was about to touch me. But I didn''t have the ability to cast spells and had neither the time nor resources to craft something, even if I could someone instantly learn the spell mechanics. I was in a bit of a pickle.


    The standard enchantment would be a moderate constant drain, and the mind link would be a lesser drain on my Mystwell unless I kept batteries of the needed elements. Compare illusion to alteration, which would physically alter my body to what I desired but was not only extremely unpleasant but also a constant high drain on myst, be it from Mystwell or batteries.


    At this point, either one I used was going to be a serious drain on energy, so the end factor was going to be what I could craft with the least amount of runes and use the least amount of crystal batteries. In theory, I could have plenty of myst crystals if I expressed distress to Master Mystagogue Mallock. He seemed to have taken a liking to me, even if he kept calling me ¡®Ticker¡¯.


    As the day passed, I barely paid any attention to my classes. I was so engrossed in reading runic formulas and a wide range of design diagrams that hours of research became days of research. Research gave way to testing, which resulted in failure. And failure led me to more research. Days of research became weeks, and so the cycle continued.

 Chapter 17

    Halflings in Elven society are treated with disdain. Elves are very proud of their familial heritage and see any half-breeds as a strain on a family¡¯s name. By the Elven standard, the worst form of taint to a bloodline is the interbreeding between two different types of Elves. These ¡°Abominations¡± are seen as a cancerous melding of two things that should never mesh.


    Day 102 Quenchenday


    The first quarter of my school year drew to a close only just the day before. My quarterly test results were a mixed bag.


    CLASS GRADE Score


    Social Studies: F 35.6%


    Algebra: B+ 88.2%


    Biology: B- 81.6%


    History: C- 73.5%


    Science Fundamentals: A- 94.8%


    Mystech Fundamentals: A+ 110.5%


    I was making no progress with Social Studies. But given my history with most sentient interactions consisted of getting the shit kicked out of me or being treated like a goblin, my social skills and interpretation of cultures were understandably very limited.


    I had a fairly reasonable grip on mathematics. While I had yet to find any need for any of the algebra theorems or formulas, I still put in the effort to understand them. I had developed a talent for numbers, specifically measurements and values, through my constant tinkering.


    Biology, the squishy, slimy, bloody, nasty yuck class. Diagrams are fine, models are cool, and these let me think of the organic body like a machine. But being handed a thermal laser and told to cut open a larval Dire Black Throne Beetle to pull out its guts and tag each organ. Yeah, no, that was utterly revolting. At least I didn¡¯t have to actually tag the organs for the final. It was just holo tags to be seen in AR (Augmented Reality).


    History was definitely a weakness for me. Since I wasn¡¯t allowed to go to primer school back in my hometown, all of my teachings were based on what my father taught me when he felt like teaching. History was a topic he avoided, like the plague. What little I managed to learn was from the television. So, I knew about the Scale War in the Second Age and the Rebellion of the Broken Sheers, and a few of the more dramatic historical moments. Mostly wars and battles. This class covered way more than just war and drama in history.


    Science Fundamentals was a cruise over the Shining Sea. It was so easy. Basic metals, minerals, gases, and chemicals are easy. Learning the Periodic table, I already knew it. Basic four states of matter, simple. I taught myself most of the topics while doing research for my tinkering. I could even take it a step further and provide durability and conductivity scores for a healthy amount of the metals.


    If Science Fundamentals was easy, then Myst Fundamentals was exhilarating, like H.E.L.L Diving with a dissension equalizing equipment set that I built from scratch and knew everything about down to the pressure needed to trigger the activation button. Everything that I had been working on up to that point had more than prepared me for the entire course. In fact, I was over-prepared. I found two errors in the test questions that the Mystagogue didn¡¯t even know were there.


    The Sect tests were much less varied in results, and I¡¯m pretty sure you know exactly how I scored. Each of the tests was set on a Pass/Fail system. Either you made the cut, or you came up short.


    CLASS GRADE Scores


    Sightless Eye: Fail


    Silent Heart: Fail


    Blackened Crown: Fail


    Crimson Blade: Fail


    Burning Hand: Pass


    The Sightless Eye test was both simple and unfair. All the students were told to wear their personal attire and go through the day drawing as little attention as possible. Those that stuck out failed. It doesn¡¯t take too many brain cells to puzzle out how I did. I won¡¯t go into detail about how badly I failed.


    The Silent Heart test is just a game of laser tag with thermal optic sniper rifle models and sidearms. We were given free rein over the surface of the academy. I can only assume that the other students that were above us in rank were ironically below us now that I knew that there were at least four subterranean levels to the school grounds. At the time of the test, I thought that I was being clever by heading into the woodland at the perimeter of the cavern. As it turns out, about 60% of the student body went for the sapphire-leafed woods. I was tagged not fifteen minutes into a twenty-four-hour test.


    The Blackened Crown Test I just failed outright. It was a test to see if I developed an open channel to my Mystwell. Plain and simple, they scanned me, told me I failed the test, and I left for the day.


    The Crimson Blade test was the one I really needed to pass if I wanted to become a warrior. We were set into teams and set upon each other with our choice of training weapon. I lasted till I found my first opponent. I was broken by a certain Dracose who was still holding a virulent grudge against me for putting him in the dirt with an electric charge. The only thing I can be proud of from that butchering was that I survived, albeit with two shattered knees and a broken back. To add salt to the wound, the healer who patched me up used me as an example for a group of students. I was an example of extreme physical trauma.


    The Burning Hand test was the only source of solace I had. The test was to assemble the most complicated piece of work we could. We could start with a base object that we had built previously, but it had to have a minimum of two modifications done over the course of eight hours. I spent the first half-hour just sketching out designs. I was going to pass this test if it killed me. Everyone needed one passed sect test in order to continue in the academy.


    After half an hour of mad scribbling, I finally came to the decision that I was going to use my gauntlet as a base. There¡¯s no such thing as too many features in a self-defense item. I set the glove to launch the Secorus gas disks with the press of a button. I also mounted an adjustable spray nozzle to the outside edge of the wrist and hooked it up to a Water crystal and an Air Crystal. I also attached another projectile system to the Underside of the gauntlet. That one I mounted with custom ball bearings that I enchanted to emit a thick black smoke on impact. I cobbled the entire device together over the course of five hours. I say cobbled because I was only guesstimating most of the numbers.


    Master Mystagogue was suitably impressed with my performance and the amount of time I took to complete my task. I explain the modifications and how to trigger them. He took me to a weapons testing room, where he let off a couple of my smoke pelts and sprayed a wall with oil. Once he was satisfied with my design, Master Mallock was more than happy to tell me that I had passed.


    But the truly notable events happened on the next day, the sacred day of rest in the week, Quenchenday. Nel, Rose, and I were traversing the blue woods at the perimeter of the cavern. More precisely, Rose was chasing Nel from treetop to treetop as I strolled along beneath them, just watching.


    Nel shot from the limb of one tree, propelling herself eight feet through the air before she stuck her left hand out to catch a limb of the next tree. She caught a fork in the trunk of the tree nearest her, her momentum spinning her around the limb. Her face was alight with joy. She had never been pursued by anyone with the level of mobility Rose had.


    Rose, hot on Nel¡¯s heels, used her feline claws and high-grip boots to traverse the forest canopy like a lithe shadow. A blur of motion overhead, then a matted ¡®thump¡¯ of a body landing on a tree. Her claws were not the only feline thing about Rose, and I was not referring to the shape of her body. As she pursued Nel, her motions were smooth, fluid, and predatory. Watching her move through the treetops gave the sense of some mountain lion-sized wild cat stalking the sapphire canopy overhead, on the hunt for some inattentive prey. Rose lunged from a tree limb, throwing herself bodily toward Nennel. A fraction of a moment before the two were to collide, Nel hopped up, placing both feet on the trunk she held to, and kicked off, launching herself off to the right into another tree. As she flew, Nel twirled her body in a corkscrew roll.


    Where Rose¡¯s grace was very much that of a predatory hunter, Nel¡¯s was more akin to a dancer, an Elven dancer. Her motions reminded me more of flowing water, birds at play, and a leaf on the whims of the wind.


    ¡°Ya know, Iver, if you joined in, you would get better mobility skills.¡± Rose said, hanging from a tree limb, claws buried deep into the flesh of the wood, to stare down at me.


    I stood directly under Rose, glaring up at her through my modest brow. ¡°If I even try to keep up with the two of you, I¡¯ll break my neck. The academy¡¯s healers are good, but they can¡¯t bring back the dead.¡±


    ¡°Na, that¡¯s when we get a necro. Have ¡®em raise you.¡± Her lips were pressed into a tight smile that said that she found my reactions entertaining.


    ¡°I completely REFUSE to be a necromancer¡¯s test subject. I Hate the restless dead.¡±


    ¡°Why? I mean, I get that zombies are gross, and ghouls are just downright feral. But what about vampires? Revenants? Wraiths? None of them rot, and they¡¯re just people. You, of all people, should know not to listen to pop-culture stereotypes. If all vampires stole teenage Elves, and wraiths possessed random people to murder their families, then by that thought, all Darklings are evil mastermind cult leaders.¡± She looked down at me with a raised eyebrow.


    ¡°I¡¯m not stereotyping Blightlings. I just don¡¯t think undeath is natural. I mean, the dead are supposed to stay dead.¡± I took a half-dozen steps back as Nel landed beside me, meaning Rose was going to drop. ¡°Besides Rose, unless you would need to find and convince a Sixth-circle necro, if not higher, if you wanted me to come back as¡­ well, me.¡±


    Rose dropped to the grass below and braced a clawed hand against her hip. ¡°Well, I guess I¡¯ll just have to get the first necro I find to bring you back, regardless of their circle.¡±


    ¡°Oh, come on, Rose.¡± I huffed in only half-false offense, crossing my arms over my chest. ¡°And what are you going to do with a shambling Iver corpse?¡± I cocked my head in question, daring her to give me a good answer.


    ¡°Simple, you would become my butler.¡± Rose spoke with a wide, toothy grin.


    ¡°Excuse me?! A butler? Are you serious?¡± I was only mildly offended, but I over-exaggerated the response to dramatic levels. After a whole semester with Nel and just under half of a semester with Rose, I was improving my social skills to a degree. They both knew my history with people and were unbelievably patient with me when I stumbled through even basic social skills. A quirk I had picked up while spending time with these two was to over-exaggerate certain reactions and get their feedback on whether or not it was socially acceptable.


    ¡°Ignore her, Ive¡¯, she¡¯s just being mean because she thinks it¡¯s funny. But your response was almost on point, for if you were actually offended, maybe pull it back just a bit.¡± She emphasized this by raising a hand and pulling her index and thumb together in a sign of shrinking.


    ¡°Noted.¡± I gave her a grateful nod for the feedback. ¡°But I actually was kinda offended by the resurrecting comment.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± asked Nel


    ¡°Yeah, what was so bad about it?¡±


    I worried at my lower lip as I gave a great sigh. ¡°My father raised me to believe that all restless dead were unnatural. Whether or not some of them are good people or bad, the fact of the matter still stands. They shouldn¡¯t exist.¡±


    ¡°Harsh.¡± Rose said, a little taken aback by my comment.


    ¡°Look, can we drop the topic and go to the dining hall? I need food.¡±


    ¡°Yeesssss.¡± Rose said in relief, drawing out the word as she threw her head back. ¡°I have the need to feed.¡±


    ¡°Ok, now you¡¯re just mocking me.¡± I hissed with a glare.


    ¡°What?¡± She seemed honestly confused. ¡°Oh! No, I¡¯m not talking like feeding a ghoul or anything. I mean feed like how a wild tiger feeds on a boar or some dreck.¡±


    I slightly tilted my head, one brow raised, giving her a skeptical look.


    ¡°Look, Iver, you don¡¯t want to talk undead. We won¡¯t talk undead. But right now, this tiger needs some meat.¡± With that, she turned towards the main campus and began a meandering yet dedicated pace down the hill.


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    I turned to Nel, who rolled her eyes in Rose¡¯s direction in response. I stifled a snort, and we both made to follow.


    Nel pressed her hands into her pockets and began a cantering skipping walk as she hummed the notes to some song I didn¡¯t recognize. With Rose leading the charge and me holding the rear, we made our way to the dining hall. One by one, we passed through the front door and came to a dead stop. I stepped back as I almost collided my nose with Nel¡¯s shoulder. Nel came to a stop because Rose halted mid-pace. I stepped around the two to see what was going on. Rose¡¯s eyes were locked on the far wall across the dining hall. I followed her venomous gaze to find who else but Mallrimor¡¯s gang of thugs picking on someone. Blackened blade, they had to learn at some point to just mind their own business. This time, I was going to mind my own business while Rose reeducated the simpletons. I wasn¡¯t going to get involved. I was going to keep my head down, get my food, and take a seat. ¡®Come on, Iver¡¯ I thought to myself. ¡®Let the she-warrior do her thing while you just try to stomach what this kitchen had mistaken for edible food.¡¯


    Rose stormed towards the instigation. I could feel the thunderclouds in her wake. I made it halfway to the lunch line when there was the sound of clattering metal against that far wall. I looked up to find that Rose hadn¡¯t even reached the group yet. Instead, I found a food tray lying at the feet of a young Elf with wild hair acting like a feral animal. He threw a fist at Gellar, who ducked the wide swing and planted a knee in the boy¡¯s abdomen. The Elf boy curled in upon himself in pain. He used that position as a starting point for a headbutt, again aimed at Gellar. In answer, Kesher grasped the attack in one gargantuan paw, completely halting the momentum. The Dracose lifted the boy off his feet by his head. The boy struggled, beating his fists against the scaled arm with about as much result as doing the same to a statue of granite. But when the Elven boy¡¯s snarls turned to screams of pain as the Dracose squeezed, something happened.


    Suddenly, I was moving. Not just moving, I was running, straight for the Dracose, training blade in my gauntleted hand. I had no idea what I was going to do. All that I knew was that something had to be done. I jumped atop a dining table, almost losing my footing in the process. I righted myself and lept from one table to the next. This act was not easy, and I almost ate floor several times in only a handful of seconds, but I couldn¡¯t waste time running around the tables. No one else other than Rose and I were moving to help, not even the adult staff. This wouldn¡¯t be the first murder of the year from my class. I counted myself lucky that I wasn¡¯t present for the first death. But I couldn¡¯t just stand by and let a murder happen in front of me. With no idea of what to do and rushing toward the problem, I was probably going to get myself killed. If I did live through those next few minutes, I definitely was going to regret it.


    Rose noticed my action and moved to close in just ahead of me. She reached the Dracose only a fraction of a second before me. As she closed in, she drew her own training sword and fell into a heels-first slide. She struck the oversized lizard in the back of his knees with a wooden blade gripped in two hands.


    As Kesher dropped the Elf and began to topple, I was already in the air, flying right by his head. Taking a page from Nel¡¯s book, I spun in mid-air to build up momentum. As I came around, I chopped my blade, with both hands, into his throat as his weight was already falling forward. With all the force from my running jump, redirected through a spin to hack into the scaled throat before me with all my might. The training weapon shattered into splinters, and I watched as someone twice my height and five times my weight was close lined by my blade, his trachea flattened. His legs flew forward, his head flew back, and suddenly, the brute was ass-over-hammer.


    Thinking back on it now, that Dracose got lucky that Rose and I had been using wooden training weapons instead of our standard steel ones. The training area outside had wooden variants if we didn¡¯t want to break each other too badly, and we had snatched a few for ¡®personal use¡¯ and had yet to return them.


    I struck the back wall with bone-jarring force, my teeth rattling in my skull. I needed to think fast. At that moment, I was now right in the middle of the batch of nasties. I needed to get out and take the Elf with me. I was going to be pursued and couldn¡¯t count on Rose to deal with them. I reached into my bag and dropped five familiar items after turning five dial timers to a quarter of a second delay. Without skipping a beat, I shot three smoke pellets at the floor in the center of the group of thugs that violently burst upon contact. I threw myself away from the wall as heavy and highly conductive gas ejected from the disks I had just left behind. I slipped my left arm into the armpit of the Elf and made my daring escape the whole time, half-shouting, ¡°Dreck! Dreck! Dreck! Dreck!¡±


    Three paces outside of the ever-expanding cloud, I turned and released a jet of oil to coat the floor just under the fog. Just as the others of Mallrimor¡¯s gang took action, coughing and trying to make pursuit, I armed the affectionately named Shock Bites feature of my gauntlet. I took a quick second to check for Rose and found her staggering from the choking smoke, coughing herself.


    ¡°Hey, uh, Rose, you might want to get clear.¡± I tried to keep my words calm, but it did very little to hide my shaky tone.


    ¡°Wha-?¡± she gagged out as she tried to blink her watering eyes free of the smoke. As soon as she saw my outstretched arm with a closed fist pointing at the cloud, she got the picture. Roserra threw herself out of the damage zone. She wasn¡¯t safe for a full second before I triggered my shock bites.


    Brecken was the first to leave the smoke and enter my line of sight, so the poor Orc was my shock target. The barbs hooked into the cloth of his uniform and the skin of his neck and forehead. He didn¡¯t even know what happened. None of them did. Small arcs of blue-white power jumped through the cloud of gas. On cue, as thugs started locking up from the current, they couldn¡¯t maintain a footing in the oil, which had already been giving them issues even before the system shock. After three seconds of current, I killed the power and retracted my barbed hooks. After a few moments, the smoke and gas cleared to reveal four figures on the floor, moaning in discomfort, struggling and failing to get to their feet.


    Rose jogged up to me. ¡°What the hell was that?!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know! I think I lost my sanity there for a few seconds. I could have died!¡± I exclaimed, gesturing frantically with my hands as I spoke. I was so sick with anxiety that I had failed to notice that I had dropped the Elf, and even more so, I had failed to realize that an entire dining hall worth of people were staring on in mute shock.


    ¡°What are you talking about, Ive¡¯?! That was perfect! Just keep doing that, and you¡¯ll get into the Crimson Blade, no problem.¡± Rose shouted, a massive grin plastered on her face.


    ¡°Keep doing what? Throwing myself headlong into danger to almost get killed? Yeah, great idea, Rose. How about I just become straight suicidal and save the universe the effort of having something else kill me.¡±


    ¡°Calm down, Iver. You did a good thing. Hell, that strike you made was strong enough to splinter a wooden training sword.¡°


    ¡°Shit! My sword! Oooohhh man, Kellennar is going to have my hide mounted on the wall of his office.¡± I knew that I was falling into a panic attack even as I started pulling on my horns, an act I used to do as a child when my anxiety was overwhelming me. I started pacing in circles around Roserra, tugging on my horns.


    ¡°Iver, stop. Iver, stop.¡± Rose said in a placating tone as she kept turning to face me, pressing her open hands in a downward motion as a sign to relax.


    ¡°Oh man, and the mess I made. I¡¯m so dead, sssooo dead.¡± I muttered to myself.


    I was brought to a sudden and jarring halt by a pair of furry hands, feline claws gently pressed against the skin of my triceps. I was rotated to face the stern countenance of Rose. ¡°Pin your feet before I pin them myself with a hammer and nails.¡±


    I froze, my already spiraling mind easily visualizing Roserra nailing my feet to the floor.


    ¡°There, much better. Now, Iver, I need you to do something for me.¡± Her tone was still soothing but reflected that she wanted something.


    ¡°W-what is it?¡± I stammered.


    ¡°I need you to calm do-¡± She was cut off when a force struck the side of my face. I felt a pressure against the side of my jaw then I was ripped out of Rose¡¯s grasp and off my feet. My side struck a table and several chairs, both the furniture and I tumbling to the floor in a heap. My jaw, ribs, and hip were alight with throbbing pain.


    ¡®Who hit me? Did I miss one of the thugs?¡¯ I asked myself mentally.


    Once my vision straightened out from seeing double, I found the culprit. The Elf I saved stood in an aggressive, primal stance, his eyes locked on me with a fire of anger. He stormed up to me.


    ¡°What do you think you are doing, trog ?!¡± the Elf snarled. ¡°I could have taken them. I had them right where I wanted them.¡±


    My rattled brain was having a hard time keeping up with what the Elf was saying. All I could do was try to keep my eyeballs from rolling in my skull. But Nel and Rose came to my rescue. Nel rushed to my side and offered me a hand and a shoulder to help me stand. I took the offered aid even as Rose tore into the guy.


    Rose clutched the Elf¡¯s uniform jacket in a choking grip as she lifted him to stand on his toes. ¡°Now listen here, you little skavy cut-ear. That guy you just decked klept your viletemp ass from getting your skull turned to chunky jelly. So I expect you to apologize to my friend, and you¡¯d better make it sincere.¡± She snarled every word, carrying the weight of an unspoken threat with each syllable.


    The wild-haired Elf struggled against Rose¡¯s grip with just as much success as he had with Kesher. ¡°I, can, handle, myself.¡± There was a pause between each word as he tried to pull free of Rose¡¯s steel-clenched grasp.


    ¡°Oh, you can handle yourself, yeah?¡± Rose spoke in a sickly sweet tone that dripped with sarcasm. ¡°Well, then I¡¯ll give you thirty seconds to break my grip before I start beating your slither-spined ass into a pulp that no one will be able to tell apart from the slop being served for food here.¡± As she spoke, she pulled her free hand back, cocked in a fist, ready to deliver what she no doubt felt was some much-needed punishment. She started counting down from thirty.


    After ten seconds, his efforts redoubled. After twenty seconds, his struggle got frantic. At the five-second mark, he tried to bite her hand. The moment his teeth made contact with her fur, Roserra dropped any pretense of counting and drove her fist into his nose. The Elf¡¯s head shot back and bounced at the end of its flexibility. As he slowly tried to lift his head, his eyes hazy, nose clearly broken. Rose struck him again, blackening his eye.


    I pulled myself from Nel¡¯s support and took a lurching, limping step toward Rose. ¡°That¡¯s enough, Rose. Let him go.¡±


    She released the Elf, who fell to his knees. Rose took a step back and gave me a questioning look. I knelt down beside the feral-seeming Elf. I put a hand on his upper arm. He drowsily turned his head to look at me.


    ¡°Can we talk like civil people now?¡± I pressed. He gave a sluggish nod in answer.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± I gently asked.


    ¡°Ferris, Stillwind.¡± He murmured with a pause in the middle as he tried to collect his thoughts.


    ¡°That¡¯s a good start. Now, can you please explain why you¡¯re upset with me for saving you?¡±


    ¡°Made, me, look, bad. I could¡¯ve, handled them, myself.¡± I could tell from his voice that he was regaining his senses.


    I gave an amused snort. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be rude, Ferris, but even I could tell that you didn¡¯t have things under control. I¡¯m pretty sure that Kesher would legitimately have killed you.¡±


    ¡°I could¡¯ve won.¡± He half-mumbled, half-snarled.


    ¡°Ferris, I think it¡¯s time you be honest with yourself. Take it from me. I want to join the Crimson Blade, and I can¡¯t even really call myself a warrior. What I did back there.¡± I gestured towards the back pool of oil with a thumb, ¡°That was a fluke. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, I would have gotten completely demolished. I just got lucky. We got lucky.¡±


    Ferris shot me a fearsome glare. One of his eyes was blacked and almost swollen shut. ¡°I could take you on if I wanted.¡±


    I gave him a tired smile. ¡°You probably could take me. But that¡¯s not saying much. In the local food chain, I¡¯m at the bottom. Nel over here,¡± I gestured to her with a thumb, ¡°is a step above me. Those drake-eyed thugs that were picking on you are all above Nel. And above them is Rose, who you¡¯ve already met.¡±


    To make a point, Rose cracked her knuckles in a rapid-fire series of pops. At the noise, Ferris winced. I also noticed that he was pointedly not looking at her, even as she loomed over him from behind. Rose seemed to cast a shadow beneath her, much larger than what should have shown. Even I felt intimidated and I knew she was acting in my defense.


    ¡°Say, Ferris, do you have any friends here at the academy?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± He said with obvious pain that had nothing to do with his face. This pain came from the heart. I knew the feeling of loneliness far too well. I had never had a friend before I met Nel, not even before the academy.


    ¡°What would you say to joining our little ragtag group?¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± I could hear the hope in his words. Then he turned suspicious. ¡°Why would you do that after I hit you?¡± He eyed me, clearly expecting this to be a joke or for there to be a stick to come with the carrot of friendship.


    I shrugged and looked down at my hands with a phantom of a smile as I remembered first meeting Nel and Rose. ¡°Let¡¯s just say that I know what it feels like to be alone in a world full of drake-eyed pricks.¡±


    I stood up and offered him a hand to help him rise. ¡°How about a deal?¡± I offered.


    I watched as he thought that his suspicions were realized. ¡°What kind of deal? You want me to do something or give you something?¡±


    I flashed him an amused smile. ¡°Well, of course. If you promise not to deck me unless I really deserve it and promise not to be a pain, I¡¯ll call you friend. And I¡¯m willing to bet that if you chill your fists, Nel and Rose¡¯ll call you friend.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re joking. There¡¯s no way it¡¯s that simple.¡± He clearly wasn¡¯t going to buy the ¡®let''s be friends because friends are nice¡¯ card. It was time to change tactics. If I hadn¡¯t met Nel and Rose in the ways I had, no doubt I¡¯d be just as suspicious.


    ¡°Think of it this way, I want allies when those cackle-tards come knocking at my door again, and there¡¯s no such thing as too many allies. You need support, be it tactical or emotional. This is a give and give alike kind of¡­¡± I needed a word other than friendship, and I was struggling to find the word.


    ¡°Partnership.¡± Nel said, dropping into the conversation.


    I watched the gears in Ferris¡¯s head crank away as he rolled the idea around in his head. No doubt he was looking for loopholes or for something that could cause him problems later.


    ¡°You promise not to screw me?¡± He asked.


    ¡°I swear on the Dead One¡¯s missing eye.¡± I solemnly spoke with two fingers raised and pressed against my left eye. I turned to Nel and asked, ¡°How about you, Nel?¡±


    She shrugged, ¡°I don¡¯t see why not,¡± and raised two fingers in the same gesture.


    I turned to Rose. ¡°And you, Rose?¡±


    With her arms crossed over her chest, she gave a roll of the eyes that was so over-exaggerated that her head moved with the motion. ¡°Sure, but only if the snot rag promises not to be a little prick.¡±


    That was good enough for the Elf as he reached up to grab my wrist. I pulled him up with a grin on my face that no doubt looked goofy. I was only faintly aware of how quickly my panic about the mess I had made had faded when I saw that someone needed my support. But it was after the interaction with Ferris I became painfully aware that we had done all this in the middle of a dining hall full of people, people only staring at me. My grin turned sheepish, and I felt the heat of a blush rising in my marble-skinned cheeks. I felt like such a moron at that moment, but that feeling turned to dread when I heard the entry doors slam open, and there was a hulking figure glaring at me. Clearly, someone went and got an instructor because of the scene we had made. And it was just my luck that the instructor happened to be Mystagogue Thrasher. The gargantuan Orc shared control of our martial training classes with Mystagogue Kellennar. That Mystagogue Thrasher.


    ¡°Slate 23, follow me to my office.¡± His voice was a deep rumble, showing no sign of anger or annoyance. It may have just been my imagination, but I would have sworn that I felt him speak the words just as much as I heard them.


    I blanched and mechanically made my way over to the massive instructor. I tried to hurry, but the walk still felt like it took long minutes. The entire time my numb legs carried me closer to the Orc, I couldn¡¯t help but think about how easily he could snap me in two if he had even the slightest whim to end me. As soon as I reached him, he gave me a scrutinizing inspection, his eyes scanning me from head to feet and back. He then turned his head to look back in the direction that I had come from. I just knew that he was looking at the mess I had made. Four unconscious students lying in a pool of oil and splinters. The entire dining room was muggy with the still dissipating smoke. There was a tang of ozone and copper in the air from the secorus gas that had dissolved into the ambient air of the room.


    The hulking instructor slowly turned his head back to me, the motion as smooth as that of a machine with an almost methodical sense to the action.


    ¡°Follow.¡± was all that he said before he turned and ducked his way out of the room.


    I moved to obey as best I could.

 Chapter 18

    Orc culture is a close-knit community of nomadic tribes. Some tribes are friendly and regularly trade with other peoples. Some tribes are war-oriented, preferring to pillage and raid nearby settlements. Regardless of the tribe¡¯s interactions with outsiders, it is tradition to have a fearsome family name. Surnames among Orcs follow a common theme, such as Skullercrusher, Blooddrinker, Fleshrender, and so on.


    Day 102 Quenchenday


    I sat in a worn-down wooden chair, the cushion leaking cotton from a burst seam on one side. The fabric of the cushion was just as worn as the wood, feeling somewhat scratchy where it touched my bare skin. The room was thick with an odd combination of smells: old leather, old paper, sandalwood smoke, and a slight undertone of sweat.


    Before me was a desk that would have been far too large for any other instructor, but for Mystagogue Thrasher, it still seemed small. On the topic of small, the office was almost comically tight for the Half Orc¡¯s massive frame. The instructor was forced to squeeze into the room through a door that only came up to his shoulders. He was then forced to shuffle sideways across one wall of the room to squeeze in behind his desk that only just barely seemed to fit him.


    The office was furnished with the lightly stained wood trim around striped forest green and moss green wallpaper that was peeling in spots. A quarter of a wooden pillar of matching wood was slotted into each corner of the room. Each pillar was topped with a carving of vines bearing blooming lotus flowers. Along the right wall was a bookcase, neatly lined with tattered copies of various books, a hologram picture frame displaying a three-dimensional freeze-frame painting of an Orc tribe bartering with Human tradesmen for bread, and a large steamer chest with a thick padlock sealing it. I recognized the painting. I couldn¡¯t tell you the name of it, but it was one of the few fine art depictions of Orcs at peace with other peoples. The entire left wall was totally bare, that being the wall he had to shimmy across to get to his desk. I guess he had to leave it bare or have the way blocked, or the wall mounts dropped every time he passed by. The back wall only had one thing to provide decoration, and I personally found it the most shocking of a room that baffled me. At the top foot of the wall, at the Orc¡¯s eye level when he hunched to fit in the room, was a shelf of fine dark stained wood, Elven scrollwork carved into its face and edges. Atop the shelf was a series of fine china. A pearl-lined, ivory white tea set made of up a stout pot and three cups that would have fit in a Ceangar¡¯s hands. Those cups were so small compared to the massive man of culture (because that had to be what he was) that he could have swallowed a cup and not even noticed.


    His desk, which took up the vast majority of the room, was a dark stained wood that matched in color and scrollwork to his shelf above his seat. His seat was a Titanic-sized, ancient swivel chair from the early ages before the industrial era, meaning that the chair was handcrafted to fit someone of his girth. Atop the desk were four neat and precise stacks of paper flanking a holo keyboard and display screen. To his right was an old-fashioned inkwell and feather quill. The inkwell was the size of a bucket, and the feather that the quill was made from was from some monster of impressive size. A roc, maybe? Or a dire griffin.


    As I took my seat in the guest chair and gawked at the room, the instructor made his way behind the desk, the chair groaning under his dense mass. He swiveled into his desk, opened a drawer that was out of my sight, and pulled free a pair of full moon spectacles that he perched atop his broad nose. The glasses frames barely fit his face, and there were no arms, their sole point of contact being the bridge of his nose.


    He looked me up and down with a critical eye before activating his Therra-node. I watched in terror as Mystagogue Thrasher gestured his way through the node¡¯s UI, looking for something. ¡°Slate twenty-three. Maverick, if I remember correctly.¡± He rumbled. He clearly was thumbing through files, looking for mine, no doubt.


    ¡°Y-yes, sir. My n-name is Iver Maverick. And I¡¯d just like to say that I¡¯m so sorry for what happened. I acted without thinking, and I deeply regret taking those actions.¡±


    He held up a single large and well-manicured finger, a sign for me to wait till he was finished reading. I watched in absolute dread as his eyes skimmed over my file. He was going to see that I failed social studies, and that was only going to add to my punishment, along with the fight. I was going to get kicked out of the academy for sure. I was going to have my memory wiped, and I was going to be a homeless orphan again. I was going to die of starvation or freeze to death next winter. And after I died, no doubt I was going to be ferried across the black river Stignis to be pushed into the Hells because I suffered from the Bane of Power. Damn my need for knowledge. I should have stayed a simpleton because now I was going to get flayed eternally because I was too greedy for knowledge.


    ¡°I can see here that you excel in the more analytical side of studies in the mundane classes, but you seem to come up short in social studies. According to the instructor''s notes, your comprehension of mystech and scientific fundamentals is remarkably advanced. But there are also notes that mention that you seem socially challenged.¡±


    He closed the window on his Therra-node, the glow in his eyes winking out. His monolithic gaze fell upon me, forcing me to look hard at the hands clenched in my lap, even as I felt a burning blush rise to my cheeks. I knew that I was struggling in social studies. Given that the only people I felt comfortable around I either saved from harm or they had saved me. I made a mental note to psychoanalyze myself later. Everyone, other than Nel and Rose, I couldn¡¯t help but feel like they were planning to harm me in some way. Even the teachers that tried to be supportive gave me a sense of looming menace. Socially challenged was putting it nicely. I¡¯d call it socially stunted. My only interaction with people up till coming here consisted of abuse in some form mostly. Even my father was prone to slapping me when I misbehaved. At the thought of my father, my eyes began to swim. I felt droplets patter on the back of my white-knuckled hands as they clenched my pant legs for dear life.


    ¡°Do you know why I called you in here, Mr.Maverick?¡± His voice sounded calm, patient, and reserved.


    I clenched my eyes shut and gave a quick, over-exaggerated nod.


    ¡°Why do you think I brought you in here?¡± the master queried in honest curiosity.


    ¡°The fight.¡± was all I could manage to say before I choked on my words and curled in on myself, making myself as small a target as I could manage.


    ¡°Yes, but not for the reasons you think.¡± Even with my eyes squeezed shut, I could almost hear the smile in his words. He was just as calm and patient as before, but this time, there was a softness and warmth to his words that drew me from my shell after a long moment of quiet. When I was sure that he wasn¡¯t going to shout or throw something at me, or throw me for that matter, I slowly uncurled. I wiped my face on my sleeve, leaving a trail of dampness and snot along the fabric.


    ¡°W-what do you mean?¡± I stammered.


    ¡°Mr.Maverick, Iver, you know what tomorrow marks?¡± he asked, hinting at something.


    ¡°The start of a new quarter?¡±


    Mystagogue Thrasher gave a single slow nod that conveyed years of wisdom in the single motion. ¡°Just right. You planted your blade in the beast¡¯s heart, so to speak. Now, there is something that will be announced tomorrow to all the Slates. A new factor for Slates to keep in mind when being placed later in the year. Do you want to guess what that new factor is?¡±


    I numbly shook my head, my eyes locked on his broad nose so as not to make eye contact. What other factors could there be? We had mundane classes and sect training. We had to pass no less than five of the mundane classes and were required to be proficient with at least one sect course set. Are they going to give us some kind of advanced martial training course that we all need to pass to stay in the academy? If that was going to be the case, then I was dead.


    ¡°As we have with every year before you for the past three hundred years, in the second quarter, the Slate class is introduced to the Scoring Factor. Starting tomorrow until your final day at the academy, you will have to contest with other students with this factor. I will give you the simple version to explain what you just did in that cafeteria. Each sect will award points to students who perform specific tasks, such as dueling each other and winning. I won¡¯t go into detail, but I will say that you earned a point for the Silent Heart Sect, two points for the Burning Hand Sect, and a Hero point. These points are going to be used to gauge your talents and tactics outside the classroom to help you get placed in the best fitting sect.¡±


    ¡°But what if the points I score aren''t for the sect I desire?¡± I felt a fleeting panic rising in my mind at the thought.


    ¡°Not much can really be done about that, I¡¯m afraid. Your chosen sect is based on your point scores and your pass/fail results from the end-of-year tests. If you receive passing scores for multiple sects, then you are given the option to turn down any beyond the one you want to join. In fact, it is encouraged to only join a single sect.¡±


    ¡°Why is it encouraged? I thought being a Mastlok was an honor.¡±


    ¡°While it is an honor to be a part of multiple sects, it is a great burden. Most students¡¯ schedules after their first year are specially tailored to balance between sect and mundane studies. But taking up the studies from two sects means that you will need to cut back on mundane studies.¡±


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Personally, I was fine cutting back on mundane studies. I found little use in learning punctuation and politics when what I really wanted to do was make a difference with a blade. I was starting to come to terms with the fact that I was more talented with a wrench and welder than I was with a blade and bow. So, if I had to, I was going to become a Mastlok between Crimson Blade and Burning Hand. Why learn grammar when I could learn how to craft something that would help me slay monsters and hunt murderers?


    ¡°But Master, what if I want to become a Mastlok because the sect I want to join I know I am less proficient with? If I can receive a passing score for the sect I want as well as the sect I know I am more proficient in, could I, in theory, join both?¡±


    Mystagogue Thrasher rubbed his brick of a chin between his thumb and the crook of his forefinger in thought. I was amazed watching how easily that massive slab of bone and meat he called a chin fit so easily into his hand. In fact, when cupped in his hand, his chin almost seemed to be a normal size if you could take out the context that the hand in question could palm a grown man¡¯s skull like a small orange.


    ¡°I suppose that if you truly wanted to take that path, we could allow it, but only if you can receive the passing scores and understand that once you start down that road, there is no turning back. Should you fall too far behind in either study, you will have your memory wiped, and you will be excommunicated from the order.¡± Those last heavy words weren¡¯t the only thing to pin me to my chair with dread. His eyes yet again bore down on me with the weight of a War Machine¡¯s foot, a weight that would shake the earth and powder stones.


    I pressed deeper into my chair. Simultaneously trying to get away and not show fear. After what could only have been a moment pinned to that chair but certainly felt more like long minutes, he took a long blink, pushed his glasses up his nose, and picked up a sheet of paper off his desk to read it over. ¡°Any questions?¡± After the look he had just given me, these words seemed so casual and ephemeral.


    ¡°Umm, yes, s-sir. I was wondering why I couldn¡¯t just revert to a single sect focus if I failed out of the other?¡±


    ¡°Because, my dear boy, for security purposes, each sect has classified information that it keeps separate from the other sects. We do this so that if a field operative is captured, he or she can not give any more information than what is known to their sect. Think of it as a form of damage control. For this reason, Mastloks are put under a great deal of pressure in training because they are a weak point in our security system.¡± He lifted his eyes to gaze at me again. This time, those hickory brown eyes didn¡¯t press down on me with intent or meaning, only idle curiosity and something not unlike a warmth of sympathy. ¡° Which two sects were you looking into joining, and which is your talented field, and which is your desired field?¡±


    I shifted in my seat from pressing back against the chair to leaning forward, the chair creaking with the motion. I kept my eyes locked on my hands in my lap as I laced my fingers together and began futzing with my thumbs. ¡°W-well, sir, I know it probably sounds stupid, if not crazy, but I w-want to join the Burning Hand and c-Crimson Blade. My talent is in c-crafting.¡± I stammered out, my voice thick with timidity. I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep, centering breath. I had never made this confession to a teacher before, let alone one in his position who had seen my lack of combat prowess. I readied myself for the Mystagogue to burst into roaring laughter. ¡°But I want to, no, I need to be a field agent, an adventurer.¡±


    The massive gentleman set down the sheet in his hand back into its original pile with an unexpected amount of grace and precision, the page falling evenly in line with all those below it. He propped his elbows atop his desk, the wood of the furniture both below his arms and beneath his frame letting out a ghostly groan, and laced his own fingers together in an arch that hid his lips as he leaned in close. ¡°Before I continue, I need to make one thing very clear. A dream is nothing to be mocked. I¡¯ve spoken to students who only aspired to pass the year, and I¡¯ve spoken to others who, and I make no joke, aspired to literal godhood. Your dreams and desires are nothing to be mocked. I¡¯ve seen a boy with more muscle than brain become a caster so fluent he could form a spell in heartbeats strong enough to withstand a bullet after only a year in his sect. I¡¯ve seen a timid girl who could barely lift a blade become a warrior so agile and fierce that the rest of her class dreaded facing her on the field. The only limits that are going to stop you are those set down by your own mind. But I feel I must ask, why become an adventurer? I¡¯ve seen your scores in crafting and technical theory, you could excel in the Burning hand like few others before you. I would assume it to be a hunger for fame and glory, but most that seek that don¡¯t claim to need to get into the sect. Rather, they would claim to deserve it, or to aspire, or some drivel along those lines. Those who seek fame and glory are often shallow and petty. But you¡­ In you, I see no need for money or admiration. So, Iver, what drives you to follow a path of blood and dread?¡±


    As he spoke, I felt tears well up behind my eyes, tears of hope. Hope that I could truly become something better if I tried hard enough. But when he asked me what drove me, I flashed back to those moments of my father¡¯s murder. Watching the masked man walk away from my father¡¯s bleeding form. I dried my tears of hope. I felt tears of pain rising alongside a gorge of hate that burned my throat. I bared back those tears with sheer will and squeezed eyelids. I bit down on the burning gorge with a clenched jaw and tongue pressed to the roof of my mouth so hard it had a burn all its own. When I opened my eyes, I knew that he had seen the change by his single arched brow.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sir, but my purpose is ironclad. I need to find the murderer of my father. Adventurers are allowed to pass borders with little effort, they have resources other hunters don¡¯t, and they have the best training for dealing with any number of dangerous situations. I will hunt that man to the ends of Angwin and across as many realms as I need till I can get my justice.¡± Halfway through speaking, I lost sight of the Mystagogue. I stared off into the distance, visualizing myself chasing that bastard across the Iron Desert, over the Devil¡¯s Spine mountain range, and across the barren icescape of the Northern Ice Wastes. I was dragged back to reality as I thought of the irony of casting him in the Hells or in Pandemonium. I shook myself back into the present moment as Mystagogue Thrasher began to speak.


    ¡°Your goal of justice for your father is admirable, but you must remember that to fall too far into hate is to lose yourself. If the hunt for blood is all that matters in the end, then you have lost sight of the beauty of life. I can already see those shadows behind your eyes, young man. Don¡¯t forget what it means to be alive. Your remaining family, your friends, your hopes of who you want to be after you have found your justice.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have any other family,¡± I hissed with venom. A moment later, I realized how I was speaking, clamped my lips tightly shut, and pressed my gaze into my lap even harder than before. I muttered a hasty apology even as I squeezed my arms and legs closer to my body, trying to make myself as small a target as I could possibly manage.


    At first, his only response was to shift from one arched brow to the other. ¡°Truly, son? You have no other family?¡±


    I mumbled my response. ¡°Check my records. I¡¯ve never known my mother, and my father was disowned by his clan. The only family I have left is Thallos, and I barely know the man.¡±


    Thrasher plucked his glasses from his nose and massaged his brow with his free hand. ¡°I am aware of Master Thallos. He is a¡­. Unique character. I wouldn¡¯t put faith in a man like him, nor would I forget about him.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I mean that while he is not a nice man, he means well. And that you should never cut out family unless they are truly bad to you. He very rarely takes on apprentices, and those he does take often are put through great ordeals. But those that have passed his training are some of the best.¡±


    ¡°Wait, what? Thallos takes on students? What does he teach?¡± I was so very confused by these comments.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that I can¡¯t speak to that till the time is right. But you are focusing on the wrong aspect of what I have spoken about. You can¡¯t toss him aside when he could help you through this emotional turmoil. You also should not forget about what your friends can do. I saw you fight back there, you did not bear arms alone and should never forget that you are not alone. Vengeance is not the sole purpose in life. You need to find joy and passion with those who care about you.¡±


    ¡°And what if my joy comes from fighting? You¡¯ve seen my lack of talent. How can I achieve my goals if you say that they are reachable?¡±


    I saw him flash a half-smirk at me. ¡°I never said that those goals would be easy. But if you try hard enough, I have a feeling that you can reach those high peaks that you seek. Again, I¡¯ve seen you fight when life is on the line. You have the spark of the intent, the fire of will needed to become a real warrior.¡±


    ¡°But if I have that spark, then why can¡¯t I win a single match in sparring during martial combat classes? All I¡¯ve ever done is fail and fail hard.¡± I snarled at my fists, not daring to make eye contact. I found that it was easier to talk to the Mystagogue when I wasn¡¯t making eye contact. I stuttered less and felt that I could be more emotionally honest, which he didn¡¯t seem to be offended by.


    ¡°Have you ever thought that maybe you kept losing because you didn¡¯t have something to fight for? When that boy¡¯s life was on the line, I was at the door when I saw you jump into action. I watched you, Iver. You tried to ignore what was being done till his life was on the line. After that moment when you saw that a life was in danger, you leaped into action without thinking. When you needed to act, you did so. You made a choice within the span of a few heartbeats, and you never thought twice until it was too late to turn back, and even then, you kept going.¡±


    ¡°Wait, you saw the whole thing? I thought that you only came in at the end.¡± I pressed as I tentatively raised my eyes to his.


    He gave another slow nod. ¡°We instructors often take lunch with students just in case moments like this occur. While we admit that students will die during the training year, we will keep an eye out if a promising student is in danger. It''s not uncommon for a talented student to be bullied and abused because of their talents. In those circumstances, we are allowed to intervene.¡±


    ¡°So, is Ferris a promising student?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I am sad to say no. He has expressed a desire to join the Silent Heart as an assassin, but his rage has been too much of an issue for him to be considered a selection.¡±


    It was at that moment that I decided to help Ferris become an assassin. He was struggling against his dream, just like me. I already called him a friend, but this only took it a step further.


    ¡°So what you''re saying is that I can become a Crimson Blade if I try hard enough?¡± I pressed.


    ¡°Yes.¡± Thrasher admitted


    ¡°Then I will achieve my goal, and I will help Ferris with his.¡± I stood abruptly. ¡°May I please be excused?¡±


    He gave a single, slow nod in confirmation. As I turned to leave, I heard him say, ¡°Please do your best to enjoy this break. If you are going to become a Mastlok, then you are going to have few breaks like this.¡±

 Chapter 19

    In Elven culture, half-breeds are frowned upon and are regularly mistreated for being of ¡®impure blood¡¯. Yet, there is a taboo among the Elven people that makes no sense to those outside of the culture. An Elf of one breed may not reproduce with an Elf of another breed. Elves born of two breeds are called Quints and are reviled by almost all Elven people. These Elves are thought of as abominations because of an old Elven prophecy that says that an Elf of two breeds will aid in the end of a nation.


    Day 108 Quenchenday


    Today was the first day back to class after a week of rest. During that week, I got better acquainted with Ferris and did plenty of training with Rose and Nel. We walked to the dining hall as a group, talking together as we readied for the day ahead.


    ¡°Come on, Iver, there¡¯s no way you¡¯re gonna beat anyone with those twig arms of yours. That strike last Quenchenday was a fluke.¡± Rose said with a dismissive wave.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be so mean, Rose. Iver could totally make it into the Crimson Blade if he tries hard enough.¡± Nel defended, mock-punching Rose in the shoulder.


    ¡°Whatever, Iver can make it into the Crimson Blade if I can make it into the Silent Heart.¡± Ferris boasted, his nose high even as his hands fidgeted with his shirt.


    Ferris and I had spent a lot of time just sitting back and talking the past few days. It took some serious effort, but I managed to convince him that no one in the group was going to attack him. But he still felt like he had something to prove. Where, with my lack of social experience and skill, I was timid and quick to apologize for any small thing, Ferris went a different route. I could tell he had just as much social trouble as myself, but he felt he had to prove he was strong and capable and hide any weakness. He never opened up about his home life, but from the way he acted, it had to be pretty bad.


    ¡°Oh, come on, Ferris, no need to act so hoity-toity.¡± Rose sniped.


    ¡°I¡¯m not being hoity-toity.¡± Ferris shot back in an offended tone that I wasn¡¯t sure if he was joking or honestly offended.


    ¡°I like your faith there, Ferris,¡± I spoke up to stop an argument before it got too far. ¡°but we can¡¯t just expect to get what we want at our current pace. We need to step up our game, especially after today, if Mystagogue Thrasher was telling me the truth about today.¡±


    ¡°Oh, he was telling the truth.¡± Rose confirmed with a wicked smile. ¡°You kids are in for some serious hell that won¡¯t stop till you graduate.¡±


    ¡°Care to elaborate on that?¡± Nel asked with a deadpan tone and an arched brow.


    Rose gave an over-exaggerated roll of the wrist toward Nel as she leaned sideways toward the girl and tilted her head to look past her brow to make eye contact with Nel. ¡°Sadly, I can not. And my woe goes out to you.¡± She spoke with an accent that was used on stage to mimic industrial-era high-class ladies from the now long-dead nation of Tiassus. Her tone was an overly dramatic flavor that was meant to sound like her own bemoaning or mourning. ¡°Anyway, you need to get to the auditorium for the announcement, and I need to get to class ssssoooo, toodles, my dear chitlins!¡± With that, she bounded off to the mass ahead of us into the Aegis Halls, no doubt to find an elevator and descend into the many mysteries under the surface structure. ¡°We aren¡¯t your kids! You¡¯re only a year older, dreck-head!¡± Nel shouted, her hands cupped around her lips.


    ¡°Really? Dreck? Are you a slum slicker now? Living in a hive city? Why not just say ¡®shit head¡¯?¡± I mocked Nel as I ribbed her with an elbow. ¡°We are almost adults, so we can say what we want, within reason at least.¡±


    We passed down the entry hall of the main building, making our way to the auditorium as we debated and bickered.


    ¡°What exactly do you mean by ¡®within reason¡¯?¡± Nel asked.


    ¡°Oh, come on, Nel. Would you walk up to a Mystagogue or noble and call them a shit-licking cock fucker?¡±


    ¡°Well, no.¡± She sounded uncertain as she thought about it.


    ¡°Are you crazy?!¡± Ferris burst out, throwing his hands in the air. ¡°I come from a noble family; saying something like that to a noble of any nation can get you executed if you¡¯re of lesser rank than them or challenged to a duel if you¡¯re a noble too. Hells, you might even start a war between noble houses if the offense is bad enough.¡±


    Nel and I both turned to look at the Elf as if he was completely mad. ¡°What?!¡± we said in perfect unison.


    The normally angry and aggressive Elf lowered his head and clutched his left upper arm in his opposite hand in a clearly nervous action. ¡°Well, technically, I¡¯m a bastard. The Stillwind family is a well-known noble house in Evarra, the Elven nation. They have their threads around a bunch of trade and transport companies. I¡¯m a Quint, a half-breed between two kinds of Elves. My mother is a High Elf of house Stillwind. My father is a Wild Elf war chief. And you know how Elves think about Quints.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve heard how they treat your kind worse than trash. Slaves with the worst jobs, regular beatings, and torture.¡± Nel commented, her eyes conveying a clear disturbance at the thought.


    ¡°I was lucky enough to avoid the torture, but they pressed me into the rest. My mother would often throw berserk fits of rage, breaking everything in a room and forcing me to clean up after her with little more than a damp cloth and a bucket. She is also well known for her paintings, so cleaning up flung paint became a regular duty of mine. I speak from experience when I say that nobles are nothing more than a bunch of pompous pricks and children that rage and beat on anything at hand when they don¡¯t get their way. My mother often lets guests beat me for things as small as their soup being too cold.¡± When Ferris spoke, his eyes stared unseeingly at his feet as he picked at his nails in an almost compulsive manner. I also noticed that he started shuffling his feet, forcing Nel and me to slow our pace and shorten our steps.


    ¡°I don¡¯t get it. Why would your mother be so cruel? Maybe I¡¯m missing something because I¡¯ve never had one, but I thought that a mother was supposed to be loving and nurturing?¡±


    ¡°No, you¡¯re not missing anything, Iver.¡± Nel reassured me. ¡°I think it has less to do with her being a mother and more of a cultural issue because Ferris is a Quint.¡±


    Ferris viciously nodded his head so hard that he stumbled. I managed to catch him by the shoulder before he toppled ass over hammer. ¡°Thanks.¡± he muttered to me as he righted himself. ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re right. You see, Elves are a little fixated on bloodlines. Marriages are not normally made out of love like most other species. Instead, the primary goal of a marriage is to give birth to the strongest children possible, to forge a better business partnership, to acquire more land or money or some other resource. You get the point?¡±


    Nel and I both nodded. ¡°It sounds like marriage is more political than romantic.¡± Nel summed up exactly what I was thinking with that simple line.


    ¡°That¡¯s striking at the heart of the matter. And I can assume that you both know that Elven children are a rare sight.¡± We both nodded yet again. Elves could live up to around five hundred years, meaning they had a remarkably slow rate of birth and longer periods of gestation than any other species. Elves didn¡¯t reach early adulthood till they were forty years of age.


    ¡°So it¡¯s not a huge leap of logic to realize that children are sacred in Elven culture. So everyone knows that Half-Elves bred with other species are frowned upon. They claim that it¡¯s like watering down a fine wine. Well, cross-breeding with other Elven breeds is like mixing whiskey with red wine.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m assuming that¡¯s a gross mix? Sorry, I¡¯ve never had anything other than my father¡¯s bourbon, and that was just a taste once.¡± I commented, only admitting my blatant ignorance of the topic of brewing and distilling.


    ¡°I only make that analogy because my slither-spined mother made me live through it.¡± When Nel and I gave questioning looks, he elaborated as we massed into the auditorium, all taking seats near the back of the large room. ¡°First, my mother gave me a glass of rather pricey red wine. As she made sure that I drank the entire glass, she said that it was like a strong family bloodline. It tasted really bitter and flowery, like I was chewing on a rose blossom. She then poured me another glass of wine but filled half with water and made me drink it. She said that was like the blood of a Half-Elf, someone of impure heritage. Personally, I found that one tasted better than the first, and maybe that¡¯s why I¡¯ve always liked Half-Elves more than full-blooded ones. But finally, she pulled down a tankard, filled it half with the red wine, and filled the rest from a bottle of Dwarven whiskey. She said that it was ¡®putrid filth¡¯ and that was what I was. She made me drink the whole thing. I can¡¯t even explain how bad that stuff was. It burned like fire going down, tasted like I was drinking lighter fluid mixed with rose oil, and made my stomach heave. When I threw up, she made me clean it up with my tongue for fifteen minutes before allowing me to have a bucket and rag.¡± I watched as the young Elf clenched his fists so hard that his dark skin paled at the knuckles. ¡°And she watched me with a smirk for the whole time, part of it with a heel from her platinum-quality shoe digging into my neck.¡±


    I was almost physically ill at the story. My father may have knocked me around, but he was never cruel. Definitely never as depraved as the woman Ferris called his mother. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t fully explain why she was so vicious, does it?¡± I asked.


    Ferris gave a weighty shrug before he said, ¡°It doesn¡¯t help matters that my war chief father kidnapped and raped my mother for months on end. She has never let me live down how that was how I was conceived. So much so that I got an early education into how babies are made and what rape was. All of her friends have heard the harrowing story of her months of torture and violation before escaping into the dead of night when he was too drunk to cage her back up or how she tried to live with dignity while she was forced to carry me in her womb, or the even more harrowing endeavor of pushing me out like a, and I quote ¡®like pushing out a whole rotting hog¡¯ from between her legs.¡±


    Nel and I traded looks of total mute shock. It was downright inhumane how he had been treated growing up. This explained why he was so distrusting of everyone, and it made me sick to my stomach just thinking of that kind of life.


    ¡°I am deeply sorry that you have that kind of home life, but I need to ask, why open up now?¡± I asked. ¡°Every time I¡¯ve asked about your past and your family, you¡¯ve locked up. Why spill your guts now?¡±


    Ferris shrugged. The silence between us stretched out before he gave an answer. ¡°I can¡¯t really explain it. You both have been completely open with your past. And Iver, you were honest about all the abuse you went through when you had no reason to be. I guess listening to all the horrible things that have happened to both of you just needed to sink in before I could feel right sharing my troubles. Plus, Rose isn¡¯t here, which helps. She makes me feel uncomfortable.¡±


    Before either of us could come up with a suitable response, there was a clapping sound from the stage area of the massive hall.


    <hr>


    I


    If I¡¯ve never explained what the auditorium, also known as the Great Hall, looks like, let me paint you a picture. The walls are made of white marble laced through with veins of black and gold. The trim along each edge and corner of the room was made of dark stained cherry wood that was carved to look like ornate rolling waves of the tides. In each corner of the room were matching cherry wood pillars just like in Mystagogue Thrasher''s office, only these were much larger and delicately carved with depictions of heroes slaying monsters, mages casting mighty spells, craftsmen forging legendary works and veiled assassins stalking kings, one pillar dedicated to each theme. I thought it rather fitting that the spy sect was missing a pillar since they wanted to remain quiet and unnoticed. Draped in arching waves along the highest points of each wall were velvet curtains of deep black, sapphire blue, and royal purple, with silk banners of blood red and royal purple hung at the lowest bow of each curtain.


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Taking up the center of the room were six long tables, each spanning what I could only guestimate to be seventy-five yards. These tables were a finely carved cross-work of marble and wood matching the walls. In some places, the tables almost seemed designed to look like the wood was flowing through grooves, crevasses, and bows in the stone. In other places, the inverse seemed true, with stone looking to flow through the notches and natural breaks of the wood. But the tables were all precisely cut and level on the surface, with engravings along the trim that looked like grapevines in full bloom. The tables were placed vertically parallel across the room with stone benches draped with plush throw pillows of velvet, all a uniform maroon. At the head of each table was an arrow-shaped banner displaying each of the sects in the colors found around the room. The blade crossed over the slashed eye of the Crimson Blade sect, The mechanical fist holding a raised hammer of the Burning Hand sec, The crown with a crack splitting metal and the central gem of the Blackened Crown sect, the blind eye crowned with seven stars of the Sightless Eye sect, and the anatomic heart pierced by a dagger and leaking blood of the Silent Heart. The sixth banner displayed a raven skull with one eye engulfed in blue flames looking down at a bleeding anatomic heart set atop a three-way crossguard of a vicious curved dagger set point down over an Elven and a Dwarven war sword crossed in an X formation. Behind the banners stood the raised platform of a stage with a dais in the center.


    This all sat in front of the current student body, who all sat on bleachers against the back wall. All present were slates, hence why none of us had taken a seat at any of the sect tables. But did have a burning curiosity about that sixth table.


    <hr>


    Striding toward the dais was the Mysteriarch herself. She walked like a predator, ready to pounce on any unsuspecting slate. She stalked with long strides of her shapely legs across the stage with fluid strides in those nightmarish high-heel combat boot hybrids. As she made her way to the front center of the stage, she gave a slow yet loud clap to get the attention of the student body. Silence washed over the bleachers in a wave as students noticed who was probably the most dangerous person in the entire academy.


    As she reached the middle of the stage, a trapdoor opened in front of her, and an elegant podium shaped like a lightning-struck dead oak rose. As the podium locked in place, Mysteriarch K made a wave to the student body that seemed more utilitarian than a greeting. When she started making more gestures, her hands glowing with yellow, white, and purple, I realized she was casting a spell. She pressed the tips of her fingers on both hands to either side of her throat, and the myst dissipated.


    ¡°Good morning, students.¡± Her Elven Highlands thick voice sounded like she was standing right in front of me and not carried almost a hundred yards. ¡°I do hope you all have a pleasant break after this year¡¯s first quarter. If you are here now, that means that you have earned a sufficient score in both mundane studies and sect training. But do not get comfortable because starting today, we are introducing a new variable into your day-to-day life. The variable is what we call The Point Factor. Starting today, you will be in competition with everyone else in this room. You will gain points from any of the six vectors. I will have each Master step up and explain the pertaining vectors, but what you need to know is that there is one vector for each of the five sects and a six that you can think of as extra credit. As you complete these challenges, you will score points based on how the challenge is completed. These points will bring you closer to joining the sect pertaining to that vector.¡± She gave a moment¡¯s pause as the slates began muttering to each other.


    Nel and Ferris looked at me in concern, clearly expecting me to have answers, but I could only shrug helplessly, with a nervous grimace painting my face.


    ¡°Now.¡± Mysteriarch started back up, bringing the room back to silence with a single word. ¡°Now, you must understand that these points are meant to subsidize your sect classes and not replace or overshadow your quarterly and final exams. This point system will be kept in place until the day of your graduation, so get comfortable staying on your toes at all times. Now for the breakdown, Master Bail, you have the floor.¡± The headmaster turned away and took a seat against the back wall, at the apex of the dais, in what looked very much like a throne. Her posture was an entertained lounge that reminded me of a large, predatory cat. Her gold-capped fangs didn¡¯t help imagery as they glinted in the light while she set her remaining cheek in the palm of her right hand.


    The massive female Orc that was Master Mystagogue Darrdain Bail stepped up to the podium. Her stride was less like a hungry cat and more like that of a surefooted warrior. As she reached the podium, she shook her shoulder loose and rolled her neck, which I could only assume emitted a series of cracks that we were just too far out to hear. She turned over one shoulder to look at Mysteriarch K, who tapped her throat with her free hand, a ball of yellow-white light separating from her person to stand on the tips of her fingers. The headmaster tossed the glowing ball of energy to the Master, who smoothly shifted from catching it to pressing it into her own neck. ¡°Good morning, students!¡± She shouted, causing the entire student body to recoil in shock and pain. She coughed into her fist and tried again. ¡°Good morning, students. The first vector that you need to be aware of is for the Crimson Blade, the Martial Vector, or MV. To acquire points in this vector, you must challenge another student or students to a duel and defeat them with standard combat choices. In other words, swords, fists, bows, guns, and so on are allowed. These weapons should be non-lethal. If you choose to use lethal weapons, you are only allowed to legally challenge another student with a lethal weapon. Deaths made by these challenges will not provide extra points, and the death of a non-lethal student with intentional lethal force will result in half of your acquired points from all vectors being stripped.¡± She rolled her neck again, clearly uncomfortable with speaking to so many people at once.


    ¡°Now to how points are scored. This goes for all vectors. In order to score points, the combat or interaction must be recorded. You will do so by double-tapping your therra-node, which will auto-start a record sequence. If you do not record, you do not get points even if you are the vector. And tampering with the data will not be permitted. To score points with the Martial Vector, as I said, you will need to challenge another student or students to a duel. You can challenge solo or as a group as well. The vector will take the points regardless of whether or not they initiated the combat. Defeating one opponent will score you one point, and every opponent after that defeated by said student will have a rising value. In other words, one opponent equals one point, two opponents, the first is worth one point, and the second is worth two points; three opponents mean the first is worth one point, the second is worth two, and the third is worth three points, and so on. Only the student who makes the blow that renders the opponent incapable of continuing gets the point. So, ganging up on one person will not score the entire party a point. And again, I must make this clear: to gain the Martial Vector points, your opponent must be aware of the attack. Master Kellar, you have the floor.¡± With that, the large woman with the bionic eye tapped her throat and tossed the orb to the plain-looking man as he stepped up.


    Master Mystagogue Dain Kellar pressed the spell into his throat and, without skipping a beat, began speaking as he reached the center of the stage. ¡°Hello, students. The next vector we will discuss is the Escape Vector, or EV. If another student or students challenge you, your goal to gain these points is evasion. In other words, flee. If your pursuers give up the chase, you stay out of line of sight for five minutes or avoid capture for fifteen minutes. Then, you will score points based on the number of pursuers. The number of points gained is dependent on the number of pursuers. So, if you evade five pursuers, you gain five points. Alternatively, if you can go an entire week without being challenged, attacked, or without an assassination attempt on you, you will score one point. Thank you for your time. Master Keckarra, I will pass you the floor.¡± With that, he stepped back and turned, meeting the next master halfway to simply hand her the spell ball.


    This Master I knew next to nothing about. All of my assassin classes had been taught by either one of the Spy Mystagogues or Mystagogue Kellenar, who seemed to have something against me. From this distance, what I could tell about the Master Assassin was that she was clearly a woman, an Elven woman, a Wood Elf, to be precise. Brown hair and dark sclera that I could only guess were brown. I knew her irises had to be green because of her breed.


    ¡°Good evening, students.¡± She drew out her Os and ending Ss. Her accent was maybe from the northern end of the Kethran Empire. ¡°The Silent Heart¡¯s vector is the Hit Vector or HV. You will score one point for giving a lethal blow to an unaware target. No murder is allowed unless there are extenuating circumstances. Beyond that, the scoring system is the same as the first vector. Again, the target must be unaware. You may strike during class, at lunch, or even in the target¡¯s own room. Rather than poison, I will provide a series of non-lethal options that can be administered as a solid, powder, drinkable, or injectable. If you want to get ingenuitive enough to try to use a gas, please let me know and break down how you will use it. All of these so-called poisons will only cause stomach pain, vomiting, or drowsiness. That is all I have to say. Master Craftsman, the floor is yours.¡± She turned from the podium as if we were less than nothing and handed off the spell orb to the ever-affable Master Mallock.


    He made his way across the stage with what I could only describe as a peppy shuffle. ¡°Good morning, students,¡± he began as he toyed with his mechanical left eye. ¡°I¡¯m here today to discuss the Craft Vector or CV. Now, doesn¡¯t that sound exciting?¡± Even from where I was, I could see his broad grin as he spread his arms wide. ¡°Now I know tinkering isn¡¯t what you would think of as dramatic or spiffy, or as some would say, ¡®badass¡¯. But the work is honest, as safe as you make it, and can even be reasonably therapeutic. To score points in this vector, you will obviously need to craft devices. Myself or another Burning Hand instructor will score you based on complexity as well as whether or not it works as desired. You do need to record the crafting process with your therra-node to prove you yourself made it, and you didn¡¯t steal it from a classmate. But for those of you with a bit of fire in your heels and heart, you can also score points based on the creative use of tools that you make in combat situations. I can¡¯t wait to see what you all create. Master Caster, the floor is all yours.¡± With that, Master Mallock plucked the spell orb from his neck and shot it from the tip of his mechanical finger like a pistol.


    The Gnome master stepped up and plucked the orb from the air, her other hand pressed behind her back. With no due drama, she pressed the orb to her throat and marched up to the podium. Because of the fact that she was no taller than three and a half feet, she vanished from sight behind the tree-shaped podium. She then gradually and evenly rose above the bench as if it were totally natural. Her orange skin was in dramatic contrast to her bright pink hair, which stood in all directions, reminding me of a dandelion puff. ¡°For those that do not know me, I am Master Mystagogue Nellis Neckar, and I will be addressed as Master or Mystagogue Neckar.¡± Her voice was reedy and high but held a tone like a bar of steel. ¡°I will explain the fifth and final standard vector. The Spell Vector, and if I have to tell you the abbreviation at this point in the lecture, then you should just forfeit now and save us the trouble of grading you. If you have the ability to cast spells, then this route will be open to you but does not guarantee that you will join the sect of the Blackened Crown. Gaining points in this vector is based on spell complexity. You will score one point for mixing two elements in a spell and two points if you can mix three. These spells have a minimum capacity requirement of five vells. You are not allowed to exceed fifteen vells for any one spell, but seeing as the average capacity of a Mystwell is around twenty, I hope none of you are that stupid. The elements Life, Death, and Ruin are banned from use for safety purposes. Fate and Chaos are allowed limited use but no more than two vells at any one time. These spells can be used for mundane purposes or in combat. I would advise you to keep enough in reserve for at least one spell in case you are attacked. If used in combat, the same rules about murder and fatality apply as those for Hit Vector and Martial Vector. That is all I have to say.¡± With those final words, she lowered herself back out of sight before marching back to her space at the back of the room.


    Mysteriarch K stood and made her way back to center stage, stopping only to retrieve her spell from the Gnome instructor. As she came back to the ornate podium, we could all hear as she cleared her throat. ¡°I will explain the six vectors, the Hero Vector. To avoid confusion with the Hit Vector, we don¡¯t abbreviate this one. Hero Points are awarded to someone who steps in and risks their life to save someone else who is in danger. These points are not necessary to join a sect or graduate, but they do look good on your academy record, and there may be benefits later on down the line for those with enough Hero Points.¡± As the headmaster went silent, murmurs rose among the slates. I could hear hushed declarations from some claiming they would claim the most Hero Points while others scoffed at the idea of risking themselves for something as ephemeral as a point with no value.


    Mysteriarch K let these mutters persist for a few more moments before she spoke back up.¡°We hope that this orientation was informative. Should you have any questions, feel free to ask any of the Mystagogues. We only wish you all the best in these challenges, and as always, May the five fragments bless you. You are dismissed.¡±


    As she turned away, the student body stood as one and began walking towards the exit. ¡°Well, I¡¯m doomed.¡± I groused, feeling completely hopeless.


    ¡°Why?¡± Ferris asked.


    ¡°Are you kidding?!¡± I exclaimed, drawing the attention of several other groups of students. Abashed, I lowered my voice to a harsh whisper. ¡°After that talk, my number one takeaway is that if I want to get into the Crimson Blade, I need to do so by winning fights without using any gadgets. Gadgets are my only saving grace in a fight. Gadgets that will only score my points with the Burning Hand. I¡¯m dead, screwed ten ways from Quenchday. I bit that bad apple.¡±


    ¡°OK! We get it, Iver.¡± Snapped Nel. ¡°Gods above, you¡¯re not going to fail. Just put in some more time with Rose. She¡¯s already training you on Quenchdays, right? Adding a few sessions after class a few days a week wouldn¡¯t hurt.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, she¡¯s been ¡®training¡¯ me on our off days.¡± I said ¡°training¡± with air quotes, ¡°In reality, she¡¯s been beating me with wooden sticks and metal rods for a couple of hours every day off I¡¯ve had. I don¡¯t feel like I¡¯m improving. What I do feel is my growing collection of welts and bruises. The only change in my skills is that I¡¯m getting superb at taking hits.¡±


    ¡°We all need to start somewhere, and learning to take a hit isn¡¯t the worst place to begin,¡± Nel consoled.


    ¡°If it¡¯s not the worst, then I¡¯d hate to see anything worse because it certainly hurts the most.¡±


    ¡°At least you aren¡¯t learning what it¡¯s like to get stabbed,¡± Ferris pointed out.


    I shivered at the thought of being kabob¡¯d on the end of a sword. ¡°Gee Ferris, thanks for that mental image. Nothing says friendship like giving your buddy phantom pains of getting stabbed.¡±

 Chapter 20

    In the Aegis Academies, student murder isn¡¯t uncommon. Sometimes disguised as tragic accidents and other times performed in the light of day with dozens of witnesses. The only trainees that are protected from attacks and banned from attacking are the Slates. Even when a Slate murders another student, the punishment is more akin to a slap on the wrist than anything of any severity.


    Day 120 Quenchenday


    ¡°So what¡¯s your score, Iver? Any noteworthy encounters.¡± Rose pried as we made our way across the dining hall, trays in hand. Today¡¯s lunch was soggy steamed greens, soggy fries, and a burger as dry as the Iron Desert. For an order that supposedly spans the globe and guides nations, you¡¯d think that their food would be palatable, at least.


    We wove our way through the maze of tables and bodies till we arrived at the table Nel and Ferris had claimed on behalf of our party. The table was nestled in a corner of the hall. This table had become our usual dining spot, secluded and easily defensible. I had become quite fond of this local.


    I slipped into a seat with my back to the rest of the room. Because of Rose, I felt completely safe in this position. She sat across from me with her back to the wall. While her gaze focused on me with a look of amusement, she was still actively taking in the entire room, ready for any threats.


    I perched my cheek against my fist, elbow propped against the table. I gave her a heavy, disgruntled sigh and rolled my eyes from Rose over to Nel and Ferris. ¡°You two want to tell her the score? Or do I need to walk her through indignity?¡±


    Ferris snorted around a mouth full of food with an entertained smirk. Nel gave me a look that was a cross between pity and amusement that made me squirm. ¡°I¡¯ll let you explain. It is your story, after all.¡±


    Ferris gave an audible swallow before blurting out, ¡°Besides Iver, when you tell it, it¡¯s always funny.¡±


    I gave a resigned grunt before leaning back in my seat as I turned back to Rose to explain. I would never admit it, but I got a sense of satisfaction from making these friends of mine laugh, even at my own expense. Well, that was true, so long as they weren¡¯t mocking me and making derogatory comments.


    ¡°Let¡¯s start from day one. Not three hours after the introduction of the scoring system, I was ¡®assassinated¡¯ by Gellar, the High Elf from Mallrimor¡¯s gang of thugs, who tripped me, kneed me in the balls, and slapped my ass with one of his training blades. Point, Elven ass wipe. The next day, Brecken, the Orc from Mallrimor¡¯s mass of man meat, tracked me down during lunch. He challenged me, and when I turned him down and turned to walk away, he slapped my ass with the flat of his axe like a golf ball, launching me over two tables and face-first into a tray of food. By the way, turning down a duel doesn¡¯t negate the ability to score a point. Point, green skin muscle sack. The day after that, Kesher, the Dracose from, you guessed it, the prideful pigeon¡¯s pack of petulant pansies, attacked. His version of a challenge was to tap me on the shoulder with a claw. When I turned, he drove his training Greatsword in an upward arc between my legs. With one blow, he hit my man bits and my ass while lifting me off the ground. Point, scaled guerilla. And, of course, yesterday, the big pigeon himself took it upon himself to put my delicate, dangly bits in a vice grip with the added bonus of high voltage. Oh, and between each of these humiliating episodes, I was accosted by a grand total of nine assassins, thirteen warriors, and three other casters. I¡¯ve seen the medical center no less than twice a day for the past two weeks.¡± As I recounted my abuse and trauma, I watched with a mixture of pride and annoyance as Rose¡¯s face contorted. Her lips pinched like she was holding lemon rind to the roof of her mouth as she tried to hold back a cackle. Her eyes watered till tears ran down her face from the effort, and with every accounting, a rather unladylike snort slipped out.


    ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡± I groused with a dismissive wave of my hand. ¡°Har har har. Look at Iver literally get his ass kicked and his balls racked. So funny. I swear if I had points deducted for every time I lost, I¡¯d be on the street right now.¡± I self-deprecated. When I looked down at my food, I found my appetite lost and satisfaction from the story, vacant. I lowered my hands into my lap and clutched at my pant legs. Now that I was thinking about all of those fights, I really did feel weak. I was hoping to recover at least some sense of pride and dignity from entertaining my companions. I only felt positive for a brief span of seconds. But at that moment, I only felt weak and walked all over.


    I wasn¡¯t going to make it. That fight to save Ferris was just a fluke. I was the weakest in class. My only talent was in tinkering. The only things I could make were trinkets and doodads. I would never make it into the Crimson Blade. I needed to come to terms with the fact that I would never be a warrior, and at the rate I was going, they would excommunicate me from the order and academy for failure to meet standards. As my vision blurred, I felt a burning in my chest, the scolding pain of realization. I felt two wet trails run down my face to leave droplets against the back of my hands.


    Rose¡¯s face softened to a kind half-smile, her eyes reflecting only tender warmth. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to have laughed. I understand how indignant it all must have felt. You know, I wasn¡¯t always as good a fighter as I am now.¡±


    I have another derisive snort. ¡°Yeah, you were a total weakling like me back when you were eight or nine.¡±


    She gave me a serious look. ¡°I was just as weak as you this time last year. When I was a Slate, even with years of training from my father and uncles, I still was up against some seriously steep competition. I knew how to fight, and I was getting my ass kicked three times a day when they introduced the point system to my class. In the first week, I only managed to score one point, and that was because the opponent slipped.¡±


    I shook my head in disbelief. ¡°I doubt that. Having sparred with you enough, I know that you¡¯re a total badass. If your classmates whooped you that bad, then your class must be on a level near legendary.¡±


    The primal leaned back in her chair as she draped an arm over the back. ¡°You¡¯re near the mark. My class is called the Class of Heroes. Almost all of my classmates are third or fourth-generation order initiates. We also have students with direct lineages to eighth circle mages, royal guards, nobles from the local government, and even a few that are related to actual heroes a couple of generations back. Even now, I¡¯m still of fairly average skill compared to the rest of my class.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re average for your class?¡± I asked, barely lifting my head.


    She leaned forward to press her point. ¡°Hells, yes! Are you kidding?! I still lose fights fairly regularly. And if I can keep up with my class, then you definitely can step up your game and become a real contender.¡± She pushed off her knees to stand and stepped up beside me, laying a comforting hand on my shoulder.


    ¡°Are you being serious?¡± I asked, a spark of hope lighting in my chest even as I curled in over myself, scared of that spark dying from this all being a cruel joke. ¡°You¡¯re not screwing with me?¡± I felt a grip wrap around the hands in my lap. I looked up to find Nel kneeling beside me, holding my white knuckle grip in both of her hands. Her metal hands gripped my flesh hands gently yet firmly. Her hands were warm somehow. My gaze lifted from her hands to her scarred, half-mechanical face, a face that showed only sympathy and kindness.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m being completely honest.¡± Rose said. ¡°You can make it into the Crimson Blade. You just need to put your heart and soul into it.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s right, Iver. You can become a great warrior if you don¡¯t lose faith.¡± Nel gave her words the weight of honesty and her own faith as she squeezed my hands reassuringly.


    I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Faith. I needed to keep faith. But faith in what? The Gods? They had never given me any aid. The Titans? They were notorious for being cruel and toying with mortals. The Eternals? They were indifferent embodiments of the forces of creation. So who then?


    ¡°Who could I put my faith in?¡± I muttered. ¡°None of the divinities would do anything for me.¡±


    ¡°The divinities?¡± Rose asked. ¡°No numbskull.¡± She put both hands on my shoulders and gave me a firm squeeze. ¡°Have faith in yourself. Faith in yourself and those that trust you.¡±


    ¡°Come on, dude. Stop making things mushy. Just stand up and keep pushing.¡± Ferris chided with a smirk that showed his trust in me.


    I wiped my eyes and forced a smile. I could never believe in myself. But those guys, Nel, Rose, and Ferris, the very first friends I had ever made, I could put my faith in them. I could fight for them.


    ¡°Okay.¡± I muttered with a deep, centering breath. I was going to give this another try.


    I focused on my breathing. Just think positive, I told myself inwardly.


    ¡°Yo! Skavy horned freak! I challenge you.¡± Came a rough yet young voice from behind me. As one, we all turned around. Rose stepped aside to reveal a group of students. Four students, two male Humans, a male Elf, and an Orc girl. The Humans were a slender redhead with freckles and a stout, dark-haired boy with a strong build. The dark-haired Orc girl with moss-green skin looked like she could benchpress a boulder. The Elf was a Wild Elf, with brown-red hair cut short but spiky, tanned bronze-olive skin, bright green irises, and grass-green sclera. The Wild Elf was pointing a steel training Katana at me. The three behind him were all smirking, arms crossed or hands in pockets.


    Ferris and Nennel jumped to their feet, ready to stand up for me.


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter, Skavy? Already crying cuz you know how bad I¡¯m about to beat your ass.¡± The Elf sneered.


    Nel and Ferris stepped forward, but Rose set a staying hand on each of their shoulders. ¡°I think it¡¯s time Ives'' stands up and takes a win.¡±


    ¡°You sure?¡± Ferris asked unbelievingly.


    ¡°He needs to prove to himself and everyone else that he can fight back.¡± Rose said even as she stepped aside, taking a handoff Ferris to rest it on my shoulder again. ¡°Come on now, Ive¡¯s. I think it¡¯s time that you proved to everyone in this room that you¡¯ve got enough backbone to break theirs.¡±


    I wiped my face with the back of a shaking hand. Ferris and Nel took a step back as I pulled myself to my feet. I stepped forward, fingering the metal training blade at my hip with my gauntleted hand. Rose stepped up beside me and whispered in my ear. ¡°If it helps, think of this like a game of Garden of the Gods. Think with tactics, but don¡¯t fight your instincts. Most of all, believe that you¡¯ve got this.¡± I glanced at her, worry in my eyes. This time, she was the one to take a step back. She flashed me a smile and gave me two thumbs up.


    I closed my eyes and took another centering breath, trying to calm my rising anxiety. Sliding into a combat-ready stance, I firmly set my right foot back. My torso turned to reduce the target I presented. I double-tapped my there-node to start the recording. Resting my left hand on the hilt at my right hip, I looked the Elf dead in the eye and said in as strong a voice as I could manage, ¡°Bring it on, shark tooth.¡±


    With my therra-node active, I used the hands-free Synoma-Link mode of my therra-node to ping or mark each of those against me as targets. I mentally labeled each for easy reference: Redhead, Stout, She-tank, and Wilder.


    I drew my blade, holding the blade forward, tip low, in a defensive stance. I caught something out of the corner of my eye. Standing in a corner of the dining room was Mystagogue Thrasher. The moment we made eye contact, he gave me a single, sure nod, wordlessly conveying his faith in me.


    I brought my gaze back to center only to find that the two Humans and She-tank had taken a step back, and Wilder was charging at me, his Katana raised over his shoulder for a downward chop.


    CRAP! What did Rose say? Tactics and instinct? Fuck! What should I do?! My thoughts rushed into a jumbled and panicked mess.


    He closed the distance in a matter of seconds while I was panicking. I saw the blade coming down at me, and I could only think of one thing to do. I lept back and switched my stance from left to right. The blade passed me by a hair¡¯s breadth. I only had a fraction of a second to think of what to do next. He was exposed from the missed attack. Aim for the head? No. He could dodge that.


    With the blade in my backhand, I waited till it swung past my waist. Then I pivoted my front foot, spun away from the attack, and threw my momentum into a strike with my own weapon aimed at his leading ankle. As soon as I heard his blade strike the tile floor with a resounding CLANG, I doubled down on my attack, striking his frontmost ankle. My sweeping strike caught his posting foot that held all his weight and threw it out from under him. I followed through on the swing as I saw Wilder begin to tumble to his back. I took another rotation to keep my momentum, losing a bit when I gave a slight stumble. But I pressed on with my next move. As Wilder struck the floor, I took all my momentum and drove my gauntleted right fist into his gut, driving him even harder to the floor. I watched with a degree of satisfaction as the wind left his lungs, and he curled in on himself, gasping, gagging, and coughing.


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    I staggered back, almost falling from an onset of dizziness from the rotations I took. As I came to a stop and centered my balance, I knelt down over the Wild Elf. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Are you okay?¡± I asked, worried that I caused too much damage.


    He gasped out a ragged ¡°Fuck, you!¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re well enough to curse me, so I doubt you¡¯ll die, and I think I earned myself a point.¡± I said as I stood up, a proud grin spread across my lips. I sheathed my blade and turned back to Rose and the others. I spread my hands wide and flashed them my victory grin. They all wore their own looks of pride and smug satisfaction. I began walking back toward my friends when I saw Rose¡¯s eyes go wide, focusing behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I knew the fight wasn¡¯t over.


    I heard two sets of steps behind me. But there was something more I could sense. Something I couldn¡¯t quite explain. A sense of nearness. An intent for harm. I could almost feel the bloodlust like a pressing force. I threw myself to the side, rolling to my left. Even as my shoulder struck the floor, I still felt that sense of threat. In response, as I rolled, I pulled my training short sword free yet again. I landed in a crouch, holding the blade just above and behind my head, the blade itself at a slant to deflect any downward attack.


    I felt another brief moment of satisfaction when I heard a set of footsteps land behind me and could feel the blow coming down. I thought that I might just have finally found my fighting skills. That sense of satisfaction shattered at a hard and literally painful end when I felt the strike land on my fingers. I could feel bones break. Two of my fingers, my index and middle fingers, shattered and distorted. I only just barely held onto my weapon long enough to truly deflect the attack. I felt the pressure of the attack slide down the blade. As I heard the clang of metal striking tile, I dropped my blade and turned. My fingers raged with burning pain, making my eyes water from the intensity.


    In those moments, I gave a silent thanks for all the beatings I had taken from Rose. That was the only reason I pushed through the searing pain. I shifted my stance and pushed to my feet in a single swift motion. I saw a body mass out of the corner of my eye as I turned to the left and acted as the shape came into sight. I turned towards the opponent and drove my gauntleted fist into their chest, forcing them to stagger back. As my fist made contact, I triggered my shock-barbed bites but didn¡¯t release the electric charge. I adjusted my footing and aligned my thoughts to what was going on in the situation.


    The redhead was just to my left, one of Wilder¡¯s entourage. Stout was the one who broke my fingers, and I pushed back. My hooked shock bites were latched onto his shirt and skin. But where was She-tank? I didn¡¯t have time to worry. I had to act against the ones I had before me. I threw a roundhouse kick at Stout before he could regain his footing. The strike knocked him further off his center of gravity as it landed against his neck, almost throwing him to the ground. Before he even hit the ground, I triggered my electric current. I pulled my gauntleted fist back and gingerly pressed the button to retract my bards after I took a moment to make sure he wasn¡¯t going to jump back to his feet. Stout was down for the moment, so it was time to move on to the next opponent.


    Redhead saw this momentary pause and rushed me. He lashed out with a punch armed with a gauntlet of his own. His gauntlet was just a simple metal-plated glove, but it would still cause damage. I couldn¡¯t move out of the way in time, so I readied myself for the hit. I saw it angled for my jaw and waited till the last moment to throw myself back as I angled my jaw to minimize the damage. The blow landed, and while it hurt, no bone broke. I sidestepped mid-stagger, recentered my footing, and took aim with my tactical gauntlet.


    Redhead lashed out again with another punch from his opposite arm. I bobbed under the blow to rise on the outside of his swing. Acting on impulse, I turned my back to him as I grasped the wrist of his swinging arm in my bad hand and raised my shoulder against his elbow, forming an arm bar. I leaned forward and pulled his wrist toward my chest, pulling him from his feet. I had been taught the shoulder throw in martial class months ago but had never managed to get it to work. But this time, as I brought both hands to his wrist and pulled inward as I thrust my shoulder upward and forward, I pulled the technique flawlessly, if with some slight modifications. The redhead was flung over my shoulder while I maintained my grip on his wrist and was slammed against the floor with jarring force. Following my instincts, I took his momentary shock and prone position to put him out of commission. I wrenched his wrist to its maximum flexibility with my good hand and drove my left elbow into his own elbow as a brutal strike that forced the joint to bend in the wrong direction. I heard the joint snap with an audible pop.


    I wasn¡¯t sure if I tore ligaments or if the arm was just dislocated, but he was screaming in pain. Without a second thought, I used his damaged arm to yank him up and forward, right into my knee, and I drove into his jaw with just as much force as I was pulling. His head snapped back with the sound of clacking teeth, and I may have chipped or cracked a couple of those teeth. The critical thinking portion of my brain was very disturbed by the ease I had just damaged the guy, but my instincts were in the driver''s seat at that moment.


    I turned around to find Stout back on his feet, if a bit more twitchy and looking more haggard. Only then did I notice that his weapon was a metal cudgel. That was what broke my fingers, and I was itching for some payback. He gripped his club with both hands and swung at my head. I ducked the blow, stepping in under the swing, and drove my good fist into his jaw with an uppercut. Yet again, I heard the sound of a clacking jaw. This time, I drove my foot into his knee as he staggered back. He broke my hand. I wanted to make sure he was broken, just as bad as I was, if not more. I heard him scream as he fell.


    I stood up straight, my head buzzing with adrenaline as I coddled my broken hand. But the sense of danger did not abate. If anything, it intensified. I only had a second to think about it before I heard Nel shout my name. ¡°IVER!¡± she shouted in panic. I turned back to look at her just in time to find a blade tip aimed at my face.


    I panicked and threw my head to the left. A dagger point pressed past my face, grazing my cheek and drawing a line of blood. A bladed dagger, a real dagger. I followed the blade to a hand, the hand to an arm, the arm to She-tank. For a girl built like a brick house, she was disturbingly agile. In reaction, I grasped her wrist and wrenched it against its natural rotation. She gasped in pain and dropped her weapon. I let go of her wrist just in time for her to draw her other hand back and lash out with a second blade. I saw the flash of steel before a burning pain, a sensation of an alien body piercing my skin and locking my shoulder joint. I screamed in anguish. Welts and bruises were one thing. But this stabbing, I had felt nothing like this. If broken fingers burned, the feeling of a blade entering my body was utter agony.


    Tears ran freely from my eyes as I looked up at the large woman. I threw a hateful glare her way. She legitimately wanted me dead. She ripped the blade free of my shoulder, drawing a new wave of agony from my shoulder and forcing me to fall to my knees. I only just managed to not land on my face by holding myself up with the hand of my bad shoulder on a table, sending another spike of pain through the wound.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to butcher you for the fiend you are.¡± She snarled, scooping up her dropped dagger.


    I clutched at my stabbed shoulder with my broken hand, blood gushing in a disturbing amount. I had to think fast. She stood over me, ready to stab me. I could feel my end looming over me like a fish about to be speared.


    I couldn¡¯t think past the burning in my shoulder and my hand. My mind was a haze with pain, but I needed to get out of this. I tried to focus on the sensation that I got from the other opponents, that sense of threat that warned me. But the pain was so sharp, the bleeding too much. I couldn¡¯t pull my mind together. My vision blurred, and my head spun the harder I tried to focus. I heard her chuckle as she stood over me. I closed my eyes. I was scared. Terrified really. But I was not about to let myself die there. My hands shook, and my legs quaked as I tried to pull my mind together and focus on what I wanted. But what I wanted, in the end, was simply to not die. I had a mission to live for. I needed to earn my graduation and become a true warrior. A simple stabbing wouldn¡¯t stop a real warrior. I needed to man up.


    I would not die there. With my eyes closed, I mentally pushed the pain aside. Proverbially, it was a massive weight for me to shove aside, but I closed off that part of my mind till all I felt from my shoulder and hand was a dull throbbing. I tuned out the gasps and murmurs of the students around me and focused on what I could feel. The hairs on the back of my neck were stiff, rising gradually. As they reached their peak, I rolled to my right. I landed on the bad shoulder, breaking that wall I set to block out the pain with a flash of searing pain. As I landed on my back, I saw that She-tank had tried for a downward stab at where my head was. The blade buried itself into the table I had been bracing against. I threw a kick at her elbow, forcing her to jump back. She righted herself and lept at me. She lept high, aiming her blades for a stab at my head again, one blade pointed down, the other held in reserve.


    On my back, I swept my broken left hand across my face, aiming to deflect her strike, if only barely. Because of the broken fingers on my left hand, I only just barely managed to deflect the attack. My hand was in pure agony. I let out a hiss of pain as I heard the initial attack strike the floor beside my head.


    I pushed past the yet again pain. She hadn¡¯t killed me yet, but I needed to keep up the fight despite this burning pain. She pulled back the blade from the floor as she aimed her other one at my chest. I didn¡¯t even have seconds to aim. I threw my fist out in a punch at her face and aimed to fire my shock bites in sheer panic.


    My bites latched into her face, but she kept on coming for me. I lost all sane thoughts and released everything. I shot two smoke pellets into her face and also gave her a face-full of secorus gas. Yet she still pressed on despite being blind. Now, she was little more than a shifting cloud of gas and smoke bearing down on me like a pyroclastic flow.


    I triggered the electric current from my gauntlet. I watched as her body locked up mid-stride and toppled like a massive felled tree. Electricity arced through the surrounding cloud, briefly outlining her frame with flashes. I rolled to one side as she struck the floor and moved to stand¡­ right into the gas body charged with voltage.


    I had been shocked before. Anyone who tinkers and works with live current gets shocked a few times in their life. Those small zaps that forced me to recoil in pain were nothing like this. The voltage struck me like a shot from a gun. My muscles locked, spasmodically twitching at a rapid pace. My chest locked up, and my lungs were unable to function correctly as they spasmed in patches rather than acting as a whole. If you¡¯ve never felt your lungs try to jump out of your chest while dancing some mad tango, don¡¯t. It¡¯s not pleasant. I felt my heart beat erratically with an arrhythmia. It was my turn to topple back to the floor and out of the cloud of gas. My body fell back into my control as I struck the floor. I gasped for air, desiring so badly to just curl up into a ball until the pain stopped. But I couldn¡¯t. The cloud was encroaching, and I needed to get to a safe distance before I was electrocuted again. I dragged myself to my feet and tried to hobble to safety. I was brought up short when something held my right hand. Looking down, I found that my shock bites were still locked in She-tank¡¯s face. I winced at the thought of those being yanked on while attached to someone¡¯s face. I fumbled to release their hold and retract them, the interface hard to work with a broken hand. Even pressing something with my good fingers made my hand scream. I managed to retract the bites as the cloud dispersed to a safe level. I found that She-tank lay on the tile floor. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, her face bleeding from several small gashes. But she wasn¡¯t the only one. Just past the girl on the floor was a whole table of people who looked unconscious as well. Three students, two boys and a girl. I kicked myself for the oversight, hoping I wouldn¡¯t get punished too harshly for the accident.


    A slow, rhythmic clapping pulled me out of my negative bog of thoughts. I cringed in time with the clapping. I could tell that it was coming from one winged ass I knew all too well. I looked to Rose and the others in desperation for help. But they weren¡¯t looking at me. Nel and Ferris were looking past me with confusion and concern, and Rose was looking in the same direction. Only her eyes looked like they were about to bulge from their sockets. I turned to look over my shoulder, my motions slow with trepidation. I wasn¡¯t sure if I wanted to know someone who could draw that look from Rose. What I found was shocking.


    Instead of Mallrimor, Thallos, my Wild Elf uncle, was the one clapping as he strolled forward, a proud grin on his face. ¡°Uncle?!¡± I blurted out. A wave of murmurs washed over the dining hall, culminating in Rose wailing, ¡°WHAT?!¡±


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± I asked, completely confounded by his presence here.


    ¡°What in the dining hall? Iver, I know I¡¯m good and all, but you do know that I still need to eat, right? I may be skilled, but I¡¯m no divinity.¡± Thallos joked with an infectious smirk.


    ¡°No, no. I¡¯m asking what you¡¯re doing here at the academy?¡± I elaborated.


    ¡°Did you take too many blows to the head, boy?¡± He pointed to his own skull to emphasize the question. ¡°I¡¯m an instructor here. I told you the day we got here.¡±


    I cast my tired and rattled mind down the halls of memory to realize what he said was true. ¡°But if you¡¯re a Mystagogue, why have I never seen you, let alone been in a class you lead?¡±


    He rested a hand on my bad shoulder, causing me to wince and hiss in pain. ¡°That, my dear boy, is because I am a Mastlok instructor. I select only the best students that I think could be talented Mastloks, and¡­¡± He pulled his hand away from my shoulder, holding a thread from my uniform pressed between his thumb and forefinger. ¡°Pluck them from normal classes for a special training regiment. And from what I just saw, I¡¯d say that you very well could make a talented Mastlok, if I do say so myself.¡± He said this last bit with a gush of self-pride as he ran a hand through his mussed hair and took a dramatic stance.


    What in the hells was he doing? Posing? For who? I cast my gaze around the room to find everyone¡¯s eyes on my uncle. My gaze was brought back to center by the massive shape of Mystagogue Thrasher stepping up, his arms crossed. ¡°Mystagogue Kiem, you know full well that you can not sponsor a student for exclusive specialized training without formal permission from the Mysteriarch. While Mr. Maverick¡¯s feat is impressive, it doesn¡¯t meet the standards needed for recruitment prior to the standard date.¡±


    ¡°Oh, come on, Thrasher, don¡¯t be such a sour bite. I¡¯d say that three MV points and four CV points is a reasonable score for early admission.¡±


    ¡°Five Craft Vector points? Are you including the three collateral subjects?¡± Thrasher asked as he pointed to the table of three students that I had rendered unconscious by accident.


    ¡°Why not? Would you rather they be HV points? They didn¡¯t see it coming after all.¡± Thallos pointed out as he leaned back, one hand propped on his hip, the other hand pointing at the same table of students, palm up.


    ¡°Those students were unintended collateral. Because they were unintended targets, they are not valid points.¡± Thrasher corrected.


    ¡°Why do you need to be such a spoilsport? I know you can see his talent. Don¡¯t you think we should push him to become more than a simple initiate?¡±


    ¡°I do, in fact, see the boy¡¯s talents, but I will not chance moving in haste, only to have him become overwhelmed with the changes.¡± Mystagogue Thrasher clearly was not budging on his stance with whatever topic they were talking about.


    The large Orc turned to me. ¡°Forward the recording of the fight to me, slate. After that, you should step outside for a few moments before heading to the medical center. You¡¯re going to want some air.¡±


    ¡°Y-yes, sir.¡± I stammered even as I stopped my node from recording. I labeled the recording ¡®4 on 1 attack¡¯, condensed the file, and flicked it to the Mystagogue. I began to make my way outside on legs that were already feeling a bit rubbery and numb.


    ¡°Oh, and Iver.¡± came the massive Mystagogue.


    I turned around with a hurried, ¡°Yes, sir?¡±


    ¡°How about you take your friends with you? I think you¡¯re going to want the company.¡±

 Chapter 21

    It¡¯s fairly common for adventurers to be idolized like rock stars or sports stars. The field of work has been heavily romanticized. This is because, in the last few decades, some adventurers recorded themselves and their doings to be released and viewed by the masses. The Adventure Recordings, also called AdRecs, are released to the public in a style that is a cross between a movie release and a sporting event. Combining recordings from the party members¡¯ therra-nodes and from accompanying UAV camera drones are the most common styles of capturing the action. Sadly, because of this romanticization, tens of thousands of unwitting daredevils line up for the work only to die in the field or realize that constant near-death experiences aren¡¯t nearly as glamorous as they look.


    Day 120 Quenchenday


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell us that your uncle was THE Thallos Kiem?!¡± Rose exploded as we made our way to the medical center.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know he was that big a deal.¡± I rushed to defend, ¡°He¡¯s just been my uncle to me. I also hadn¡¯t even met him till he tracked me down to bring me here.¡±


    ¡°You mean that you¡¯ve never heard the stories about Mystagogue Kiem? How Kiem stopped an entire gang of bandits single-handedly? How he toppled a thief¡¯s guild over the course of a month? Or how he was part of a party that took down a stigmagaunt?¡± Rose listed off these stories as if I was supposed to have heard them half a dozen times before.


    ¡°Not ringing any bells.¡±


    Nel stepped in this time. ¡°How about the adventuring party, Pale Shadow? You know, the party that hunted down a pack of wraiths that had been attacking Whitestone City every week, when the moon Secca was new.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, no.¡± I said, ¡°I¡¯ve still not heard of any of this.¡±


    ¡°Have you been living under a rock this last quarter?¡± Rose teased.


    I scratched my neck with my good hand in embarrassment. The action aggravated my wounded shoulder, causing me to wince in pain. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t really listen to a lot of the hearsay since most of my free time consists of either training or tinkering.¡±


    ¡°Gee, you don¡¯t say.¡± Ferris¡¯s tone was dripping with sarcasm. ¡°It¡¯s almost like the only times we see you without a tool or weapon in hand is when you¡¯re eating.¡±


    ¡°Technically, isn¡¯t a fork still a tool?¡± I pointed out.


    ¡°That¡¯s not the point, bolts for brains.¡± He snapped back.


    ¡°Wait.¡± Nel caught my attention. ¡°Are you saying that you listen to nothing that goes on around you while you¡¯re working?¡±


    ¡°Other than you guys, yeah. Most of the whispers that pass by my ear are from people muttering about me.¡± I ground my teeth at the thought. ¡°Oh, look at his horns. Why is his skin like that? Aren¡¯t his eyes freaky? I wonder if he could kill someone with his tail?¡± I made the quotes in a derisive, mocking tone. ¡°By the fragments, I am so sick of people muttering about me, I tune out the world so I can focus and not want to knock out some teeth.¡±


    ¡°You? Knock-out teeth? Iver, if I hadn¡¯t just seen you decimate four opponents, I would have called that a serious bluff.¡± Rose flashed me a smirk at those words.


    ¡°What are you talking about? Wasn¡¯t he just as much of a badass when he saved my ass from those thugs that tried to kill me?¡± Ferris asked.


    Rose burst into a gale of laughter that was only stemmed by an elbow from Nel to her ribs. She shot Nel a glare, whose response was to gesture to me with the chin. Rose turned to look at me, her anger curdling to shame as she saw the hurt on my face. ¡°Sorry Ive.¡± She muttered towards her feet. ¡°I was laughing at who you were, not who you are.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± pressed Ferris.


    Nel was the one to answer. ¡°For most of the year, Iver¡¯s had problems with fighting.¡± She turned to me. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Ive, but I need to be brutally honest to get the point through the boy¡¯s head.¡± She turned back to Ferris, ¡°His fighting talent was on par with a dying fish desperately trying to slap you with the side of his head.¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡± I shouted in offense.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Iver, but it¡¯s true. That¡¯s why Rose was laughing so hard.¡±


    ¡°Was he really that bad?¡± Ferris asked as we reached the medical center¡¯s doors.


    We passed through the entrance, and I checked in at the front desk. I made my way to the waiting area and took a seat in an uncomfortably sterile-looking chair. I was worried that my blood would smear on the white fabric seating and forever mar the pure surface with a stain of my presence. But I did my best to put the thought out of my mind while I used my therra-node to fill out all the forms for my visit. While I did this, the talk of my lack of talent continued among the other three.


    ¡°Oh, yeah.¡± came Rose, some pep put back in her step. ¡°He was terrible, losing every fight he started.¡± Her expression turned pensive. ¡°Although those fights were always with the same five thugs.¡±


    ¡°Well, those five are always making trouble. Iver is just trying to get the trogs to stop screwing with people.¡± Nel chimed in.


    ¡°You mean those same five that tried to ice me?¡± Ferris queried.


    ¡°The very same.¡± I answered as I finished up the paperwork and hit the send button with my good hand.


    The talk went on, but I zoned out, my mind fading as I tried to ignore the pain in my shoulder and hand. I lost track of time, but after a while, the only thing that existed in my world was pain, throbbing, burning, aching pain. My wounds pulsed with red hot in time to my heartbeats. My fingers ached with a dull but searing pain, like leaving your hand in snow for so long the cold burned.


    I was shocked out of my mental void by someone jostling my bad shoulder. I let out a growl of pain, turning to snap at whoever just touched me. I found Rose looking at me with worry. ¡°What is it?¡± I said with a barely contained snarl. Wordlessly, she pointed to a nearby healer.


    ¡°Umm, Mr. Maverick?¡± Asked a gnomish girl timidly. Her skin was a light mint green, with hair of a deep royal blue held back in a tail and eyes of bright magenta. She stood only around three foot four, tiny by most species¡¯ standards but a normal size for her people. I was hypnotized for a brief moment by her triangular-shaped pupils. I knew that was just as regular for Gnomes as her skin and hair color. All Gnomes had triangular pupils, but I had never met a Gnome in person before. They were a very uncommon species to cross.


    I shook myself free of the trance and gave a hurried answer. ¡°Y-yes, sorry. I¡¯m in a bit of pain and starting to feel kinda light-headed.¡±


    She flashed me a kind smile before gazing off at something on her therra-node, a flickering blue-green light displaying across her right eye. ¡°No worries, Mr. Maverick. I am Trainee Healer Tessa, and I will be happy to remedy that pain. If you would be so kind as to follow me.¡± With that, she turned and led the way out of the waiting area. I stood and made to follow. As I trailed behind her, feeling drained, worn, and ragged, I made an active effort to keep my pace slow so I wouldn¡¯t pass her. I also was actively taking short steps out of fear of accidentally stepping on her.


    Tessa led me down hall after hall and up a flight of stairs before finally stopping beside a door. She keyed in an access code on a digital pad beside the door, and the door slid into the wall in answer. She gestured for me to step inside with one hand. ¡°Feel free to make yourself comfortable. The doctor will be with you shortly.¡±


    I stepped into the room and took in my surroundings. The walls were a sterile white with a blue-green stripe running around the perimeter at the upper third of each side. To my left was an alcove with a holo display to search a database of medical data. Beside the display was a wheeled stool. In the back corner on that side was a two-foot diameter holo display platform projecting a three-dimensional rendering of an Elven skeleton that slowly rotated. To my right was an examination table, complete with a full-body scanning apparatus. The table¡¯s frame was made of silver metal with a green-purple sheen, mythril, a valuable metal used for everything from Deckra currency to armor plating. Mythril was as durable as steel but a fraction of the density. The table¡¯s top surface was covered in cushioning beneath a layer of mint green faux leather that I could tell just from a glance would cling to my skin. Mounted to the side of the table was an omnidirectional adjustable arm ending in a half-circle crescent. The full-body scanning apparatus, or FSA, was used for in-depth searching of a body for wounds, errors, or flaws. These scans went deeper than the basic reading my therra-node gave me.


    I took a seat atop the table as gingerly as I could manage. Sure enough, I had to peel my hand off the table with a slight sucking sound. As I waited, I watched the hologram of the skeleton, mildly entertained as the image flickered before shifting to display the muscle structure of an orc. I watch the image shift through several species, displaying anything from the skeleton to the nervous system of each species. After a bit, Tessa reentered the room, followed by a familiar face. Dr. Brooksheen, the Elven doctor who performed my physical when I first came to the academy.


    ¡°Ah, I remember you, young mister.¡± the doctor said with a gentle smile.


    ¡°Y-you remember me?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Well, of course. Not many Darklings come through the academy, and I have never met one with your skin pattern before. I am rather interested in how that came to be.¡±


    ¡°I was just born like this, as far as I know.¡±


    The doctor stepped up to the table and had me lay on my back while she used the FSA. As she scanned me and reviewed the readings, she continued the discussion. ¡°As far as you know? Did your parents never tell you?¡±


    ¡°No. I¡¯ve never known my mother, and the man who raised me isn¡¯t- wasn¡¯t my biological father.¡± The correction brought back the old emotional pain. ¡°The way my father told it, my mother dropped me off in the dead of night before fleeing to places unknown. He never even knew I existed until I was dropped in his arms.¡±


    Dr. Brooksheen pulled back the scanner, stepped over to the archive display, and started typing as I sat up. ¡°Well, I¡¯ve never seen nor heard of any birth defect that causes your skin to manifest pigment in a pattern like that. But if you don¡¯t know the details of your birth, then maybe it was caused post-birth by exposure to something. Do you have any other abnormalities about yourself that may be connected to your pigment pattern?¡±


    ¡°Well, there are my eyes. I¡¯ve met no one with eyes the same shade as mine or with pupils shaped like mine.¡±


    ¡°I did notice that. He does have rather striking eyes,¡± came Tessa from the corner of the room. ¡°His eyes almost seem to glow with how vibrant green they are, and when added to those diamond-shaped pupils, it gives a rather unsettling effect.¡±


    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°My pupils are normally this shape, but when I¡¯m exposed to bright light, they narrow down to a plus sign shape until I adapt.¡± I commented.


    ¡°I had noticed the eyes, but I know that Darklings and Brightlings can have their pupil shape inherited from a parent or even actively shaped by the alien parent for some reason if they are a fresh-gen.¡±


    ¡°Fresh-gen?¡± Asked Tessa. I silently thanked her for raising the question. I had never heard the term before, and I was rather embarrassed by that, given that the term was directly linked to my species.


    The doctor spun around on her stool to face both me and the trainee before pulling herself to me by her feet. She gestured for Tessa to follow. As soon as the young healer was close enough to see my eyes, the doctor began to explain. ¡°As you know, a Darkling is someone born into a bloodline with infernal or demonic lineage, just as a Brightling is someone born into a bloodline with angelic lineage. Well, in most cases, the otherworldly blood will pass from parent to child, no matter the species of their other parent. That child will have traits from both parents regardless of species, but if they have a Darkling parent, the child will be classified as a Darkling. Most Darklings have their infernal or demonic ancestor relations several generations back, if not hundreds, depending on the potency of the blood. A fresh-gen is a Darkling or Brightling whose direct parent is an angel or devil. I only bring this up because it¡¯s not unheard of for otherworldly parents to mark their children. These marks are normally an alteration to the eyes or a brand-like birthmark. I would blame your skin pattern on this, but in all accounts, I¡¯ve heard of these alterations, the marks never span the entire body, and they are normally designed as the sigil of the parent.¡±


    ¡°The thought of having a devil or fiend as a father sounds terrifying, but that might explain why my mother left me behind. Also, doctor, I¡¯ve always referred to my pattern as my marbling.¡±


    ¡°Marbling?¡± asked Tessa. ¡°You mean like on a steak?¡±


    ¡°I always thought of the pattern like the stone, marble. That¡¯s what the pale threads and webs over my olive skin remind me of. My father always said it looked like I was covered in thick spider webs.¡±


    ¡°I can see the comparison. I¡¯ll try to remember to refer to it as marbling moving forward. But back on the topic of your bloodline, what breed of Darkling are you?¡± Dr. Brooksheen asked as she moved on to a new scan before hopping back over to the database display.


    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t know.¡± I admitted with no small amount of embarrassment.


    She turned back to pin me with a quizzical stare. ¡°Do you not know what you are, or do you not know what the different breeds of Darkling are?¡±


    I winced and cringed at both parts of the question. After a mute moment, I gave a shy answer of ¡°both¡±, my voice meek.


    ¡°Then I¡¯m guessing your father taught you nothing about your species. Well, let¡¯s start with the basics. There are four Darkling breeds: Devil-bred, Fiend-bred, Drude-bred, and Oni-bred.¡±


    ¡°Okay?¡± was all I could manage to say through my shame, my cheeks burning.


    ¡°Each breed has its own unique traits. The only thing they have in common is that they all have horns, serrated ear rims ending in a point, and can have a range of skin tones based on their parentage. Any Darkling has the possibility of being born with exotic-colored irises because of their lineage, but they can also have colored sclera if they have an Elven parent. Other traits that can manifest are things such as a tail and/or claws. You should also know that a Darkling¡¯s horns are just as individually unique as their fingerprints.¡±


    The doctor used her therra-node to alter the holo-display that had been showing a Human skeleton only a moment before. The image flickered before switching over to a nude Darkling man. His skin was a deep royal purple. The doctor stood from her stool and gestured to each part of the anatomy as she explained.


    ¡°Devil-bred Darklings can have any shade of purple skin pigment along with what they inherit from their other parent. Their horns tend to be the smallest and sprout from the brow, the hairline like yours, or just inside the hairline. If they have a tail, it¡¯s normally simple and serpentine with slight ridges. If their eyes are a nonstandard color, they tend towards shades of red or yellow. Their personality tends more towards a patient and reserved nature.¡±


    The image shifted to a female Darkling with ashen gray skin. I blushed and looked away from the nude figure, trying not to come across as a perv.


    ¡°Fiend-bred Darklings have the possibility of being born with skin tones ranging from a light gray to coal black, also referred to as deep black, although Darklings with a deep black pigment are very rare. Their horns normally are curved, curling, or twisted, with a possibility of them being barbed or throned. These horns are either at the temples or just ahead of the hairline. If Fiend-bred Darklings form a tail, it almost always has a spade or arrow-shaped tip, much like yours. If they have exotic eye colors, they normally tend towards purple or green like yours. Their personalities are prone to leaning into a more impulsive and mischievous. This breed is a large reason why Darklings have such a dark reputation.¡±


    As she spoke, I forced myself to look at the display, my eyes locked onto the figure¡¯s face. When the image flickered over to a new male Darkling, I couldn¡¯t help but let out a sigh of relief. I caught a hint of a snort from Tessa. I didn¡¯t dare look at her. Instead, I chose to focus on the new image of a burning-red-skinned man, his horns sprouting from the back of his head, swung down to run in line with his jaw, each horn grown in ridged tiers, each tier branching into a downward-facing barb. His hands, forearms, shins, and feet looked to be painted with dark gray and black swirls.


    ¡°Next, we have the Drude-bred. Their exotic skin tone can span the range of any red color, normally with designs such as swirls, vines, tendrils, or spirals in any shade of gray, black, or purple on some part of their body. Their horns can grow from their temples, just above their brow line, or the rear of their head. These horns normally curve with the shape of the head or jaw. They can also be twisted, ridged, and or throned. Their eyes have the possibility to be a vibrant orange or a bright electric blue. Their personalities can tend toward calculating. They can have a penchant for wordplay and loopholes.¡±


    The display flickered before changing the image to that of a truly massive Darkling. The large male''s skin was a deep brick red with tiger stripes of a deep blood red marking all of his body. The body was dense with thick muscle. He displayed a single horn growing from high on his brow that curved slightly back. From his brick of a jaw sprouted a pair of sharp and curved tusks.


    ¡°Lastly, we have the Oni-bred. This Darkling breed is rather rare, even among Darklings. They can be born with any exotic skin color from the other Darkling breeds. Because of their Oni heritage, they are always born larger than most with the secondary lineage. This means that while a Fiend-bred born from an Orc will be as large as an Orc at best, the Oni-bred born from an Orc will always be larger than the standard Orc. Oni-bred can have either one horn that sprouts from the brow, as you can see from the display. They can also have a pair of horns develop at their brow or just inside their hairline. The Oni-bred are the only Darklings that will never be born with a tail, but they are always born with fangs and tusks in some shape.


    Much like the Drude-bred, the Oni-bred have skin markings. In the case of the Oni-bred, they are either stripes or swirls of color in the same pallet as the rest of their skin, only lighter or darker than the rest of their skin.


    Oni-bred tend to have rather short tempers and aggressive rage. Because of this, they tend to gravitate toward lines of work and lifestyles that require brute force and brawling. This means that many Oni-bred become gangers.


    The doctor set the display back to the cycle it was at while I had been waiting. ¡°I gave you this explanation because your traits are fairly baffling. You have horns akin to a Devil-bred, eyes and tail like a Fiend-bred, and a pigment design that I would say aligns you with either Drude-bred or Oni-bred if it weren¡¯t for the fact that the color and the pattern have never been seen before. Regardless, I have gone far off track, giving you lessons when I should be doing so to Tessa and having her mend you.¡± the doctor snapped her fingers twice in the trainee¡¯s direction before pointing to me. The trainee stepped up and examined my wounds.


    ¡°Mr. Maverick, if you would be so kind as to remove your uniform top to allow us ready access to the injuries. Do you need help?¡±


    I nodded as I tried to unbutton my jacket with only a single hand. As I fumbled my way through the third button, the trainee stepped up and helped. With her aid, the process went much faster, though no less painful, when I needed to raise my arm and slip it through the sleeve. The gnomish girl didn¡¯t even bat an eye when she saw I needed help out of the t-shirt underneath. She turned to the doctor and asked for her stool, which was passed to her with no issue. She stood atop the stool and did her best to help me out of the shirt. In all honesty, I¡¯m pretty sure that she only made that bit of the process more painful than if I had fumbled my way through it alone.


    ¡°Now, Tessa, what can you tell me about the injury without looking at the scans?¡± Came Dr. Brooksheen from behind her student, gaze sharp as she looked for any flaws or errors in the examination.


    The girl adjusted the placement of her stool by using her feet and the table for traction.


    ¡°The first thing to jump out at me is the puncture to the left shoulder, just on the lower edge of the left clavicle, but not all that way through the scapula. I¡¯m willing to bet there are bone fragments in the wound and some minor chipping of the bones themselves. The muscular pectoralis head was cleanly punched through, but given the lack of excessive bleeding, my guess is that the attack barely missed the cephalic vein.¡± As she spoke, the young healer looked at the wound in minute detail from several angles. She even prodded the wound once and used two fingers on each hand to spread the wound wide. Both actions drew a groan of pain from me.


    ¡°Very good. Now, what do you see with the hand?¡±


    The girl bent over and picked up my arm by the elbow and forearm as she almost pressed her nose against my swollen and purple hand, both of my deep purple fingers malformed and bent in an unnatural way. ¡°Looks like a shattering of proximal phalanges two and three. Again, I¡¯m expecting bone fragments, but neither of these should be too hard to mend.¡±


    The doctor raised a hand, holding up a single finger. ¡°One moment, trainee. I think you forgot something.¡±


    Tessa turned her vibrant gaze to her mentor. ¡°What am I forgetting?¡±


    ¡°How about you check the metacarpus?¡±


    She turned back to me and gently prodded the top of my hand, pressing in a path from the knuckle and working her way up the hand. At both knuckles, I let out more hisses and again halfway up the middle of my hand.


    ¡°Prognosis?¡± Dr. Brooksheen gently queried.


    ¡°My best guess is that joints at the knuckles are jammed or impacted, and halfway up the third metacarpal, there¡¯s either a bone bruise or a hairline fracture. I¡¯d need to scan for more details.¡±


    ¡°A reasonable conclusion.¡± Replied the doctor. ¡°I¡¯ll forward you the scan results to look over. Then, I¡¯ll walk you through the healing process. Are you ready?¡±


    Tessa gave an enthusiastic answer of ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡±


    I watched as the elderly Wood Elf flicked her student the files. The young girl opened the documents and took a good few minutes to look over my results. When she closed her node¡¯s display, she turned to her instructor. ¡°It¡¯s exactly as I thought. Bone shards in both locations jammed knuckles and a hairline fracture.¡± She turned to me, flashing a confident grin and two thumbs up. ¡°I¡¯ve got this handled. You¡¯re in good hands, Mr. Maverick.¡±


    I gave her a grin with a sliver of the confidence she showed. ¡°I hope so. This throbbing is getting old, and I¡¯m getting pretty tired.¡±


    With that, I let out a weighty sigh. The sigh was meant to come across as something to show that I was being a good sport. But it came out with the weight of months of pain, emotional and physical, and something deeper. I didn¡¯t mean to show that much, and once it came out, I knew the women noticed from the expressions they gave me, looks of sympathy and worry.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to need you to lie back down so I can perform.¡± Tessa said as she pulled her stool again with her foot to beside where my head would be. I did as told, even as Dr. Brooksheen stepped up beside Tessa.


    ¡°Let¡¯s start with the shoulder. We first need to remove the bone shards. How are you going to remove them?¡±


    Tessa laid her hands on either side of my shoulder wound. ¡°I¡¯ll start by enhancing his body¡¯s natural absorption rate and elevate the PH level of the local area while also enhancing his body¡¯s resistance to the acidity.¡± As she finished explaining, her hands began to glow with a soft green light. My shoulder heated to an uncomfortable level in time, with the glow intensifying.


    ¡°Good, good.¡± cooed the doctor. ¡°Now you need to mend the bone.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s simple. I¡¯ll stimulate bone growth and overlay a framework of myst to prevent deformity or overgrowth.¡± As Tessa spoke, the glow dulled before intensifying again. This time, the heat was less than before, but now my collarbone ached something awful. My face contorted with discomfort.


    ¡°Well done. Now, you need to mend the tissue and skin. This should be the simplest of the process. But just to be sure, please explain how.¡±


    ¡°Easy. I¡¯ll tie a myst latticework to either end of the wound and accelerate muscle growth while I guide the process.¡±


    As she spoke, the light intensified even further, and my wound started to tingle to an insane degree. Feeling like hundreds of ants were racing back and forth under my skin as the muscle itched so bad it was an effort not to stick my fingers in the wound to alleviate myself.


    Once the healing was complete and the discomfort faded into memory alongside the light, I sat up and tested my shoulder with a few roles and flexes. It was as good as new.


    ¡°You have done some excellent work, trainee. I don¡¯t think you need my guidance for mending his hand.¡± Dr. Brooksheen said, visibly proud of her student.


    ¡°Thank you, ma¡¯am.¡± Tessa herself was clearly also proud of her work.


    The hand wasn¡¯t nearly as bad as my shoulder. Once everything was said and done, I pulled back on my torn and bloody shirt and jacket. I thanked the two profusely before leaving to meet back up with my friends to go hide in the woods for a bit and try to forget about the day.


    Little did I know that things were about to get a lot more complicated in the days to come.

 Chapter 22

    The Veckenna short sword was designed by the Dwarves in the Second Age around 1017 R.o.D. The blade¡¯s name means Five Fingers or a Hands Span, which is how wide the blade is at its base. The weapon was used for defensive purposes and was worn horizontally across the small of the back.


    Day 146 Smeltesday


    Over the course of the next two months, things had gotten hectic. Classes entered an entirely new level of difficulty. I was failing social studies miserably despite tutoring from Rose and Nel. History was now incorporating acts of the order in relation to other large events. Yes, I know that King Raffin the Third of Hersha was assassinated, ending his tyranny and dissolving the nation, but why do I need to know that his killer was Sarah Baker, who was a member of the Silent Heart Sect, and the method was a henbane and mandrake tablet that was slipped into his morning pills?


    Mathematics had moved from geometry, which I understood, to trigonometry. When will I ever need to use sine, cosine, or tangent outside of the classroom? And if I didn¡¯t understand the need for those changes, the tactics and martial combat classes were even worse. Don¡¯t get me wrong, the reason for understanding the need for a wedge formation in small unit tactics made sense, but I was terrible in any position they put me in. I just didn¡¯t have the battlefield awareness necessary to function at any feasible level.


    But classes kicking into higher gear wasn¡¯t the only issue I had to contend with. Apparently, after I showed up those four would-be attackers, the entire student body of slates not only took note of me, but they made it their business to put me in the dirt. A couple of the assaults were intentionally lethal, too, but luckily, those were only one-person attacks. I got a reasonable sense of what I could and couldn¡¯t handle after I got my ass whooped for around the ninth time. Depending on the size and skill of my opponents, I could handle at most four attackers. So after I learned that limitation from plenty of visits to the medical center, I took to the good old-fashioned turn tail and head for the mountains tactic. I seemed to have quite the talent for outmaneuvering the larger groups. But then again, I also found some rather odd and unpleasant evasion routes. Slipping through windows or air ducts, hiding in refuse bins, and burying myself in moldering food and waste in case they actually checked inside the bins.


    After the first time I got cornered in a dead-end, I added a grappling hook to my gauntlet. The ¡®hook¡¯ wasn¡¯t a standard type. The prototype that I designed was a symmetrical, six-armed apparatus that looked something like a squid when launched if a squid released angled spikes to anchor into surfaces. That little piece of tech saved my bacon more than a few times in the past few months. But it still didn¡¯t stop me from getting whooped.


    By month¡¯s end, I had scored a grand total of sixteen Martial Vector points, three Hit Vector points, twenty-four Escape Vector points, and nineteen Craft Vector points. I got fantastic at evading packs of angry opponents real quick. But for as many points as I scored, I lost just as many fights. It got so bad that I was attacked in the middle of classes and not just during lunch or in passing periods.


    But on that day in martial combat class, we were being paired up to dual each other with no other choice. The winner of each pairing would receive one point. I point in class, not in the vectors, to clarify. We would trade partners in a round-robin pattern. I had already won one fight and lost two others. At that moment, they had paired me up with Nel, so I didn¡¯t have to fear for my life, thanks to the fragments.


    She swung at my throat with a training dagger, forcing me to step back. I retaliated with a roundhouse kick aimed at her ribs. I kept my training longsword in a position to easily slip back into a guard stance, even as I threw my kick. Her response was to step into the kick, closing the distance and taking the strike against her shoulder and forearm in a block. As I retracted my leg to maintain my balance, she wrapped her blocking arm around my calf and yanked hard on my leg, forcing me off-balance. I toppled forward, arms pinwheeling in a futile attempt to keep myself on my sole foot. My weapon slipped from my grip but I had an impulse idea. In quick thinking, I jumped with my remaining foot, pivoted in mid-air, and drove my free foot into Nel¡¯s solar plexus. Against anyone else that would have driven the wind from them like a cannon, but not Nel. Given that seventy percent of her body was metal, wires, and tubes, it only knocked her back, staggering and forcing her to let go of my leg.


    I felt a brief moment of success until I slammed against the training ring¡¯s floor, my head bouncing off the hard surface like a rubber ball attached to a willow switch. With my metaphorical bell rung, my vision blurred for a few moments. I tried to blink my eyes back into focus, but my loss was announced by a cold metal surface pressing down on my cheek. From the shape, I guessed it was Nel¡¯s foot. My guess was confirmed when she wiggled her toes mockingly.


    ¡°Okay, okay. I get it. Can you please let me up?¡± I asked, trying to pull her sole off my face. After a moment of resistance, the pressure left my cheek, skin sticking to the arch and peeling off with a faint sound like velcro. I sat up, rubbing my cheek, which I knew was a bright red.


    ¡°You did good that time, Ive.¡± came Nel as she offered down a hand from atop her proverbial throne of domination.


    I grasped her forearm and pulled myself up. ¡°Clearly not good enough. That last move was stupid. I got my leg back only to play wallball with my skull. Not a good deal.¡± I dusted myself off and looked at the ceiling as I gave a melodramatic sigh of disappointment.


    At the start of the month, our class was taken from the outdoor training field to a new training area. Under Aegis Hall, at sub-basement level three, was a wide-open space the size of the footprint of the building. Our class was only in one corner of the room, which was filled with sparring circles, the walls covered in training weapons. The rest of the room comprised various training environments and a couple of different obstacle courses.


    ¡°I¡¯ll give you that.¡± Nel beneficently granted me with an unladylike shrug. ¡°But your reaction time is getting better, and you¡¯re watching your opponent¡¯s chest instead of their eyes. That¡¯s some great progress compared to when you started at the academy.¡±


    ¡°The reaction speed has only improved because there are only so many blows to the head you can take before you learn, ¡®gee, my head shouldn¡¯t be in the path of attack¡¯. As for watching the body, that bit I picked up from Rose. She does this weird thing with her eyes when you look into them while sparing. It¡¯s almost like momentary hypnosis, but only for just long enough for her to clock you in the side of the head and rattle your teeth. When I stopped looking her in the eyes, I realized I could predict an opponent¡¯s actions by how their torso moved.¡±


    Nel flashed me a mischievous grin that spoke of knowing something more than was said. ¡°Are you sure that¡¯s why you¡¯re looking at her chest and not those B cups that jiggle and jump?¡±


    ¡°WHAT?!¡± I exclaimed, ¡°NO! No, no, no, no.¡± I refuted the claim vehemently, shaking my head frantically and waving my hands even more frantically. ¡°I swear I am not a perv.¡±


    Nel nudged me in the ribs with an elbow. ¡°I¡¯m only messing with you, Ive. I know that teenage boys have a very strong fascination with the opposite sex. It¡¯s only natural. Speaking of natural.¡± Nel cupped her titanium tits and looked into the distance with envy written on her face. ¡°I¡¯ve got some serious boob envy against Rose.¡±


    ¡°What!¡± I hissed in shock. ¡°I don¡¯t need to hear this, Nel.¡±


    ¡°Oh, come on, Iver. It¡¯s normal for girls to judge each other''s chest size and compare them to their own. Do you have any idea what I would give to have a chest that jiggled instead of rattled? It¡¯s just not fair.¡±


    ¡°I- I''m sorry?¡± My words were half apology and half question. ¡°If I could help, I would.¡±


    She eyed me for a long moment, her fingers still wrapped around her steel breasts. I watched as she flashed me another mischievous smile, and I suddenly got very uncomfortable under the flint of her gaze. ¡°Actually¡­ I think you can help me.¡±


    ¡°What? How?¡± I really didn¡¯t like where this was going.


    ¡°I want you to make me a pair of squishy boobies.¡±


    ¡°What?! No, no, no.¡± I took a step back as I waved my hands in denial.


    ¡°And why not? I thought we were friends.¡± She accused, even as she made an over-exaggerated pouting face.


    ¡°We are! But I don¡¯t feel comfortable making anything like that. Besides! I have no idea how boobs should feel. I¡¯ve never touched one.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s an easy fix. You¡¯ve got a longing for Rose, so if I ask her to let you touch her tattas for the sake of science, I doubt either of you would say no. Plus, you can ask her out at the same time.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯VE GOT A WHAT!?!¡± I shouted, my face flaring like a blast stone thrown into a bonfire. My heart raced faster than if I had been fighting for my life. I was so embarrassed by what Nel was saying that if given the chance, I would have chosen death over facing any more of that onslaught.


    ¡°You heard me, Iver. You¡¯re thirsty for her. You¡¯ve got a crush on her. She makes your heart go pitter-pat. I think you know what I¡¯m saying. In fact, I bet you write bad poetry about her some nights, longing-¡± She gave an exaggerated swoon. ¡°-to give them to her, but you¡¯re scared she¡¯ll turn you down.¡± She pressed on, forcing me to take step after step back until my back was against a wall. She wore a smirk of pure malicious joy at my obvious discomfort even as I tried to hide my face in my hands. I had no means of fighting back against this kind of attack. I was hopelessly outmatched by Nel, and she knew it. When Mystagogue Kellennar called training to a halt, I was about ready to kiss his boots regardless of how angry or hateful the Ceangar was.


    ¡°LISTEN UP!¡± commanded the small man, his scarred hands cupped around his mouth. ¡°Circle up! We¡¯ve got a special guest.¡±


    As the class moved to follow the command, I took a moment to pick up my training blade. As we, as a class, formed a half-circle around the Mystagogue, we saw who our special guest was. Mysteriarch K stood beside the instructor, their stature in sharp contrast to each other. As always, the Mysteriarch was dressed in her odd robes, with those strange combat high heels on. She looked at the class with a kind smile on what was left of her face.


    ¡°Good evening, class. I just wanted to check in and see how you all were doing.¡± She turned her half-nightmarish face to the instructor, ¡°Are there any training examples you wish to display? Any outstanding students that excel in any one form of training or another?¡±


    Kellennar punched his chin between his thumb and forefinger as he dragged his gaze across the whole of the class, looking at us one by one. I noticed his brow raise by the smallest amount as he looked at Mallrimor, which made me uncomfortable in a manner completely alien to how Nel was making me feel. When his eyes settled on me, and he grew a devious smirk, I felt my stomach drop. In all the martial combat classes Kellennar led, he always picked me out for one failure or another. Kellennar seemed to make it his goal every class to make me look like a fool and make me miserable. He frequently paired me with the more skilled students and told them not to hold back. He even had gone so far as to threaten my opponents with punishment or failing scores if they didn¡¯t break my bones. He made it no secret that he hated me because of my species. His harsh treatment was partly what I had to thank for me being somewhat successful at fighting. His motto for me I took to heart was ¡®get good or get dead¡¯.


    For some strange reason, my thoughts came back to what Nel was talking about. Did I like Rose? I mean, she was funny. She was also always nice to me and willing to help me get better at combat training as well as attempt to help me with social studies. She was insanely talented in melee combat and unbelievably dexterous and agile. While I was muddling over this train of thought, I was vaguely aware of Kellennar saying something to the Mysteriarch. I shook my head to focus on the current moment.


    ¡°Do you have students ready for that kind of training? They haven¡¯t even experienced phantom weapon combat yet.¡± asked the Mysteriarch.


    ¡°Trust me, ma¡¯am, these are some of my best students.¡± He said somberly before turning to the class and barking out names. ¡°Featherfall, Stonefange, Glennbark, Bonehunter! Front and center!¡±


    Mallrimor, Kesher, Gellar, and Brecken, the Viletempt Boys as I knew them, hurried to stand before the Mystagogue and Mysteriarch. Kellennar stepped forward and addressed the group. ¡°Put up your weapons, boys, and go select new ones from there.¡± He pointed to a blank section of wall ten feet long that split in half horizontally and folded over to display glimmering weapons. As one, the thugs set aside their current tools of pain and picked up new ones from this collection. Brecken took a bastard sword, Gellar took a longsword and short sword, Kesher took a two-headed war axe, and Mallrimor took a rapier.


    I knew what was coming, and my fears were confirmed when Kellennar barked out my name. ¡°Maverick! Front and center!¡±


    As badly as I wanted to groan in agitation, I only let out a single long exhale before stepping forward. My mind kept coming back to Rose even as I stood before the headmaster of the academy. What was wrong with me?


    ¡°Alright, boy. Set your weapon back on the rack.¡± As I walked over to the weapons display, I thought about Rose. I was vaguely aware of myself mounting the longsword back on the wall. I shook my head again and turned to select a weapon from the wall that the others selected from. I turned around to find Kellennar standing right behind me. I jumped back in panic, my mind fully in the moment then. I had almost stepped on what very well could have been the angriest man I had ever known. he shoved a weapon flat into my gut and said. ¡°You¡¯re using this.¡±


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    I looked down at the weapon as I grasped it. The strange sword was the length of a short sword, but the shape was all wrong. The blade was almost comically wide at the guard, tapering down to a point. The whole thing was an isosceles triangle with a guard curved upward. Where other blades would have a divot in the center known as the fuller, used to reduce metal used and strengthen the structure, this one had three fullers, the metal rising and falling like tides across the blade.


    ¡°What is this thing?¡± I asked Kellennar in obvious confusion.


    ¡°It¡¯s a Dwarven arming sword called a veckenna, you twit.¡± He snarled. ¡°Now, meet the others in the center of the room.¡±


    I made my way to the center of the room, turning the blade over in my hand. I had been trying to get used to using a long sword because I felt comfortable with its length, if not its weight. I wanted to keep my distance from opponents while having the versatility to use it with either two hands or one hand, freeing up the use of my gauntlet. This thing was almost as heavy as the longsword with half the length. I knew he gave me that weapon to throw off my game and make me look like a fool in front of the Mysteriarch.


    I swung the weapon a few times as I walked to get a feel for the weight and balance. As I slashed and twirled the sword, I wondered what Rose would do with this weapon.


    I shook my head, trying to clear it of this nagging thought that clung to my mind like static. I needed to focus. Unless¡­ Maybe if I could look at the question from another angle, I might be able to answer it. So the question wasn¡¯t ¡®Do I love Rose?¡¯ The question to start with is, ¡®Do I know what love is?¡¯ I loved my father. But that wasn¡¯t the same kind of love you would have for a spouse. Oh, gods, Rose as a wife, now that was a scary thought. I suddenly pictured her in an apron with nothing under it. My face flared again, and I slapped myself to shatter the mental image. What was that? I wasn¡¯t a perv. But Rose was rather attractive. Her fur was fascinating to look at, and I wondered how soft it was. But I needed to answer this question before I got to the center of the room. I had already made a good distance, even with my racing thoughts skewed in a direction that was less than helpful.


    Do I know what love is? Well, I enjoy her company and care about her, but I also enjoyed Nel¡¯s company and wouldn¡¯t think twice about stepping up to aid her. But I felt like Nel was more of a sister to me, and while I was close to Rose, she just wasn¡¯t a sister. She was something else. I did have a form of affection for her, and my heart raced at the thought of holding her hand or¡­ more. I stopped my mind at the thought of hugging. I wasn¡¯t going to let it go too far down that train of thought.


    I entered the center of the room, a concrete environment with varying levels, obstacles, and protrusions. Across from me were the other four, the rest of the class forming a rough circle around the field. I needed to come to a decision about Rose at that moment, or it would ruin my focus for the match.


    I took a ready stance, only to hear Kellennar grunt in the negative. ¡°No gauntlet for this one, Horn Boy.¡±


    I cursed and pulled off my primary tool, tossing it to Nel before turning back to face my opponents. Now was the time to do or die. Did I love Rose?


    Yes.


    My heart skipped a beat at the realization. My heart skipped that beat at the worst moment as the Mystagogue started the match. Brecken charged at me. Arm pulled up for an arcing swing aimed at my head. My legs locked up, and my guts turned to water when I realized not only that I couldn¡¯t sidestep the swing but also that I had honest feelings for Rose. I forced the thought out of my mind as hard as I could before I leaned back. As the bastard sword swung at me, its gleaming edge closing in on my throat, I fell backward. I slammed against the ground on my back, the blade sailing overhead, its wielder forced to spin with the swing to keep the blade in hand. I closed my eyes, took a long breath in, and kicked the Orc in the knee as he turned away from me. He staggered, taking a kneeling pose. I rolled onto my chest and pushed myself to my feet, taking a ready stance.


    Rose could wait. Now was my moment to surpass my limits. In all of my fights and point scores, I had never scored a point against any of these thugs other than the fluke when I saved Ferris. Every time they tried to ruin my day, I turned tail. They were the reason I had so many Escape Points. But that streak ended there and then.


    Kesher came in on my left, Gellar flanking on my right, and Mallrimor came head-on. I only had moments to act, or I¡¯d get caught in a wave of metal, meat, and hate. Inspecting my surroundings, I noted a hump of concrete meant for cover, not five paces to my left. I made a dash for the mound as the three closed in. I lept atop the hillock and vaulted over the Dracose as he tried in vain to redirect his momentum. I landed in a crouch and turned to face the oversized lizard. At that moment, I decided to give him a bit of shame.


    As he stopped, I jumped, slamming both heels down on his thick tail. He let out a bellow of pain, and I upped the ante by kicking out his rear bent knee joint. Since his legs were digitigrade, I guess that would have been his heel. Regardless, at that moment, I couldn¡¯t care less what it was called, only that it gave me a snap. His bellow turned to a wail of agony. But he wasn¡¯t out yet. He spun on his knee to swing his axe at my waist. Being the moron I was, I was still balanced on his tail, so as he spun, it was blind luck that I toppled yet again, only this swing almost grazed my horns. I hit the floor and rolled toward the Dracose, swapping my grip on the veckenna to hold it point down. I hooked one of his arms by the elbow with my blade and pulled as hard as I could manage on my back. I pulled him off-center, and as he hit the floor, I leaped to my feet. I took a heavy stomp down on his throat, a reminder of when I broke a wooden training blade against his trachea.


    Gellar closed the distance between us like lightning. Swift as a wolf on the prowl, he came at me with a longsword pulled back to strike, a short sword tucked under his right arm for a quick deflection in case I lashed out. I let him make the first strike, even as I kept an eye on Mallrimor and Brecken, one circling around for an attack from behind, the other still climbing to his feet from my blow to his knee. As Gellar brought the longsword down in a chop aimed for my left collarbone, I caught the strike on the flat of my blade, deflected the momentum away from me, and with a twist and pop of my wrist, I forced the High Elf to drop his dominant blade. His response was swift. He pivoted his front right foot and threw a sweeping kick at my knees, forcing me back. I reversed my blade back to upright even as he pressed the advantage with a slash from his remaining blade. I managed to get my veckenna between me and the strike. The edge of his blade struck the flat of my own with a resounding reverberation I felt up my shoulder. As he drew back for another attack, I pivoted and thrust the pommel of my weapon into his sternum and forcefully dragged the contact point down, causing the nerves in the center of his chest to light with pain. He snarled in discomfort and took a step back. But he wasn¡¯t fast enough. I followed up my pommel-sternum-rub with a push kick in the very same spot to the no doubt cracked cartilage. I felt something in him pop as I landed the strike and sent him flailing to the floor.


    I used the force from the kick to propel me backward towards where I last saw Mallrimor. I turned on my heel to face the feathered slither-spine as I came at him. His eyes went wide with surprise as he saw me coming at him. I flashed him the same cruel grin he had given me so many times before. I saw him panic as he staggered back, flinging his free hand up to cast a firebolt. The shot went wide, grazing my right shoulder and scorching the fabric of my uniform. He was going to get in some serious trouble for using magic in a martial match during class. But I was going to be the first to punish him for these months of pain and fear that he put me through. I was going to take the price out of his hide.


    I lunged at him, aiming to stab him in the lung as best I could with a training blade. He¡¯d live¡­ probably. But I misjudged the distance, my mind using the length of a longsword to judge distance, not the length of the veckenna I currently wielded. This miscalculation caused me to stagger, giving Mallrimor the chance to sidestep the sad excuse of a charge that I had thrown at him. I whirled to face him, blade at the ready. Mallrimor came at me with a panicked slash. I parried the rushed and sloppy strike and aimed a kick at his knee, forcing him to step back, his dominant foot now behind him. He would be more inclined to fight defensively, meaning all I needed to do was break his guard.


    His blade had the reach advantage, but it was light. While that would make his strikes quicker, it also meant that he had to work that much harder to block against heavier weapons like mine. With the weight advantage, I pressed the attack. I struck again and again, forcing him back step by step as he desperately tried to deflect every blow with the whole of his body. His semi-hollow bones no doubt felt the strain.


    I reveled in the power I held over this boy who had made my life at the academy a living hell. But I was shocked out of my revelry when I got a sudden sense of danger. I whirled around to see what I was about to face. I turned just in time to see a bastard sword blade hurtling toward my ribs with bone-shattering speed. Only one thing I could do. I dove to my right and rolled. Head over tail, one, two, three times before popping back to my feet. I realized I should not have made that last roll because my inner ear fluid was in a tizzy, causing the room to wobble. I shook my head to straighten things out. The room stopped dancing just in time for me to see Gellar rushing me.


    I cursed aloud as I sidestepped his first attack. I was hoping that I had put him down for the round. At least Kesher wouldn¡¯t be coming after me any time soon. Now it was the High Elf who pressed the attack on me, forcing me to play defensive. I blocked and dodged each strike that came at me until Brecken came at me from my left with a downward chop aimed to cleave me in twain. I threw myself between the Orc and the High Elf. For the second time in only moments, I was forced to dive for my life, all three weapons barely missing me by the breadth of a hair. I tumbled away in a controlled roll. This time, I didn¡¯t try for the extra distance. I needed to be ready to act on impulse.


    The three closed in on me from three directions, each with eyes brimming with lividity. I backstepped to keep them all in my field of vision, veckenna at the ready to parry any incoming attack.


    Gellar and Mallrimor rushed in as one, their steps timed and measured with each other¡¯s. Gellar swung with two horizontal strikes aimed at my chest while Mallrimor thrust at me with his rapier. I made to take another step back to get some distance, but my back hit something hard. I had no choice. At this distance, Gellar¡¯s short blade would miss me by a few inches, but that still left a long blade from him and a thrust from Mr. Pigeon. I could only block one. I made up my mind. Technically, what I was about to do wouldn¡¯t work in an actual fight, but this was only practice, and I was not about to go down easy for these trogs. I swapped my blade into a reverse grip in my left hand and brought it up to intercept the slash. The blow resounded through my arm and chest like a gong being struck. I didn¡¯t have time to think about that, instead focusing on deflecting the tip of the thrusting rapier upward with the flat of my palm. I waited for the right moment and thrust my palm at the tip of the blade at an upward angle. I felt contact, but things went wrong, horribly wrong. I watched in horror as the tip of the blade passed through my hand like a plasma blade through a block of fat. The blade was only barely thrown off course by the puncture of my hand, but it was enough not to get kabobed.


    The meaning of this crashed into me like a landslide of granite. They were using actual weapons. They were honestly trying to kill me. And I thought this was practice. I was outnumbered and facing death with little more than a toy weapon to defend myself. I hadn¡¯t had to face multiple lethal attackers till now. I was going to die. I was going to die. I was going to die. Through the hysteria came a single word. My mind was drowning in panic, on the brink of insanity, the entire world seeming to hold still. A world of living statues, as a single word, broke the madness.


    No.


    That single word crashed through a cage of dread and hysteria like a shot from a mortar cannon. No. I would not die this way. There was still so much I had to do. I had something to make right and someone to make dead. I was not going to fall to this pack of halfwits with a penchant for cruelty.


    As I felt my will harden into a blade all its own in my mind, something sparked inside me. The feeling was hard to explain. Like I had a new limb that I had never known about, a new part of me that was waking up, being drawn from. I felt power, scorching, searing hot, and in its own way magnificent, rushing from this unknown part of me, running down my arm and into my wounded hand.


    Suddenly, time came back to its normal pace. I had enough of my mind to kick Mallrimor off me, pushing him away, taking his loathsome blade with him. Blood spurted from the hole in my hand, crimson, thick, and hot, gushed from my hand as a pain that had nothing to do with power dominated my mind. I hunched over, curling in on my hand, screaming in agony. It was then my will snapped into place. The mental tool shaped of hard titanium slipped into a machine of action that was in my mind, completing the device. I lashed out, arching my back and raising my face to the heavens, my scream of pain melding into a war cry of pure rage. I flung my wounded hand out from left to right in an arc, splattering the floor and Gellar with my life fluids. That spray of crimson burst into a spatter of raging crimson flames. Gellar staggered back, dropping his long sword to swipe at his burning uniform.


    I slammed one foot forward, my posture feral. I charged Mallrimor like a raging beast, my wounded hand held out beside me, alive with flames the color of blood. Later, if I were being totally honest in telling the story of what happened, I would have to say that I felt like I was in a dream. All at once, everything mattered, and nothing mattered at all, just as everything was real and whole and, at the same time, ephemeral and fragmented. I felt like I couldn¡¯t die. It was my dream, after all. If I died in my dream, I would just wake up. Since this was a dream, I would just have to take out some aggression.


    I felt a sense of deep satisfaction seeing the look of absolute terror on Mallrimor¡¯s face. Before, he was scared of me hurting him and making him look like a fool. Now he was faced with someone whom he had bullied for months and had just been blessed with myst about to take true, righteous retribution.


    Mallrimor made to defend himself as fast as he could, summoning a ball of flame at the end of each of the fingers of his free hand. He threw the hand out before him and shot each of the flares at me in a frantic panic. I was dimly aware of a burning in my left thigh, right side of my chest, and right shoulder, but it mattered little at the time. That pain was so minute next to my hand that they were easily forgotten.


    I closed the distance in less than a heartbeat. He lashed out with another thrust from his rapier, but his form was sloppy. I slipped under the strike and almost got nose-to-nose with him as I wrapped my burning hand around his wrist. I held on tight, squeezing as his flesh seared and sizzled. But I wasn¡¯t done yet. In a move I learned from Rose, I rammed the crown of my head into the bridge of his nose, my horns blackening his eyes. As he recoiled from the blow, I reversed my grip on his wrist, half-turned away from him, finishing the turn by sweeping his right leg out from under him. Before he could fall, I fully turned away from him, used my shoulder as a fulcrum, and threw him to the ground in a shoulder throw. For a finishing touch, I stomped a boot against one of his wings, snapping the frail bone as I wrenched his arm around to pop his shoulder and elbow out of their sockets.


    I was dimly aware of his screams as I just stood there, mind numb, hand throbbing. I don¡¯t know when, but at some point, I let go of Mallrimor¡¯s wrist. My head spun, and I noticed splatters of crimson flame littering the floor. Was that all my blood? That¡¯s a lot of blood. That¡¯s probably not a good thing. I looked down at my flame-encased hand, turning it over and back, noticing that my flesh wasn¡¯t burning. I swung my head to the onlookers, the motion making the world trail in blurs. I found Nel and flashed her a grin that I would later be told looked both mad and drunk and gave her a thumbs up with my burning hand, my motion flaring pain in my palm. I began to stagger away from the scene when I felt a vice grip my neck. My windpipe was squeezed shut instantly as I was lifted off my feet. With the entire weight of my body pulling at my neck, I could feel my spine straining to keep my vertebrae together. I was turned to meet a very large, very scaly face. For a moment, the only thing passing through my fogged brain was that his eyes were the same color as the flames that littered the field. Then he squeezed harder, straining my neck even as I began to feel oxygen-starved. I hopelessly beat my fists against his arm, slapping feebly with what little strength I had left. In a last-ditch effort, I clutched the side of his face with my burning palm. I had enough presence of mind left to dig my thumb into his lizard eye. I must¡¯ve done something because I heard a bellow of pain as I was dropped to the floor. The last thing I saw were several sets of boots rushing towards me, one set of them elevated.

 Chapter 23

    The Order of the Aegis is a global entity, if not in the public eye. They have Outposts across Anogwin with twenty-four academies across the globe training the next generation of members and agents. The entire organization is operated from its headquarters in the nation of Netarrum.


    Day 155 Honarday


    Slowly, I rose from the depths of the black void of unconsciousness. First, I became aware of my body and how heavy it felt. Then I noticed just how damned tired I was. Then came the comfort of warmth and plushness beneath my back. I slowly opened my heavy-lidded eyes when I heard low talking. I was in the medical center¡¯s infirmary. I knew from experience that the beds here were a sad excuse for what they were, but at that moment, my mattress was as good as a Griffin feather-down the bed. At least the blankets were soft. Even with the insulation of the blankets, I still felt a bone-deep chill that never reached my skin.


    I looked around the private room. The lights were dim. As always, the walls were sterile white with a gleam like plastic or metal and a mint green strip running the perimeter of the room. My bed was pressed up against the center of the back wall opposite the automated sliding door. To my right, at the opposite end of the room, was an alcove with a holo archive display displaying what I guessed were my vital signs. Along the same wall, but closer to me, was a pair of chairs that looked of only mildly tolerable comfort. To my immediate right was an IV bag full of blood attached to a tube leading into my right forearm. The bed I lay atop was on a mechanical, self-adjusting frame.


    It was then that I noticed that the voices outside my room were getting heated.


    ¡°I just don¡¯t think he¡¯s ready.¡± Came the deep basso that could only have been Mystagogue Thrasher.


    ¡°Whether or not he¡¯s ready doesn¡¯t matter. You saw footage of that fight. The power he displayed without a focus is unheard of for someone his age. He needs more advanced training, and given his scores thus far, I feel he qualifies for becoming a Dark Hunter.¡± This was another voice I recognized. Thallos. He sounded even more agitated than Thrasher.


    ¡°I agree that his display was impressive, but we have no idea how he¡¯ll respond to such a strenuous lifestyle.¡±


    ¡°Impressive?! Are you kidding? According to his medical readings, he shouldn¡¯t be able to access his Mystwell at all. And yet he just unleashed enough raw, unharnessed force to scar two students beyond healing, and that was from a puncture through his hand that lit half the field he was on. I went down there and saw the aftermath. It looked like a war zone right out of the Crastigane Incursion. Blood and scorch marks everywhere. The only thing missing were the bodies and dismembered limbs, and that¡¯s because we got lucky. If we don¡¯t train him to get a handle on this power of his, he will pose a serious threat to his class, himself, and maybe even the academy as a whole. We¡¯ll have to condition him to the strain and stress of the regiment, ready or not.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s safe, Thallos. You killed your last two disciples. Either you¡¯ll go easy on him because he¡¯s family, and he will be under-prepared, or you¡¯ll push him to madness or death.¡±


    ¡°Tommies, I admit, was not a good candidate for the sect, and I regret pushing him to those extremes. But Sherra displayed all the talents needed, and she was dedicated. No one could have predicted she would go so far that we had to put her down.¡±


    ¡°How do we know that won¡¯t happen to Iver? Could you handle your nephew going unstable and killing his only friends? For that matter, would you even be able to handle putting him down?¡±


    ¡°Come now, Thrasher. I can feel it in my bones. This boy is different. Different like nothing we¡¯ve ever seen. I will only push him hard enough to teach him the needed skills. I¡¯ll even allow him free time with friends and regular full nights of sleep.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure that I liked what they were talking about. What training? Which sect? What was a Dark Hunter? And what in Pandemonium did Thallos do to his last students? I had so many questions, and I needed answers. But I figured that I wasn¡¯t meant to hear that talk. I wanted answers, but what was the better way to get honest ones? Did I let them know I was awake and ask or let them explain? Or should I play a corpse and keep listening and piece everything together myself? When I pulled myself up to a sitting position, I got my answer, regardless of which method was desired. As I pulled myself up to press my back against the headboard, the lights in the room brightened so sharply that it made my eyes burn. I heard a distant buzzer go off in time with the lights, and I knew they would realize I was awake.


    ¡°He¡¯s up.¡± Came Thrasher¡¯s resolute voice. ¡°The choice falls to you, ma¡¯am. How should we proceed?¡±


    A calm female voice answered. ¡°We will let him choose his own future, but regardless of which path he takes, we will have to give him control training.¡±


    The door slid open to reveal Trainee Healer Tessa leading in the group of instructors headed by the Mysteriarch herself. The Gnome girl pulled up a stool and began checking my contusion with diligence. She flashed a penlight in my eyes and drew it left and right, asking me to follow the light. ¡°Are you feeling dizzy?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I answered.


    ¡°Nauseous?¡±


    ¡°Nope.¡±


    ¡°Overly hot or cold?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m kinda cold, but it¡¯s in a weird way.¡± To affirm my statement, I rubbed my hands up and down my upper arms in an attempt to warm the muscles.


    ¡°Your skin is warm, but your guts and bones seem to have a chill?¡± She asked as she pulled my mouth open to shine the light into the back of my throat.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± I answered as best I could while she pulled my tongue out and pressed her finger against it.


    ¡°That¡¯s normal. It should go away in a day or two. We¡¯ll have to keep you here till the IV bag is empty. I¡¯ll test you again then and may put you on another, so expect to stay here for at least a day.¡± She hopped down off the stool and dragged it over to the IV bag to check it. ¡°You¡¯re lucky, you know. Since we can¡¯t tell what breed of Darkling you are, we had to test your blood compatibility with each type we had in stock. We only had three Fiend-bred blood types and two Devil-bred blood types. Your body seems to be able to accept all the of the blood types we tried.¡± She hopped off the stool yet again, moved it to the alcove, and began taking notes in the holo display. ¡°Our best guess is that your blood type is GZ+, but both breeds have this blood type, and it¡¯s a universal receiver. It still doesn¡¯t tell us what breed you are. But in the meantime, until your release, these instructors need to speak with you.¡±


    The Mysteriarch pulled one of the chairs against the wall closer to my bed and took a seat.


    ¡°How are you feeling?¡±


    I gave a shrug. ¡°Physically, I¡¯m a bit cold. Emotionally, I¡¯m stressed out. Mentally, I¡¯m all flavors of confused.¡±


    She gave a single deep nod that conveyed deep wisdom. ¡°All to be expected. We have some answers, but we also have some questions for you. To begin, how familiar are you with the laws of myst and the elemental mechanics?¡±


    ¡°Most of what I know is from class. I may be a little ahead of course, but everything I¡¯ve been studying is from the academy archives. Why?¡±


    ¡°So you know that everything in our reality is made from myst, correct?¡±


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am?¡± My response was half answer, half question as I wondered where this was going.


    The Elven headmaster leaned forward in her seat, propping her elbows against her knees. ¡°Are you familiar with the term Myst-Blooded?¡±


    ¡°I mean, I know that blood is formed from Water, Earth, and Life Myst.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I¡¯m asking.¡±


    ¡°Then no, ma¡¯am.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a complicated topic, so this explanation may be a little confusing. All casters need an item called a focus to cast magic safely beyond a certain low threshold. The focus needed varies based on what classification of caster you are. Wizards use staves, Sorcerers use rune bracers, and so on. A caster¡¯s classification is based on their elemental affinities and how they channel their myst. Myst-Blooded have two different kinds of affinities. Do you want to guess what is the differences are?¡±


    I numbly shook my head.


    ¡°Well, what makes up the Dualities, like The Cycle?¡±


    ¡°The Dualities are made up of opposing forces like Life and Death.¡± I recited from memory.


    ¡°Good.¡± She said with an encouraging nod that made me feel like I had completed something important. ¡°Now, almost all the Dualities are split up into what two types?¡±


    ¡°Umm,¡± I stammered as I drew on old class memories. ¡°The Dualities are separated by polarity, two sides of a coin. Like Life and Death.¡±


    ¡°Well done. Now, what are those two types called?¡±


    ¡°Positive and negative alignments?¡± I asked more than answered.


    ¡°Correct. Positive and Negative. A light side and dark side. Now take a wild guess what the two different alignments of Myst-Blooded are.¡±


    ¡°Positive and Negative?¡± My tone reflected that it was all starting to piece together.


    ¡°Correct again. Myst-Blooded are a very rare classification of caster with one of two sides of the affinity list. Positive aligned Myst-Blooded, called Light-Blooded, can use Fate, Synthesis, Life, Lumina, Stasis, and Resonance as well. While Dark-Blooded use Chaos, Ruin, Death, Umbra, Morphic and Distortion.¡±


    ¡°What about the Core Elements? Earth, Fire, and so on.¡±


    ¡°Good question.¡± She said as she tapped her temple on her scarred side with a talon-like nail. ¡°The Core Elements are each neutral, so they can be used by both Myst-Blooded types. Now, there are two sizeable differences between these types casters and other classifications other than the range of affinities. While a Wizard could use Chaos or Fire magic, they just wouldn¡¯t have nearly as potent spells because of their affinity ratio, But Light-Blooded can¡¯t use any negative polarity elements, and the opposite goes for Dark-Blooded. Now the biggest difference is how we know you,¡± she gently pressed a black painted talon to the center of my chest, ¡°are a Myst-Blooded. Want to guess what that big difference is?¡±


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    I rolled the question around in my head as I chewed on my tongue in deep thought. Then I realized the answer was literally in the classification''s name. ¡°My blood.¡±


    ¡°Well done. Myst-Blooded use their blood as a focus, and this makes their spells very potent. But you need to spill your blood to cast spells, and the more blood, the more powerful the spell. I assume you can see both sides of the danger in that.¡±


    I numbly nodded. If I spilled too much blood, I could kill myself from blood loss or kill myself, and goddess knows who else nearby if the spell was powerful enough. I looked at my right hand, a pale white scar raised in the center of my palm and another on the back of my hand. It was a lot to take in at that moment.


    On one hand, I was elated to learn that I was a caster. The ratio of spell slingers to mundane in each species varied from species to species. The highest ratio of Mage to mundane in the native species was in Elves, where one in five people was a spell slinger. I didn¡¯t know the likelihood for Darklings, but I was willing to bet that it was pretty rare. Being a caster put me a step above the common folk if I got good enough in wielding myst. But I couldn¡¯t just conjure fireballs at will and throw them about willy-nilly. In my case, casting meant a steeper price than just vells of myst. I¡¯d need to pay in literal blood if I wanted to control the fundamental building blocks of creation.


    I felt the scars of my right hand with the fingers of my left as I started thinking about how I was going to make it quicker and less harmful to cast spells than just stabbing my hand. Then a question came to mind.


    ¡°Which one am I?¡± I asked the room as a whole.


    The Mysteriarch looked from me to Thallos, to Tessa. ¡°Well, Iver, we ran tests while you were unconscious and found you to be Dark-Blooded. I¡¯m sure you know just how dangerous that makes you if you¡¯re not trained, so we are going to need to get you into some specialized classes for control and use of your myst.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± was all I could say, disheartened. I was hoping for Light-Blooded. Being able to heal, see far distances, or bless others would have been awesome, but most of all, then could''ve used Synthesis Myst, meaning I could make my own batteries or, for that matter, be my own battery for my creations. Ruin Myst was technically ten times more powerful than Synthesis, but it only destroy, turning things dust. I wanted to craft and create things. Not bring literal ruin to the world. I could also use Distortion, which was incredibly powerful for brief moments. But only a total schizo would use that power on themself for enhancement or to power an item on their person, let alone something they would use regularly.


    I had just been proverbially handed the keys to a War Machine, but this titan of catastrophe was just as much a hazard to me as a boon (irony intended). These new studies I was about to be thrown into were going to be critical, especially if I wanted to be as effective as possible as an adventurer.


    I clenched my scarred hand into a fist, resolute in my will to master this power. I looked Mysteriarch K in her good eye, the crystal blue color of her sclera seeming to fade into the stormy blue-green of her iris. Her good eye gleamed in the room''s light. I could read in her face that she saw my determination, and she wordlessly radiated pride for my choice.


    ¡°When do I start these classes?¡±


    Thallos stepped forward to catch my attention. ¡°That¡¯s what brings us to our next question. This is the biggest question hanging in the air as of now, and only you can answer it.¡±


    ¡°Alright, shoot.¡± I gave confirmation that I was ready.


    ¡°Think long and hard on this before you answer.¡± Mystagogue Thrasher warned from his corner of the room. ¡°This is a life-changing choice. If you act in haste, you may come to regret that choice for the rest of your days.¡±


    ¡°With the manifestation of this new aspect of your abilities, in combination with your current scores and class grades, you are technically qualified for a specialized form of training for an elite sect hidden even from most of the rest of the Order.¡± Thallos explained.


    ¡°Alright. What is this hidden sect within the order that is already hidden?¡± I meant the question as more of a joke to lighten the mood of the room, but no one took it as intended.


    ¡°We can¡¯t tell you what the sect is without you agreeing to truly walk that path.¡± stated the Mysteriarch.


    Thallos stepped up to the foot of my bed, his arms folded over his chest. His normally confident smirk of sharp teeth was nowhere to be seen. That scared me more than anything I had heard before. ¡°If you agree to join this sect, it would mean a complete change of daily routine, schedule, and lifestyle. But this offer is only extended to the truly talented, and I think you could be a good fit for the training.¡±


    ¡°But if you agree to this training, we should warn you that if you thought your current training was harsh, then this new regiment would be hellish on a scale the likes of which you would only ever encounter in nightmares.¡± Thrasher interjected.


    My eyes went wide at that statement. Hellish training; this sounded like borderline torture to me. Between that warning and the mention of two dead students when they were arguing, I felt like I had just been offered an all-inclusive trip to the depths of the Hells or Pandemonium. But the academy wasn¡¯t senselessly cruel. There had to be a reason for such a degree of training. What was the payoff at the end of the training?


    ¡°What would this training entail?¡± I feared the answer, but I needed to ask the question.


    ¡°You¡¯re familiar with the position of the Mastlok, correct?¡± Thallos quizzed.


    I nodded in answer, remembering the talk I had with Mystagogue Thrasher about my desire to become a Mastlok. Was that what this was? He had tried to turn me away from that path of training. Was the Mastlok training really so harsh?


    ¡°Well, this is a similar line of training only to a higher caliber. Only instead of you learning the trade of two or three sects, you¡¯ll learn to master all five sects.¡±


    I rapidly blinked so hard it must have looked like I was having some kind of seizure attack for a moment. ¡°Wait, what?! All five sects? You want me to become a warrior, assassin, spy, craftsman, and a scholar?¡± I was baffled, totally speechless at the thought. I¡¯m pretty sure the term for my state was gobsmacked, but vocabulary really didn¡¯t matter.


    ¡°Not just become those roles, but master them.¡± Thallos seemed to get a sense of amusement at my astonished reaction.


    ¡°How in the hells am I supposed to master all five sect trades in less than a year?¡±


    ¡°Oh, you won¡¯t have to master them by year¡¯s end,¡± corrected Mysteriarch K. ¡°You will have six more years to do so and with plenty of field experience. You will just have to meet a set of assigned standards under your training with Mystagogue Kiem.¡±


    ¡°What? I¡¯ll be training under my uncle?¡±


    ¡°Well, why not?¡± Asked Thallos. ¡°I¡¯m already a member of the hidden sect, a master trainer, and I know your skills and talents better than anyone else in the academy. You probably didn¡¯t know this, but I¡¯ve been keeping an active eye on your scores, training, and progress. You¡¯ve got a sharp set of sparking synapses in that skull of yours. You learn quickly when you have the drive. You¡¯re proactive enough to seek out training from an upperclassman every Quenchenday to improve your martial skills, and you¡¯ve got a sense of justice that drives you to stand up for those in danger.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help but blush and give a shadow of a proud smirk.


    Thallos rested both hands on the footboard of my bed and leaned forward. ¡°Now, I¡¯m not going to lie to you, boy; Thrasher wasn¡¯t just trying to scare you off. If you start down this path, there is no going back. This training will test your mettle and will. You are going to hate me from the start to long after you¡¯ve passed the trials. But I know you can pass these trials. I can feel it in my bones.¡± He flashed me a wild grin that set my soul alight with fervor. I wanted to live up to his expectations. I wanted to make him proud and prove to the world that I could become so much more than what I started as at the academy.


    But I couldn¡¯t just jump into this well without checking how deep it was. I knew this was going to be unbelievably hard. But what was the end gain? Would I come out the other side as some insanely skilled super-spy, able to topple empires with little more than wit, guile, and a paperclip?


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to lie.¡± I started. ¡°I am both interested and terrified of this course of action. But what¡¯s the gain? What are the perks, either during training or after I graduate? I¡¯ve seen a whole lot of sticks but almost no carrots. As amazing as it sounds to me, a master of all order trades, I don¡¯t really see that as the only reason to undergo such brutal¡­ guidance? I¡¯m not sure if guidance would be an appropriate term for what I would go through. From what you all have been telling me, it feels like this is less guiding me to becoming something better and more of violently beating a square peg to fit into a round hole.¡±


    ¡°Are you saying that you don¡¯t think you¡¯re not a good fit?¡± asked the Mysteriarch, a scarred brow raised at my vivid analogy.


    ¡°What? No, no. I meant that in more of a manner of reshaping.¡±


    ¡°I think a better analogy for what you would go through is forging.¡± Thrasher elaborated, ¡°Most other students would be a tool with one or two uses. While you would become a device so versatile that you could be put into almost any situation and be used to pull success from the flames.¡±


    ¡°But to answer your question of what makes this all worth it, there are several reasons and perks.¡± The Mysteriarch began. ¡°Other than the advantage the training itself will provide, you would also be issued maximum security clearance for any nation you are in, regardless if they with work with or against the order. You will have access to resources from any of the five sects, including some resources that are exclusively for the sixth sect. You would have access to the treasuries of each sect with limited access to the Sightless Eye¡¯s slush fund for bribing officials. Your stipend of personal funds would reflect your skill set, meaning that each of the five sects will provide you with regular paychecks. All travel expenses would be covered, along with expenses that would be considered part of training. And finally, you can choose to live in any nation of your choice and work with the local branch of the order.¡±


    That was a lot to take in. All I could manage to get out was a distant ¡°wow.¡±


    ¡°Wow, is right, kiddo.¡± Thallos said with a smirk. ¡°To put that all into frame for you, I have four houses, one on each of the livable continents. When I¡¯m not on a mission, which can be for months, I¡¯ve traveled the world for fun and leisure. I¡¯ve also just hunkered down in one of my houses and played holo-games, watched vids, and read books. Oh, and did I mention that my time here at the academy is considered a mission? I¡¯m getting paid some thick clatter to sit around, eat, smoke, and make fun of students.¡±


    The headmaster shot the Wild Elf a look of warning. ¡°Excuse me. You¡¯re doing what now while here?¡±


    ¡°Just encouraging our students through abstract means, ma¡¯am.¡± Thallos replied, without skipping a beat. His demeanor was somber, and the mask didn¡¯t crack till the Mysteriarch rolled her eyes and turned back to me.


    ¡°Now, Iver, I am aware that your uncle here is a fairly recent addition to your life, and he gave you some rudimentary training before you joined the academy. No doubt you have noticed that the man is comical and easygoing while off the clock. But you need to be aware that when he puts on his mentor¡¯s mask and has a job to do, he can be harsh. What you would go through under him is nothing like what he put you through before. He will push you, and if you¡¯re not ready for what he will bring to bear against you, you will likely break. That being said, your test scores in most classes are at or above average, and your point scores are within an expected range, but the fact you have points in four of the five vectors is a feat worth noting. And the performance you gave on the day of your awakening shows that you have the martial skills desired for a Crimson Blade. All of this adds up to mean that you have a chance of being a uniquely good fit for this role should you not break under the pressure. But as stated before, this is your choice, and you will receive no repercussions should you turn the offer down.¡±


    My gaze fell back to the scar that permeated my hand. I pressed the thumb of my left hand against the raised white tissue in the center of my right palm, causing the hue tissue to shift to pink as my fingers curled in.


    This was a life-altering choice. I had just been handed an opportunity to possibly become one of the many legends that stepped out of this academy. Could I handle the challenge? Was I strong enough to shatter my own limits? On the other hand, could I really turn this offer aside?


    Could I live with myself as just a standard member or agent and not regret that chance to be more? If I did regret the choice to turn down the offer, I would have to live with that pain on the daily. But if I did take the offer and I couldn¡¯t take the pressure, I would regret every living moment till they wiped my memory and threw me from their numbers. They said that there was no going back. Would I be expelled from the academy and the order? How could I live with myself, having been kicked from the chance to be part of something more and earn a living?


    I had three possible outcomes. I could be a typical agent, crafting or fighting based on my scores. I¡¯d earn a living and possibly do something I enjoyed. I could break my limits and possibly become an honest to gods'' Hero. Or I could break instead of my limits, be excommunicated from the order, and be left to wander the world as a cursed child.


    My fists clenched as I came to my decision. I looked up at the Mysteriarch and gave her my answer.

 Chapter 24

    The Elemani are a Shifted Species brought about by the constant use of a single elemental type of spells over a prolonged period of time. The myst infuses the users¡¯ DNA over the course of years, causing them to develop physical and psychological traits associated with the element.


    Day 156 Quenchenday


    Needless to say, I took the offer extended to me. This opportunity to me was something I would regret for the rest of my life if I didn¡¯t take this chance. In only two years, I had watched my entire life fall to pieces and something new rise from the ashes. After I saw my father perish, I thought that my life was over. I thought I would never amount to anything in this twisted world. I was so certain that I would never bounce back from this total collapse of everything that had once been my life. But after a year on the streets, Thallos stepped into my life, and everything changed. Quick as lightning, I was at a world-class academy for training elite members of an order dedicated to changing the world. Now, I was well on my way to possibly becoming a Hero.


    It was the day they discharged me from the medical center to the awaiting faces of my friends. None of which had been given permission to see me the past two days while I cloistered in an aseptic room with nothing but my therra-node to occupy myself.


    I stepped through the automated doors of the medical center into the much-missed natural sunlight as I spread my arms wide in mass-greeting to the three figures I had only notified of my freedom the hour previously.


    ¡°Freedom!¡± I proclaimed, pumping both fists into the air.


    The moment I spotted Rose, a very particular chain of thoughts came to mind that drove a blush to my cheeks and my neck to burn. I plastered on a smile and tried to act causal.


    ¡°Alright, you horned bastard, spill. Nel told me a bit of what happened during your training, but I want to hear the reality from your lips.¡± Rose demanded as she pulled me into a boisterous hug with rib-creaking pressure.


    Rose and I separated, and Nel stepped in to take her place. Her firm metallic frame was warm from the sun. I found the sensation soothing since I had yet to beat back that bone-deep chill. After Nel stepped away from me, I slapped palms with Ferris and bumped knuckles.


    ¡°The short of it is I ruined Mallrimor¡¯s day, and I apparently have magic.¡±


    ¡°Oh, no, you don¡¯t.¡± Rose chided with a wagging clawed finger, her other hand in a fist propped on her hip. ¡°I want fight details, and Nel and Ferris want answers to some questions.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t make eye contact with Rose without my blush flaring back up, so I desperately looked anywhere else as I struggled to think of a cohesive answer. The only thing to pass my lips was an incoherent stutter of syllables. Rose propped both fists on her hips and leaned into my personal space, her whiskers caressing my cheek as I swore she was about to whisper seductively in my ear. Instead of a sensual caress of sweet words, it was a whispered threat of violence laced into the single word ¡°Details.¡±


    I threw up my hands in surrender, ¡°Ok, ok! You win. Can we at least please get some food and find a secluded area because I¡¯d rather not be overheard?¡±


    Rose stepped back, looked at the other two, and then turned back to me with a single nod of agreement. Without another word on the topic, we made our way to the DEFAC for some subpar but better-than-nothing food. As we made our trek, Nel and Ferris got me caught up on what I missed in class. I obviously had some classwork I needed to catch up on, but more interesting than that was the state of Mallrimor and his thugs, along with Mystagogue Kellennar.


    Mallrimor and Kesher were burned so badly that they were scarred even after healing. If they didn¡¯t have a grudge against me before, I was sure that they did after that incident. I was going to need to be ready for anything because I had a feeling that they were out for blood. But I felt a lot more comfortable handling the gang of thugs after that challenge. Thallos even said I earned my first Spell Vector points in that challenge despite me only using one element.


    On the topic of Kellennar, the Mysteriarch said that he was going to be questioned and investigated under the suspicion of attempting to have fellow students kill me. Regardless of whether or not his intentions were malicious, they had stripped him of his teaching privileges and he would receive disciplinary actions fitting of what the investigations found. From Nel and Ferris, the story was that he had been kicked from the academy for attempted murder and was sent to a class black threat zone where he would surely die. Or so the rumors floating around the student body said. While I enjoyed those tall tales, I couldn¡¯t help but cackle at the rumors floating around about me. These stories Nel and Rose took turns sharing after we picked up our paper sacks of cold lunch and made our way to the woods at the edge of the crater.


    ¡°The story among the Slates is that Iver, the terrible mad genius of the grade, spat flames across a training field trying to kill half of his class whom he challenged to a dual all at once.¡± Nel said with an amused smirk.


    ¡°Are even our classmates spewing this madness?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Kind of.¡± Interjected Ferris. ¡°My class is saying that the terrible Darkling cheated in a duel with the class¡¯s Brightling and scarred him so bad that healing couldn¡¯t stop the scarring.¡±


    ¡°Of course. The racist bastards.¡± I said with a sigh of irritated resignation. ¡°What has your class been hearing, Rose?¡±


    ¡°Ha!¡± she let out in a boisterous answer. ¡°The stories up the food chain are even weirder. The whispers among the Wisps are saying that a half-demon Slate bled flames in rage and attacked his class, almost killing a Brightling and himself in the process. But that just sounds like utter madness. I¡¯m mean, come on! Burning blood? What, are you a Fire Elemani now? That¡¯s the only reason you could have flaming blood unless you¡¯re secretly a fire elemental hiding in a skin suit.¡±


    ¡°Heh.¡± came a half-hearted chuckle from my lips. ¡°Yeah, about that¡­¡± I trailed off.


    They all stopped in their tracks and stared at me like I grew another set of horns.


    ¡°Nnnoooo.¡± Rose drew out the word of flat denial, turning it into a meaning of disbelief but expecting something more.


    ¡°What?¡± was all I could manage to get out as I turned to face them.


    ¡°You can¡¯t be an Elemani, but that is the only plausible answer cuz there is no way in the nine hells you¡¯re an Elemental.¡±


    ¡°But you don¡¯t have any traits of the Fire Elemani.¡± Nel pointed out.


    I nodded my head in the direction of the sapphire-leafed tree we had been approaching. ¡°I¡¯ll explain when we all hunker down under the shade. Till then, Rose you mind explaining what a Wisp is? I can only assume you¡¯re not talking about the ghosts of lost children kind of Wisps.¡±


    She raised a copper brow at me for a moment before answering as we all continued on our desired path. ¡°When you graduate from Slate and are selected by a sect, you will have a trainee rank based on the sect. Each sect has a theme that its ranks are based around. In the Crimson Blades, they¡¯re Pups for a wolf theme. I¡¯m a Year One or Tier One Pup. Blackened Crown has Fledglings, after a raven theme. Burning Hand has Sprockets, after a mechanical component theme. Silent Heart has Throbs. Their theme is heartbeats. Lastly, Sightless Eye has Wisps. Their theme is ghosts and specters. From what I hear, the theme continues even after you graduate, but the title changes. Like I know, if I graduate with Crimson, I¡¯ll become a Paw. But you all know that I¡¯m training to become a Mastlok. The title of the one I¡¯m aiming for is called a Still Blade. The Crimson Blade and Silent Heart combo.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s some impressive knowledge there, Rose. Where¡¯d you learn all of it?¡± I asked. Immediately after the words left my lips, I realized that I was trying to ingratiate myself with her. I left dirty sucking up to her, but I really wanted her to like me.


    ¡°It¡¯s all basic stuff that gets explained when you get picked up by a sect.¡± She answered, my attempts for favor going unseen.


    ¡°And you want to train under my uncle, right? How¡¯s your training to become a Mastlok going?¡±


    ¡°Hells yes, I want to train under Mystagogue Kiem! The dude is a legend. And my training is going great. I just need to catch his eye while I¡¯m training and show off my murder skills. I just know he¡¯ll pick me.¡±


    At this point, we were a fair distance into the woods. Without a word said aloud, we all agreed to set up camp in a clearing just to our right. I dropped into a sitting position. My back pressed up against the trunk of a sapphire tree. I pulled out my lunch: a turkey and Swiss sandwich, a bag of potato chips, a can of juice, a roast beef and barbeque sauce sandwich, a bag of pretzels, and a can of soda. I had snagged two bag lunches back at the dining hall. My stomach had been emitting audible gurgles of desire through the entire walk that had evolved to growls of yearning.


    I unwrapped a sandwich at random and dug in, savoring a bite of beef and sweet barbeque sauce. After my second relishing bite, I realized everyone was looking at me expectantly. I took a hard swallow and began to tell my side of what happened, omitting the thoughts about Rose that I had been contending with at the time. When I got to the bit about the blood, I watched Rose¡¯s eyes go wide with clear astonishment. I explained the concept of Myst Blooded as best I could, drawing from as much of my talk with the Mysteriarch as I could remember verbatim. But I stopped just short of the talk with Thallos about the sixth sect, the hidden sect within the order.


    Thallos and Mysteriarch K were very clear on the fact that the group must remain secret unless I trust someone implicitly with the knowledge that could put them in danger and possibly kill me if it got out. I wanted to tell them, but I was worried. I worried what they would think if I told them the big secret. This stuff was kept secluded for a reason, even if I didn¡¯t know that reason yet.


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    ¡°So what do you think Ive¡¯?¡± Nel asked, shocking me out of my worrying rumination. The others had been discussing magic and the different comparisons between my new caster classification and other caster types. But I hadn¡¯t been focusing on the conversation.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what?¡±


    ¡±I asked what you thought about comparing yourself to a Wizard?¡±


    ¡°Oh, um. I guess they are kinda closely related. But if I remember right, they don¡¯t have a strong affinity for Death, Body, Air, or Fire elements. All of which I have, though I still need to get tested to see my affinity scores.¡±


    ¡°What do you think will be your strongest affinity?¡± Rose asked as she lay on her side, head propped in her hand as she munched on chips.


    ¡°No clue. But if I had to take a guess, I¡¯d say fire is pretty high up there.¡± Even as I spoke, I was still only half in the conversion. The other half of my mind was worrying about the repercussions of telling them.


    The talk went on about different mage classifications and what they could and couldn¡¯t do in theory. I gave commentary when asked questions but never interjected anything of my own into the talk. At some point later, I had eaten most of my lunch, which had suddenly tasted bland and banal when my thoughts fell down the rabbit hole of worry and questions.


    ¡°Hey Ive¡¯, you ok, dude?¡± Ferris pulled me from my brooding with a worried look on his face.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± I sighed out the word. ¡°My head is just caught in a pool of questions with no answers. Something else happened, and I don¡¯t know what to say about it or even if I can talk about it.¡±


    ¡°Why? What¡¯s going on?¡±


    At that moment, the girls, who had been bickering over whether or not a Mechanist and Circuit caster classes would work well together better than a Nightveil and Trickster, noticed my state and honed in on the cause like bloodhounds after a maimed deer.


    ¡°Iver,¡± came Rose, her tone dead serious. ¡°You can talk to us. It¡¯s not an over-exaggeration to say that Nel and Ferris both owe you their lives. And I care enough to not only pull your ass out of the fire but also spend my Quenchendays training with you. There¡¯s nothing you can¡¯t tell us.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s right, Ive¡¯. You saved me from those bastards when they tried to gut me for being what I am. You might not think yourself anything great, but even when you couldn¡¯t fight, you stepped up to defend me. At this point, you¡¯re my brother.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m in total agreement with Nel, Ive.¡± Rose proclaimed. ¡°You might as well be my little brother. You could come out as gay, or as a follower of some dark god, or secretly having or having a mechanical foot fetish, and I wouldn¡¯t bat an eye.¡±


    ¡°Although we might have an issue if the dark god thing leads to sapient sacrifice.¡± Ferris chimed in.


    ¡°Wait, Iver, is this about what we were discussing before your fight?¡± Nel asked, but I could tell she already answered her own question.


    ¡°What!? NO! No, no, no. It has nothing to do with that.¡± I vehemently declared, waving my hands viciously in the negative.


    ¡°Oh, now I have got to hear this.¡± Rose sounded way too eager for my liking by a mile.


    Nel cupped her bust in both hands. ¡°Well, I mentioned that I¡¯m envious of you and your soft boobs, so I asked him to make me a synthetic pair that I could use. He got all embarrassed and said he¡¯d never touched a tit before. I said you might be willing to act as a test example for him and he got all upset.¡±


    ¡°NENNEL! Shut your trap before I wire shut those servos!¡± I howled in utter embarrassment, my entire face burning. I was so ashamed in that moment that I earnestly prayed for a deity, any deity, to smite me and end my shame. I covered my face with my hands and pulled my knees in. ready for Rose to get offended and mock me for even thinking of something like that, even if it wasn¡¯t my idea to start with.


    ¡°Oh, is that all? Yeah, that¡¯s totally cool.¡± Rose said with an ease and nonchalance that left me baffled. I waited for a long moment, hiding behind my hands, ready for it to be some cover to make me let my guard down so she could break my nose. When no strike came, I peeked one eye between my fingers to see her looking at me like I was being weird.


    ¡°You¡¯re not joking?¡±


    ¡°Nope.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not gonna beat me into a thin paste?¡±


    ¡°Iver.¡± She sounded more annoyed by the question than the idea of me touching her. ¡°Why, by the broken blade, would I hit you for touching me?¡± She sounded exasperated.


    ¡°Because... Boob?¡± I meant it as a statement, but it came out as more of a question.


    ¡°Dude, come on. A tit is no different from an arm or a leg. Some girls might get all prissy and upset at the thought of a dude groping their tatas, but a warrior can¡¯t think like that. Besides, when we spar, you hit them all the time. It¡¯s no big deal.¡±


    I slowly let down my guard, face burning like a star at the very thought. ¡°I-I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m not sure if I¡¯m comforta--¡± Before I could finish, Rose snatched my left hand and physically yanked me over to her, resting my palm over her breast. I gave a yipe of surprise with the tugging. The moment I knew where my hand was, I froze, as solid as stone. At that moment, there was a primal part of my mind that told me to squeeze, but I restrained myself with all the might my spinning mind could manage.


    Turned out I didn¡¯t need to restrain myself because she pressed her free hand over mine and squeezed. ¡°I-I-I-I,¡± I stammered as she kept making my hand grope her.


    ¡°See, feel the squish. No big deal. I¡¯m not going to paste you over a titty fondle. If you surprise me with one, I might jab you with an elbow, but I really don¡¯t care otherwise. I know guys have a thing for boobs, and I get it. Boobs are fun. Boobs are comfy to lie on. And to guys, boobs are sexy. There are plenty of girls that see them the same way. But to me and women like me, they are just heavy squish meat on your chest. No different from your pecks other than weighing more.¡±


    The moment Rose let go of my hand, I yanked it back as if singed. I looked at my defiling hand, flexing the fingers to make sure I still had them.


    ¡°Now, Iver, isn¡¯t there something you want to say to her?¡± Nel pushed, waggling her eyebrows to convey the message ¡®ask her out¡¯.


    I shot the traitorous cyborg a glare full of daggers.


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t have to thank me for that.¡± Rose said as she adjusted her uniform jacket. ¡°But what¡¯s with the eyebrows? Is there something I¡¯m missing?¡±


    ¡°NO!¡± I declared before Nel could open her mouth and embarrass me more. ¡°She¡¯s just making fun of me and should stop while she¡¯s ahead before I come looking for righteous vengeance.¡± If she told Rose that I had feelings for her, I swore that I would tackle her and shove my sweaty socks in her mouth.


    ¡°Iver, it¡¯s no big deal. Hells, I¡¯m even comfortable going topless and letting the puppies see some sun.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say no to that.¡± said Ferris with a smirk that I could tell if it was from her topless line or just my inflamed discomfort. He also was stroking his chin as if in deep thought.


    ¡°I am nowhere near comfortable with that!¡± I protested with a fervor.


    ¡°Why?¡± Rose asked as she wore her own smirk. ¡°Do you have something against furry love mounds? Do my kitty titties bother you?¡± She waggled her breasts in my direction even as she began to unbutton her jacket.


    ¡°Plleeaassee. Don¡¯t. I might die of a shame-induced heart attack.¡± I pleaded.


    Rose stopped unbuttoning her jacket halfway down and leaned back, propping herself up with her hands. ¡°Come on, Iver. You know that I¡¯m only doing this because your discomfort is just so fun. But if the fun is over, how about a rating?¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?!¡± The thought of grading her boobs sent me into a mental tailspin.


    ¡°What? Did you get enough of a feel to make Nel something similar?¡±


    ¡°I-umm. I- don¡¯t-¡± I was saved from answering by a familiar shout.


    ¡°Oy! Boy! You ready for your starter classes?!¡± Barked Thallos halfway up the hill that led to the edge of the woods where we sat. He approached even as he spoke.


    ¡°Yes, Sir!¡± I answered back, jumping to my feet with an almost preternatural speed.


    ¡°Wait, What?¡± Rose asked, sitting up to see who was coming.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s just my uncle. He¡¯s, uh, giving me extra classes.¡± I turned to meet Thallos before anyone could ask questions, but I turned to find him right behind me. Had he just covered thirty yards in the time it took me to come up with that excuse?


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re with friends. Did you share the good news with them?¡± Thallos¡¯s voice was tinged with a hint of pride.


    I shot him a look of utter shock. Was he about to tell them about the sect? Didn¡¯t he want me to keep it a secret?


    ¡°What news?¡± Asked Nel as she stood to greet my uncle. ¡°We heard about the Myst Blooded thing.¡±


    Rose was totally star-struck at Thallos¡¯s appearance, her yellow cat¡¯s eyes the size of golf balls, her ears folded back.


    ¡°What?¡± responded Thallos, confused. ¡°Oh! No. That has something to do with the news, but that¡¯s not all of it.¡± He stepped up beside me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, playfully jostling me. ¡°Iver here has been accepted as a Mastlok. I¡¯m taking him under my wing to train for the three sects he got accepted by.¡±


    ¡°WHAT!¡± Rose shot to her feet, looking between me and my uncle with shock in her eyes.


    ¡°Really?!¡± Nel was obviously excited for me as she bounced on the balls of her feet.


    ¡°Yup. Iver here has been tentatively accepted by Crimson Blade, Burning Hand, and Blackened Crown. Now, this is all dependent on him passing his grad trials, of course, but I was given permission to start preparing him for the brutal lifestyle ahead.¡± Thallos lied so easily to them, a broad grin of pride painted across his face. How much of that was false? He made it look so easy, setting the story and selling it so cleanly. Were those skills from Sightless Eye? I wondered to myself. I made a note to ask him later.


    ¡°That¡¯s so awesome, Iver!¡± Nel lept forward and tackled me in a hug that would have driven me to the grass if Thallos hadn¡¯t had his hand pressed against the small of my back to keep me balanced. Did he know that was coming?


    Ferris hoped to his feet, his own excitement obvious. ¡°Dude! Why didn¡¯t you start with that news? Was that what had you worried?¡±


    As Nel let go of me and stepped back, I clutched my upper arm and looked at the ground as I gave a hurried nod. I needed to sell the story just as good as my uncle. Here was do or die.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I muttered only just audibly. ¡°I was worried that you guys would be upset that I became a Mastlok before you all. I wanted us all to take this step together.¡± I couldn¡¯t meet any of their eyes, my own gaze cemented to my feet. I was lying to the only friends I had ever made, people who trusted me. People that I should be able to trust.


    ¡°Are you kidding!¡± Ferris exclaimed. ¡°After that fight, you earned it. To beat the tar out of a group of troll-headed thugs that had been making our lives hard since the beginning of the year.¡±


    Nennel stepped back up to me and picked my hanging hand in both of hers. Her grip was gentle as a dove as she held my hand as if in gratitude. ¡°Iver, I¡¯ve watched you grow from the day you saved me. You stood up to those slither-spined scum bags time and time again. You didn¡¯t quit, no matter how hard they put you down. I watched you grow from not even being able to throw a proper punch into a Kick-Ass combat genius that took on those four, armed with real weapons, while you only had a training blade. You didn¡¯t just earn that win. You earned this promotion.¡±


    Tears ran down my face at her kind words. It all still felt like a dream to me. I just accepted what happened without thinking about how far I had come. I was so busy worrying about my new magic and hiding this sect I was joining that I didn¡¯t fully realize how I got it all. Nel was right. I had managed to become the new person that I needed to be.


    Ferris stepped up beside me and playfully tapped my shoulder with his knuckles. ¡°She hit the nail on the head. But you also took a sword through the hand like a badass and weren¡¯t even phased when you bled flames. Hells dude, you gave those scum buckets a dacker fight. They won¡¯t live down anytime soon.¡±


    They were proud of me for what I had done, and I was spewing falsehoods. I felt terrible.


    Thallos squeezed my shoulder. ¡°Come on, trainee. We¡¯ve got to get you ready for the trails ahead.¡±


    I turned with Thallos and followed him down the hill. I took one final look back to see Nel and Ferris waving to me. But Rose just looked stunned. Did she know that I was lying? One way or another, I wasn¡¯t going to be getting sleep that night.

 Chapter 25

    Anogwin has five moons. Luna, the white moon; Menta, the purple moon; Secca, the green moon; Reva, the red moon; and Pathis, the blue moon. Each moon waxes and wanes at its own pace, and each phase of each moon is said to have some kind of effect on the world below. These effects range from enhanced fertility, peaceful nights, or psychic sensitivity, to being a good sign for taking revenge or going on a hunt. These effects remain unproven, so many remain skeptical, but plenty of people believe in them and act accordingly.


    Day 156 Quenchenday


    ¡°Alright, Iver, let¡¯s start with the basics. Who does the order follow?¡± Thallos quizzed, hand clasped behind his back with a riding crop. He passed back and forth in front of me in a small office that must have been his.


    The office was the size of Mystagogue Thrasher¡¯s office, but the decor was totally different. The walls were a uniform striping of light and dark gray bars running horizontally across the walls. I sat in a steel chair that was designed to be fashionable but was uncomfortable to a distracting degree. To my left was a plain steel table adorned with a row of books between two panther head-shaped onyx bookends. The books toward the door to the office were all school textbooks on topics like an encyclopedia of venoms and poisons, a book on advanced magic theory that I knew Thallos had never read, and a field guide to being combat-ready at any time. The books to the side closer to his desk were all cheap pulp fiction novels and horror stories by one H.P. Lovecoast. The wall above the table displayed a stuffed and mounted set of chimera heads, a flame salamander head, all eight of the beast¡¯s legs set in pairs framing said head, and a dried and tacked kelpie hide from tail to snout.


    There was a table on the right wall matching its twin on the left, but this one displayed more trophies. A dried green hide troll hand, the stinger of a manticore held in a glass octagonal case balanced point down, and the mounted fangs of what I guessed was some massive spider that I would never want to meet. Mounted to the wall behind this table was a single trophy. A single bird wing that spanned the entire wall and wasn¡¯t even fully extended. My best guess was the wing was from a thunderbird.


    Thallos¡¯s desk was carved from black marble with silver-white veins, sleek and flat on every surface with no ornamentation, but the edges and corners looked to me to be intimidatingly sharp. But that factor of intimidation paled in comparison to his back wall. Flanking his black leather chair was a matching pair of cu sith heads below a pair of black shucks.


    Also known as cu sith, also known as fairy hounds, were rumored to be capable of speech and making fey quality deals as well as teleportation. While that was impressive, the black shuck heads were a step above. Also known as black hounds, they were seen as omens of death and ill fortune. Just looking at the mounted heads, I could see why many thought of them as demon dogs, their fur oil-slick black, massive jaws filled with just as massive teeth held in a perpetual snarl, and their eyes a bloody red and glowed from what I could only guess were lights set behind the orbs.


    But the most terrifying presence of the room overshadowed His chair and hound. Mounted above his chair and posed to be looking directly where I sat was a manticore head. Its semi-human semi-lion features were frozen in a snarl, bearing a row of fangs the size of daggers, the whole thing framed by a perfect, glossy copper mane.


    It was that head I stared at. I swore I could see the bloodlust in the beast¡¯s glass eyes as they seemed to peer into my very soul and found my skill wanting.


    I was snapped back into focus by the sting of a riding crop against my thigh.


    ¡°Aw!¡± I rubbed what would soon be a welt with the flat of my hand.


    ¡°Again, who does our order follow?¡±


    ¡°The Fractured Goddess.¡± I answered, even as my face curled at the pain.


    ¡°Good. What are each of the fragments called?¡±


    I tried to dredge up the memory of covering this in class. ¡°Um, Her Fragment of the Birthing Forge, Her Fragment of the Warriors Eye, Her Fragment of the Whistling Phantom?¡± The third answer was more of a question, and I was answered by another slap from the riding crop across my bicep. I hissed in pain as I clutched the site that burned.


    ¡°Whispering Phantom. Not whistling. Continue. You still have two more.¡±


    ¡°Umm, Her fragment of Beating Silence.¡±


    THWAP!! My cheek lit with a fire by a force that drove my head to turn. ¡°ACK!¡± I wailed as I tipped back in the chair. I felt the balance shift in the chair as I leaned it up on two legs and knew that I was going to crash. I tried to correct my weight up only wound up pinwheeling my arms. Abruptly, my rapid descent stopped mid-fall. I looked under the chair to find Thallos¡¯s booted foot hooked into the support bar welded horizontally between the two legs of the chair. He brought the chair back to standing with the jarring force of a stomp.


    Thallos crossed his arms over his chest, the crop still in hand, as he leaned up against his desk. He gave me a look that said he knew I could do better. He voiced those very words. ¡°Come now, boy, I know you can do better. You¡¯re not a mental slouch, and this stuff is the basics that everyone needs to know. There is no reason this should dack your brain. You need to keep in mind that this is me going easy on you. It¡¯s only going to get worse from here.¡±


    ¡°Worse?! How much worse are we talking?¡± I was scared of the answer.


    He just shrugged and looked into the distance. ¡°Broken bones, dodging arrows and myst shots, plenty of endurance training. It¡¯s gonna hurt, but it shouldn¡¯t kill you.¡±


    My face paled with each answer he listed. I started second-guessing my choice to join the sect. But there was no turning back, I had to remind myself. I needed to think of this as a pass-or-die system.


    He saw the look on my face and gave me a kind smile. ¡°If it makes you feel any better, I had to go through the same training and worse when I was a student. Now, I¡¯m not going to chop off your hand and have it magically reattached every time you fumble an answer. But you need to keep in mind that even the punishment is a form of training to get you used to pain and keep you on your mental toes at all times.¡±


    I gave an audible gulp of nervousness. Pain endurance training was not what I signed up for.


    He flashed me the same understanding smile. ¡°I know you can do this, Iver. You¡¯ve got the chops and mettle to turn this training into an afternoon jog through the park. You got this.¡±


    He pulled himself back up to his full height, his serious face back on. ¡°Now, one more time. Her Fragment of¡­¡±


    I closed my eyes and took a centering breath as I thought. Did the room smell like cinnamon and clove? I chided myself for the distraction and refocused.


    ¡°Her Fragment of Beating Stillness.¡±


    ¡°Very good.¡± He tousled my hair in affection. ¡°Now you¡¯ve got one more. What fragment do the mages and scholars follow?¡±


    The answer jumped straight to my mind. I looked up at Thallos and gave him a confident grin. ¡°Fallen Lineage. Her Fragment of the Fallen Lineage.¡±


    ¡°Well done, kiddo.¡± he praised with a soft clapping of his hands. He leaned back against the desk, this time setting down the crop and bracing himself with both hands and a foot. ¡°Now for the new material. Sharpen those ears and keep a lid on what I¡¯m about to tell you. Got that, boy?¡±


    I clenched my fists in my lap and gave a single resolute nod of confirmation,


    ¡°Good. Let¡¯s start with the name of your sect. You are a trainee of the Sect of the Dark Hunter. All members of the sect are known as Dark Hunters. Not hard to remember.¡±


    I shook my head, mute with focus and fascination.


    ¡°The title Dark Hunter was originally given in relation to a type of creature by the same name. The creature called a Dark Hunter is a rare occurrence in the world. When someone who dedicated their life to slaying evil was slayed under very specific conditions could return as this type of Restless Dead. To go into detail, the person in question has to be viewed as a leader of people, be it a king, noble, chieftain, or even a priest. They also need to be a skilled warrior or powerful mage. In the process, the subject must be slain by some form of terrible evil on sacred land under a full blood Luna moon, a full Reva moon, and a new Pathis moon. If these conditions are met, the slain person is raised by Revnerra, the Thayen goddess of death, among other domains. But what really matters about the goddess is she presides over the domain of death and has a penchant for meddling with those who seek revenge on their deathbed. Legend has it that the goddess descends to the slain on wings of shadow and ravens to rip out their heart, take a single bite from it, lacing the organ with potent Dark and Death Myst before laying it back in the chest where the wound will heal and scar over the course of the night. After three nights, the corpse rises as a Dark Hunter and lives with the sole purpose of living up to that name, hunting dark and evil creatures. They will only find rest if they kill whoever originally killed them in a very specific ritual. You following, boy?¡±


    I silently gave a vigorous nod in answer. I found all of what he said fascinating. Dark Hunters sounded awesome, like something a god of metal music would come up with. I mean, come on! A noble, heroic figure dies tragically and rises again to become an agent of a goddess of death. That sounds like the synopsis of a metal song if I¡¯ve ever heard one.


    ¡°Good, now to continue to how you and I are classified as members of the order.¡±


    ¡°But Thallos,¡± I interjected. He looked at me expectantly. ¡°What about the fragment of the sect? Shouldn¡¯t I know who I¡¯m devoting myself to?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a secret for later on down this road, my boy. For now, just call her The Hollow Fragment and think of her as a dark defender working from only the deepest shadows.¡±


    I nodded at the answer, not really appeased by it, but I accepted it as a stepping stone.


    ¡°Now, as I was saying about how we are classified. Single sect members are type one members, Mastloks are type two members, and we are the last type, type three members. Type ones do most of the work both in-house and in-field. In-house we have clerks, technicians, researchers, theorists, smiths, communications specialists, librarians, mechanics, cryptographers, and so on. While out in the field, we have adventurers, scouts, spies, hunters, advisors, assassins, construction specialists, escort guards, black market sappers, and so on. Most clerical work falls to Blackened Crown and Sightless Eye. Most research, device testing, theorists, and mechanics belong to Burning Hand and Blackened Crown. To be honest, Blackened Crown has its fingers in most pies. They work in the field in both combat and noncombatant roles.¡±


    ¡°Wait- I thought only casters could join Broken Crown?¡± I asked, completely confused.


    ¡°What?¡± Thallos looked at me in complete bafflement. ¡°No, I thought you caught on to that shallow farce. Anyone who did any level of digging into files for the sect¡¯s study through your therra-node or discussed with a Mystagogue about options for noncombatants would learn that Blackened Crown and Sightless Eye have positions for those that can¡¯t hold their own in fieldwork or in the other sects. We won¡¯t keep anyone who won¡¯t do the work or doesn¡¯t have the talent. That said, if you can do the digging or ask honest questions and keep good grades in standard classes, we won¡¯t throw you out on the street. We trim the dead weight and keep those that can prove themselves useful.¡±


    ¡°Really? Those two sects are the ones with all the clerks, mathematicians, and historians?¡± I pressed, not comprehending what he was saying. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I believe that,¡± I voiced.


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    Thallos folded his arms over his chest, lifted his nose, and closed his eyes, looking for all the world as a dignified man conveying wisdom to a disciple. ¡°Best believe it, my boy. Do you really expect warriors to file papers, assassins to do advanced calculus, and spies to decipher enemy messages?¡±


    ¡°Actually, yes. Specifically on that last one. I¡¯m pretty sure spies should know cryptography. It kind of seems like their job.¡± I pointed out, feeling I had a valid reason to prove him wrong.


    ¡°You do have a point on that case, I will admit.¡± Thallos gave a dip of his head to secede the point.


    ¡°Then what about the cooks? Or the janitors? Who keeps up with yard work to keep the grounds looking nice or building maintenance?¡±


    ¡°Whoa, whoa.¡± He said, pressing palms toward the floor in a slow motion. ¡°Cool those heels, boy. To answer your question, we train the mundane staff in at least one or two upkeep duties and circulate them between upkeep work and their stand to make sure no one handful of workers has the same job for longer than a month or two. We¡¯ve found that it¡¯s a great way to alleviate stress and keep morale up if everyone cycles through jobs every so often.¡±


    ¡°That makes sense, but what does this have to do with us?¡± I felt so lost in what this had to do with me. It was cool knowing how the cogs of the machine of the order worked, but I didn¡¯t see how I fit into it all.


    ¡°Sorry, I went off on a tangent. The point is that those workers and all single sect members are type one members. They are the day-to-day workers who handle most standard matters. The Mastloks are type two, the ones that are flexible and able to handle most deviations from the norm. In short, they are the ones that step up when something goes wanky or difficult most of the time.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure that I understand. Can you give examples?¡±


    ¡°Think of a Battle Mage, a caster with warrior skills. Or a spy with assassin skills being sent in for a longer-term infiltration ending in a murder meant to look like an accident. Or a spy mechanic meant to take up the role of a royal tinker or a high-level scientist when they need to collect information on a secret weapon being tested. How about an assassin with a skill for hacking or a spy who needs to be able to fight their way out of a hostile scenario or take the guise of a gladiator? The list goes on. If you can think of a problem, most of the time, there is a Mastlok that can handle the job.¡±


    ¡°That makes sense. But if that¡¯s the case, where do we fit in? Members of five sects, where would we be needed?¡±


    ¡°That, my boy, makes us type three. When a job is too dangerous for any one man, when normally a group is needed to get a key component or tidbit of knowledge, but they can send only one individual in, that is where we come in. Dark Hunters are sent in for missions deemed impossible or too dangerous by others. We can¡¯t just be members of each sect. We must master each sect¡¯s skill set. We are the ones that seek in the dark for answers unfindable by any other. The ones who enter the fortress, ready to fight our way out and disable every vehicle along the way to make sure enemies can¡¯t follow. We are the spies capable of clearing a room of critical targets while we hide among their number when our enemies gather. We are the casters that become another person and leave the scene the sole survivor, even as we burn down the compound.¡±


    With every line, my eyes grew wider and wider. He made it sound as if I could become the kind of hero holo-movies portrayed. Like I could become the man who could save a nation with no sweat off my brow. I was going to become that hero.


    ¡°Good. I can see that you want to become that kind of man. That is what I will shape you to become. The road will be hard and bloody, but if you keep at it, you can reach that goal.¡±


    I leaned forward in my seat. I knew my eyes shown with eagerness, and I didn¡¯t care. I was going to become a hero, even if it killed me.


    Thallos stepped around behind his desk, jumped feet first into his desk chair, and planted his right foot atop his desk in a dramatic pose that made my blood burn with dedication. He pointed down at me, his nose turned up. ¡°Are you ready for the hell that I will put you through? Are you ready to be forged in the flames of the deepest hells to become a blade that shall pierce the heavens and cleave the lands?¡± His voice was resolute, brimming with the promise of a devoted master ready to cast his pupil into total chaos to make something of beauty unrivaled.


    I gave him a vigorous nod, my hands planted upon my knees, elbows set wide. ¡°Yes, uncle. I am ready to become a legend.¡± I almost demanded of the man.


    He jumped down from atop his desk to stand before me. He tussled my hair before lifting my chin with a single finger to look him in the eye. His expression showed just how much faith he had in me. ¡°Very good, my boy. Your father would be proud to see the path you have set yourself on. This path will test you, body, mind, soul, and heart. Are you ready?¡±


    I locked my eyes with the man and gave a single nod, an eager grin on my face.


    ¡°Good. Now, let¡¯s begin the real training. Get ready to shed blood.¡±


    <hr>


    ¡°What is the classification of Mage that uses an Ellyudide Convergence Gauntlet as a focus?¡± Thallos demanded.


    ¡°W-Wizard.¡± I stammered.


    CRACK!! ¡°DAMN IT!¡± I howled as the whip struck my thigh, the jar atop my head wobbling, ready to join its comrades, shattered across the ground at my feet, volatile myst crystals splayed across the floor of the empty training room. Sixteen lashes marked my flesh across my chest, arms, and legs, five of which were bleeding from torn skin. I stood on one foot atop a steel vase, banned from using my hands to hold the jars by Thallos. My legs were cut and stabbed from my knees to the soles of my feet from falling unto the shards of razer glass. Only two jars ago did Thallos add the volatile crystals. If I hit them, they should detonate with enough force to sear my flesh and carve out small notches from my body. I had yet to fall since the crystals had been added, and I wasn¡¯t about to.


    ¡°WRONG!¡± Thallos snapped. ¡°The Answer is Elementalist. Elementalists use Iron Wood wands as a focus because they can withstand the weight of earth magic and the heat of fire magic. What is the name of the marks an Elementalist uses to bind the wand to themself? Hint: Druids and Shamans can use the same system.¡±


    ¡°Uhhh.¡± I played for time as I tried to adjust my propping foot. I tried to roll from the ball around to the heel to stretch the muscle and relax some of the pain. ¡°Is it Ogham?¡±


    ¡°Correct.¡± Thallos praised even as he wrapped the whip around his free hand for another strike. ¡°Ogham is a sacred language to the Elves, but it didn¡¯t start with them. Who created Ogham and the Druid casting style?¡±


    ¡°The Tuathee.¡± I answered.


    ¡°WRONG!¡± Snapped Thallos with another crack of his whip. Its tongue carved a furrow through my left cheek, forcing me to cringe in reflex. The jar atop my head tumbled end over end to the floor, its shatter and echo in the room sounding my failure as a half-dozen more volatile crystals joined the group of almost three dozen scattered across the floor among the shards of glass. I stepped off my vase and picked up another jar off the table behind me, placing it atop my head like so many others before it, and braced it with my hands while I stepped back atop the vase to take a posting crane stance as I centered the jar¡¯s balance. I had found a slight method of cheating by slightly bracing the jar against my horns, but I wasn¡¯t about to tell Thallos. The training was so brutal that I needed every edge I could get.


    ¡°The name of the species is Tuatha. The Tuatha are the species that first formed the Elves on Anogwin. Where did the Tuatha originate from and return to after crafting the Elves?¡±


    That answer was easy. The Tuatha ventured into the plain of Anogwin and were fascinated by its stable laws of reality and crafted the Elves. After they made the new species, the Tuatha returned to their realm, and the Elves tried to follow only to be butchered on mass by the horrors of¡­ ¡°TierNog, The Fae Wilderness.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Thallos tossed me a hard candy from his pocket. I tried to catch the sweet with my mouth but missed. I growled in annoyance.


    ¡°Now, what was the next species to join Anogwin after the Elves?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a trick question, Uncle, and you know it.¡± I accused.


    ¡°Oh, yeah?¡± he gave me a mocking grin. ¡°So what¡¯s the answer?¡±


    I gave an aggravated sigh. ¡°Technically, the Orc species came next, but they were genetically and magically designed by the Primordials. And almost all studies of the lost species say that while they had technology and magic far surpassing anything we can understand today, they were still mortals. Dwarves were the next species designed by higher powers, so while they technically came almost a millennium later, they are considered the next Sophic Species to inhabit Anogwin.¡±


    ¡°And why did this debate come about?¡±


    I gave my uncle an annoyed grunt before answering his query. ¡°The Orc species was designed as slave labor and were thought a lesser species until they earned independence during the Bloody Tusk Rebellion.¡±


    ¡°Well done, my boy. Now, what is the name of the emergence of the Dwarven species?¡±


    ¡°The Birth from Stone.¡± I answered with confidence, even as I wobbled atop my stand.


    ¡°Close. Half credit. The answer is The Birth from Stone and Mud.¡± Thallos pulled free a walnut from his pocket. He clutched between two fingers and the thumb of his left hand as he wound up and hurled it at me at top speed. If I failed to catch the skavy nut, he would shift to shooting me with myst shots that I¡¯d have to dodge while balancing the damn jar.


    I shifted my head to the right and caught the nut in my left hand even as I caught the jar in my right. This was the fourth time he had pulled this trick, and I had learned quickly that half-answers meant something that could be a minor reward or a nasty punishment, depending on how I reacted.


    I popped the nut in my mouth and aggressively chewed it before recentering the jar atop my skull.


    ¡°Now, boy, what are the breeds of Dwarf?¡±


    ¡°Oh, dreck.¡± I cursed, even as I thought. ¡°Mountain, Hill, Plains, and Canyon?¡±


    ¡±And Gem Dwarves?¡±


    ¡°I heard they¡¯re a genetic mutation from generations of overexposure to a specific type of Earth Myst.¡±


    ¡°Correct!¡± He threw me another hard candy that I had to catch with my mouth. This time, I managed to catch it with my teeth. But as I caught the hard candy, the jar atop my head wobbled, unstable, about to fall. I tried to correct the balance of the glass vessel without using my hands so Thallos wouldn¡¯t give me a lashing. The jar tumbled from atop my head to crash among the field of gleaming shards below.


    I violently cursed at the field of hungry glass around the hard candy that tasted like a sour apple that I gingerly held between my teeth.


    ¡°Op! You dropped a jar while catching a candy. You know what that means, Iver! It¡¯s time for a shatter round!¡± Thallos sounded a disturbing level of excited at this. But I had passed every time before, so I just had to keep up the streak. He dropped his normal whip and picked up a cat of nine tails, a handle sprouting nine whips, but each one ended with a vicious hook that could carve my flesh as easily as a razor tore through paper. He flicked the whip around, and the nine tails wrapped around my neck. Each hook latched onto the cords of the whip as easily as if they were designed to do so, forming a makeshift noose. He tugged on the whip to tighten the grip of the whip around my neck, its nanofiber cords catching on the skin of my neck like latex. He pulled harder till it was so tight that I could barely breathe.


    ¡°In a few words, I want you to tell me how the Dwarven clans differentiate themselves from each other.¡± By the gods, he sounded like he enjoyed doing this to me. I really had to wonder what was wrong with him.


    I needed to think quickly. If I didn¡¯t answer, he would choke me out with the whip and most likely pull me forward into the hellish pit of glass and explosive shards my failed answers had wrought before me. How did Dwarves differentiate? Skin? No, their skin varied in every breed. Hair color? No, Dwarven breeds each had their own range of hair colors. But it had something to do with hair. What was it?


    The cords tightened around my throat, forcing me to think faster even as I gasped for breath. The smell of the cord that tightened around me, that rubber-metal smell, had me thinking of cords used to hold beads in braids. My father had a Dwarven friend who stopped by once or twice when I was younger. I remember that when he hugged me, he stank of what I now know was Zedzen Brew. I remembered that he had rubber cords and metal beads in his bread. I thought harder to remember details on the Dwarven lush. He had three braids in a strange pattern. That was it!


    ¡°Braid number and styles.¡± I half gagged out even as I felt a line of barbed hooks, their metal backs squeezing against my esophagus.


    ¡°Very good!¡± Thallos praised, even as he twitched his wrist to send a ripple down the tendrils to detach the hooks. I took yet another deep breath of fresh air in relief.


    ¡°Please, Uncle Thallos, it¡¯s almost midnight. I¡¯m so tired I can barely stand. Can I please go to bed? I have class in the morning. I need rest.¡± I pleaded.


    Thallos propped the hand that held the whip under his left elbow as he pinched his chin in thought with the thumb and forefinger of his left hand. ¡°Well, tomorrow you do have class with Master Mystagogue Neckar. She is supposed to get you caught up on the basics of myst control and its parallels. I guess I can let you go to bed, but realize that not every day will be as easy as today.¡± Thallos sounded as cold as a tombstone as he spoke those words, a claim as solid as steel and as immovable as Seraph¡¯s Rise Mountain.


    Even as I left the room to head to my dorm, I mentally fortified my resolve. The first day of training was hard, and I couldn¡¯t lie to myself. I hated every second of it. But Thallos set a goal before me. I needed to handle anything that could come my way. If he thought that day was easy, then I was in for one hell of a trial by blood and fire.


    As I passed through my dorm room door, I gingerly stripped and bandaged my wounds. I was going to need to hit the medical center first thing in the morning. As I flopped into my bed, I thought about all the greatest warrior classes throughout history. The Elven Blade Dancers, the Dwarven Stone Forgers, the Gnome Dream Shapers, the Ceangar Dread Riders, the Dracose War Talons, and the Primals Berserker Ferals. This wasn¡¯t even all the legendary warrior classes throughout history, not by far, only the ones that I could remember. But all of them were nightmares on the field for the enemies and iconic symbols of hope for those in need. Each and every one had to suffer through training just as bad as what I had gone through that day, if not worse.


    Even as I crawled under the blankets, bloody, raw, and sore, I focused on what I could become if I passed this training. I wouldn¡¯t just find my father¡¯s killer, but I would make my father proud of who I had become. Hells, I might even hunt down my mother and solve the mysteries of the black box and my birth. I drifted off into sweet and blissful nothingness, dreaming of finding the woman who made me and why she left me with a Wild Elf. Dreams of being a lost prince, a destined warrior, a hero bound by fate to free a nation. I clung to those dreams as I drifted off. A reason to continue. A reason to push through. A reason to become more.

 Chapter 26

    Gnomes are well known to have a strong natural talent for myst craft. Their elemental affinity can come in any combination and normally lean closer to the higher levels of any elements they are linked to. In fact, a Gnome¡¯s Mystwell is inherently larger from the beginning but grows very little with use and training.


    Day 164 Smeltesday


    ¡°NO, NO, NO!¡± Howled Professor Neckar.


    I stood in the center of a circular room filled floor to ceiling with tomes. The shelves looked to be made from redwood. The stained glass skylight overhead was a simple design of five moons of varying fullness in the corresponding color placed around a dome frame of dark blue. Sunlight shone down through this colored display sunroof to paint me in a vivid red under the glass Reva moon. Reva in the portrait was full, representing a good time for revenge. Meanwhile, Master Mystagogue Neckar stood in the glare of a waxing Secca, a sign of raised predatory activity. Rumors among the students said that the moons in this room reflected the actual moons in the sky. That raised some questions for me personally, but that moment was not the time.


    The perfectly tanned Gnome Master Mystagogue stomped her foot in aggravation, sending her dandelion tuffet of pink hair into a hectic dance as her sea-foam blue-green eyes sparked with vivid aggression.


    ¡°I¡¯ve already told you! To pull upon your myst requires a sensation of pulling forces from within yourself.¡±


    ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry, ma-ma¡¯am, but I d-don¡¯t know how to d-do that.¡± I stammered. I had tried a variety of visualizations of pulling from my chest, but none of them worked thus far.


    The small, three-and-a-half-foot woman stomped around me, eyes glued to the floor, hands locked behind her back. ¡°Well, what are you visualizing?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± I confessed, waving one hand in a noncommittal manner before using both to illustrate each example as I listed them off. ¡°I¡¯ve tried a vortex pulling into my chest, a river flowing into my chest, a flow of everything from butterflies to eels entering me. I¡¯ve tried roots pulling up from my feet, a waterfall flowing down into my body. Hells, I¡¯ve even tried mouths on my hands pulling into me, and nothing¡¯s worked. I¡¯m sorry, ma¡¯am, but I just don¡¯t think I can pull Myst into my well like you want me to.¡±


    ¡°Fool boy.¡± she snapped. ¡°Myst resides in all things, shaping, forming, and empowering everything from the soil you walk on to the air you breathe to the steak and potatoes you had for dinner last night. You can¡¯t just picture random methods of drawing into yourself. First, you need to not just think about the myst around you, but you must realize it, feel it. How does the myst appear to you? Some see it as threads of energy running through everything, pulling on a filament to affect the others around it. Others see it as particles, trillions upon trillions of dots vibrating in an effect like static on a screen. The very first to realize the existence of myst and manipulate it saw it like water vapor. A swirling cloud of fog rolling over and through everything the eye can see. That¡¯s where we get the name myst. Everyone sees the energy in their own way. No two are the same, even if the differences are minute. How do you see the myst? Let¡¯s start with that.¡±


    I blew out a frustrated breath. ¡°I honestly have no clue.¡± As I spoke, I threw up my hands and let them flop down to my sides like dead fish.


    In a fraction of a moment, the small woman backhanded me across the cheek. The blow stung, but I was more confused at how a three-and-a-half-foot woman could reach my cheek with that agility from where she stood. Then I noticed she was at my eye level. I was the first to admit that I wasn¡¯t tall for my age. Yeah, I was shrimpy, but I was still a good foot and a half taller than the Master. Did she grow taller? I looked down to find her standing on a disk of hardened air.


    ¡°I swear, boy, you will be the death of me. Any other classification of mage or caster realizes what they are, at least by the time they reach mid-adolescence. You age like a human, so by that logic, you should have been casting sparks by the time you hit ten or eleven at the latest. But you just had to be a Myst-Blooded.¡± She twirled on her heel to face away from me and stepped off the disk. Her hands still clasped behind her back. She shaped a new disk of hardened air with each step till she reached ground level. The act looked to be second nature. Her eyes were dark and distant, brooding on what could only be me and my lack of talent.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with being Myst-Blooded, Master?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± she turned to look at me, her eyes coming back to the present. ¡°Oh. No, no, nothing, boy.¡± She said with a dismissive wave of her hand. ¡°The simple fact is that you are the first of your kind I¡¯ve ever trained. And the second I¡¯ve ever met.¡±


    ¡°Are we really that rare?¡± I asked, nervously wrapping an index finger around one of my horns and lightly tugging it as I thought.


    ¡°That¡¯s difficult to answer. Any other classification of mage comes from different species at more measurable rates. Elves produce a Mage once out of every seven children, and those commonly bear affinity ratios leaning towards Elementalists or Wizards. Dwarves produce casters once out of every twelve children, and they commonly lean toward Circuit or Mechanist classifications. But Myst-Blooded like yourself show up once out of every hundred thousand casters, and the frequency is mirrored in all species. Part of it has to do with the fact that, like yourself, they go unaware of what they are until very set conditions are met.¡±


    ¡°And what would those conditions be?¡±


    ¡°There must be an active threat to their life, blood must be spilled, stress levels must be elevated but not overwhelming, and they must instinctively feel access to myst. Or at least that¡¯s what the records have stated thus far to date.¡± She fully turned to face me, eyes inspecting me like a cell under a microscope, her chin pinched between her thumb and forefinger. ¡°Can you attest to that?¡±


    I opened my mouth to answer, then snapped it shut, puzzlement written plain on my face. I tried to remember what happened in those moments, but a lot of it was hazy. ¡°It¡¯s hard to say. Blood was definitely spilled.¡± I rubbed the scar on the palm of my right hand with my other hand as it ached at the memory. ¡°And I was definitely under stress. There was this moment when I was certain I was going to die. When I learned the blades were real and I was closed in on all sides, part of me just gave up, expecting to die. But there was another part, something deeper. It¡¯s hard to explain, but it was like my Darkling brain, my thinking brain, faded into the background, and something more primal rose up to take control. When my hand was pierced, at first, I felt no pain. It felt more like I was in a dream. Everything felt... Ephemeral? Like nothing was real, and whatever happened really didn¡¯t matter. But I still wanted to fight back. When my blood lit with fire, I was almost certain that I was dreaming. And in my mind, if I was dreaming, then there would be no repercussions for maiming the students that had been pushing me to the brink since years start.¡±


    Master Neckar hurried back to me, her pace reflecting obvious eagerness, but her eyes read of pensive ruminations. She snatched my scarred palm from my opposite hand like a crane bird spearing fish, the movement swift and precise. She held my hand palm up in steady but firm hands the size of a child¡¯s but with untold years of experience. The short woman cocked her head to set one eye closer to the scar, her gaze feeling like a cat toying with a tuft of feathers. She was fascinated and looking for more detail, and I didn¡¯t like being the subject of her focus. Despite the fact that I stood head and shoulders over her, I felt as though she were looming over me, her shadow blotting out the sun. I felt minute, tiny beneath her meticulous gaze.


    ¡°That sounds to me like you instinctively entered a trance state.¡±


    ¡°You mean like hypnosis?¡±


    ¡°Close but not quite. Athletes and artists refer to a similar state as ¡®getting into the zone¡¯. Have you ever gotten so engrossed in a project that the world fell away as you worked? Nothing matters but you and your subject, and suddenly, hours have passed?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, kinda. There are times when I¡¯m designing tools and gear or crafting when I kind of forget everything else. That¡¯s also when I get some of my best ideas.¡±


    ¡°Precisely. Think of it as a self-induced trance in which your mind is solely dedicated to a single goal or train of thought. It¡¯s also fairly common to have semi-fugue state effects.¡± She dropped my hand without a second thought, hurried across the room, and levitated herself till she was another three feet over my head. The Master thumbed through the books, looking for something.


    ¡°What? Semi-fugue state? Isn¡¯t a fugue state what happens to people who experience severe mental trauma?¡±


    ¡°Commonly, yes. A true fugue state is a defense mechanism to mitigate physiological and emotional trauma. While in the state, the subject suffers from a form of amnesia. A semi-fugue state could also be thought of as partial amnesia.¡± She tossed the book in her hand over her shoulder with a careless nonchalance. In mid-air, the book righted itself and altered its trajectory to land on a nearby table, open to a particular page.


    ¡°That¡¯s why time seems to skip, and when you come out of your ¡®zone¡¯, you commonly don¡¯t remember where many of your ideas come from.¡± The Master thumbed through textbook, after tome, after the thesis paper, zipping across the room on occasion to look through another section of the library. Occasionally, she would pull a book or document with some form of kinesis and skim over the pages before either slipping it back into its slot or throwing it across the room and correcting its path with the very same kinesis.


    ¡°In the case of artists such as writers and musicians, they will frequently leave the state with a whole new concept with a complex structure for a song or book with no idea what brought about the formation of the concept.¡± Her entire lecture came in a distracted tone as if she were reciting facts anyone would know as she paged through ages of written knowledge.


    ¡°So what does ¡®the zone¡¯ have to do with using myst?¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± she gave in a bark of mild surprise as she refocused on me. It seemed that I needed to remind her that I was a person and not an inanimate object. ¡°Put simply; my theory is that when you entered the trance, reflexively, you entered into a new state of awareness where you could grasp the concept of myst-craft instinctively if only a fundamental grasp. Or, in layman¡¯s terms, you followed the feeling, and it resulted in access to your Mystwell.¡±


    ¡°So what you¡¯re saying is in order for me to learn how to use myst, I¡¯m going to need to reenter the trance state?¡± I chewed on my thumb as I thought about this new idea.


    ¡°Well, I wasn¡¯t intending to link this back into your training, but that would be a valid course of action.¡± The Master lowered herself back down to the floor. Her posture told me she was chewing on the thought as well.


    ¡°How do you know all this, anyway? Trances, fugue states, and all?¡±


    She came back to the present yet again, but this time, she fixed me with a peeved stare. ¡°I swear you spanners never seem to even know the basics about us?¡±


    ¡°Spanners?¡± I asked as I cocked my head slightly to the left.


    ¡°That¡¯s a term we Gnomes use to refer to the other Sophic Species. Do you know how long my people live on average?¡±


    I thought about it for a moment before I shook my head, admitting my ignorance. ¡°I¡¯ve heard that Gnomes are immortal. But I¡¯ve also heard of some dying after thirty years.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s because the term ¡®bored to death¡¯ is very literal for my people. A Gnome¡¯s lifespan is based on how long they can remain curious and entertained with existence. After so many months without having an invested interest, we will quite literally fade from existence. Our only remains are dust. So, to stay alive, we stay active in some form of hobby or employment. Some take up art as their activity. Others took up adventuring. Then there are those like me who took to the study of the workings of the universe all within. Do you know what you can learn in eight hundred years?¡±


    I opened my mouth to speak, but she cut me off, her words sharp as razors and heavy as stones. ¡°Over the course of my eight hundred years on Anogwin, I have mastered cooking in seven cultural styles to the level of master chief. I can play any song on any woodwind or string instrument and make it convey any emotion you could possibly imagine.¡±


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    The Master stormed towards me, tiny feet setting the room to shake. ¡°I have Masters¡¯ certificates in heart surgery, lung surgery, bone transplants, eye surgery, and curing any number of ailments.¡±


    She levitated to my eye level once again, grabbed me by the collar, and yanked me till we were nose to nose. ¡°I have explored the psychology of killers and Heroes from any of the Sophic Species so in-depth I could drive Dwarf to turn against his clan, man to murder his lover, or drive even to most vain High Elf to suicide out of a loathing for his own looks.¡± I gave an audible gulp out of reflex but didn¡¯t dare move. I didn¡¯t even dare to blink as her triangular, sea-foam green eyes bore into my very soul with venom and vitriol. As fast as her temper had flared, it vanished. She turned away, throwing me away with casual disdain. After feeling the ground shake with her steps, I was sure she was going to launch me. But I barely even needed to take a step back to correct my balance.


    When I next looked at Master Neckar, she was standing over a scrying bowl as it glowed and swirled with faraway images. When she spoke next, her voice was distant and hollow. ¡°We don¡¯t belong in this realm. We should have known its reality couldn¡¯t hold our existence. My people aren¡¯t what you¡¯d call a native species. Our original home was Kadys-Necor, the Realm of Dreams. A mass exodus, fleeing something so nightmarish that those who know what it was refuse to pass the knowledge on. They only called it The Hungering.¡±


    I tentatively walked towards her, still unsure if even breathing was safe. I didn¡¯t dare speak a word. Gnomes rarely spoke of their past, preferring to live in the moment, and they never spoke of an era before Anogwin. Part of me was sure that the Master was cracked, totally dacker. Someone who lived as long as she had must¡¯ve had a few loose screws. That had to be the reason why she flew off the handle at a question about where she acquired so much knowledge. It was a simple and innocent question that gave rise to a spewing of facts in caustic tones before falling into a melancholy like a stone dropped into a river.


    She dipped the tips of her fingers into the scrying blow and drew them back and forth, birthing rips that lapped at the sides of the vessel. I drew up behind her and stopped, wanting to hear more, but sure that if I asked, she would take my head from my shoulders. ¡°We¡¯re dying out, actually.¡± Her voice was calm, tinged with a deep sadness.


    I took a chance and asked, ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t reproduce like any of the species here. I was before my time, but I was told that in our home realm, when we wanted a child, the parents would simply will a baby into existence. On this plain, it¡¯s become a closely guarded ritual that very few know how to perform. We are told that it requires absolute mastery of the elements and a mastery of one¡¯s self. We are such rare people and only becoming rarer with every passing decade. Soon, we¡¯ll be little more than a myth told to awe children.¡± She started with a shock. She shook her head as if waking from a dream. When she turned around and found me standing there, she jumped again.


    ¡°Sorry, boy, but I¡¯m going to need to end class for the day.¡± She turned to walk away but stopped to turn back. ¡°And if you tell a soul about this episode, I¡¯ll use you as pier fuel.¡± She half snarled. Wordlessly, I have a vigorous nod of affirmation. With that said, she turned and fled the room without running at a pace I didn¡¯t think her Gnomish legs could manage. As she beat a hasty retreat, I saw something fall from the sleeve of her robes. When I moved to inspect it, I found a small ziplock baggie.


    I picked up the bag between thumb and forefinger, inspecting it closely. It held the dregs of a light-blue dust that looked to have a similar texture as sugar. I pinched open the bag and dipped my finger in to pull up a few grains of the mystery powder. I pressed a tiny amount of the granules on the tip of my tongue. The taste was vile, causing me to spit violently and repeatedly to clear my mouth of the taste. Yet still, a phantom of the taste lingered in the crevices of my mouth. The taste was bitter and caustic, like a chemical.


    I closed the bag and pocketed it as I left the room, raking my nails across my tongue in an effort to extinguish that rancid nastiness. With my early release from class, I could catch Nel and Ferris. Maybe one of them knew what the mystery substance was. I hurried down the hall and made my way toward the exit of the Mage wing of the academy, commonly called the Rooks Nest by the students.


    Down the hall, around a corner, down a flight of stairs, and across yet another hall I went, and I passed back into the main structure of the Aegis Hall. I hurried across the academy to wait beside my old general studies lecture hall. Thallos informed me that I would no longer follow the standard classes of everyone else. He claimed he was going to dedicate one thousand percent of his efforts to teaching me everything I¡¯d need to know. This meant he was the instructor for almost all of my classes, which I was not looking forward to. But it also meant that I would only ever see my friends after classes were over or on Quenchendays. I found this very depressing, but I couldn¡¯t turn back, so all that I could do was steal every spare moment I could to see the only people in the academy who cared about me beyond an academic interest and weren¡¯t motivated to use beatings as a teaching method. Maybe beating was an over-exaggeration. He was only slapping me with a riding crop. While it stung like a mad wasp and left welts on occasion, the damage was minimal.


    I clasped my hands behind my back and rocked forward and back from the heels to the balls of my feet. I looked to be waiting patiently when, in actuality, I was playing an arcade game on my therra-node. While they had trapped me in the hospital bed, I decided to try to crack the code of my node and get unrestricted access to the LSN (Living Sigil Network). I had cracked the device the first night I was bed-bound and conscious after a laborious process.


    Thallos gave me credential access to more complex learning material; among it all were basic coding and hacking lessons. I managed to patch together a simple sniffer program and a simple cipher cracker. Between the two programs, I managed to find what I could only figure was a hidden test to crack the security for higher-level education material. With the higher level material, I patch-worked together a backdoor to admin access and bypass the restriction to the LSN. With access to the worldwide network, I pulled together everything I needed to fully jailbreak my therra. That technically reclassified my therra from a Utility Model to what was colloquially known in the underground as an Unbreakable Model. I could go excessively deep into therra-node models and uses, but that¡¯s a rabbit hole for another day.


    After I got my all-access pass to the net, the first thing I did was find some free therra games. I spent the following days catching up on news from the outside world and playing a couple of the optic-controlled augmented reality games I picked up. As I waited for Nel and Ferris, I played a retro game called Metal Manticore from the early days of digital existence, when quartz circuit boards were just becoming regularly used in mystech.


    I got absorbed into the game, shooting and dodging in the side-scrolling platformer while I waited. I lost track of time as I worked on breaking my high score. As the world faded away from my awareness and time distorted around my razor focus, I suddenly realized that the state I was in was ¡®the zone¡¯ that Master Neckar had been talking about before she went totally dacker and almost turned me into a pile of ash. The moment I realized what was going on, the trance shattered. I fell out of the state of honed focus. The world snapped back into place even as I tried to pick up the shards of my mental state. As I realized I wasn¡¯t going to be jumping back into the zone, my character lost its last life, and I was greeted with a Game Over screen. I threw a small fit at my failure, stomping a foot against the floor even as I half-heartedly threw my fist back to strike the wall I propped my back against.


    ¡°What the hell are you doing?¡± A voice came from beside me, rife with accusation.


    I dropped my display to find Nel and Ferris looking at me like I had lost my mind.


    ¡°I know your uncle was supposed to work you hard, but I didn¡¯t think it was going to be hard enough to make you throw micro-fits in the hall while you ditched class.¡± Ferris wore an amused smirk with the jest.


    ¡°I¡¯m not ditching. The magic instructor cut class early after she blew a gasket. I¡¯m pretty sure the rotor in her head is stripped bare from how she went totally draconic on me for asking a generic question.¡±


    ¡°What was the question?¡± Nel asked as we began walking down the hall together.


    I stuffed my hands in my pockets, and I could feel my tail swishing back and forth in spasms. A clear sign that I was agitated. ¡°I asked how she knew the medical stuff she was explaining along with myst-craft theory. She was on the brink of breathing fire at one point, and I¡¯m pretty sure there was a less than subtle threat to cause permanent damage to my psyche.¡±


    ¡°Well, rumor has it that she does almost no teaching anymore. They say that she shows up occasionally for lectures and vanishes before anyone can ask a question.¡± came Ferris.


    ¡°The screw loose explains why she doesn¡¯t do much instructing, but then what does she spend most of her time on?¡± I asked.


    Nel piped in, ¡°I¡¯ve heard some of the second-year Blackened Crown students say that there are rumors going around about her crazy breeding experiments.¡±


    ¡°So what you¡¯re saying is that you heard a stranger muttering to another stranger about a rumor they heard from somewhere else?¡± I gave Nel a stare that conveyed my disbelief. ¡°There is a word for those kinds of stories. It¡¯s called apocryphal, meaning I can trust these fifth-hand accounts about as much as I can expect The Dragon Titan Wackarrdree, to fall from the sky at my feet and make me one of her godly children.¡± I made sure that I conveyed just how skeptical I was with my tone, just as much as my words.


    ¡°Whoa! Dude!¡± Ferris looked around us in a panic to see if anyone had heard. ¡°There¡¯s no need to be xenist, Ive¡¯. You know full well that the first mother of dragons is called Wackarrdra. Are you trying to pick a fight with every Dracose in the academy?¡± he chided.


    I gave an exasperated sigh as I raised my gaze to the vaulted ceiling above. I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose as I took a long and slow breath. ¡°No. Sorry, man. I didn¡¯t mean to come across as such a skavy scumbag, but that Dracose from Mallrimor¡¯s group did some serious damage to me, and I need to reign in my spite.¡±


    ¡°Damn right, you do.¡± Ferris commanded as he stepped around Nel to stand beside me. He playfully tussled my hair and shoved my head down. ¡°Use that big brain and think before you speak.¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡± I took a stride forward and tried to fix my mess of hair. ¡°You know I¡¯m not people smart. Everyone aside from you two and Rose all think either that I¡¯m a weirdo that can¡¯t do anything right or a crazy Hellspawn bent on world domination.¡±


    Nel stepped up to match my pace before she shoulder-checked me in play. ¡°Well then, Mister Evil Mastermind, I guess you¡¯ll just have to take over Anogwin and show them all just how awesome you really are.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yeah.¡± I scoffed in self-mockery. ¡°I¡¯ll just take over the world with my menagerie of gadgets,¡± I shook my tactical gauntlet beside my head to make a point, ¡°and my smooth-talking charm. I¡¯m so charming. In fact, I had the Master Mystagogue of the Blackened Crown almost turn me to mulch.¡±


    ¡°Oh, come on, she couldn¡¯t have been that angry.¡± Nel prodded.


    ¡°Angry. No. Angry would not be a fitting word. I feel like a better term for how bat shit crazy she was would be closer to... unhinged?¡± I tapped my thumb against my chin and thought, ¡°No, deranged.¡± I concluded, punctuating my decision with a single wag of a finger.


    ¡°Please tell me you¡¯re over-exaggerating.¡± Ferris half pleaded.


    ¡°Nope.¡± I stuffed my hands back into my pockets, about to explain the madness she spewed at me, when I felt the small baggy in my pocket. ¡°Actually, I¡¯ve got a question for you two.¡± As we passed through the main gates of Aegis Hall, I took a sharp left turn, gesturing for the other two to follow me. As soon as I rounded the corner of the massive structure, I turned on my heel and pulled the small plastic bag free to hang before the others. ¡°Any idea what this stuff is?¡±


    They both looked from the small item to me and back to the item with quizzical expressions. Ferris gingerly took the bag in hand and opened it just ahead of his face and under his nose. Just as we had been taught to do with unknown chemicals, he waved any scent from the bag to his nose rather than sniffing it straight out of the bag, in case it was toxic. He closed his eyes as he tried to catch the odor. Ferris shook his head in the negative. ¡°I can¡¯t smell anything. It doesn¡¯t look like anything I¡¯ve seen before, either. So I¡¯ve got no clue. Nel?¡± He turned to our human friend and passed the packet to her.


    Nel dipped a finger into the bag as I had and pulled free some spare granules. She rubbed the powder between her thumb and forefinger, and just as I had, she licked the substance. Her response was almost identical to my own. She violently spat several times before trying to wipe off her still, very human tongue with her mechanical forearm.


    ¡°That was exactly my response.¡± I informed her as I plucked the bag from her hand to close it and eye it suspiciously yet again. I flicked the bag, hoping for some kind of reaction but not really expecting anything.


    ¡°I thought I saw you three sneaking off this way.¡± Came a female voice from behind Nel and Ferris. I looked up to find Rose jogging toward us. I raised a hand in greeting. ¡°Hey, Rose, we got a question for you.¡±


    Rose lept the last three feet to meet us. As she landed with her all too feline grace, she draped an arm over the shoulders of Nel and Ferris. ¡°Lady,¡± she said in greeting to Nennel. ¡°Gentleman,¡± she greeted Ferris. ¡°So, what¡¯s this question you¡¯ve got for me?¡±


    Only a moment after the question left her lips, her eyes fell upon the packet dangling from my fingers. Her face shifted through several emotions at a speed that I wasn¡¯t even sure if I was reading them right. From my perspective, what I saw was in the order as follows: one brow raised in curiosity, then her eyes went wide with realization, her ears flattened as she scowled at the bag, then she bit her inner cheek in pondering before making eye contact with me and her face went deadpan blank.


    ¡°I take it you know what this is? Cuz we sure don¡¯t.¡± I stated as I bobbed the bag in acknowledgment.


    ¡°Where did you find that?¡± Rose¡¯s tone was scalpel-sharp and frigid.


    ¡°The Master Mystagogue of the Blackened Crown dropped it when she fled the room after going schizo thermonuclear on me for a totally bland and generic question. Why? What is this stuff?¡±


    ¡°That stuff is something you should definitely keep out of sight of anyone. I would say throw it out, but all three of you guys¡¯ prints are on it, aren¡¯t they?¡±


    We all numbly nodded. I felt like I was holding a bloody dagger just used for murder, carrying it around in my pocket like it wasn¡¯t something that could ruin my life.


    ¡°Well,¡± Rose said as she continued to chew on her cheek and stroked her chin in thought. ¡°The best advice I can give is to hide it from everyone. Take a cloth and wipe it down with an alcoholic solution to remove the prints. Then Iver, you hide that in your room away from any curious eyes. If you¡¯re found out with that stuff, there¡¯s gonna be a lot of questions that will probably end with you kicked from the academy. Am I clear?¡±


    I vigorously nodded in the affirmative.


    ¡°Good. Now get going and keep your wire quiet and lips zipped.¡± Without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed away before I could even ask what the stuff was. But now I knew that whatever it was was most likely very illegal.


    With numb legs and a mechanical stride, I made my way to my room to hide the bag before making my way to meet Thallos for my course in crafting, administering, identifying, experiencing, and withstanding poisons.

 Chapter 27

    Honor among the High Elves revolves around their perception of beauty. The longer the ear, the wiser the speaker. The lighter the hair color, the closer to divinity, or so their proverbs say. The brighter a natural hair color is, the more revered the individual as being a pure soul. Albino High Elves, once thought to be prophets from a long-lost master species, are now pop icons, cultural influencers, and holo-vid stars. Because of this aspect of respect revolving around hair color, dying hair is heretical among many High Elf houses. Even High Elf members of warrior scholar persuasion or royal military still only dye the tips of their hair to display mage class or caster type, their roots still untouched and ¡°untainted.¡±


    Day 166 Castestday


    Two days after Rose had told me to hide the baggy and the small square of plastic was still at the forefront of my mind. I had hidden the pouch in a roll of socks at the back of my locker. I was trying to focus on my magic class at that moment, but my mind kept drifting back to the mystery substance that could possibly get me kicked from the academy. That distraction didn¡¯t change until I got those strange results that day.


    It didn¡¯t help matters that all of my courses, save a select few on magic, were run by Thallos. I dreaded my courses with him because of how brutal they were. Thallos had taken to crossing mundane topics such as mathematics, history, or literature with brutal physical training. I¡¯d like to see you mentally puzzle out the quadratic formula while trying to keep your head in a non-caved-in state. If Thallos was brutal as it was, I was truly terrified of what he would do if he caught me with an illegal substance.


    At that moment on that day, I was in a reasonably safe magic course. Master Mystagogue Neckar was a nonentity in my courses after her outburst. The instructors to take up her role in my education were a pair of High Elves, twins, one male, the other female. Lucas and Patrisha Zenwel. The Zenwel twins were the height of Elven culture at the academy. Their platinum blond hair marked their station as two of the highest and most respected of the Elven nobility. The two looked so alike that I couldn¡¯t tell which Mystagogue was which at times. Lucas¡¯s fine Elven features were so narrow and soft that he could have been a woman. Meanwhile, Patrisha had so few feminine curves that she could have been mistaken for an Elven boy. Both of them wore the exact same haircut, shaved to near-stubble on the sides that reminded me of a thin layer of snow, and a long punk cut on top that was perfectly quaffed with gel to keep it standing and looking both fluffy and spikey.


    They both dressed in white robes so pristine they seemed to glow. In fact, silver embroidery work and seams did give off a subtle shimmer that made the entire ensemble incandescent. Old-style theater masks covered half of their faces in silver detail work and white gems. Lucas¡¯s mask was worn on the right side of his face, baring a comical grin. Patrisha¡¯s mask was worn on the left side with a mournful frown. Both masks were mounted with a monocle over the one eye of said mask. Those masks were the only way I could tell the two apart.


    The odd pair worked together flawlessly. Finishing each other¡¯s sentences, handing off tools, and teaching props without a moment of hesitation or break in lesson flow. One of them was a Sorcerer, and the other was a Wizard, or so they claimed, but I couldn¡¯t tell which was which. They each had both types of spell focus. A strange set of interlocked rings around a gemstone, known as a Catalyst Gryo Prysm for the Sorcerer, and staves, each topped with a gem and carved from tip to tip with formulas for the Wizard. The way they taught was mind-bendingly confusing. For the sake of simplicity, to convey how this first section of the class went, I shall label them. The man, Lucas, will be Snowflake A, and Patrisha Snowflake B.


    The two circled me as I stood in the center of the very same library where the Gnomish master had lost her cool and went on a rant within. I stood tall, hands clasped behind my back as the twin instructors circled me, one pacing clockwise, the other cantered counterclockwise.


    ¡°Tell us, young one-¡± came Snowflake A, his tone reflecting that he thought I was going to fail this next quiz.


    ¡°-How is myst organized?¡± Snowflake B finished.


    ¡°The Elements.¡± I answered simply.


    ¡°Correct,¡± Snowflake B begrudgingly complimented. They seemed to think that because I was a Darkling and a commoner, I wouldn¡¯t know how to reach four by counting on my fingers. I had decimated every question the pair had thrown at me for the past half hour. The vast majority of the questions had already been covered in the Mystechnology Basics class. The Mystagogues claimed it was gauging my skill to see where my weak points were. Personally, I thought they were looking for an excuse to claim I was too stupid to teach.


    ¡°What are the two-¡± Snowflake B verbally jabbed from my left.


    ¡°Organization types of Elements?¡± Snowflake A barbed from my right.


    ¡°The four Core Elements: Earth, Fire, Wind, and Water. Then there''s the Compound Elements. And lastly, the Six Dualities. The Dualities of Choice, Creation, The Cycle, The Dichotomy, Progress, and Synergy. Do I need to break them down further?¡±


    ¡°We know that-¡± started Snowflake A.


    ¡°You have a firm grasp of the basics, but-¡± Snowflake B continued.


    ¡°Can you tell us how someone¡¯s talent for an element is measured?¡± Snowflake A finished.


    ¡°Elemental control capacity is referred to as Affinity.¡± I answered blandly, only half paying attention. My thoughts were wandering back to the baggy in my locker.


    ¡°Good.¡± They said in tandem as they stopped in front of me, shoulders parallel. From how cleanly they worked together, I expected their faces to be blank of emotion, like automatons. Instead, Lucas flashed me a false grin that mirrored that worn by his mask, revealing nothing, while his sister closed in. ¡°Tell us-¡± Lucas started from behind his sister.


    ¡°Have you had your Affinity levels tested yet?¡± Patrisha finished.


    I shook my head in answer, trying to keep an eye on both of them without looking like a buck in the crosshairs. In the span of a breath, the woman snatched my right hand, slit the pad of my thumb with a small penknife that seemed to simply appear in her right hand, and pressed the bleeding appendage to a print scanning device she produced from a pocket or her robes.


    ¡°Ouch!¡± I hissed as I reflexively tried to yank my hand free, but the meager-framed Elven woman had a grip like an adamantine vice. I was only just starting to put up a struggle against her when a message popped into my HUD. In the center of my plain of vision was a blue-framed holo-window displaying a red bar notifying me that something was downloading. I stopped any attempt to struggle when the download was complete. A bar graph displaying Elemental Affinity levels took up my view, and I was both astounded and confused by what I read there.


    Earth: 10


    Air: 16


    Water: 10


    Fire: 26


    Fate: 0


    Chaos: 08


    Synthesis:0


    Ruin: 26


    Life: 0


    Death: 28


    Lumina: 0


    Umbra: 30


    Stasis: 0


    Morphic: 26


    Resonance: 0


    Distortion: 24


    ¡°Interesting.¡± pondered Lucas


    ¡°Fascinating.¡± gushed Patrisha.


    ¡°What? What¡¯s so fascinating?¡± I asked, even as I minimized the window to hover at the edge of my vision.


    Lucas paced back and forth in front of me as he feverishly typed away on a holo-keyboard to fill some document. Meanwhile, his sister was back to circling me even as she made motions that made me think she was dealing with a canopy of windows blocking her view of the real world.


    ¡°Your scores are what¡¯s fascinating,¡± Lucas explained, his focus almost solely on his new project.


    ¡°The chart is supposed to range from one to thirty.¡± Patrisha mumbled at me in her pacing. ¡°The average score for practitioners as they are discovered is between six and fifteen.¡± She flicked me a chart of averages as she spoke.


    ¡°And there are very few affinities that score above twenty.¡± Lucas waved a finger as he wagged his tongue in lecture.


    ¡°You are an oddity in several regards.¡± Patrisha muttered as she cupped her mouth in one hand and rubbed her cheek with one finger in thought.


    The original chart of my readings came back to the forefront of my focus. The readings for Fire, Ruin, Death, Umbra, Morphic, and Distortion were lit purple as Lucas continued on. ¡°You have six elements scoring above that twenty, one of which is an extraordinary thirty.¡± Lucas continued.


    ¡°Yet, while most of your negatively aligned scores are excessively high in most areas, your positively aligned scores are nonexistent with flat zeros across the board.¡± Patrisha followed up.


    ¡°Having low positive scores isn¡¯t unheard of, but-¡±


    ¡°The reality of your scores is unprecedented.¡±


    ¡°Negative polarities are almost all shockingly high, while positive polarities are completely nonexistent. You should be dead, child.¡±


    ¡°Dead? Is it really that bad?¡± I nervously asked.


    ¡°Bad? No, no, no.¡± Lucas corrected. ¡°It¡¯s more of a curiosity than a negative. Normally, all casters have at least a minute affinity for the positive elements, even if it¡¯s only a score of one. But You have no positive affinities. By this standard, with no Life affinity, that would normally mean that you have no access to Life Myst, meaning you should be dead. But unless you are a Blightling and hiding it, you are a puzzle indeed.¡±


    ¡°A perplexing quandary that has me flummoxed.¡± Patrisha accounted, her tone reflecting a deep brooding over the topic.


    ¡°Wait,¡± I said as I looked over the chart again. ¡°Ok, so I understand that I have a zero affinity for the positive elements, Life, Fate, and the like. Meaning I can¡¯t use them, correct?¡±


    ¡±More than just that. While you can¡¯t use any positive polarity elements, the passive side effects are what have us curious. Having a zero affinity score for Life is only one perplexity. We honestly have no idea what it means for you to have zero scores in Fate, Life, Lumina, Resonance, Stasis, and Synthesis. With a zero Fate score, does that mean that any form of scrying spell won¡¯t be able to find you? How do you fit into the Fate tapestry with a score like that?¡± Lucas said as he focused on his holo-screens. He seemed completely absorbed in this new puzzle.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    Patrisha turned to look at me with a scrutinizing gaze. She seemed to look at me like a strange new creature or piece of Primordial technology and not like a sapient being. ¡°With a Lumina score of zero, does that mean that you can¡¯t be blessed or enhanced with the element?¡±


    Lucas¡¯s head popped up, his focus on his screens snapped by a sudden thought. He turned to his sister, completely ignoring me. ¡°What about Synthesis? What potential side effects could be caused by a zero score in that element? Can he not have children maybe? Or Resonance? That is a key factor in the body''s rate of function. Shouldn''t his heart rate and neural processing be inconsistent?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t even know where to begin studying that puzzle.¡± replied his sister as she turned away from me to pull up some other window or document on her therra.


    I looked between the two in confusion. ¡°I¡¯ve never had any issues with magic in my life up to this point. Admittedly, I¡¯ve never had anyone try to cast Lumina magic on me or Scry me, so I do not know what will happen. But most of my negative element scores are elevated to an uncanny degree. Meaning I should be able to use them with little effort, correct?¡± I asked, hoping I understood the concept correctly.


    The two stopped what they were doing at the exact same time to look at me.


    ¡°Not quite.¡± Patrisha started.


    Lucas stepped forward, raising a hand, palm up, in a position of reverent inspection. ¡°The higher the affinity,¡± He clenched his hand and pulled down as if drawing something down with significant force against just as substantial resistance. ¡°The stronger your control over the element.¡±


    Lucas stepped back as his sister took center stage to continue the explanation. She held up two fingers, one on each hand. ¡°If two casters tried to control the same stone,¡± she bobbed the finger on the left, ¡°the control would fall to the one with the higher stone affinity even if the other,¡± she bobbed the finger to the right. ¡°Is at a higher Mage Circle.¡±


    I rubbed my chin as I looked at the floor in thought. ¡°Got it. So, with my score of thirty in Umbra would mean that no one could overpower my control over cursing?¡±


    Patrisha looked at the ceiling and wobbled her head from side to side in a motion conveying the meaning ¡®kinda¡¯. ¡°There is a way for someone to overpower your Umbra control, but it would be very difficult. In order to take control of Umbra element away from you, if the two of you were trying to take dominance over the same source, they would have to expend Vells by a factor multiplied by your difference in affinity.¡±


    ¡°If someone of an AS or Affinity Score of twenty-nine with the Umbra element tried to wrestle control away from you, they would have to spend two Vells for every one you spent for control. And the lower the AS going against you, the more they would have to spend to take control over the same shadow as you.¡± Lucas continued.


    ¡°The shadow?¡± I asked in puzzlement. ¡°I thought the Umbra element was only used for hexes and curses.¡±


    The twins both looked at me like I had just spat out an angry opossum at their feet. ¡°Fragment¡¯s grace, no.¡± Patrisha admonished.


    ¡°With a lower affinity for Lumina or Umbra, one can normally only use them for minor blessings called boons or minor curses known as hexes, respectively, true,¡± Lucas spoke with a finger pointing up in some odd sign of his educating me on a common topic. ¡°But with enough raw power or talent in Lumina or Umbra, you could forge a weapon of pure light or shadow.¡±


    ¡°Or with a bit of Air Myst added to a spell body of Umbra Myst, you could Shadow Step, or teleport from one shadow to another, that you know the location of, within range.¡± Patrisha explained. ¡°The same can be done with Lumina and Air, except as the spell Flash Step.¡±


    Now, that sounded like it could be rather useful. I decided then and there that I was going to work on both of those Umbra abilities. But first, I needed to learn how to draw upon my Mystwell.


    ¡°This all sounds awesome,¡± I spoke up, ¡°but the topic I was trying to get to is why my Chaos score is so poor.¡±


    The two looked at each other before both turned back to me to give me a simultaneous shrug in the same manner. ¡°You can¡¯t have astounding talent in all elements.¡± Lucas stated.


    ¡°You¡¯re always going to have those few elements that you have little talent with.¡± Patrisha pointed out. ¡°For most other people, that score is taken out of the equation of affixing a classification to a Mage. Normally, all that matters is which affinities are strongest. Score regardless. But in your case, you have four null stats, two averaged affinities, three slightly above average affinities, four bafflingly high affinities, and one weak affinity. Just because your type of Mage gives you access to all negative alignments doesn¡¯t mean that you are going to have equal talent in all of them.¡±


    ¡°Regardless of the results, we can discuss them later. As of now, you are late for your next course.¡±


    ¡°Dreck!¡± I cursed. Without another word, I spun on the ball of my foot and sprinted from the room and out of Aegis Hall like the building was burning down. Thallos was going to have my hide for being late. That day, we were due to get me set up for the next level of training.


    I met my uncle on the edge of the sapphire woods that ran the perimeter of the crater cave. He looked irked as he leaned with his back against the trunk of a massive tree, thoughtfully chewing on the stem of an electric blue oak leaf, his arms crossed over his black armor-clad chest. As he caught sight of me jogging up, he spat out his stem and pulled away from the tree.


    ¡°Three minutes late, boy.¡± He growled.


    ¡°Sorry, sir.¡± I huffed. ¡°My new magic instructors kept me late after testing my affinity scores because of how odd they were.¡±


    ¡°Odd?¡± Thallos queried


    In answer, I flicked him the file with my chart while I tried to catch my breath. I watched as he received the file, opened it, and read it over. He looked less than impressed by my scores. If I was being honest, he just looked in a foul mood, period. Was he in the mood because I was late?


    Thallos made a motion with his hand, denoting that he had just tossed the file into his therra¡¯s digital trash bin. ¡°I¡¯ll grant you that your ASs are odd but not strange enough for you to be held late.¡± His tone was cold as the grave, as hard as a granite mausoleum, and as final as that mausoleum¡¯s door closing for the last time to be barred and locked.


    ¡°But the Mystagogues said that I should be dead with the scores I have.¡± I pointed out, my tone growing frantic.


    ¡°But you¡¯re not dead now, are you.¡± he said as he turned his back to me to march deeper into the woods. ¡°If you aren¡¯t dead, then you have one goal: to pass the year¡¯s end trials. To finish those trials, you need to surpass your limits. So, if you aren¡¯t dead, you should be breaking your limits by training. Now follow.¡±


    I skipped into a pace just fast enough to follow but not pass him.


    ¡°Um, uncle?¡± I timidly asked, my back slouched, shoulder bunched, and my head angled upwards to him.


    ¡°Yes?¡± His tone was just as cold as before and only slightly less uncaring.


    ¡°D-did something happen?¡±


    ¡°Many things happen every day. I need you to be more specific.¡± He marched on with his hands balled into fists, swinging at his sides.


    ¡°To make you angry. Did something happen to sour your mood?¡±


    ¡°I have been told to escalate your training even more than I initially planned.¡±


    ¡°I-isn¡¯t that dangerous? I thought you and the Mysteriarch said that you would minimize the threat of the training. Why did she change her mind?¡±


    ¡°Kaydammin had nothing to do with this choice. This was an order given by my direct supervisor.¡±


    The Mysteriarch wasn¡¯t his direct supervisor? Then who did my uncle follow, if not her? And why would they want to escalate my training? So far, that year had been nothing but question after question. What breed of Darkling was I? How was I Myst-Blooded? Who was my mother? Who killed my father and why? What was the box taken from my home? Why was I chosen to become a Dark Hunter, and why keep it hidden from my friends and classmates? Who was the Fragment the hidden sect followed? How was I supposed to draw on my Mystwell? And now the big question was who was Thallos¡¯s boss, and what did they want with me?


    I spent the walk trying to think of a tactful way to ask who Thallos took orders from without either looking ignorant or being too nosey. We reached our destination before I could think of a workable way to ask my question. He had led me to the clearing the Nel, I and the others came to for lunch some Quenchendays. And we weren¡¯t alone in the clearing. Opposite us, sitting under a tree, was a familiar mint-green-skinned Gnome dressed in trainee healer robes.


    ¡°Tessa? What are you doing here?¡± I asked in puzzlement.


    ¡°She¡¯s here to help with your training. I wasn¡¯t planning on calling on her for another few months, but as I¡¯ve already said, plans changed.¡± Thallos explained as Tessa pulled herself to her feet and dusted off with heavy-handed patting.


    ¡°But doesn¡¯t she have classes? Won¡¯t she fail out of the academy?¡±


    ¡°She is receiving special training by taking part in your own training. Her only current classes are in healing.¡±


    ¡°Her only classes?¡± I cocked my head in questioning.


    This time, it was Tessa who answered my question. She took a step closer, fidgeting with her hands. ¡°Gnomes have the option of a different curriculum. I¡¯m in the alternative course setting. I only take one type of class at a time to maintain focus on a topic and move on to the next class of my choice in case I begin losing interest. Currently, I¡¯m only taking classes in healing.¡± She looked nervous, only making fleeting eye contact before looking either at her feet or somewhere to her right or left. As she spoke, her fidgeting only grew more agitated.


    ¡°Is something wrong, Tessa?¡± I asked in as sensitive a tone as I could manage as I took a half-step forward. I wasn¡¯t even aware at the time that I partly held a hand out in an offer of support.


    ¡°No, no.¡± she muttered, her chin pressed to her chest. ¡°I¡¯m just nervous about the training and¡­ other things.¡±


    Before I could even ask about either the training or the ¡®other things¡¯ Thallos spoke in strong command. ¡°Just get it out of the way, trainee. Tell him how old you are.¡±


    What did her age have to do with anything? The Gnomish girl looked no older than a human thirteen-year-old, aside from her diminutive size and alien pigment colors. She even acted like a nervous teen, grinding the toe of her shoe against the bare soil beneath her. She made fleeting eye contact before looking away and asking me in a very soft voice, ¡°I¡¯ll only tell you if you promise not to treat me any different.¡±


    I shrugged in answer. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what the big deal is about your age. I know Gnomes can live crazy, long lives, so long as they are kept engaged. So, are you around a thousand years old?¡±


    She shook her head fervently in the negative.


    I put all my weight onto one foot and cocked a hip as I stroked my chin in thought. ¡°Well, is it in the opposite direction? I know that you Gnomes also mature differently from other species. Are you only three years old or something?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Tessa murmured, even as she tried to conceal an amused smile behind her hand.


    ¡°Well then, I don¡¯t see an issue. Getting upset about your age is like getting ticked off with an Elf because they mature slower than most species. Or getting angry with Ceangar for maturing faster than other species. There¡¯s no point in judging you by your age when age is a bit of an ephemeral topic for your people.¡± I pointed out while literally pointing at her, palm up and fingers half curled.


    ¡°Just tell him, girl. There¡¯s no need for drama.¡± Thallos interjected.


    The girl gave a small squeak of shock in answer before rapidly blurting out, ¡°I¡¯m seventy!¡± As soon as the words left her mouth, she cringed as if expecting a strike to land against her.


    I gave another shrug. ¡°Cool, you are seventy, but in my book, you¡¯re a teen just the same as me or any other student here at the academy.¡± I turned back to Thallos, ¡°So why exactly do I need a healer for my study?¡±


    He looked at me with a mildly amused smirk that still felt cold in my eyes. That was his only answer for a seemingly timeless moment. When he finally spoke, the smile fell like a porcelain mask shattering at his feet. ¡°Before I give you an answer, I need you to swear not to tell anyone about this training.¡±


    ¡°Okay? You already have me hiding that I¡¯m a Dark Hunter and what that is. What¡¯s the difference?¡±


    ¡°You aren¡¯t a Dark Hunter yet, boy.¡± Thallos¡¯s words were sharp, pointed things, especially as he snapped the word ¡®boy¡¯. ¡°But to answer your question, the vow to hide your position is to protect you from anyone learning how valuable you are should the word somehow get out. ¡¯This vow¡¯¡± he half spat, half hissed the words, like burning venom, ¡°Is to protect your friends. What I am about to put you through is reserved solely for elites in my organization. Should anyone learn how I¡¯m training you, solutions will be made¡­ brief and to the point.¡±


    I gave an audible gulp of fear as I picked up on his connotation. I definitely wanted Rose and the others¡¯ breathing and whole.


    ¡°Do you swear?¡± He demanded, even as he loomed over me like some great cliff of ice and steel with eyes like frigid fire.


    ¡°Y-yes, sir.¡± I stammered out, feeling like the meekest mouse before the mighty cliff of a man.


    Thallos spun away with a flourish of the black fur-lined cloak he wore. ¡°Good. Now, ready yourself, boy. From here on out, we are escalating your training to advanced pain endurance,¡± I caught the sound of a blade leaving its sheath. ¡°And working under pressure.¡±


    I stared at my uncle in disbelief as he turned to face me and lunged, short sword held to impale me with a thrust. I moved to throw myself to the side, but Thallos was too fast. There was pressure against my chest, a feeling of skin parting, tissue splitting, and the snap of bone followed by a burst of pain. I tried to gasp, but one of my lungs refused to work. I looked down to find my uncle¡¯s short sword skewering me up to the hilt. I coughed, the action sending a rippling flare of agony through my chest, even as a gout of blood passed my lips to dribble onto Thallos¡¯s hand holding the murderous weapon. My legs went watery as he pulled the blade free with a gush of blood. I fell onto my side, curling in around the source of the agony as the world went hazy with static and started fading to black.


    I heard in some far-off distance Thallos speaking to someone. ¡°Now it¡¯s time for your training, girl. Heal him quick before he dies. But be sure to leave a scar. For every wound I give him, I want a scar when you¡¯re done.¡±

 Chapter 28

    There is a way for mundane people to be able to cast magic like any Wizard or Sorcerer. A strictly regulated process, commonly called Myst Doping, can be taken in a variety of forms. The substances used for Myst Doping are called MyCast. MyCast can be taken by ingestion, inhalation, or injection, depending on the form. Despite the strict regulations, the addictive substances still plague the streets of many cities across the globe because of street alchemists making dirty batches.


    Day 200 Quenchenday


    The day prior was the quarterly exams. Well, exams for everyone save for me. For the past two weeks, Thallos had been bound and determined to drive me to the brink of madness and over with pain. The new daily training regimen consisted of hours of sparing with assorted weapons. While I sparred with Thallos, he quizzed me on a topic based on the day. If I got a question wrong, he would maim me and have Tessa heal me back to fighting condition just to send me back at the meat-grinder of a man. Over the course of two weeks, I had been stabbed, slashed, hacked, punctured, burned by both fire and acid, had limbs crushed, and bones snapped. The pain never got easier to manage, and the bastard swapped up how he maimed me every time to make sure I didn¡¯t get accustomed to one type of pain. Because Shards forbid that I become accustomed to getting stabbed in the gut by a man I thought I could trust.


    If I was being honest, I did still trust him somewhat. He made sure Tessa was on hand every day we trained, and he did make sure that I was at least somewhat coherent before picking the training back up. For every question I got wrong, he would give me the correct answer after I regained my wits and would explain why the correct answer was correct and what I did wrong. Luckily, his mood lightened after the third day of what I had been so ¡®affectionately¡¯ calling Stab Training. He always seemed to know when I was about to mentally break. When I¡¯d strained my will and mental faculties to the brink of utter collapse, he would stop everything and just sit down and talk with me. He called it his fatherly uncle heart-to-heart talks. He always seemed to know how to calm me down or get me pumped up and refocused. After each of these talks, I felt both centered and dedicated to becoming better. The second week, he pushed the training time for an hour longer than the week before.


    Every day after the training, when I fell upon my stiff mattress for a night of sleep as deep as the dead, I would break down. Almost every day after training with Thallos, I would curl into a fetal ball on my side, holding my knees to my horns, and sobbed for what might only have been a half-hour but felt like most of the night. I never told Thallos about those nights out of fear of him thinking me too weak for the training. There was no turning back without losing everything, so I couldn¡¯t even seem weak. I had to bulldoze ahead and not stop for anything.


    That day was Quenchenday, meaning a day off from the murderous madness that my uncle submitted me to. It was almost noon, and I lay there in my bed, imitating a corpse. A heavily traumatized, utterly exhausted, and mildly peckish corpse. For most of the year up to that point, I had spent a good chunk of my private time in my room in full dive, going through the academy¡¯s restricted network I had official access to, rooting around through the files for anything of interest or designing three-dimensional test models for tools and gadgets or running tests on theories. I had become fascinated with the full dive experience, existing completely in a digital reality and the technology that made it work. But since my training with my uncle started, everything else had taken a back seat in my life. I hadn¡¯t full-dived or tinkered with anything since starting this new butcher show he called training. The only studying I had done since the start of this new routine was all on topics that I hadn¡¯t had astounding scores in the classes. That meant I didn¡¯t study mystechnologies or mathematics. I got very little quizzing in chemistry and alchemy, and I only received teaching on myst and magic theory from classes specifically for training me to use my new so-called talent.


    A talent that hadn¡¯t manifested almost at all in those two weeks. The only time something happened was on Honarday, when the Zenwel twins and Master Mystagogue Neckar performed a test. It sounded like a bad idea from the start, and I hadn¡¯t wanted to participate, but they coerced me with both promises of safety and threats of severe punishment. Once I was compliant, albeit apprehensive to the point of a near panic attack, they proceeded with the experiment. The test in question was simple. They strapped me to an operating table set in a position to hold me in a near-standing position. They stabbed me with IV needles into an artery and vein in the same arm and cycled my blood through a spectrum scanner and myst bombardment ray chamber. They would draw oxygenated blood from the artery, pass it through the bombardment chamber, where they would hit it with a variety of different elements in energy form, then scan it before pumping it back into me.


    Please note that the blood was pumped back into me directly without normalizing it or any system to stop and hold the process should the blood become toxic. I had been nervous about the experiment, but the masters all promised me it was perfectly safe. I suspected that my magic mentors were mentally unstable to one degree or another, but looking back on it now, they lied and were toying with my life just to get some idea of what made me function. What they called safe was far from the real meaning of the word.


    The resulting effects on the blood were minimal from most elements. Most of the elements had little to no effect, being completely absorbed into my blood. This only raised more questions that seemed to drive the Mystagogues into a near frenzy. Things didn¡¯t change through the process until they tested Distortion Myst on my blood. You know, the incredibly unstable element. At the moment my blood was infused with the raw and volatile element, it detonated with a cacophonous eruption. The blast was powerful enough to not only rupture the tube holding the blood but annihilate the bombardment apparatus. It tore the main chamber of the device open. The top peeled open like a fruit. Smoke bellowed from the remains of the chamber, and sparks flew awry. All the instructors lept back from the bloom of black and green power and looked both startled and annoyed. Me, on the other hand. I practically leaped out of my skin and was trying to calm my racing heart, given the now openly flowing tube of blood on the floor. My efforts weren¡¯t particularly effective.


    Luckily, one of the twins turned off the pump before I could bleed out, but I lost enough to make me dizzy. Now, whether the dizziness was because of the blood loss itself or because of the sight of that much of my blood on the floor, I have no idea.


    I was still a little shaken up from the day before, but I tried not to let it get to me. It was a new day for me, a chance to start anew. I needed to relax and find some modicum of joy in the little time I could find to be with my friends. But at that moment, in the late morning, I lay sprawled across my bed like some discarded manikin dressed in nothing more than boxer briefs and a wife-beater undershirt, my usual sleeping attire. I needed to find some semblance of satisfaction in my day off, but I was emotionally dead on my feet, or in this case, on my back. I stared up at the overhang above my bed, silently lamenting my choice to follow Thallos and simultaneously chiding myself for lamenting. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. More like stuck on the end of a blade, like a piece of meat on a spit.


    I just couldn¡¯t get over the fact that this new training revolved around maiming me every time I made a mistake. But the way Thallos explained the function and intent of the Dark Hunter position, one slip-up in the field could mean the end of more lives than I dared to think about. I was shocked that every Dark Hunter had to go through this training. If they had to go through the same daily butcher fest, then they had to either be satyr shit insane or bonafide badasses. Could I become that skilled? Become the one they called when no one else could get the job done. A better question was, could I withstand another six years of stab training? I shuddered at the thought of six more years of getting punctured like a pincushion, sliced like a side of lamb, and bludgeoned like one of the training dummies from martial combat class.


    A knock at my door shocked me out of my brooding. I half-heartedly rolled off my bed to fall to the floor and shambled my way to my feet. I figured it was Nel coming to get me for food.


    THUD THUD THUD! Came the knocking at my door. I dragged myself to the door, shouting, ¡°Yeah, yeah, I hear ya! Keep your knickers on!¡± as I went. I pressed the button control for the door and watched it slide open to reveal none other than Thallos shouldering a bulging black rucksack and looking down at me with a raised brow.


    ¡°Do I look like someone who would wear knickers, boy?¡±


    My face paled, and I frantically sought for a reply, only to find my tongue had turned to a dead fish in my mouth. I was terrified. Did I just tick off my master? Was I about to get the beating of a lifetime? I was on the brink of another panic attack when he broke out into an amused grin.


    ¡°Come on, kid, do you really think I have no sense of humor?¡± He cocked his head as if he was about to make a witty comment with that same cocked brow. ¡°I get that I¡¯m scary during training, but don¡¯t forget that I¡¯m a person too. Not just that, I¡¯m your uncle, by the will of the Shards.¡± He affectionately slapped me on the shoulder before gently guiding me to the side as he entered my room. ¡°Come now, boy, don¡¯t be so tense. Now, let¡¯s take a look at your room.¡±


    He strolled into my room and tossed the sack from atop his shoulder against the wall beside my Black Rack, displaying my training weapons. The amused Wild Elf tucked his hands into his pockets and spun on one heel in a full three hundred and sixty degrees. He seemed to take in everything in that few seconds as he spun back around to face me.


    ¡°I¡¯m impressed. Most boys your age leave their room in total shambles, but your room is mostly organized. The only thing that I can see that¡¯s in chaos is your workbench.¡± He pointed over to said workbench with a thumb. The bench in question had three projects in varying states of completion. Tools lay askew, components scattered in a manner that seemed like sheer disarray but was, in actuality, my own controlled chaos.


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Th-thank you?¡± I asked more than answered.


    ¡°You¡¯re probably wondering why I¡¯m here, correct?¡±


    I get a tentative nod, looking between him and his bag with wary eyes.


    ¡°Well, boy, I¡¯m guessing you didn¡¯t know that there was an assembly of all classes for an announcement yesterday.¡±


    ¡°What? No. I¡¯ve heard nothing about it.¡±


    Thallos sauntered over to the massive black bag and opened it as he spoke. ¡°Well, they made a change in an effort to improve the morale of the student body since most of the students have very limited access to the outside world for safety purposes. And initiate Slates like yourself are under a Full Shade protocol, meaning you have no access to the outside world no matter the circumstance. So, to help the students feel more comfortable, the academy is allowing you all to wear casual civilian attire on Quenchendays. Most students coming to the academy bring along at least a few changes of clothes if for nothing else than the travel to get here since the academy is hidden in the middle of a sphinx riddle nowhere. And if I remember right, I got you some actual clothes when I first found you, correct?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I confirmed. ¡°Three t-shirts, two hoodies, five pairs of cargo pants, and just as many sets of socks and boxer briefs.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m pretty sure that they were serviceable, but nothing to show off. I¡¯m also pretty sure that you outgrew most of those clothes.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± I asked in speculation.


    ¡°Tell me, boy, how many times have you had to exchange your uniform so far?¡±


    I gave a shrug as I looked at the ceiling in thought. ¡°Well, that¡¯s hard to say. Before joining your training regimen, I needed to have them replaced a good fourteen times or so, but I lost count. It became pretty regular when Mallrimor started to use fire magic as a regular method of torture. But as of starting this new training, I¡¯ve needed to think of another method given the regular abuse, and I had to get creative.¡± I stepped over to my workbench and picked up a device I had been tinkering with and honing. It was a gray stick only a little longer than the width of my hand. The top side was rounded and clear, housing four fragment-sized myst crystals. In order from left to right, the elements were Earth, Fire, Wind, and Water. The underside of the device was a set of eight needle-like ends set into an array that let them move across the device, left, right, up, and down. ¡°After the first session of intense training, I had to get my uniform replaced, and the quartermaster flipped. He went totally dacker when he thought I was seriously injured. I had to tell the nice man that it was a training accident and that I was already healed.¡±


    I shot him an annoyed look as I tossed him the device. ¡°After the poor guy thought I was almost dead, I realized that there was no way I could just keep getting new uniforms after every training session with you. Not without letting the whole academy know what¡¯s going on. So I designed that.¡± I pointed to the item as Thallos inspected it. ¡°I¡¯m calling it a Repirend, but the name is as much a work in progress as the gizmo itself. It uses the Core Four elements to remove all blood and stains and seamlessly mend any tears in fabric.¡±


    Thallos held the device up to the skylight. ¡°How innovative. I¡¯m impressed, boy. I was wondering how you were going to work your way around that little problem.¡±


    ¡°Little?¡± I scoffed. ¡°You backed me into a corner, Uncle. I had to get creative to get out of it. Besides, what do you think would happen if I walked across academy grounds in a gore-soaked uniform?¡±


    Thallos gave a noncommittal shrug before tossing the repirend back to me. ¡°It was part of your training. When I went through the training, I got remarkably good at stealth work and avoiding detection, and when I had to be in public, I would break into other students¡¯ rooms in the night and steal a uniform.¡±


    I gave him a look of total shock, my jaw ajar as I tried to wrap my head around the morality of that solution. He gave an amused smirk and chuckled at the look on my face before waving the topic away like an annoying fly.


    ¡°We got very off-topic. What I was trying to get at was, when you got your uniform replaced by the quartermaster, did they have a tailor take your measurements every time?¡±


    ¡°I never really thought much about it, but yeah, I think so.¡±


    Thallos Gestured to my locker. ¡°How about you snag one of those old pairs of pants I got you and compare them to your current leg length?¡±


    I did as he said and pulled out one of the pairs of camo cargo pants and held them against my legs. The pants that had been a quarter-inch too long before were now an inch too short, the cuffs not even reaching my ankles. I looked at the change in puzzlement. I didn¡¯t feel any taller than I did when I first arrived.


    ¡°See, that¡¯s what I thought, and that¡¯s why I brought this.¡± He slapped the bag even as he dug through it with his other hand. He tossed me a wad of black fabric that I managed to catch with a slight lunge. I unwadded what I found to be yet another pair of cargo pants, slightly worn. I held them up against my waist to find them slightly too large. Before I could ask anything, I found another wad thrown at my head. That one unfolded in flight to reveal itself as a forest green t-shirt emblazoned with the emblem of a band I was vaguely aware of, a cyber death metal band that was big in Sollarra, the nation just south of the mountains we were in. Then came another wad, and another and another. When all was said and done, I wound up with eight t-shirts and three hoodies, with imagery ranging from niche pop culture to the obscure. I also wound up with six more pairs of boxer briefs and socks, two pairs of boots, a pair of sneakers, and eight pairs of cargo pants in a range of colors and materials, to include one pair made of black latex with bright purple trim and excessively wide cuffs. Thallos called them ¡®trip pants¡¯. My guess was that they were called that because you would likely trip on the legs or maybe because only people tripping on some drug or another would wear them. The range of clothes came in any state, from fresh and new to worn with holes and partially threadbare.


    Thallos helped me lay them out for looking over and even provided hangers for the shirts. I didn¡¯t want to be rude to my uncle, so I agreed to take all the clothing and thanked him for it. As I began folding and putting away clothes, I couldn¡¯t help but forcefully not look at the drawer at the base of my locker, where I hid the packet of mystery powder. I traveled back and forth from bed to locker, conveying my new articles of clothing while Thallos folded them or mounted them on hangers before handing them off to me. On the fifth trip, Thallos spoke up in a casual, matter-of-fact voice. ¡°A friend of yours spoke to me on my way here. A second-year by the name of Roserra Swiftpaw. She mentioned that you had something you wanted to show me.¡±


    I froze, half bent over, as I laid a pair of pants atop the stack at the bottom of my locker. ¡°She said it was a baggy you had questions about,¡± he continued.


    ¡°I-I don¡¯t know what she¡¯s talking about.¡± I stammered. Even I could hear the lie in my voice.


    ¡°Tisk tisk tisk. It looks like we are going to need to work on your lying, or you¡¯ll never pass the Spycraft tests. Iver, you know you can trust me. Now, speak honestly. What do you have that I need to know about?¡±


    Should I tell him? I wondered. Would he understand? Could I trust him? He¡¯d spent the past two weeks breaking me. I had just told myself that I trusted him, but could I trust him to that extent? The stuff was clearly illegal, so what if he thought I was using whatever the stuff was? What if I got into trouble? How bad would it be? Expulsion?


    No. I couldn¡¯t think that way. Thallos picked me up off the street and not only got me to this academy but got me prepared to get into the academy and, even then, was training me. I even knew that despite the beatings he was giving me, he didn¡¯t want to do it, but I still did so because I needed to get prepared for the position I was going to take up. I needed to trust him. Besides, Rose trusted him enough to mention the stuff to him. Rose was a good judge of character. Right?


    I stood up straight, mechanically closed the door, and pressed my back to the locker. ¡°I brought the stuff to Rose¡¯s attention, and she got disturbingly agitated and told me to hide the packet and show no one. Do you promise I won¡¯t get in trouble for having whatever it is?¡±


    Thallos took a seat at the edge of my bed as he waved away the question. ¡°No, no. I promise nothing bad will happen if you show me what you¡®ve got.¡±


    Before I opened the drawer, I took a deep breath. I walked over to Thallos on wooden legs and deposited the plastic baggy in his waiting hand. I took a step back and impatiently waited, hands gripped behind my back as I shifted my weight from one foot to the other.


    He sniffed the packet before dipping his finger into the light blue powder and tasting it as I had. ¡°Ah! It¡¯s a zip pouch.¡±


    ¡°What now?¡± I asked.


    ¡°A packet of MyCast called a zip pouch.¡± He answered simply.


    ¡°You mean the drug that lets anyone cast magic? Isn¡¯t that stuff illegal?¡±


    ¡°Illegal when made by anyone who isn¡¯t certified. The legal stuff is strictly controlled. Where did you get it?¡±


    ¡°Master Mystagogue Neckar dropped it after going stark raving mad and fleeing the library. Why would she have it?¡±


    ¡°Mystagogue Neckar? She must have run out of M-Juice if she¡¯s using zip pouches.¡± Thallos said this so casually that one of the head instructors of the academy was addicted to a controlled substance.


    ¡°What is M-Juice?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s MyCast injection fluid that she normally takes.¡±


    ¡°Wait, everyone knows she¡¯s on this stuff? It can¡¯t be legal.¡±


    ¡°No, it is legal. She has a condition that requires her to take MyCast regularly.¡±


    ¡°What kind of condition would require her to take an addictive substance regularly?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a condition only Gnomes can have called Well Capacity Degradation. Gnome casters are born with a massive Mystwell that will never increase with time or use. Instead, they have a chance of a diminishing Well size.¡±


    ¡°But she¡¯s as insane as Kassidan''s parade.¡± I pressed.


    Thallos gave a half-shrug. ¡°Her people are prone to what you and I would call madness. You need to keep in mind that their mind doesn¡¯t work like ours. Their body doesn¡¯t even react the same way to Myst the same way ours does.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡±


    Thallos gave me a peeved look and sighed. ¡°I¡¯m guessing you didn¡¯t know that normal healing magic doesn¡¯t work on Gnomes.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯m guessing that you also didn¡¯t know that they can¡¯t use most cybernetics.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± I asked


    ¡°Like I said, their body isn¡¯t like ours. Their nervous system works completely differently compared to ours. They did come from a different realm than ours.¡± he waved away any further questions like he was batting flies. ¡°Enough of this talk. What matters is that you¡¯re not in trouble and you got some new clothes. How about you change and go meet up with Rose and those other friends of yours.¡±


    And so, I dropped the subject and did as he recommended.

 Chapter 29

    Which sapient species are classified as Sophic Species is a matter of great debate. There are the indisputable species: Humans, Elves, Dwarves, Ceangar, and Gnomes. In short, the hairless apes, as many other species refer to them. But there are dozens more species that try to claim the title to some degree of success. The Primals earned a place when they earned their freedom on the continent of Kasis (the setting for this story). But there are other species whose right to civility can vary from nation to nation, city to city, and person to person. Some, but by no means, not all of these species are. The Dracose, the Anarians, the Kassivar, and even the Aquarians. To be considered among the Sophic Species is to be given even the minimum of respect, and those without it are often not even thought to have rights and can be treated like animals.


    Day 200 Quenchenday


    ¡°Nice get up,¡± teased Nel as we each collected our food in the dining hall.


    I was dressed in excessively baggy forest green cargo pants, a black T-shirt emblazoned with a mechanical heart under a worn leather jacket, my tactical gauntlet on my right hand, and sneakers. ¡°Har, har, har. You¡¯re so funny, Nel. These are just what Thallos gave me, alright. Shirts, shoes, and cargo pants. Lots of cargo pants.¡±


    ¡°Why cargo pants? Does he have a fetish or something?¡± She asked as we took our slop that they called food from the line and made our way to our corner table.


    ¡°Hell, if I know. He always says that they¡¯re a must-have.¡±


    ¡°Must have for what? The pockets?¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s the only thing I could think of, and all these pockets are pretty handy. Check this out.¡± As we reached the table, I set down my tray and began whipping things out of my pockets and setting them on the table. I produced a fist of gears and cogs, a case of small springs, three feet of wound cable, a coil of solder with matching soldering iron, a coil of mythril, a set of five raw quartz micro boards, and a fist full of Shard-sized kinetic and eclectic myst crystals.


    ¡°Damn, dude! What¡¯s with all this stuff? Are you planning on whipping together an airship this afternoon?¡± Nel teased.


    I shot her a raised brow. ¡°You underestimate me, dearest Nennel. I could quite easily whip together a weapon of lethal force from these fists full of assorted goods.¡± I said this totally deadpan, but inside, I was smirking and snickering.


    ¡°Oh, yeah?¡± Nel challenged.


    ¡°I could cobble together a rather simple concussion bomb. Admittedly, I¡¯d need a little more to make a timer, but I could set it with a dead man switch with what I¡¯ve got here.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re going to be a suicide bomber?¡± Nel teased.


    ¡°What in the hells is wrong with you, girl?! I was thinking of a booby trap!¡± I poked fun at her. ¡°But if you really want to know, I was hoping to get some tinkering done today while we hung out. Speaking of, where are the other two?¡±


    Nel slid into her seat and picked up a spoon full of something gray and lumpy that I think was supposed to be gravy. She answered me around a mouthful of the mystery substance. ¡°Ferris has some make-up work to do today for his history class. Something about a failed class project and needing to make up the score through extracurricular activities. He should be free by lunch or ¡®so he claims¡¯.¡± She said this with air quotes. ¡°But we¡¯ll just have to wait and see.¡±


    ¡°Got it.¡± I answered with a slow nod while I tried to puzzle out what my meal was. I stabbed something purple and squishy with my fork that I first thought was a noodle, but quickly found it was a tentacle. I brought the rubbery limb to my nose, daring to test the smell. It didn¡¯t smell bad per se, but it definitely did not smell like seafood. ¡°And what about Rose? I haven¡¯t seen her for a good bit.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve seen her around. She seems fine, but whenever you get brought up, she gets... weird.¡± She waved her spoon in circles like a wand as she spoke.


    ¡°Weird, how?¡± I pressed while trying not to seem too eager. I didn¡¯t dare hope that she saw me in a new light now. I didn¡¯t dare, and yet I still did, deep down. I hoped she had feelings for me as I had for her.


    ¡°Oh, she gets really dodgy around the topic of you and tries to change the subject just as fast as the topic of you comes up. Speaking of, how is your training going?¡±


    I reflexively clenched my teeth at the thought of Thallos and the training. ¡°It¡¯s been... rough.¡± I wasn¡¯t allowed to mention the stab training or the role of Dark Hunter. ¡°I¡¯m managing to handle the training, if only just barely. Thallos is really putting me through the wringer.¡±


    ¡°Really? What kind of training?¡± She pressed.


    I tried not to wince as I also tried to think of a quick answer that would sound reasonable and rational. It came to me in a moment of inspiration. ¡°Most of it consists of him asking questions about things like history and social studies and the like. I have to answer while doing physical training like sword practice or pushups, and when I get an answer wrong, he smacks me with a riding crop.¡±


    Nel visibly winced at the thought, and I felt like she understood what I was going through, even if it was only a fraction of understanding compared to the real thing. The answer wasn¡¯t even technically a lie. That was what my training was until Thallos said his higher-ups wanted things sped up.


    ¡°Yawza! That sounds strict.¡± Nel said in sympathy.


    ¡°Oh, you have no idea, Nel. I¡¯ve had almost no time to tinker. It¡¯s been rough-¡± I was cut short by the sight of a black Tiger Primal head with copper hair leaving the hall. I shot to my feet and started making my way to follow. I shouted over my shoulder to Nel, ¡°Give me a few! I just spotted Rose and just need to talk!¡±


    While rushing to catch up, I wove between tables and passers-by as quickly as I could. I pushed through the double doors and spotted her not fifteen yards from me. I put on a burst of speed, shouting her name as I closed it. ¡°Rose! Rose! What up! I want to talk!¡±


    I saw her flinch. Her shoulders bunched, and her head lowered with flattened ears. I caught up to her just behind the Aegis Hall. She stopped and turned around to give me a timid smile. ¡°Oh. Hey Iver. It¡¯s been a while. How¡¯ve things been?¡± She was half-turned to me, clutching the upper arm closest to me in the opposite hand and not meeting my eyes.


    Something was definitely up. She was hiding something. It wouldn¡¯t be impossible to tell a blush under all her fur, so I¡¯d have to put my body reading skills to the test. ¡°So I know I haven¡¯t seen you in a bit, and I¡¯m sorry about that. Thallos has been beating me into the ground every day I¡¯m training with him. But I wanted to thank you for talking to Thallos about that packet I found. You have no idea how relieved I am that you knew he wouldn¡¯t be pissed with me.¡± Her eyes flitted to mine before looking down at the ground between us. ¡°It turns out the stuff was MyCast. Turns out Master Mystagogue Neckar has a condition that requires regular doses of the stuff.¡±


    ¡°That-that¡¯s good to hear. I¡¯m happy I could help. H-how have things been?¡± She fidgeted with her foot while she spoke, drawing circles in the dirt.


    Stammering, fidgeting, not meeting my eyes, closed body posture. My best guess was that there was something that she wanted to say but was scared to. Had I gotten that intimidating since studying under Thallos? Well, if she wouldn¡¯t breach the topic, I would.


    ¡°Well, training has been rough, but there was something else I wanted to talk about.¡± I started.


    Her eyes flitted to mine again, for a longer moment this time. ¡°Yeah, what¡¯s that?¡±


    I took a deep breath as I directly willed myself not to fidget, which is what my hands wanted to be doing at that moment. I locked my eyes with my shoes. ¡°Well, you know, ever since that day you saved my ass from those thugs, I¡¯ve always looked up to you. And you even took time to help me train on our off days, which means a lot to me. And you¡¯re an awesome friend that I feel I can trust with just about anything.¡± I clenched my fists to stop my fingers from twitching as they tingled with my anxiety. ¡°But you know, I was hoping that maybe we could¡­ be more than friends.¡± The anxiety hit me then. Pain and tension grew in my chest like a compressed spring as I started to breathe faster. I could feel every movement of my eyes as they twitched, shifting my gaze from one spot to another on the dirt and grass, trying to take in everything at the same time as searching for any one thing to lock onto and hold my focus on.


    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Oh, you have got to be kidding me.¡± Rose snarled.


    ¡°What?¡± I looked up and locked eyes with her and found a fire there hot enough to burn me.


    ¡°You don¡¯t get it, do you, Iver? I don¡¯t like you that way.¡± She hissed, ¡°You took from me the open position I had spent the past two years trying to get.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± was all I could manage to say as my reality cracked.


    ¡°Thallos has been my hero since I was just a kid. Since when my father worked his last job, and he died. Thallos was the one who told my mother and me what happened. He promised that my father¡¯s death was not in vain and had been avenged. THALLOS was my hero, and I swore that I was going to become his apprentice. But you took that from me.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I uttered as my cracked reality splintered.


    ¡°Yes, you twit fucker! Thallos only ever takes one apprentice at a time, and you,¡± she pointed a clawed finger at me in accusation, ¡°took that because of some fluke of nature. I¡¯m the better fighter. I¡¯m the one who has earned her Mastlok training in both Crimson Blade and Sightless Eye. But because you happen to have some random magic talent, you get the position. Why else do you think I talked to him this morning? I wanted him to find out about the drugs and for you to get the boot so I could take up your spot.¡± Every word was laced with vehement venom as she took bite after bite out of my hopes and trust.


    It was with those words that made my splintered reality shattered completely. She never loved me or even liked me. Just the opposite. She hated me for going through the hellish training Thallos was putting me through. She wanted to be the one to get stabbed by him. She wanted that role so badly that she tried to have me kicked from the academy.


    Tears streamed down my face. My legs went numb, and my hands started to shake uncontrollably. I squeezed my eyes shut and threw my head down so she couldn¡¯t see my face. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± My voice was shockingly calm, even to my ears as I spoke. ¡°If I had known this, I wouldn¡¯t have agreed to take the position. I¡¯ll tell Thallos that I¡¯m stepping down and that he should take you.¡±


    She threw her fists down to either side of her. ¡°DON¡¯T LIE TO ME!¡± she howled. As she snapped at me, the surrounding airdropped to sub-zero. The grass around us froze and sprouted spiked barbs of ice, all in a perfect circle with her at the center of the formation. My tears froze mid-path down my face, and two hung from my jaw in mini icicles. I looked up at her in shock. She looked down, her own face written in shock. Without another word, she turned and fled the scene. I moved to follow but fell flat on my face in the jagged grass. My feet had been frozen to the ground.


    Rose had magic? Rose had magic!


    Had she been hiding it all this time? No way. She had no reason to hide something like that. Plus, if she had magic, why would she get upset about me having magic and having the position she wanted? She easily could have earned it herself and become a Dark Hunter. So how and why?


    I couldn¡¯t think of an answer. But I was still in shock from what she had done to me. So far in shock that I hadn¡¯t noticed that my face was covered in minuscule gashes, my shirt was filled with dozens of small holes, and my hands were slashed to ribbons.


    I crawled my way back up to my feet and thrashed against my restraints, but the ice held fast. I was forced to activate the blowtorch I had added the new tool to my tactical gauntlet only just the week before. I never thought I would be using it to free myself from ice, but I can¡¯t deny that it was handy. But at that moment, I was emotionally numb. The wound was so fresh and opened so quickly that I was still processing what had happened.


    As I staggered back into the DEFAC, my feet and mind were numb, and my face and hands were bloody. I slogged my way across the dining hall to my corner, only dimly aware of the stares I drew from anyone nearby as I passed through. When I reached my seat, I fell into it more than sat and just stared at my tray of food, not even caring what it was anymore.


    ¡°Whoa, dude. What happened out there?¡± came Nel¡¯s voice from right next to me, but she sounded far off. ¡°You look like she took her claws to your face. Did you insult her dead father?¡± she jested as she prodded at me with her spoon.


    I had to tell her. I needed to tell her. She should know what happened. But at that moment, I had no words. I opened my mouth to explain. To say something, anything. Instead of words, what came rising up was a fierce torrent of emotion.


    ¡°Is that ice in your hair?¡± Nel asked as she pointed at me. That was enough to trigger the outburst. It started low, a tone that left my throat, but it quickly grew into a weeping wail, like the keening of a banshee. Nel leaned back in her seat, staring at me with concern and horror.


    The tone broke into a choking sob, and the tears came in a flood of their own. I lowered my head to hide my face in shame as I broke down. Tears spilled from my eyes to soak the lap of my pants, and some distant part of me thought that I should have worn those stupid trip pants because they were waterproof. I heard a chair pull from the table, and I looked up to find Ferris flipping the chair around to sit in it backward as he asked Nel what was wrong with me. I couldn¡¯t hear her response, but I could tell by the shrug of her shoulders what she thought. This lack of understanding and empathy sent me into an irrational rage.


    I flung the tray of food aside, gripped my horns, and yanked on them as I wailed. That brought the thought of Rose to the forefront of my mind. This emotional pain was unbearable. Like the gaping hole my father¡¯s death left in me only fresher. But once one emotional memory bled pain, the other was quick to follow. Thoughts of my father and how I failed him battered my mind, mixing with the thoughts of my betrayal of Roserra and how she stabbed me back.


    Stabbed. In the drowning mass of volcanic emotion, the word clung to me like an outreaching root caught on my shirt as I fell from a cliff. I latched onto that word and used it as an escape. Anything to escape this pain. Even getting stabbed by Thallos would have felt better than what this was. At least I knew physical pain.


    Physical pain that¡¯s what I needed, so I did the first thing that came to mind. I threw my head into the table, again and again and again. I drove my head into the table. The first few times, my horns blocked my desired pain, so I threw my head at an angle. THWAP! There was the pain I desired so badly, accompanied by stars in my vision. And I was right. Physical pain felt better than emotional pain. It was familiar.


    I got two more good blows to my skull before I was pinned to my chair by two sets of hands. I fought the grips for only a moment before giving up and curling in on myself, pulling my knees to my chest. There, I gave into the body-quaking sobs. I lost touch with reality, falling into myself. I was dimly aware of something large picking me up and carrying me off.


    When I calmed down, I uncurled my now stiff and locked limbs from around myself. I knew exactly where I was from the chemically clean smell that tinged the air. I sat up to find myself in the Medical center, atop a bed, Dr. Brooksheen standing over me with a hand on my back. It was obvious from the mental sensation that she had used Resonance Myst on my mind to calm me down. I wiped my face with the back of one hand before checking the rest of the room. Sure enough, Nel and Ferris were standing in a corner, giving me deeply concerned looks. But what I didn¡¯t expect to find was Mystagogue Thrasher trying to squeeze himself into the clearly too-small guest chair. When he noticed I was semi-coherent, he gave up the effort in favor of squatting on his haunches to be at eye level with me. But he was still a good three inches above me.


    ¡°Young mister Maverick¡­¡± Thrasher started, ¡°Iver.¡± he corrected in a more sincere voice. ¡°What happened?¡± His rumbling tone was almost melodic.


    ¡°I-I¡­¡± I stammered. The doctor rested a calming hand on my shoulder. I looked up at her, and she gave me a single nod coupled with the soft words, ¡°Go ahead.¡±


    I took a long breath and explained in as few words as possible.


    ¡°So let me get this straight.¡± came Nel from the corner. ¡°You asked her out, then she flipped out on you. She then released wild magic, and that was enough for you to lose your mind and try to crack your skull?¡±


    ¡°Well, it sounds dacker when you say it like that.¡± I snipped.


    ¡°Ive¡¯, it was totally insane. You lost your head over a turndown. Dude, it happens to everyone. That¡¯s no reason to go thermonuclear.¡± Ferris stated.


    ¡°And what about the thing with Thallos and the packet?!¡± I harshly pointed out.


    Ferris wobbled his head left and right in semi-agreement. ¡°I¡¯ll give you that it was a rotten move and grounds for you to deck her, which I really would not recommend, given the skill level difference. But not an actual reason for you to go total Thrope on yourself.¡±


    Thrasher set his hand on my shoulder to catch my attention. When I turned back to him, he asked, ¡°What about your training with Mystagogue Thallos? I understand that the training you¡¯re going through is¡­ a great deal of pressure.¡±


    I gave a slow nod. ¡°I guess I would say that it¡¯s been stressful. But would that really contribute to this?¡±


    Thrasher gave me a look that said I should know the answer. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve heard about his previous trainees.¡±


    ¡°How they moved on to become immensely successful, you mean?¡±


    ¡°Those who didn¡¯t pass the tests.¡± Thrasher hinted. When I still didn¡¯t get it, he came out and told me, ¡°He¡¯s had students in the past have complete mental breaks to the point of total madness. We admitted to having looked into his methods, and they are, while not textbook, within set limits.¡±


    A lightbulb went on in my head as I had the epiphany. I had heard about his student who went mad and killed some other students. Thrasher, Thallos, and Mysteriarch K were talking about it after my Myst-Blooded thing surfaced. How had I forgotten about that?


    ¡°I think it best you take a week off and maybe look into an emotional venting and coping mechanism in times of stress.¡± Recommended the doctor.

 Chapter 30

    We are in the 6th Age, The Age of Divine Knowledge. The previous Ages were The First Age, The Reign of Dragons, The Age of Hungry Iron, The Age of Steel''s Grasp, and The Age of Tempered Glass. The whole of recorded time is currently at around 13,143 years in total.


    1st, Liovid, 3013 A.o.D.K


    Alright, so Mystagogue Thrasher says that I need an outlet and coping method. So I turn to you, Mark, my trusty journal that stopped me from going mad when Father died. I promise I won¡¯t fill your pages with bitching over every little thing. I¡¯ll only come to you when I¡¯m on the brink and look back at it the next day.


    I hope I can mend things with Rose.


    17th Liovid, 3013 A.o.D.K


    Didn¡¯t think I would be coming to you so soon after choosing to start using you again. Today, we started what Thallos calls my Adaptive Role Absorption. In short, I¡¯m supposed to take up a role as a janitor, salesman, noble, businessman, or whatever, and spend three days studying everything the role entails and what they should know and be able to become that person flawlessly. Three days ago, I was given the role of Jeremiah Thornton, master gunsmith with a drinking problem and a family of a loving but timid wife and two sons who were being homeschooled. I studied everything I was given for the role and wound up with a blade in my chest and a collapsed lung.


    I¡®m thankful Tessa has stuck with me this long.


    8th Deassen, 3013 A.o.D.K


    Tonight was Pale Hollows Night. After classes, the student body was to attend this masquerade party with custom outfits we made ourselves over the course of the last week and a half. The Mystagogues really overcomplicated the process of making the outfits. We had to think of an outfit based around the party theme of the Age of Steels Grasp and our desired role in the Sects. Students would plan out their outfits, fill out an order form for supplies to make said outfits, and commission a Burning Hand trainee or Slate volunteer for anything they can¡¯t make themselves. The Burning Hands students and Slate volunteers got extra credit for every outfit they helped finish beyond the assigned first five. I was a volunteer, and I cobbled together sixteen outfits completely on my own. I thought I was being creative with my costume being a steampunk clockmaker. But ten out of the sixteen I put together were steampunk. I really should have seen that coming since the industrial revolution was the start of that age.


    Anyhow, my outfit wasn¡¯t terrible. The metalwork was good; the glasswork was alright. The functioning clockwork was stellar, but my stitchwork¡­ let¡¯s just say that I was never meant to be a needleworker or tailor. And it¡¯s for that reason I invented the repirend, but the tool mends tears, not stitches seams.


    Nel and Ferris were fascinated with my clockwork gauntlet and pauldron. But they kindly did not mention how my pants were hanging on by a thread, pun intended.


    But Thallos decided to turn the masquerade into a training experience. He had me try to take up the role of another student to steal the Sightless Eye¡¯s Master Mystagogue¡¯s ring. Needless to say, as I¡¯m the only Darkling in the academy that I¡¯ve seen, I failed. As punishment, Thallos laced my food for the evening with nonlethal poison. I have no clue how he knew what I was going to get down to the exact plate. This was unbelievably cruel, especially since that was the first time I¡¯d had steak since before I joined the academy. I hurled up every last bite of that plate just outside Aegis Hall. I¡¯m about to go to bed on an empty stomach, but I guess that¡¯s better than a dagger to the kidney like two days ago. Oh yeah! I have successfully gone twenty-four hours without Thallos maiming me. I need to get far lot better if I don¡¯t want to be one big scar by the end of my academy career¡­ if I don¡¯t wind up dead, that is.


    7th, Sorittal, 3013 A.o.D.K


    Today was particularly bad. Thallos started the day off by quizzing me on psychology and manipulation, a topic I am abysmal with. He had me balance a jar of acid on my hand and stand on one foot, posting on a beam. Every time I got an answer wrong, he would throw a dagger at the jar. My options were either let the jar break and get drenched in acid or try to catch the daggers. I wound up with, I don¡¯t know, how many blades stuck through my hands and in my forearms. But in my opinion, being able to see the light through my palm is a far better sight than being melted to the bone. I never got burned. Thank the gods above and below for that, but my day didn¡¯t end there.


    After getting put back together by Tessa, it was evasion training. He gave me free rein over the academy grounds, in-use classrooms included. All I had to do was avoid him finding me. So I hid out in the Foundry and blended in by pretending to work on a myst power battery. Thallos found me in under an hour and dragged me from the classroom to put a hole in me. Then he told me I had to find Tessa if I wanted to get healed. He called it ¡°damaged goods repair on the run¡±. Said that I need to learn to avoid capture while injured, find a healer, and flee the location before the enemy comes looking. I only just found Tessa hiding in the forest before I blacked out.


    When I came too, I was locked in a jail cell somewhere under Aegis Hall. Thallos told me it was escape training. I found that I had been stripped of all my gear and left just short of naked. Needless to say, I didn¡¯t escape, and my punishment was to sit in the cell unfed. So, I planned while I was there. I decided to include a lock pick set in my underwear. And I do mean both the old-fashioned lock pick set and a cyber lock pick. I mounted the pieces to the inside of the elastic band. The first thing I did when Thallos let me out was¡­ well, first, I found food and got sick on it, but I studied jail cell locks, mechanisms, structure, and weak points. It¡¯s clear that I need to be ready for anything from Thallos.


    13th, Sorittal, 3013 A.o.D.K


    I hate burns. I HATE burns. Thallos broke into my room and tried to wake me up with a flamethrower. I woke up with the opening of the door and rolled out of the way fast enough to only get my shoulder caught by the geyser of flame. Ever felt your flesh melt and char down to the bone? Of course not, Mark, you¡¯re just a book. I¡¯d be lucky if you were made of authentic leather and not synth leather. Because then you might have some distant cell memory of pain in those mummified dermal cells of yours. But yeah, I¡¯m not ashamed to say that I totally lost my mind. I had never felt that kind of all-enveloping agony before. There was nothing but the pain and me. The panic got worse when I lost feeling in my shoulder, but I could still feel the heat. Thallos was kind enough to not totally soak me in the Phercyma. He also thought ahead and brought Tessa, who was waiting right outside the door.


    She seemed scared when she healed me. Not for herself; she seemed scared for me. I get the fear. The pain from the flammable Phercyma gel was so bad I shit myself, literally. Real manly thing to do, I know. But I can¡¯t turn back. My entire future is riding on me passing these tests. Plus, I know Thallos is only putting me through this because he wants me to be the best at this job. Regardless, I''m still pissed that the sinvious nog bastard ruined my bed. Even if he said he was going to replace everything, he still turned half of Sasha into ash. I made it very clear what he did, and he said it was just some stupid blanket. Sasha is NOT some stupid blanket. She has been my home since before I came to this hellhole. Regardless, I owe Tessa big time since her healing on my shoulder took over five hours. Five freaking hours with a numb shoulder starting to tingle like I cut off blood flow to the joint for a good several minutes. It was ants crawling under my skin and biting every step of the way, kind of tingling by the end. But I¡¯d still rather that than the disturbing numbness. I¡¯d take the burning agony over the numbness and take a sword to a gut over that horrible burning. Maybe I should try to buy Tessa something nice from over the net. But with what money? And how am I supposed to get it to a secret academy in the core of a mountain?


    And so the problems persist.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    18th, Chandom, 3013 A.o.D.K


    GODS DAMNED IT!! I made it for a week and a half without getting maimed by that sharp-toothed, cut ear. A record that I tried to keep going until he drugged my food. Yeah, Mark, you heard me. He drugged my food AGAIN! And I woke up in the same cell in the same near-naked state. BUT!!! This time, I was prepped. I had the lock picks laced in my boxer briefs. I managed to crack the digital lock. Crept out silent as a ghost. Got to the elevator to find the damned cut ear waiting for me at the exit to the mirrored elevators. Damn-near hacked off my left arm as punishment.


    Note to self: check for cameras and intrusion detection devices.


    Also, note for the future: The jail cell is on the thirty-second floor. Just how deep does this academy go?! I¡¯ll have to go snooping when I get the chance.


    1st, Feadormar, 3013 A.o.D.K


    Blackened blade and broken bone! I tried so fragging hard! I was on a roll. A freaking roll! Fifteen days! Three weeks without a single wound from Thallos. I had everything down pat. History, social studies, psychology, politics, and material combat with almost any of thirteen weapons. I knew my facts, honed my reflexes, mastered body reading, and understood the art of escape like no other. But I still can¡¯t figure out role immersion.


    I¡¯ve studied my roles down to allergies to food and favorite Holo shows and Holo games. But Thallos still says I fail at the skill because of my Darkling appearance. He told me to find a way around it. He made it sound so easy to just cover up my skin pattern and my eyes and hide my tail, and THESE DAMNED HORNS!!


    Ya know, I¡¯ve been wanting to damage the man so badly since the start of this training. When Nog implemented that total dacker dreck of Stab Training, I had moments when I wanted to do some very bad things to him. Very, VERY bad things. He keeps throwing these impossible challenges at me like their simple math problems and just expects me to find an answer. I swear to the six shards, if this total madness keeps up, I¡¯m going to need to start replacing pieces of me with completely custom cybernetics. I am very, VERY tempted to literally install subdermal armor in myself without anesthetic. But I¡¯m not there just yet.


    So, I¡¯m going to build a new device into my tactical gauntlet. I¡¯ve done some study into illusion and body-warping magic. While physically altering my body is way beyond my skill, I may have some luck with illusion magic. If I use one part Air Myst, one part Lumina Myst, three parts Water Myst, and two parts Resonance, I can cover myself in an illusion. Since I don''t have access to half of those elements, I''ll need to stock up on positive alignment element Myst Crystals. I¡¯ll need to calibrate the illusion for my tail and horns and plan for flexibility if I try to take on the role of someone taller or shorter than me.


    Every single time I¡¯ve tried Role Immersion Training, Thallos would catch me in some flaw. My accent, my posture, my stance, how I spoke with my hands, my scent, the smell of my breath, the way I made eye contact. All of these were things, and more I did wrong. But in the end, the issue was my looks. I can become a totally different person down to the mental trauma, but my horns, tail, and marble pattern skin will ruin my chances of making the impression I need. I have to be able to change how I look to become someone else. No one will trust a Darkling, so I must never be seen as a Darkling.


    13 Feadormar, 3013 A.o.D.K


    My first exam as a Dark Hunter is drawing near. End of this month, I will need to take a set of tests ordained by Thallos and the Mysteriarch. I¡¯m not going to lie, Mark. I¡¯m scared. I have more scars than I dare to count, and I don¡¯t even dare to think about what will happen to me if I fail any of these tests.


    I¡¯m also going to be tested on my magic skill, and I have yet to summon a single Vell of myst into my hands, no matter how many times I cut myself. I try and try and try some more. Even on my downtime days, I still train, even without Rose. I practice my summoning of myst to no avail. I practice my sword work. I even take time to work on my crafting skills. I finally crafted a dial into the back of my tactical gauntlet that should be able to read my intent and shift my appearance so long as no one breaks the image.


    But speaking of Roserra, I¡¯ve been hearing rumors. Rumors about her hiding out in the woods and throwing spears of ice into trees. I¡¯ve been hearing this talk for a while now, and the rumors say that the mysterious Primal girl is pretty good with her magic, able to summon a half dozen spears and hurl them in three directions at once. I want Rose back so badly I can taste this bitter range of failure in the back of my throat. I miss her. Even just as a friend. Even if she can¡¯t love me, I want her back as a friend.


    I¡¯ve been asking Thallos about bringing her on as a second apprentice. At first, he kept giving a flat ¡®No¡¯. But once he caught wind of her magic skill, he changed ¡®No¡¯ to ¡®maybe¡¯. But if maybe it is the best I¡¯ll get, then I¡¯ll have to take it and work with it. Now I just need to convince her to come show Thallos her skill with myst.


    Speaking of women in my life, I think I finally have a way to thank Tessa for all her work. I¡¯m crafting something special for her. I don¡¯t dare tell anyone, not even you, Mark, lest it somehow get out what I¡¯m crafting for her, but it¡¯s something good.


    19th, Feadormar, 3013 A.o.D.K


    Tonight is Dark Hollows Night and the Day of our third quarter trials. Given my unique situation of being mentored under Thallos, things got a little confusing. I didn¡¯t take part in any of the other exams, instead having completely unique tests pitted against me, designed by my deranged uncle. Instead of standard written tests for my mundane classes, Thallos got creative.


    For mathematics, he took me to a firing range under the Aegis Hall, where he would give me a written equation via therra. Across the range from me were jars of colored water labeled with possible answers. I had to shoot the jar with the correct answer with a ranged weapon that changed with each question. At the end, he shocked me with an electric cattle prod, once for every failed question. I miss two questions out of the fifty given.


    For history, he provided me with a row of labeled shot glasses for each question. The wrong answers were laced with a fast-acting, non-lethal poison. The type of poison varied from question to question. And the glass with the correct answer held the fast-acting antidote for the poison of the previous question. The concept threw me off, and I got the first question wrong. So then, feverish and trying not to wretch, I got the second one wrong. On the floor, hurling and dry heaving, my vision swimming, I went to answer the next question. I remember it rather well. ¡°In the Age of Tempered Glass, the year 1034, who were the first of the Orcish Clans to be acknowledged as a nomadic nation unto themselves?¡± I remembered the answer: the Steel Tusk Clan. I remembered this because of the mental image of Mystagogue Thrasher with a metal tusk protruding from his jaw. But like I said earlier, my vision was swimming, so I dragged myself back into my seat and snatched the first one that started with Steel. I got lucky because only a few questions later did I remember that there were something like eight different clans with the term Steel in the name. But with only one poison in my system, I managed to pass the exam with no more issues.


    Biology wasn¡¯t that bad. I had to dissect the carcasses of several creatures Thallos had ordered in for this very purpose. I just had to pull out the organs, identify them, and lay them out on a gridded table based on their potential uses in the field.


    What was worse was the Chemistry exam. This one involved my neutralizing toxic substances with other chemicals or powders. That doesn¡¯t sound so bad¡­ Until you realize that Thallos dumped each one on me after my attempt to convert the fluid to a safe substance. I wound up covered in goo more than once, along with a fluid that turned into powder on contact with iridium dust, an acid that ruined my clothes but did nothing to my skin, and another acid that I didn¡¯t neutralize completely that gave me a full-body rash. A rash that Thallos would not let Tessa heal for the rest of the day.


    For Social Studies, the exam was simple. Body reading. We traveled throughout the academy, and its grounds and Thallos would randomly select someone, and I needed to tell what they were feeling and what they were going to do. I had to do this without listening in on any conversations or being allowed to use my therra-node. At some point, Thallos picked up that I had an application installed for body reading that I had been using for our sparring sessions.


    For the Sect exams, Thallos skipped the ranged combat since I displayed my skill during the mathematics test. But he quizzed me on individual and party tactics, and weapon/armor maintenance and upkeep. And that was all just for Crimson Blade.


    For Blackened Crown, he quizzed me on Myst Laws and mechanics, alchemy, and Mystechnology design fundamentals. I don¡¯t need to tell you that I had a solid understanding of the first topic, and I could have answered the third topic¡¯s quiz in my sleep. The only one that I had any level of difficulty with was alchemy, and I still passed that section with a solid B-.


    I¡¯m not even going to go into the tests for Burning Hand. I¡¯ll simply say that it was too easy. But my Sightless Eye tests were a different matter. That was more of a mixed bag. I passed lock-picking easily enough, and hacking was only marginally more difficult. But the hard ones were Counter-Intelligence and Sociology. Both of which were passes but came dangerously close to failure. But Thallos also included sabotage and poison identification to the roster because Silent Heart¡¯s tests were just a combination of Sightless Eye and Crimson Blade¡¯s.


    I could go into more detail about what happened with each of these, but to be honest, I¡¯m beat, and I have another masquerade dance to get ready for. This one is monster-themed. Woo! <Dripping sarcasm>

 Chapter 31

    There are plenty of other organizations that operate like the Order of the Aegis, of varying sizes and capabilities. Some have goals that align with the Order, others diverge from their goal, and still others are opposed to the Order¡¯s goals. The Order is one of the largest organizations, but there are others larger. Their goals and motives are known only to their members.


    Day 328 Igniday


    The maul arced toward my head, forcing me to duck. I lashed out with a foot to catch Thallos¡¯s ankle and pull it out from under him. Thallos simply lifted his foot from the arc of my own attack and planted that same foot into my shoulder with enough force to knock me off my feet. I rolled to the left just in time to avoid a downward slam with the battle hammer aimed at my chest. I reached out and clutched the shaft of his weapon as I lashed out with a kick aimed at his elbow. Thallos let go of the weapon to avoid my strike but closed back in not two breaths later.


    I pushed myself to my feet, using the maul as a lever. The sharp-toothed Wild Elf came at me with a flurry of punches. I leaned to my left just in time to dodge the first strike, but I was forced to take the second in my right shoulder and a third in my left hip. The last attack of the flurry was an open palm strike that landed against my hip, jarring my joint¡¯s socket.


    I hopped back, posting on my left leg as I hefted the maul. Thallos pushed the offensive with a round kick aimed at my right side. I only just barely managed to block the strike with the grip of the massive hammer while I braced the foot of my almost-dislocated hip. A snarl of pain left my lips as I adjusted my grip on the weapon and threw a swing aimed at his head that I intentionally overextended, leaning into the blow and staggering.


    Thallos took the bait and threw a horizontal hammer fist into my exposed back as I turned. I continued my turn and sped up the rotation using the hammer for momentum. I spun a full three-hundred and sixty degrees to meet his hammer fist with a heavy kick from my exposed right side toward his left side. This technique would normally have off-balanced me, but I used the brutish weapon as a counter-mass to keep me centered.


    I landed my attack against his ribs with enough force to knock him off balance, even as his attack landed just a fraction of a second later. But with his body off-center and moving in the same direction as his fist, the attack had only a fraction of the force he had intended as it landed just below my floating rib. The strike was still hard enough to bruise, even with the man being off balance.


    I knew Thallos was going easy on me. He could have dislocated my shoulder and shattered my hip with those strikes he had landed before. He could have moved faster with the maul and crushed my ribs like a craypaper model with the blow I rolled away from. I was just thankful he had pulled none of his hidden daggers I knew were concealed about his person. I had learned this through plenty of painful experiences.


    I took my advantage and rushed the trog with a heavy swing from the hammer in both hands, aimed at his shoulder. Still off-balance, he leaned back at an almost impossible angle to avoid the strike. I figured I would not get lucky, so I did something most would consider madness. As the hammer overshot its target, I let go of the weapon, letting it fly through the air a whole seven feet and land like the majestic cinder block it was. As Thallos straightened, his sight following the hammer for only a second, I continued my spin with the momentum from the hammer and brought around a teeth-jarring crescent kick, arcing my straight leg upward with the side of my boot on a crash-course trajectory with the side of Thallos¡¯s head.


    Without even looking, he leaned forward, my arc passing clear over his head as he charged me head-on. Caught on one leg, and my turn put me off-center, he pinned my leg against me, knee touching shoulder, and bulled over me. As I lost my sole contact with the ground, I felt a pop in my hip, and flame lit in the joint. I had enough presence of mind for a fraction of a second to realize he had dislocated my hip and think a single word, ¡®Crap¡¯. The thought wasn¡¯t panicked or frantic. Quite the contrary, my inner tone was more akin to that moment after a long day where you flop down in a seat eager to rest, and you remember that you forgot to do one thing and need to get back up. For that single moment, everything moved at a snail¡¯s pace before continuing back to top speed. The world tilted and spun before the earth greeted me with rib-cracking force, knocking the wind from my lungs and leaving me gasping on the training room floor.


    Thallos stood up, spry as ever, even as I lay there wheezing like an asthmatic vacuum. ¡°You did good that time, boy. Used a weapon you had no talent with to your advantage and didn¡¯t cling to it like a drowning man who found driftwood. You even turned discarding it into a tactical move.¡± As he spoke, he stretched his arms and back. I wasn¡¯t even a full warm-up for him.


    ¡°I appreciate the compliments, uncle. But honestly, I¡¯m just happy, you didn¡¯t, pull a knife on me.¡± I huffed out between gasping breaths as I stared up at the artificial lights overhead.


    Thallos passed by my head to collect a pair of water bottles. He tossed me one that I caught while still on my back. He pointed to me with the other bottle as he said, ¡°Guess again.¡±


    I looked down to find a stiletto knife protruding from my hip that was dislocated. ¡°Frag it! Rend it! Damn it!¡± I cursed as I crawled myself to my good knee, the damaged hip locked by the blade in the joint. I popped the cap off my water before I gripped the blade firmly in my free hand and yanked it free with a popping and sucking sound. My once-locked hip fell limp. I washed the blade clean with a splash from the bottle before throwing it at my uncle. I slung the blade with proper technique to strike Thallos in the eye. It flew tip-first at his face, but he caught it with a fist around the hilt like I figured he would.


    I hobbled my way to balancing on one foot as I waved Tessa over. She hurried over on her short Gnome legs and put her hands on either side of my wounded hip. Without being told, I washed the blood off the wound to give her a clear look at the damage so she had an easier time healing. I chugged the remaining water as ants crawled under my skin, and the wound itched like crazy, but by then, I had gotten used to the sensation. My scar count ticked it at one thousand five hundred and thirty-two. I had yet to break my record of a week and a half without getting wounded by my stab-happy uncle. Though, I could not deny that I was improving. But if it was at the rate Thallos was expecting. I couldn¡¯t say.


    As soon as the tingling and itching stopped, I looked down to examine the work. The diamond-shaped scar was no bigger than a pen and barely raised. ¡°Thanks for that, Tess. You know that, you rock?¡± I said to her with an easy smile. In the past months, we had become friends of a sort. We weren¡¯t nearly as close as me and Nel but that didn¡¯t mean that I valued her any less.


    ¡°Come on, Iver. I have to do this for my class credits. It¡¯s nothing special. Any other healer could do the same.¡±


    ¡°Are you saying that if you weren¡¯t getting credit for this, you¡¯d let me lie there bleeding?¡±


    ¡°What?! No!¡± Her eyes flew wide with shock. ¡°I¡¯m just saying that what I do is nothing special.¡±


    I gave her a false, stern look of reproof before dropping the playful facade to get down on her level and lay a hand on her shoulder. ¡°Tess, it¡¯s not just anyone who¡¯s putting me back together. It¡¯s you. You could have said no to the training, but you didn¡¯t. You could have dropped it at any time and gone back to working at the Med Center, but you didn¡¯t. When I felt like trash, you treated me like a friend. You are the one that kept on encouraging me when you fixed all the holes poked in me.¡± I spoke in a soft and kind tone, trying my best to convey how helpful she had been the past quarter year.


    She looked at me with an expression I couldn¡¯t read. ¡°We¡¯re friends, right?¡± her tone was tentative.


    I gave her a broad grin and said, ¡°Damn right, we¡¯re friends.¡± as I playfully tapped her shoulder with a fist.


    ¡°Yoo-hoo! Loverboy.¡± Came Thallos from across the room. ¡°Quit making goo-goo eyes at the medic and come here. I need to give you an important talk.¡± Tessa¡¯s light green skin blushed a dark purple at the comment. I rolled my eyes and stood. I strolled over to the man, who was pulling out a collection of knives from across his person and setting them on a wide metal table at the end of the Advanced Training Scenario Chamber, or ATSC.


    The ATSC was an expansive room of reflective black walls cut into both a square grid, each a foot long, and a micro-hexagon grid that overlapped it all. The space was a massive thirty-foot cube that was designed to be able to emulate any environment down to temperature and everything down to the last stone, blade of grass, or ice sickle. Thallos had used the polymorphic quality of the chamber very little up to that point.


    ¡°It¡¯s not like that, Uncle, and you know it.¡± I chided as I meandered over, in no real hurry. If he was going to mock me for thanking a friend and being honest about how I valued her, then he could wait a few moments longer.


    ¡°Oh yeah. That¡¯s right. You¡¯ve got a gooey heart for the cat girl. I didn¡¯t know that you like hairy pus-¡± I cut him off. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare finish that thought, Uncle, or I will have to kill you?¡± I tried to keep my tone and face stern as I wagged a finger at him, but by the end, my face broke out into a smirk.


    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    Thallos turned to face me with fists posted at his hips. ¡°Boy, I could give you every weapon I own to use, and I¡¯d still turn you inside out before you can say ¡®potently petulant pussycat.¡±


    ¡°Seriously?¡± I questioned in annoyance, one brow raised.


    ¡°Hey you are the one that brought up the question of her joining training under me and I said that I needed more data.¡± He raised his hands'' palms to the sky in a posture saying ¡®not my fault¡¯.


    ¡°And as I¡¯ve already told you, she wants nothing to do with me at the moment. Besides, with that show of power from our last talk, I¡¯d rather not become a decorative ornament for an Arctic spear. That¡¯s why I want you to talk to her.¡± I stated as I reached the man, stepping past him to count all the knives on the table, each pair a unique shape or style for different uses.


    ¡°I understand that, and you want me to mention that it was all your idea so you can get your tail tangled with hers.¡± Thallos said with a knowing grin and waggling his brows. His expression conveyed exactly what he thought I wanted out of the whole thing.


    My face burned, and my aforementioned tail thrashed as I looked at my feet. ¡°You know it¡¯s not like that.¡±


    He slapped me on the back. ¡°I know, kid. I just wanted to ruffle your feathers. But I¡¯ll tell you what. After you hear what I have to say, and depending on your answer, I¡¯ll track the girl down and have her show me what she¡¯s got. If she can pass my set standards, then I¡¯ll take her on, and you get to look like a hero.¡±


    My eyes shot to his, checking for any sign of a joke or deception. Not that I would even be able to tell if he was hiding something. When I saw he was serious or pretending to be serious, I gave him a single nod. ¡°Deal. What¡¯s this thing we got to talk about?¡±


    Thallos looked across the room to Tessa, who was sitting at a bench along the side of the room, patiently waiting for training to pick back up. ¡°Tessa, you can leave for the day, sweetheart. We are done with combat training for today.¡± Thallos projected his voice to carry the thirty feet to where she sat as he waved to get her attention. He turned back to me and murmured quietly, ¡°Let¡¯s wait for her to go before we discuss.¡±


    Tessa threw her hand over her head with a thumbs up before collecting her bags and making her way across the room. As she packed up, I began wiping off sweat from my face and brow and wringing it out of my tail by lightly squeezing at its base and pulling it through my hand, keeping it tight against the skin. This last act produced a good puddle of sweat behind me, a foot across.


    My Uncle had seen this act enough to be unphased by it. Instead, he aligned all his blades on the table in a neat row, set pair by pair. Tessa left the room with a parting wave I returned, and Thallos waited another three minutes to be sure she was gone. This talk must have been serious.


    When he finally broke the silence, he said, ¡°Follow me. We need to go deeper.¡±


    I obediently followed him to the mirrored elevators. I watched the light-oriented with the one Tessa took, counting the floors as she ascended. Thallos and I took the other box. He swiped his wrist over a scanner in the wall. The elevator screen lit with a welcome screen verifying that it had registered his B.I.C (Bio Identification Chip). He then dialed in a string of nine numbers that appeared on the screen as asterisks. Was it an OTP (One-Time Pin) or a passcode? I didn¡¯t dare ask, given the look on his face. Thallos looked cold, serious, automaton-like.


    When I stepped into the mirrored box with him, I also quietly watched the elevator screen count the floors we lowered past. We had been on sub-level seven, but soon we were passing sub-level fourteen, seventeen, twenty, and twenty-five. Finally, we stopped at sub-level thirty. As the box slowed to a stop, there was no ding like it had on other floors.


    As Thallos stepped through the opening doors, he explained. ¡°This is an observation-proof room.¡± It was a fifteen-foot square room. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all covered in dark gray sound-dampening foam. The only things in the room were a metal table, five chairs, a mini-fridge unit, and a coffeemaker beside a stack of disposable cups. On closer inspection, the table and chairs were bolted to the floor through tight cut holes in the insulation. The fridge and coffeemaker were independently powered with no plugs attached. Lights in the room hung from the ceiling to shine down on the table with a cold and sterile white light. The room smelled of packing foam and metal.


    ¡°This room is untappable. No bugs work down here. No teleportation can get down here. You can¡¯t scry into the room by any means. It even cuts any puppet spells the moment you reach the floor.¡± Thallos continued as he made his way to the coffeemaker. He gestured for me to take a seat at the table while he made coffee.


    I did as instructed, asking as I took my seat, ¡°Why would the academy need a room like this?¡±


    ¡°For talks like this, mission briefings and debriefings, and the like. The academy is equipped to operate as an order outpost in an emergency as well.¡± Thallos turned around with two cups of steaming, dark liquid. Instant coffee. Gross. He took a seat across from me and slid a cup over the table to sit before me. ¡°But talking about the order is why I brought you here.¡±


    ¡°Okay?¡± I half answered, half asked as I took the cup of scalding fluid in hand.


    ¡°Let me start with a simple question. Do you trust me, boy?¡±


    I recoiled at the question. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I know that what I¡¯ve been doing to you has been pretty bad, and in my opinion, it was way too early for it. But you do know that I¡¯m not doing any of this out of malice?¡± He asked.


    I fidgeted uncomfortably in the cushionless metal seat. ¡°Well, yeah, I know you said that your supervisors said you had to. I know when it all first started, you looked like you were about to spit acid at someone. It¡¯s all been pretty obvious that you¡¯d rather not bleed me like a pig for dinner.¡±


    ¡°So then, do you trust me?¡±


    I forced myself to stop fidgeting and looked my uncle dead in the eye. ¡°Yes, I do.¡±


    He sat back in his seat and took a sip from his cup as I made to do the same. ¡°Good. Then I should start off with the fact that I¡¯m a double agent and I¡¯ve been training you to be a double agent.¡±


    I choked on my molten, bitter mouthful and spat it out in a spray. It took me a couple of seconds of coughing and thumping my chest with a fist to make sure I hadn¡¯t aspirated any of the coffee. I turned back to my uncle, and in a voice that demanded answers, I said, ¡°Excuse me, what?!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a double agent, and I¡¯ve been training you to be the same.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± I pressed.


    ¡°Well, to answer that, I need to give you the tidbit about the Dark Hunters that I¡¯ve been keeping from you. I needed to make sure you could handle the truth and what comes next.¡±


    ¡°Okay?¡± I drew out the single word to span several seconds. ¡°So I¡¯m worthy of super-secret information. Care to share?¡±


    ¡°Well, you know the sect is called The Dark Hunters, obviously. Unless I caused more brain damage than I thought.¡±


    ¡°Yes? I mean, yes, I know about the sect. Not, yes, I¡¯m an idiot.¡± I hurried to correct myself, which drew a smirk of amusement from the man across from me. I was beginning to get as annoyed as I was confused.


    ¡°Well, I had been telling you to call the Fragment of the Goddess that the sect follows the Hollow Fragment. The correct title is Her Fragment of The Blighted Heart.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± I drew out again. ¡°I thought the order was the good guys?¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯m here to investigate that. All the other sects have their morals and ethics about protecting the innocent and hunting the wicked. But not this sect.¡±


    ¡°But we¡¯re¡ª... They¡¯re called the Dark Hunters. Like hunters of the darkness, right?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Think more along the lines of hunters in darkness or at the behest of darkness. You see, this secret sect throws the morals of all the other sects right out the window. Their thought process is to get the job done by any means, even if those means are using, hurting, or killing innocents.¡± Thallos went on.


    ¡°Well, that sounds totally on the wrong side of the fence.¡± I commented.


    ¡°I agree, and it all revolves around this hidden fragment. The scripture says that she is the most powerful of the Fragments, but she doesn¡¯t have a heart. So she¡¯s hungry for hearts. And because of that, every so often, a lucky member of the sect is selected to find her a heart. But not just any heart. It must be the heart of someone who has loved and lost. In other words, someone who lost a loved one that they cared about very deeply.¡±


    ¡°Wow, that is fragged up. But why the heart of someone like that?¡± I asked, reflexively taking a sip of my coffee.


    ¡°Hells if I know.¡± Thallos said with a massive shrug. ¡°I guess they taste the best.¡±


    ¡°So, in short, I¡¯ve been training to go out into the world and perform sapient sacrifices.¡± I said in disgust.


    ¡°Not quite. You normally would be trained for that, but I have you on a track leading elsewhere.¡± He corrected.


    ¡°And where exactly does this track lead?¡± I asked nervously.


    ¡°A good question.¡± Thallos said as he sat back in his chair and draped an arm over the back. ¡°You are on the fast track to taking up my role. It¡¯s still an elite, do anything, specialist, but I¡¯m what¡¯s called a Blood Arbiter.¡± He pointed to me with the hand that still held his coffee. ¡°A fitting title for a Myst-Blooded, doncha think?¡± He swirled his coffee as he retracted his finger before taking a large swig of the piping-hot fluid.


    Thallos set down his cup and gestured to himself with a thumb. ¡°I¡¯m part of an organization simply called The Company. We have a goal akin to the Order of Aegis, and we¡¯re about the same size. But we caught wind of this secret sect and got concerned that the honorable Order wasn¡¯t so honorable under the robes and masks. So they sent me in to verify the truth a good three decades back when I first joined. I joined the dark sect and learned that it was worse than we thought, and now my mission is to collect chosen initiates like yourself, tell you the truth, and get you prepped as a double agent yourself. You would be my fifth student who joined The Company if you said yes. So, are you willing to join up with the good guys and get ready to take down this facade?¡±


    ¡°I-um, yeah. Yes, I want to put an end to this sapient sacrifice dreck. What do I need to do?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m proud of you, boy! I knew you were a smart one.¡± He cheered as he joyfully jabbed a finger in my direction. ¡°Now you don¡¯t need to do anything special. We¡¯ll keep training as normal. You just need to act normal and not tell anyone about this. But I¡¯ll go find your lady friend and see if she¡¯s got the chops to join us. I¡¯ll have to fast-track her and tell her what¡¯s going on from the start if she passes my tests. We can¡¯t hide anything from her if she¡¯s joining the training. But for now, you go back to your room and relax.¡±


    ¡°Got it.¡± I answered with a determined grin.

 Chapter 32

    One of the Cassillis gods of art, Raffendus, commonly worshipped by Elves, has strong ties with theater and dance. Many of the Elven Blade Dancers, the Saylinna, pay honors to the god, as many say he is the origin of the art. Those who have seen the fickle and playful god say he wears the mask of Comedy and Tragedy.


    Day 329 Smeltesday


    ¡°So you think you¡¯ve fixed things with Rose?¡± Ferris asked as we cleaned from breakfast and readied to head to our classes.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to guarantee it, but if things work out like I think they will, she¡¯s gonna get a wish granted that she¡¯s had for a while now.¡± I tossed the trash from my tray into the bin beside the tray station.


    ¡°That¡¯s a relief,¡± Nel said as she stepped up beside me to do the same. ¡°You¡¯ve been moping ever since that fight you had with her. I thought you two had gotten into a spat that might never resolve.¡±


    ¡°Heh.¡± I gave a half-hearted chuckle at the thought of the confrontation with Rose. ¡°I thought I had royally kicked the hound when she snapped at me like that.¡±


    ¡°From what you told us, I¡¯d say it was closer to kicking the whole Black Shuck pack.¡± Ferris commented as he led the way out of the dining hall. ¡°I would¡¯ve never guessed that she was a caster?!¡±


    ¡°I was totally clueless.¡± Came Nel as she skip-stepped to catch up to Ferris.


    ¡°I wonder what class she is?¡± Ferris pondered. ¡°Wizard? Sorceress? Fury?¡±


    ¡°Why are you only listing Solidim classifications? She could be an Ember, or a Dyad Theurgic Mage, or even a Theurgic Mage. Besides, the only one with an affinity for water on your list was the Wizard.¡± Nel corrected with a wag of her finger in Ferris¡¯s direction.


    ¡°You really think she pulled favor from a God or Titan?¡± Ferris looked at her with blatant skepticism.


    Nennel shrugged in answer without meeting the Elf¡¯s gaze. ¡°You never you. You can¡¯t rule it out.¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah,¡± Ferris¡¯s voice was thick with sarcasm. ¡°She just up and found faith overnight, and over the course of a few weeks, she pulled enough favor from her chosen god to become a priest or some craziness.¡±


    ¡°How about we drop the topic.¡± I interjected, as I stepped between the two in an effort to close the conversation.


    ¡°Alright, oh master Mastlok.¡± Ferris teased. ¡°How about you let us in on that top-secret training plan you got with that uncle of yours?¡± He leaned in close to my face as he pried.


    I visibly flinched at the remark and inwardly kicked myself for such a blatant tell. I wanted to tell them the truth about the order, but how? If I just came out and said it, they¡¯d likely think I was joking, and Thallos would make it his priority-one goal to silence them for good. But if I didn¡¯t tell them, they would be joining some alchemist-mad order that was totally okay with sapient sacrifice. And what if they did believe me? It¡¯s not like I could convince my uncle to take them on as well. Talking him into taking on Rose was a feat in and of itself. They could just drop out of the academy, I guess. But then they would get their memory scrubbed, and they¡¯d have no idea who I was. Could I sneak them off the grounds? I was pretty sure that dozens of students over the years had tried to escape the place for one reason or another, and I was pretty sure that the academy staff caught them all.


    ¡°Hello? Anyone in there, horn-head?¡± Ferris lightly rapped his knuckles against one of my horns. I shook myself out of my ponderous wanderings.


    ¡°Sorry, I was having flashbacks to training last week.¡± I lied, half-trying to play like I had some form of PTSD from training. But would that even really be a joke or a lie? I forced myself back into the moment. ¡°But my question is, when did you actually take me, Nel, and Rose on as friends?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± He looked totally confused by my question, so I elaborated.


    ¡°If you remember when I first swooped in and saved your cut ear ass, you didn¡¯t think I was serious about friendship, so I had to convince you it was a business deal.¡±


    ¡°Oh! Yeah, I had forgotten about that.¡±


    ¡°So, where was the change from business partners to honest friends?¡± I pressed.


    ¡°Well, if you remember, the next week and a half when we hung out after class, I was kinda awkward.¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡± I questioningly agreed, waiting for him to explain.


    ¡°Well, when I saw how you and Nel were treating each other and how Rose treated you, Iver, I started to imitate the interactions. It felt really weird poking fun at you and not meaning anything mean by it, and sharing my past with you guys was unbelievably scary for me. I thought you all were going to jump on me for showing weakness like a pack of wild hounds. But I tested the waters, and nothing horrible happened, so I just kept mimicking you guys till I found my own way to do things that clicked with you all.¡±


    ¡°Wait. You¡¯re telling me that you just pretended to be comfortable with us for those first few months?¡± Nel questioned in disbelief.


    ¡°I get the idea. Basically, fake it till you make it, right?¡± I pointed out as we passed through the dining hall doors to step outside.


    ¡°Pretty much.¡± Ferris admitted, a blush rising in his tanned cheeks.


    Nel scoffed in disbelief. ¡°And here I thought that business nonsense was just a poor excuse to join us. But you honestly didn¡¯t know how to have friends.¡±


    ¡°In his defense,¡± I started, ¡°I had never had friends till you guys. In fact, Nel, you were my very first friend.¡±


    ¡°I think I remember you saying something like that a while back.¡± I could see Nel mentally shuffling through memories, looking for the moment when I said that. After a handful of seconds, she clearly just gave up on the hunt and turned back to Ferris and me. ¡°So you guys are telling me that of the three of us, I am the only one that had friends before joining the academy.¡±


    Ferris and I both have nods of confirmation. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Pretty much.¡±


    She threw up her hands in mock outrage and proclaimed, ¡°I can¡¯t believe it. I¡¯ve been spending my time with a pair of know-nothing losers.¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡± I stepped up to confront her. ¡°This know-nothing loser saved your mechanical ass more than once. And care to remind me how many times you¡¯ve asked me to work on your internals, hmm?¡± I teased.


    She gave with an amused grin, even as she playfully shoved me away. ¡°Don¡¯t rub it in gears-for-brains. If I remember right, you were the one begging to do the work so you could get a closer look at my parts.¡± She turned away and covered herself in mock modesty. ¡°You know, a girl doesn¡¯t show her servos to just anyone.¡±


    I gave the girl a look of total disbelief. ¡°Oh, shut that mechanical trap of yours. You know full well you¡¯re more of a sister to me than anything else.¡±


    ¡°Well, brother dearest,¡± she teased back. ¡°Why don¡¯t you tell your beloved little sister about your training?¡± As she spoke, she clasped her hands together in front of her hips, and she turned back and forth in an attempt to look innocent and pleading.


    ¡°You know that¡¯s not going to work. But the best thing I can give you as an example of my training is what we¡¯ve been doing on our Quenchendays. That sparring is pretty much what I¡¯m doing most of the time, only dialed up to twelve and with Thallos quizzing me while he beats the snot out of me.¡± I changed the topic and diverted focus. ¡°But speaking of training, what about you two? How are your scores for the Sects, and which ones are you aiming to join?¡±


    Ferris¡¯s face curled in disgust. ¡°You know I¡¯ve been trying to join Silent Heart.¡± He started.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± I agreed.


    ¡°Well, my Hit Vector score is only twelve for the whole year. The Assassin Mystagogues all say that I¡¯m too aggressive and impatient.¡±


    I winced in sympathy.


    ¡°But I¡¯ve got a solid sixty-four on my Escape Vector, and thanks to your guys¡¯ help, I¡¯ve got a forty-two in my Martial Vector. So I¡¯m gonna swing for Mastlok of Crimson Blades and Sightless Eye.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re trying to get the role of a Phase Wolf.¡± The comment lept from my mouth before I even knew my lips were moving.


    The other two turned to me with looks of confusion.


    ¡°What now?¡± Ferris asked.


    I chided myself again for not thinking. ¡°Each combination of sects has a role title. The one you are aiming for, Crimson Blade and Sightless Eye, is called a Phase Wolf.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Nel turned to face me fully. ¡°Then what about mine? I¡¯ve got high scores in Sightless Eye and Silent Heart.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re scoring as an assassin?¡± I asked in disbelief.


    ¡°Come now, Iver. You¡¯ve seen my speed and dexterity. You have to admit that I¡¯m plenty agile for the role.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what¡¯s got me confused, Nel. You are a very upfront and direct person. I really can¡¯t see you dosing people with poison or cold-heartedly shooting a target from a rooftop.¡±


    She posted her hands on her hips and gave me a death glare. ¡°My current scores are seventy-two in Escape Vector and sixty-nine in Hit Vector. And for your information, I have a firm grip on poison types and proportions. Now, what is the role I¡¯m aiming for called?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure if you should become a Mastlok Nel. You would have a much easier career if you just went with Silent Heart. It would cut down on the classes you need and give you free time for other things besides studying. Plus, you won¡¯t have to kill people. That¡¯s a major positive in my book.¡± I explained, trying to dissuade her.


    ¡°Brother.¡± she said in warning.


    I raised my hands in surrender. ¡°Okay, okay. It¡¯s your choice. But if you really want to know what that role is called, it¡¯s a Red Shadow.¡±


    She visibly relaxed and gave me a smile in thanks. ¡°That¡¯s better. Now, the next question, what kind of Mastlok are you?¡±


    I internally cursed a storm as I tried to think of a way out. ¡°Well, Thallos had me memorize type two roles, but not type three yet.¡± I looked away as I scratched the back of my head in open embarrassment to try to throw her off the scent. ¡°He just keeps telling me that I¡¯m a Hunter, whatever that means. His answers to those questions are about as clear as sewer water.¡±


    ¡°Ugh!¡± she groaned in clear annoyance. ¡°Can you at least tell us your Vector scores?¡±


    I bit my lip before giving in. ¡°I have fifty-two Martial Vector, Eighty-six Craft Vector, and zero Spell Vector.¡± I lowered my head in shame and to hide that I wasn¡¯t telling them the complete story. Thallos would send me out every few days to collect Vector points, and he would order the type I was supposed to collect for that ¡®session¡¯, as he called it. He would watch my attempts to pick fights with other students and fight or flee. He would give me clear targets for the Hit Vector points, and he would only count points I accrued if I got the designated target as well. I had the best luck with the Craft Vector because Thallos made a game of throwing theoretical problems at me and seeing if I could craft something to solve the issue. For the Craft Vector, he would give me the points if the gadget or tool worked. I didn¡¯t need to use them on anyone. But my Spell Vector score¡­


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°What¡¯s with the zero?¡± Ferris beat Nel to the question.


    This time, the look of shame was not false. ¡°I have yet to cast another spell.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± Nel pressed.


    My lips curled in like I tasted something bitter before I spat out. ¡°I can¡¯t figure out how to take in myst, let alone project the same stuff.¡±


    ¡°Well, what are you trying?¡± Ferris asked. ¡°My cousin is a wizard and tried to explain some of what she had learned when she lived with me and my mother. So I might be of some help.¡±


    ¡°The Zenwel Mystagogues have had me try to visualize seemingly everything. I¡¯ve tried envisioning a vacuum pull from my palms, taking in moats of light. I¡¯ve tried envisioning tentacles from my palms, sapping energy out of random surfaces. I¡¯ve tried thinking of it as fish and mentally casting a net. Or drawing smoke in through my eyes or my third eye, which still makes no sense to me. There are dozens more things I¡¯ve tried. They say that it¡¯s all about how I visualize it and feel it. But it doesn¡¯t help that they look at me like some science experiment. I¡¯m not a student of theirs. Hells, I¡¯m not even a person to them. I¡¯m a strange mystery that they want to unravel, even if it means making me drink random potions and dousing me in chemicals. They¡¯ve poked and prodded me, scanned me with every device imaginable, and taken, I don¡¯t want to think of how much blood for tests.¡±


    ¡°Wow.¡± Nel muttered, ¡°That¡¯s pretty messed up. Like as mad as Kassidan¡¯s parade, kind of messed up.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± I agreed with bitter venom. ¡°And that¡¯s where I¡¯m heading next. I don¡¯t know what they¡¯re planning on doing to me today.¡±


    ¡°Well, let¡¯s start with seeing if we can help you draw myst first.¡± Ferris interjected. ¡°Your magic is based around your blood, right? Like a Blood Letter?¡±


    ¡°Kinda.¡± I huffed in frustration, waving my arms in the sign of giving up. ¡°From what I understand, my blood is both the focus and the price instead of the elemental cost, like for other casters. So when a Sorcerer gives up a portion of their body heat when you use fire magic, I just use my blood.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s still blood-based casting. Have you thought about visualizing something along the same vein?¡±


    I shot him a glare for the terrible pun, but he seemed totally oblivious to the offhand joke he made.


    ¡°What are you thinking?¡± Nel asked.


    Ferris lowered his gaze to the group as we walked and gestured in the air before him like he was thinking about an advanced math problem. ¡°Like what if he pictures his veins taking the myst into his body, or maybe veins stretching through the ground from his feet and taking it in like tree roots?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe.¡± I was skeptical of anything working at this point.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s about time for class, so try it out and let me know how it turns out.¡± Ferris said with a wave as he made his way to his own class, Nel trailing behind. I gave them both a half-hearted wave as I made my way to the Zenwels¡¯ laboratory. I was not looking forward to this.


    <hr>


    ¡°Good morning, young student.¡± Came Patrisha as she stood over a large glass tank of some clear-green fluid, looking over a clipboard. Her brother, Lucas was setting up a series of devices around the tank, turning them on and tuning their settings.


    The room was thick with the pungent scent of something acrid and the rising smell of ozone that grew stronger with each passing moment.


    I will continue to refer to them as snowflakes. Snowflake A is Lucas and Snowflake B is Patrisha, just like before.


    ¡°Good, good. You are even early.¡± Snowflake A said with an amused smirk.


    ¡°Now hop to.¡± Snowflake B said as he clapped his hands twice to emphasize the demand.


    ¡°We need you to strip.¡± Snowflake A


    ¡°And get into the Solivasion fluid tank.¡± Snowflake B off-handedly gestured to the massive glass tank while she flipped through pages on her clipboard.


    ¡°Can I ask why?¡± Even as I asked this, I began to strip, having given up on fighting them.


    ¡°Simple,¡± Snowflake A stated.


    ¡°We are going to test your Formulaic Myst Activation Pull Sequence. This will tell us if you¡¯re a Solidum caster or a Theurgic caster.¡± Snowflake B explained.


    ¡°If the latter is the case, then the reason for your inability to draw upon ambient myst is because you need to pull from a deific entity.¡± Snowflake A continued.


    By this point, I had stripped down to my underwear. ¡°Can you simplify that statement for me?¡±


    Lucas, or Snowflake A, walked up to me with a handful of wireless sensors he was about to mount to me when he paused, eyeing me up and down. I looked down to see what had caught his attention.


    My skin pattern had drastically shifted from the beginning of the year. Where once my skin had been an olive-bronze tan laced with threads and webs of pale white, now a new pattern had been stretched out over my once well-known body. Scars tracked my skin. Slashes and whirls of scars raised in hills and dipped in small valleys. Scars over my tan skin were a lighter shade than the skin around them, and where they passed through the white threads, the tissue went from an alabaster white to the white of a phantom. I guess from a certain perspective, the scars could look akin to tiger stripes or some sort of tribal designs.


    ¡°What, pray-tell, is the cause of all this?¡± The Elf asked as he gestured to my body.


    I shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Mystagogue. I guess I¡¯m not particularly talented at my training.¡±


    ¡°These are all from your training? Stupid child, If you are in this bad of tatters in only your first year, then I don¡¯t foresee you seeing your training through.¡±


    I felt ashamed of the scars that I had thought would have been commonplace to students in my position. Then I remembered Thallos had said that I was being trained for his role, not the standard Dark Hunter or Mastlok. I guess that stab training was not standard in the Order. I thought to myself that I¡¯d best keep this under wraps. A ghost only whispers if seen, after all.


    ¡°Enough brother. Don¡¯t over-worry about the subject. So long as it- I mean, he is at least somewhat whole and capable of magic, that is all we need. Now, prep the measurement nodes. And you, Darkling, off with undergarments as well.¡± Patrisha said offhandedly as she stepped down from beside the vat, still mulling over her checklist.


    I did as told and tried not to feel embarrassed even as Lucas stuck the nodes about my person. Circular and flat devices with adhesive on one side. The devices were mounted on either of my temples, atop my third eye, over my heart and lungs, on my biceps and triceps, on my forearms and backs of my hands, at my shoulder blades and base of my skull, atop my abdomen, on the inside of my thighs, and outside of my caffs, and even the tops of my feet and tip of my tail.


    After I was covered in the devices, Lucas led me to the stairs beside the tank of mystery fluid and instructed me to get in. I stuck a toe in and quickly pulled it out when the fluid made my skin tingle everywhere it touched. I turned back to the male Mystagogue. ¡°What is this stuff?¡± I asked.


    Without looking up, Patrisha answered in a bland monotone. ¡°It¡¯s a cocktail of liquid oxygen, Consinderon, Magilucum, Fersoma, and refined and concentrated liquid myst.¡±


    ¡°That helped me not a bit.¡± I said with a light huff. ¡°What does it do?¡±


    This time, they both answered in the creepy way of continuing each other¡¯s statements. ¡°The cocktail does many things.¡± came Snowflake A.


    ¡°It will allow you to breathe freely while submerged,¡± said Snowflake B.


    ¡°It will also infuse your person,¡± Snowflake A said.


    ¡°Which we need to elicit a reaction.¡±


    ¡°If you are a Solidim Mage type, the fluid will react with a positive charge,¡±


    ¡°Turning red. But if you are a Theurgic Mage,¡±


    ¡°That means that your native Mystwell has a D-type channel or Divine compared to the natural channel or N-type channel.¡±


    ¡°And so the reaction will be of a negative charge,¡±


    ¡°Turning blue.¡±


    I gazed speculatively at the fluid, not at all relishing the thought of breathing it into my lungs. I turned back to Lucas. ¡°You¡¯re sure about this?¡±


    ¡°Without a doubt.¡± he said, ¡°Now enough postponing.¡± Without another word, he unceremoniously pushed me into the vat. I felt flat against the shimmering green surface, barely having enough time to reflexively cry out in panic. I landed face first, my arm pinwheeling as I desperately tried to get my bearings and turn over. The thick, viscous substance coated me, seeping into every pore and climbing up my nostrils to invade my sinuses. The concoction was thicker than water, but I couldn¡¯t get traction to turn over even as my limbs flailed. Every inch of my skin tingled with pricking pins and needles. My sinuses burned as the almost-gel clawed its way through them. I only figured out which way was up by opening my eyes in the stuff. My eyes and my sinuses stinging and burning. I got my feet under me and pushed myself to the surface. As my face broke from the body of liquid, I gasped for air, my lungs clawing just as hard for air as the substance clawed through my sinus cavity.


    I had only just gotten a taste of the sweet air before I heard Lucas say, ¡°No, no, we can¡¯t have that.¡± Just before I felt a hand clutch my face and shove me down, back under.


    I struggled against the hand, thrashing as I fought to gain even another mouthful of air. Then, as quick as it came, the hand vanished. Pushing off the floor again lept again to breach the surface. I gasped a great lung full of air even as a shadow slipped over me. I looked up and could only just make out what I soon realized was a lid. A cap to seal the tank. I fell back under with my eyes squeezed shut. The lid closed, locking me in. I felt the shudder as the cap latched down. I lept again, throwing my shoulder against the block. The only result was me bouncing off the surface with no effect. I forced my eyes open as I turned my attention to the glass wall. My fists pounded against the thick glass. I saw two vaguely sapient shapes beyond the glass, no doubt the Elves.


    As I thumped futility against the wall, I saw them moving behind it. Suddenly, a sheet of paper was pressed against the glass. It simply read ¡®Breathe¡¯. I fought, lungs screaming in my chest for me to take a breath. Soon, my strikes grew weak, and my vision blurred and darkened around the edges. My thoughts grew fuzzy, and I wondered, ¡®Why am I even bothering? If I die, so what?¡¯. It was then I just gave in. My lips parted, and my mouth filled, tingling. The sensation flowed down my throat, and as it reached my lungs, I gagged and tried to cough even as I thrashed, limbs spasming.


    Then, suddenly, everything normalized. My vision snapped back into focus, and my mind cleared. Breathing the fluid was no different from breathing air if stranger feeling. I shook my head, only then realizing that I had fallen to my knees. I pulled myself from knee to foot, breathing slow and deep as I adapted to the strange tingling that was now spreading through my body within it. There was another sheet of paper against the glass wall. It read, ¡®Try drawing myst. Repeat any visualization that felt close to a result¡¯.


    What Ferris said earlier came to mind, and I thought of trying it. So I looked at my inner forearms, tracing the veins with my eyes. I felt my heartbeat and visualized the throbbing veins in time with the pounding. The next step came to mind, and I imagined the ambient myst, particles floating around me like dust, glowing a vibrant red. I mentally pulled the radiant particles towards my veins and pulled them through my veins into my core. I felt this alien sensation, a feeling of something inside me filling like a glass of water. What filled was not anything like an organ or physical vessel. It was an accumulating concentration into what I can only describe as my soul. Power gathered in the very fiber of what made me who I was. I finally understood what was meant to happen, and I pulled harder, the moats of dust filling into a layer of static covering everything and filling everything. Before I logically knew that everything was comprised of myst, but now I saw. The geometric structures of the energy forming the glass wall and metal in varying densities, the slowing loose body of the particles that made up the liquid in the vessel. I drew upon the power harder and harder, spreading my focus to include veins like roots spreading from my feet to draw straight from the earth below. I took and took and took, drinking it in like a man parched with thirst. I was dimly aware that my vision had shifted from green to purple. But I took little note of the change with how enraptured I was with this change in my person.


    When I could take no more, I decided I was going to test the reverse. I bit into the webbing of flesh between my right thumb and forefinger till I drew blood, the thin, spreading cloud of red brimming with power. I wanted to use fire but thought better of it since I was in a vat of chemicals that may or may not have been flammable. So I went with the next best thing. From my inner reservoir, my well of power, I drew upon Fire Myst and decided to infuse it with Air Myst. The spreading crimson cloud sparked, releasing a crackle of static that I felt more than heard. The sparks grew into glaring red arcs of eclectic power. I felt a wicked grin split my lips, and I pushed more power into the space. The arcs magnified and lashed out around the tank like wild crimson vipers. The power struck the boundaries of the tank with enough force to crack the glass, but I failed to notice how large the cloud of blood was growing. Before I could think about what I was doing with any rational mind, the lightning amplified beyond what the tank could hold. All at once, the wall shattered with a violent force. Glass and purple gel-like fluid pushed out in a massive wave, striking everything nearby. It washed me out from the tank to lie splayed on my back. I coughed and gagged as my body rejected the fluid in my lungs.


    Once I was breathing genuine air again, I clambered to my feet to look around. The measuring devices were all covered in a layer of fast-congealing purple slime, each and every one shorted out, but whether by slime or electricity would remain a mystery. The Zenwel Mystagogues lay on their own backs, slimed and soaked. As one, they sat up almost mechanically. In the same fluid motion, they both removed their masks and tried in vain to clean them of slime, instead only spreading the goo and smearing it across their monocles.


    I raised my hand to inspect it. The still weeping wound brimmed with barely confined power. A ruby spark lept from the wound at the very thought of wielding that power again. I looked up from the wound to see that both of the Mystagogues were standing and rushing about the room in erratic patterns. One moment, one of them would try to salvage equipment or papers from the layer of purple. The next, they would read over what notes or readings they could find, as if searching for something.


    ¡°Brother, the readings?¡± Asked Patrisha as she looked over some strange, arcane apparatus.


    ¡°All accounted for sister, up to till the surge. And these readings are astounding.¡± Lucas answered as he pulled up a series of charts and numeric tables on a holo screen at the corner desk.


    ¡°I agree completely. The apparatuses I set up for ratio divergence and deific bond monitoring have readings that leave me questioning.¡±


    ¡°Umm.¡± I started. ¡°That¡¯s great and all, Mystagogues, but¡­ What does purple mean?¡± I asked as I tried to cover my nudity. I was feeling shame and embarrassment for not restraining myself and making such a mess.


    The twins looked up from their readings, looked at each other for a long moment before looking at me, and as one, they answered, ¡°We don¡¯t know.¡±

 Chapter 33

    The Sacred Seven of Heldra were a brotherhood of seven devout Clerics of the Titan Heldra who are said to have taken on an impossible task: to seal a gate to the depths of the Hells. The Sacred Seven died in the process, but they sealed the gate.


    Day 329 Smeltesday


    I was lucky that one of the Zenwel Mystagogues had folded my clothes and set them atop a table that had remained unmolested by the wave of slime. But I barely had enough of a mind to thank them for the kindness as I hurried to wipe off the slime with a towel one of the twins had offered me before dressing in just as much of a hurry. The two looked at me in confusion before turning to each other.


    ¡°It was not meant as kindness.¡± stated Lucas as he straightened a stack of papers he had been looking over.


    ¡°It was more an action to keep the room orderly,¡± said Patrisha as she turned back to a holo-screen.


    I winced as I took note of the layer of slime that covered much of the room. So much for orderly and clean, I thought to myself as I hurried to dress. I threw the instructors another hurried thanks before dashing from the room and rushed to make my way out of the Mage¡¯s department of study. I could barely restrain myself from dashing to where I was due to meet Thallos that day.


    Just out of the academy tower that held the Zenwels¡¯ laboratory, I gave up all pretense of self-control. I sprinted from hall to hall, my footfalls barely making a sound, but I hadn¡¯t the mind to notice that detail. Once I reached the obscured elevators, I stopped only long enough to wait for the doors to open, jogging in place because I couldn¡¯t hold still with the brimming excitement and pride. I swiped my B.I.C over the scanner, and the mirrored space began descending to a predesignated level set by Thallos.


    I tried to collect myself in the close confines of the descending car, but even after a breathing exercise I was twitchy, fidgeting with my tactical gauntlet and its many features, as well as the hilt of my veckenna at my side. I was brimming with eager anticipation to tell Thallos the news. My ability to use myst was finally useable, if only at a basic level.


    The car slowed to a stop, and the doors slid open to grant access to a black-walled room. I stepped into the cubic room, only just barely holding myself back from skipping as I scanned about the large yet barren room. At the far end, in the back corner, I spotted my uncle and for the second time in less than half an hour, all self-control fled my mind as I made a mad dash to greet him.


    Thallos¡¯s back was towards me, but he smoothly turned to face me with a smirk painted across his lips. As I closed in, I shouted, ¡°I¡¯ve done it! I¡¯ve finally done it!¡±


    He raised a brow in question, and a figure stepped out from behind him. When I saw who it was, I lost my footing, tripped over my own feet, and rolled across the polished floor like a total fool before coming to a stop at the feet of Thallos and none other than Roserra Swiftpaw. I looked up at her in shock, having completely forgotten the possibility of her joining me in Thallos¡¯s training.


    ¡°H-hey.¡± I stammered.


    Rose smirked down at me. ¡°Hey yourself, twinkle toes.¡±


    I felt my face lit with a burning blush at the fool I had made of myself. I rolled over onto my chest and pushed myself to my feet. I dusted myself off, trying to salvage some semblance of dignity.


    ¡°What¡¯s got you rushing the dragon¡¯s jaws, boy?¡± My uncle teased, his smirk growing wider.


    I took a slow breath as I half-tried to hide a mad grin in the form of a thinly veiled smirk. ¡°I¡¯ve finally pulled it off. I figured out how to draw in myst and cast it with it.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yeah?¡± Thallos lured in a taunting question.


    I held my hand up in display bearing the fresh bite mark that had only just stanched its bleeding on my way to meet Thallos. ¡°I shorted out almost all of the Zenwel twins¡¯ equipment.¡± My smirk grew wider with the statement.


    ¡°And why, pray-tell, would you do that?¡± Thallos pressed as he gave me a stern look down the bridge of his nose.


    ¡°Well, for one,¡± I held up a single finger on my wounded hand. ¡°They¡¯ve been using me as a guinea pig from the start. Second,¡± I raised another finger, ¡°they had me strip buck-ass-naked for their test today.¡± I raised a third finger. ¡°Then Mystagogue Lucas said I wasn¡¯t going to live to see graduation, judging by my scars.¡± I raised a fourth finger, ¡°And lastly, they threw me into a vat of chemicals, locked me in it, and forced me to breathe in the stuff so they could tell what type of caster I am.¡±


    With each reason I stated, my uncle¡¯s brows rose just a bit higher. When I finished, he leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. ¡°Well, damned be the names of The Seven if that¡¯s not a good reason to cook some of their toys.¡±


    Rose thumped my uncle across the side with the back of her hand. ¡°Master Thallos! Don¡¯t speak ill of the Sacred Seven of Heldra!¡±


    He gave her a speculative look. ¡°You, a Primal, a skilled warrior, are a Heldrain?¡±


    Rose folded her arms under her bust and half turned away from him. ¡°Hey, don¡¯t judge. Since learning the reality of the Fractured Goddess, I¡¯ve been looking around for a good faith. But enough about me. What¡¯s this talk about scars and finally using myst?¡± She turned to look expectantly at me, waiting for answers.


    I looked down at my feet in embarrassment. ¡°Well, um, I hadn¡¯t been able to use myst for anything after that first moment up until today.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re telling me you couldn¡¯t cast even the smallest spell until today?¡± She asked in disbelief.


    I gave a snort and quick nod of my head and she threw her hands in the air in a gesture of astonishment. ¡°So, I¡¯ve been jealous of you and honing my new skills for nothing.¡± She more stated than asked.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Thallos gently chided, laying a hand on her shoulder. ¡°Training is never a waste. Now you know that you have more experience with magic than he does, so you can mentor him.¡±


    She stayed half-turned from me for a few moments longer before she lowered her head and turned to look at me. I couldn¡¯t tell what was in her gaze. Fatigue? Aggravation? Impatience? Pity? It could have been any of those, but which one was beyond my knowledge. Regardless, I felt a deep well of shame under the weight of that look.


    She gave a heaving sigh before dropping the weighted gaze and asking me. ¡°Then what¡¯s this about scars and you dying before graduation?¡±


    ¡°About that¡­¡± Thallos started, but without a single word, I stripped off my shirt and jacket. Rose¡¯s eyes went wide as she tracked her gaze up and down my chest and arms.


    ¡°What in the Hells did this?¡± She demanded, her tone angry and defensive. That tone brightened my spirits if only a bit.


    I gave her an over-exaggerated shrug with a crooked smile. ¡°One scar for every misstep and wrong answer. Yeah, stab training sucks, but it¡¯s helped me improve at what I feel is an impressive rate.¡±


    ¡°Wait, stab training?¡± Rose asked in obvious confusion.


    ¡°Is that what you¡¯ve been calling it?¡± Thallos queried with an amused smirk.


    ¡°Yep.¡± was the answer I gave to both of them.


    ¡°Wait.¡± Rose started as she pointed an accusatory finger at my uncle. ¡°He did all that to you?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± I stated with a simple shrug.


    ¡°But you look like you dove into an oversized blender!¡± She exclaimed.


    I gave another shrug. ¡°It¡¯s not so bad once you get used to it. But now I have an impressive pain tolerance.¡±


    She turned from me to Thallos and aimed the trajectory of her finger at me. ¡°Is that what I get to look forward to?¡±


    Thallos scrunched into an expression that said ¡®kinda yes¡¯ as he held his hand out flat and tilted it left and right in a gesture that said ¡®so-so¡¯. ¡°Well, yes. But not to the same extent. Iver had a long way to climb to get where he¡¯s at now. You are obviously more talented in combat than he is, so I expect that you will only have a fraction of the ones he got from combat training.¡±


    ¡°This is total madness.¡± Rose proclaimed.


    ¡°Like I said, it¡¯s not so bad after you get used to it.¡± I chimed in.


    ¡°Get used to being stabbed? Iver, that is not something a sane and stable person says.¡±


    ¡°Hey, I¡¯m not going to chop you into kibble from the beginning. Like with Iver, I¡¯ll start out slow and easy. Besides, we have a healer waiting on the sidelines, and once you¡¯re patched up, I''ll explain where you went wrong.¡± Thallos spoke with his hands as much as his words, making mock movements, pantomiming, and moving his hand in a slight downward chop every time he made a point to take note of. I had grown used to this. His active use of his hands while training and explaining things helped me grasp details faster by giving visual aids, if only in hand motions.


    As the Wild Elf explained, Rose watched in with a look of total skepticism and disbelief. But nearing the end, she didn¡¯t look so sure of her stance.


    I stepped up to Rose to get her attention. ¡°Hey, you told me yourself that Thallos was your hero. He¡¯s only putting us through what he went through to become a legend, right?¡± I looked to my uncle for confirmation. He gave me a proud smile and a single deep nod of agreement. ¡°Besides, he¡¯s done this before with other trainees.¡± I pressed a hand against my chest. ¡°And I vouch for the method, and you know where I started better than even Thallos. If he can get me to be a halfway decent fighter through this routine, imagine what you¡¯ll be doing by the end of it.¡±


    Rose¡¯s expression went from on the fence about the idea to gradually shifting into begrudging understanding, but not total acceptance. So, I gave the last push. ¡°Plus, he¡¯s told you the truth about the Order, right? Sapient sacrifices to a heart-eating goddess. Do you really think that you can go back to your old training, knowing that you¡¯re going to be working for a bunch of fanatic nut cases? I don¡¯t know about you, Rose, but I want to work with the good guys and put an end to the madness.¡±


    Rose¡¯s arms dropped to her sides, and she heaved a sigh of obvious defeat. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll give this a shot. But no promises.¡±


    <hr>


    The blade thrust towards my face with a vicious speed, forcing me to leap back to avoid losing an eye. As Rose pulled back her thrust, I dashed in, body low, and lashed out with a slash from my Vekenna, aimed to pass from her hip to her opposite shoulder. Rose deflected the strike with her short sword, throwing my slash arcing away from her. Before I could retract my blade, Rose struck me in the head with a snap kick from her steel-toed boot. The blow landed on my horns, so the damage was minimal, but I was still driven back. I landed flat on my back, and the tigress took the opportunity to pounce atop me. As she leaped high into the air and positioned her short blade to run me through as she landed. At the peak of her jump, I rolled to my right and spun about to end in a crouch, facing where she would land, blade poised to strike.


    She saw the attack coming, so as she landed, she turned it into a roll, tumbling forward and avoiding the strike even as I lashed out. She rolled into a crouch and spun to face me. I sprung to my feet and rushed the Primal girl. I thrust my blade at her chest, but she parried the blow and fluidly shifted her defensive motion into a strike. I tried to pull my blade back to myself in time to deflect the slash, but I knew I was too slow. So, I did the one thing I could to manage the damage. I threw my weight backward. This prevented me from getting gutted, but I couldn¡¯t get totally clear of the weapon. A weeping crimson line appeared through a slash in my now-ruined shirt.


    My back struck the floor hard enough to jar my ribs, but thanks to training in falling properly, as strange as that sounds, I was able to take the hit without biting off my tongue or losing my senses. I took the momentum from the fall back to roll into a crouch. I jumped to my feet and flashed Rose a mad grin of triumph.


    Rose looked at me with confusion till she saw me wipe two of my fingers across the fresh cut and come away with a light painting of blood. I felt the power of charged myst in the smear of blood across my fingers and pulled the mental trigger. My hand lit ablaze with scarlet flames. I used my will to shape and project the raw elemental force into a stream of fire. Nothing lethal, just enough to singe her fur. Well, that was my intent. The result was a bolt of concentrated fire the size of a fist flew from my hand.


    I watched Rose¡¯s eyes go wide, and I expected her to throw up an ice wall in defense. Instead, she lunged to the side. I pulled more blood from the cut and tried again. Again and again, I threw the bolts as Rose sprinted and rolled out of the way of each shot while she circled me. I drew blood from my wound as fast as I could manage and even tried to squeeze it out when the wound staunched its weeping. When Rose saw I was out of blood to fling bolts at her, she came at me in a headlong sprint. I started back peddling as I tried to think of Plan B. When she flashed me a vicious smile of fangs, I did the first thing that came to mind. I drew the blade of my Vekenna across the palm of my left hand. My hand lit with flames at the same moment Rose threw herself at me in a full-body pounce, aimed to take me to the ground.


    I dropped my weapon and aimed to catch hold of her. The next few moments were a blur. I felt her make contact. My hands made contact with something soft that I didn¡¯t think about at the moment. I rolled backward with her momentum even as I posted both my feet against her hips. The force of her leap carried her past me since she was planning on a collision and not me rolling with the motion. I saw the shocked look on her face even as I kicked her off me, slamming her into the floor again with a resounding THUD!


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    I let the momentum from her attack that had transferred to me carry me rocking back. I rolled over my shoulder to land, standing on my knees. Spinning around to keep the wild-cat woman in my field of view, I stepped to my feet in the same smooth motion. Rose was in the middle of picking herself up off the floor. She clearly had not landed well. She shot me a murderous glare over her shoulder. ¡°Really Iver? I know I let you get lucky, but this is taking it too far.¡± She scolded.


    ¡°What now?¡± I asked in complete puzzlement.


    She turned to face me fully and gestured to her shirt. A perfectly shaped handprint was formed of scorched fabric to reveal a bare breast staring at me, the exposed fur blacked and crispy.


    ¡°You just ruined a perfectly good top and sports bra.¡± Rose went on.


    ¡°Shit!¡± I squeaked in panic. My face burned as hot as the flames on my hand. In total shame, I covered my face with my hands to give her some modesty.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be a baby, Iver. It¡¯s a boob, big whoop. Now, stop roasting your face, and please fetch me my jacket.¡±


    I peeked at her in confusion, only to see that I was peeking around a hand wreathed in fire. I pulled my hand away in panic. Moments later, I realized my face was fine, if a bit warm. I threw Thallos a look that conveyed my question.


    The man in question was already on his way over with Rose¡¯s uniform jacket. He was completely unphased by the sight of the bare breast, a testament to his firm-set masculinity and depth of wisdom. He walked up to me even as Rose closed in from the other side to meet him. Me, in the middle of the two, felt like a fledgling buck caught between two prowling wolves.


    ¡°Magic 101 kiddo, a caster can¡¯t be harmed directly by their own cast fire. You can still drown in your own water, get crushed by your own stone, and get whisked away on your own gale. But Fire is an element that reacts to intent. At our very basest nature, we have developed an inherent control over what we allow your fire to feed on. For example,¡± He tossed the jacket underhand to Rose, who caught it and slipped into it but left it wide open. I found it very distracting. ¡°You didn¡¯t want to harm Rose beyond singeing her fur, so your fire only consumed her clothes and a bit of her fur.¡±


    ¡°Dick.¡± Rose muttered in response as she folded her arms and pointedly looked away from me.


    ¡°If you had wanted to cause actual harm, your flames would have taken to burning off her flesh.¡±


    My eyes wandered of their own accord towards the bare breast, now partly covered. I forced my gaze to center back on Thallos as he spoke. ¡°Why does Fire work that way?¡± I asked, trying to hone my focus on the discussion.


    My uncle rolled his neck and pressed against it with one hand as he spoke, only half paying attention. ¡°It wasn¡¯t always this way. During the First Age, it would devour anything it came into contact with, sometimes that included the caster. It didn¡¯t really start to change till around the late end of the Third Age. That¡¯s about seven thousand years of natural evolution through the Casters to develop a safety control wired into our lizard brains.¡± As he lectured, I found my eyes edging over toward Rose again. This time, I gave in to the urge to look. Just a peek wouldn¡¯t hurt. She did have really nice breasts, after all. So I stared at them, admiring the shape, color, and proportions, while a small part of myself wondered why I was admiring it all.


    I was shaken out of my hypnotic state by a hand clenching my jaw in an iron grip and slowly but powerfully rotated my head to face forward again. Thallos was down at my eye level when I focused back on his face. ¡°Don¡¯t get distracted by free and wild fun bags, boy.¡± Thallos intoned his words with a power as immovable as his grip, a force that was not to be fought against, akin to the passing of time. My throat went dry from the look in his eyes, forcing me to audibly swallow, and I tried to nod vigorously in understanding.


    ¡°Mystagogue Kiem, what is it with boys and tits?¡± Rose asked, obviously baffled by the thought.


    Without looking away from me, his gaze pinning me to where I stood, he answered. ¡°Don¡¯t blame boys for the interest. It¡¯s a combination of base instinct and hormones. I know plenty of men my age who would act the same.¡±


    ¡°I still don¡¯t get it. I mean, if he wants to stare, let him stare. I guess a well-muscled man''s chest is something I could appreciate. I just don¡¯t get all this need for modesty.¡± Rose started to sound frustrated.


    I watch Thallos roll his eyes in exasperation before releasing me with a jerk toward face her.


    ¡°That¡¯s because of your people¡¯s culture, girl. Primals normally see little need for clothing outside of armor or environmental-specific articles of clothing. Most people of any of the other Sophic Species consider your people base and uncivilized. The Dracose have a perspective very similar to Primals, but get less trouble for it because of the difference in anatomy.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I know.¡± She huffed in aggravation. ¡°I just don¡¯t get why.¡±


    ¡°Here.¡± Thallos¡¯s tone was patient and gentle as he stripped off his own shirt. ¡°What do you see that¡¯s different between you and me?¡±


    Rose gave him a look that said just how stupid she thought the question was. ¡°Breasts.¡± She gave an exasperated answer.


    ¡°Other than breasts. That¡¯s a difference between genders, not species.¡±


    Rose rolled her eyes before she answered again with ¡°Fur.¡±


    ¡°You hit the target dead center. Other species started using clothing as a way to keep warm or keep the sun off their skin. Primals have fur for that purpose. When High Elves found your people, they found your culture primitive almost solely because of the lack of modesty. That¡¯s why they enslaved your people. To other species, your people were little better than animals with thumbs, meaning you would make fine labor animals. For a long while, you were only equal to the plow ox or cart horse.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡± Rose droned. ¡°And then my people learned a native language somewhere, and that brought into question whether we were people or not.¡±


    Thallos pointed at her in confirmation. ¡°A pack of Wolfkin picked up Lerrian, the then-dominant language in the nation of Terall. They taught it to other Primals till they were able to speak out against their treatment.¡±


    ¡°And that sparked a war that eventually led to our freedom.¡± Rose said this as if she had heard the story a thousand times.


    ¡°Actually, it got worse before it got as far as war. You went from animals with thumbs to slaves who could take complicated orders and perform more kinds of work. But one thing that I bet you didn¡¯t know was that a lot of the Human people worked to free Primals.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Rose¡¯s head, which had been drifting off into thought, snapped to Thallos.


    ¡°Yep. This was around the time that humans were working out the theory of evolution. Learning that Humans came from Apes answered a question that had been on the enter peoples¡¯ minds for ages, ¡®Where did they come from?¡¯ Learning that, it didn¡¯t take much of a leap to think of Primals as deviant evolution of other animals.¡±


    ¡°I hadn¡¯t heard of that bit.¡± Rose admitted, clearly fascinated. I was hooked on Thallos¡¯s lesson myself.


    ¡°Well, at the time, Dwarves and Elves knew that they came fully formed from the hands of Gods, the Dracose were a product of design by the dragons, Ceangar had no interest in learning their origins at the time, and Gnomes were a fairly recent addition to our world. But seeing a kinship with your people, Humans worked in secret to orchestrate the freedom of many Primals.¡±


    ¡°Why have I never heard this? And why, then, are Humans some of the worst people to discriminate against us?¡±


    Thallos suddenly looked immensely exhausted, the tone of his next words only confirming the image. ¡°Not two Human generations after the Rebellion of the Broken Sheers, a Human radical group whose name has been lost, destroyed all records of Human aid, and stirred hatred in the hearts of others for your people. One of their key points they leaned on was how Primals didn¡¯t wear clothes at the time unless made to by their masters. Clothes were a sign of enslavement, and Primals loathed them. But after Primals became officially recognized as a Sophic Species, there was still mistreatment over the lack of modesty. Eventually, those Primals that lived in mixed-species towns and cities gave in and took to wearing clothes just so they simply wouldn¡¯t be jeered at or mistreated on sight.¡±


    Rose spat on the ground in disgust. ¡°That¡¯s why I need to be covered around here? Back home, I just had to wear pants. But that was a Mix-Primal community.¡±


    Thallos took a deep breath and pressed his hands to his lower back as he arched it, eliciting a series of pops and cracks. ¡°I think that¡¯s it for the day. Go ahead and get out of here. And that means you too, Tessa.¡±


    At his words, the little Gnome who had been sitting against a wall nearby, clearly enraptured by the lesson as well, popped to her feet, gathered her things, and headed straight for the elevator, heading up without waiting for me and Rose.


    I jogged to catch up to Rose as she buttoned closed her jacket while she made her way back to her bag and the weapons rack. ¡°I really am sorry about the shirt¡­ and bra,¡± I quickly added. ¡°And the staring.¡± With that, I looked away, scared to see anger in her eyes.


    ¡°Hey, Ive¡¯,¡± Her tone wasn¡¯t tinged with anger of any sort. In fact, it was normal, like before we had had that blowout fight. I looked up to find her eyeing me with a question in those yellow-green eyes.


    ¡°Yeah?¡± I asked as I hung up my Vekenna and pulled a fresh t-shirt free from my own bag.


    ¡°What do you do when your clothes get burned up or turned to mulch?¡±


    A grin of pure joy split my face as I answered. ¡°I have a gadget to fix my clothes. If you want, you can borrow it.¡± I pulled my sweat-drenched and slashed shirt off myself.


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Totally.¡± I confirmed with enthusiasm. ¡°You see some of my scars?¡± I gestured to my chest and arms. ¡°That was at least one a day for the past five months. Most of the time, it was more than once. Plus, some of the scars grew over older scars, so I¡¯d say I would have about a quarter more than what you see if he hadn¡¯t stabbed or slashed or burned me over an older one.¡±


    Rose stared at my body as I picked up my fresh shirt and pulled it on. Before she tore her eyes from my bare skin, I thought I saw something in them. I hoped it was appreciation, but I doubted it. I had muscle, sure. Over the course of my training, I had to develop it. I had to strengthen myself to get this far. But I didn¡¯t look like the wall of steel pecs and granite abs she was talking about appreciating earlier. The number of scars I had probably horrified her.


    I didn¡¯t like others seeing them most of the time. I was so ashamed of how many I had that I wore my uniform jacket at all times when I was outside of my room. Even when I dressed in casual attire, I wore a jacket. That was fine for this season, the end of autumn and at the cusp of winter. But I would have to keep the facade up during summer, and I was pretty sure everyone was going to look at me like I was mad for wearing a jacket in ninety-degree weather.


    Rose was the first one to see, other than Tessa, what I had been hiding for months now. I felt like she thought I was a freak. So many scars meant I wasn¡¯t skilled enough to evade or deflect the strikes. They were a sign of how weak I was.


    I reached for my jacket but paused at the sight of the scar in the center of my right hand, passing through my palm to the back of the hand. I stared at it for a long moment, thinking about where I would have been if I hadn¡¯t taken this path. Then I noticed Rose watching me with a look of... something. She wasn¡¯t the kind to worry about me, and despite that last interaction, I knew we weren¡¯t back to where we were before. I snatched up my jacket in a vicious motion and pulled it on with more force than was needed.


    Rose turned back to her bag and finished packing. I hurried to gather my things before making a beeline for the elevators. I called the elevator car down, bouncing my heel impatiently as I waited, arms crossed over my chest and bag slung over one shoulder. After a moment, Rose stepped up beside me. I hadn¡¯t even heard her draw near. Awkward energy radiating from her so potently I could feel it. I didn¡¯t dare look at her to see what the cause of the feeling was. I knew I was the source if it all, though. Me and my damned scars of weakness. I chewed the skin from my lower lip in an effort to resist the desire to give in and look at her.


    ¡°So,¡± she started, her words rang with a tentative air that she tried to hide. ¡°Mystagogue Kiem told me something.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s just my uncle. You can just call him Thallos.¡± I stated with chilled words.


    ¡°Right, Thallos, your uncle, told me that he only took me on as an apprentice because you asked it of him.¡±


    ¡°So?¡± I asked, trying to keep the venom from my words. I still didn¡¯t dare to make eye contact with her. I wouldn¡¯t be able to take the look in her eyes, be it pain, pity, or disgust.


    ¡°Well, um, I, I wanted to thank you. For telling him I was up to the challenge.¡± Even her words were awkward as she spoke. My eyes flicked to the side on which she stood, but I only caught a fidgeting shape before I brought my eyes back to center.


    ¡°I only mentioned you. I told him that you would have made a better student than me.¡± My voice rang hollow with the lie.


    ¡°Oh, yeah?¡± Some of Rose¡¯s signature bravado seeped back into her voice. ¡°Your uncle said that you were almost on your knees begging to have him take me on.¡±


    ¡°I was not begging.¡± I defend abstinently.


    ¡°He said you wouldn¡¯t leave him alone about it. After every training session, he said you would bring it up.¡± She teased. I could hear the smirk in her words.


    I turned to her with seething frustration at her goading. I held myself back from snapping and showing her how much she was getting to me. She was enjoying my reactions, so I played it up a bit. ¡°Why do you need to press the topic?¡± I hissed, my fists clenched at my sides. ¡°Yes, I pressed for him to take you on. Yes, I asked him day after day.¡± As I pressed on through my words, I found that less of it was an act than I liked. ¡°I pushed, and I pushed,¡± I emphasized each ¡®push¡¯ with a rising and lowering of my white-knuckled fists. ¡°And I did it because I felt like a fraud.¡± As tears rose to my eyes, I found I was spewing nothing but emotional honesty. The floodgates had opened, and I could not close them. ¡°I only got the role as a student under my uncle because I was kin and a fluke of nature that lets me bleed fire.¡± I lifted my eyes to look into hers. In her eyes, I saw shock, curiosity, and, worst of all, pity.


    I threw my arms down by my sides, hands as limp as the fight left me. ¡°Rose, I would have picked you over myself every time.¡± I turned away from her in shame. ¡°You are ten times the warrior I am, ten times more agile than me, and subtle where I am little more than a raging bull. I only took up this position because I was offered. I was given the chance to climb the ladder and I¡¯ve pushed myself to such a point I¡¯m left to question whether or not I¡¯m on the right path.¡± I ranted, tears streaming down my face. What triggered this? Why am I spilling my guts for the girl I liked? It was just another expression of weakness. What in the Nine Hells was I doing?


    ¡°Iver? Are you ok?¡± she asked tentatively. I could see the worry in her eyes, the pity that burned my soul.


    I took a deep breath and wiped the tears from my eyes and cheeks with the back of my scarred hand. I knew Thallos had seen my outburst, but I didn¡¯t have the strength to look back at him. ¡°There Rose. You have seen my deepest weakness that has plagued my mind.¡± I hissed. I stepped away from her, hiding my hands in my armpits even as I curled in on myself. It was only in those following moments of silence that the elevator car came to the floor, opening silently save for the swoosh of sliding doors.


    I stepped in as fast as I could, quietly hoping Rose wouldn¡¯t dare to follow. As I moved to hide in the corner, I silently and vehemently prayed that Rose would not join me in the enclosed space. But I could feel the moment she stepped into the car. As the doors slid closed, I pressed my horns into the farthest corner of the space, trying in vain to hide my shameful outburst. I heard her swipe her B.I.C over the sensor with a beep.


    ¡°So now you¡¯ve seen this mess that is me.¡± I muttered. ¡°You¡¯re welcome to mock me for being weak. I know I went a bit mad lich in that venting.¡± I felt her shadow looming over me and readied myself for a mocking and scathing the like of which Mallrimor could only dream of.


    ¡°Weak?¡± she asked, her tone soft and gentle. ¡°Iver, you call me ten times the warrior you are, but you just laid your heart wide open in a way that would have me die of fear at the thought.¡± I felt a clawed hand fall upon my shoulder. ¡°You have the courage to tell me your honest feelings even after I nearly bit your head off out of jealousy. And you still convinced your uncle to take me on even after a literal cold snap.¡± I glanced over my shoulder at her shape. Rose, normally taller than me, was smaller than me in that moment. Her eyes were cast downward, her shoulders slouched and narrow.


    ¡°Iver, do you still have feelings for me? Even after my outburst?¡± She muttered from her stooped position, her hair masking her face in a wall of copper.


    ¡°What¡¯s it matter?¡± I snapped in a harsh murmur.


    ¡°Would you be willing to let me think on the idea? I¡¯ve never had anyone show interest in me on¡­ that front. You¡¯re a good friend who has done me no wrong. In fact, you worked to get me the position I¡¯ve been fighting for since day one. I just need time to think about what I want.¡±


    My head shot up, turning to face her as quick as a reflex. ¡°What?!¡±


    ¡°Y-you heard me, horn boy.¡± She stammered. ¡°Just give me time to think. You¡¯re a good guy with talent and skill that I can respect. You have fought for me even after I lashed out at you. And¡­¡± She trailed off.


    ¡°And what?¡± I pressed.


    ¡°And nothing.¡± She muttered as she turned her head aside, her river of copper hair shimmering in the elevator''s light, her ears pressed flat to her skull.


    ¡°Come on, Rose, you were about to say something.¡± I pressed.


    ¡°And you are a courageous piece of shit, alright! You kept coming back after Mallrimor, even after he kicked your ass ten times over. You never fucking gave up, and I can respect that determination, alright!¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help but give her a smile of hope and kindness when she dared to meet my eyes.

 Chapter 34

    The worldwide network of digital information is the most complex spell to ever be crafted and is regularly maintained. The network is known as the Living Sigil Network, or LSN for short, is made up of hundreds of millions of nodes communicating with each other via data encoded in Lumina Myst that is outside the wavelength of common sight. The communicating nodes are any devices that use the network to interact with each other, such as therra-nodes, laptops, holo displays, interface tablets, and even the Full Dive Network. The network is a massive ever-changing sigil that encompasses the globe connected to smaller sigils in each device, hence why it¡¯s considered living.


    Day 332 Honarday


    A bolt of ice shot toward me at a rate almost too fast to follow. Sidestepping the shot, I dodged it by mere inches without batting an eye. I drew the thumb of my gauntleted hand across the palm of my left hand, drawing a thin line of blood with my newly installed razer set parallel with my thumbnail. I clenched my fist, forcing the wound to draw blood to the surface. The thick fluid filled every crevice of my hand, welling up between my fingers.


    I had recently been taught the phases of spell casting, making a concept that I had been performing semi-instinctively all the more effective and allowing me to cast more than simple single-element spells. But I didn¡¯t need anything complex for this sparring match.


    Phase one: collection. I drew myst from my Mystwell and saturated my fresh blood with it. Phase two: formation. I shaped the raw power with intent and visualization. If I were to make anything more complex, it would require me to visualize a sigil and runic formula. Phase three: activation. I threw out my hand as it came alight with a crimson flame. The spray of blood evolved into a burning serpent that rushed from my hand across the black-walled room to strike. A well-trained caster can perform all three phases in a single moment for standard spells. But the more powerful the spells will take longer, either because of a more complex sigil formula or the need to draw large amounts of myst or a combination of both.


    Rose backflipped away from my striking spell. The move was needlessly flamboyant, but she loved showing off. As she landed, she flashed me a mischievous smile, but I noticed she wasn¡¯t smiling at me. Her eyes were looking past me. I turned to look over my shoulder to see a blur of black movement before an erupting burst of pain in my face in time with a flair of light that took over my vision. My feet left the ground, and the world turned on its head. I was quite literally flying blind. A hard collision with what could only have been the ground cut my flight short. The ground came up to meet me hard as I struck my left shoulder and slid before rolling to a stop, my vision blinded by a wave of stars and static. I lay on my back and didn¡¯t move until I could see the ceiling. I slowed my breathing and only did so through my mouth as I felt warm fluid running from my nose, which burned and throbbed in time to my racing heart. When I could finally see again, I turned my head from whence I came to find Thallos standing there with his arms folded and an amused smirk on his face. I flipped over onto my hands and knees and brought two fingers to just under my nose. They came away bloody, as I expected. I pulled myself to my feet, glaring at my uncle the whole way up.


    ¡°What the hell was that?!¡± I snapped, completely overlooking that he was my mentor at that moment.


    Thallos let out a derisive snort. ¡°Come now, boy. You can¡¯t get tunnel vision. Focus completely on one opponent, and you¡¯ll be blind to someone else striking from behind.¡±


    I stormed toward him. ¡°I-I didn¡¯t have tunnel vision. I just wasn¡¯t expecting you to sneak attack me.¡± I stammered in defense.


    In answer, Thallos simply pointed a finger to his right, not even bothering to uncross his arms as he did so. I followed where he was pointing to find Rose rushing at me with a whip of flowing water. As soon as we met eyes, she lashed the whip at me even as she closed the distance. I lept back to avoid the serpentine strike. The moment my feet touched the ground, she pushed the offensive, shifting from dashing into a massive stomp that sent the floor rippling toward me. Behind the fluid wave, the stone floor cracked and snapped in jagged chunks of rock around warped bars of metal. The wave rushed at me, expanding out to the cover, even where I could quickly dodge. To prevent getting mixed into the rubble, I needed to think quick.


    I shot out my grappling hook from my tactical gauntlet and pulled myself from the floor just as the ripple was about to collide with me. The squid-shaped hook mounted to the ceiling behind Rose. Lifted off the floor, I closed the distance between Rose and me as I swung in. I aimed myself, feet first, to stick her in the chest. She seemed to see this coming and wrapped her liquid whip around my ankle and literally threw me off trajectory, forcing me to arc to the right. With my free hand, I drew two fingers across my upper lip to collect a bit of blood.


    I quickly formed a small barrage of crimson ice bullets in the air. I flicked them at high speed with a bit of Air Myst propelling them as I swung past her. The volley pelted her body, shredding her jacket and shirt and drawing a few thin lines of blood across her shoulder, chest, and back. The shots were far from lethal, but they were intended as more of a distraction and taunt. I reeled myself in and pressed my feet against the ceiling, a counterpressure allowing me to crouch completely upside down. My uniform jacket hung down, obscuring my vision, but it also hid what I was about to do from her sight as well, which was exactly what I needed. With the thumb of my free hand, I closed one nostril. Angling the rest of my left hand to catch, I blew out my nose as hard as my lungs could manage. A jet of bloody mucus sprayed from my remaining open nostril. My hand was a mess of crimson-veined slime, and it was truly gross. In fact, that very viscous substance gave me an idea. A sticky inspiration that very well might end the fight in my favor. My water affinity couldn¡¯t hold a candle to Rose¡¯s, but I didn¡¯t need to overpower her, just outmaneuver her. I drew upon my Mystwell and tapped into some Distortion Myst using only a small bit of the blood in my slick palm. I was going to need to kick my brain into high gear for this next bit.


    I released my anchor in the ceiling. As I fell, I adjusted myself, pointing my feet down. While I flipped my body, I slipped from my coat, catching it in my teeth. The jacket blocked my vision as it fluttered about, but it was fine. I mentally measured out my fall and trajectory. Nothing I hadn¡¯t done dozens of times before, only this time I had to do it mid-fall, while blind, and prepping a spell. Piece of cake¡­ I hoped as I used the Distortion Myst.


    Room height: 30 ft = 9 meters and change. Mass = just under 85 lbs.


    Draw 8 Vells of Water Myst.


    Speed of descent = 5 m/s. Time till impact = Under 1 second and counting.


    Apply 3 Vells of Earth Myst to the Water Myst to produce a slime-like substance.


    The angle I¡¯m looking for will be 43¡ã right¡­ about¡­ NOW!


    After aligning my gauntlet, I released my grappling hook. I thought I had everything in hand, but I was wrong. I didn¡¯t equate the time for the hook to cross the distance and latch on. As I struck the floor feet first, I felt a bone snap in my left ankle. My mind hazed with a static of pain. Even with my developed pain tolerance, I would have lost my spell if not for that single Vell worth of Distortion Myst to boost my mental power. It was also thanks to the myst that I was aware of my hook taking anchor on the floor just past Rose. Without skipping a beat, I dropped to my ass and activated the retraction of my gauntlet again. I pulled myself, sliding across the floor feet first, as if riding an invisible sled, snatching the shirt from my mouth with my right hand, even if the reach was only just barely with the force of the pull from the tactical gauntlet on that hand. Now that I could see Rose, I could tell that she was both confused by my tactics and ready for anything. She held a long sword in her right hand, and that water whip extended from her left.


    I shaped the spell even as I zipped along the smooth stone floor. As I drew near, I saw Rose winding up for a chop, and I dearly hoped that she was not aiming for my neck. I doubted Tess could remount my head to my neck, and necromancy wasn¡¯t exactly legal or ethical, for that matter.


    As I drew in close to Rose at top speed, I saw her throw her swing at the same instant I flung my jacket at her. As I had hoped?, it obscured her vision, her swing going high even as I dropped backward to avoid the strike. As the jacket draped over her head, I flew past. I waited till I was ten feet past Rose before I released my hook and spun myself to face her. I threw out my left hand, triggering my spell.


    Rose dropped her spell whip to throw off the obfuscating fabric. As she threw it aside, I released a swarm of viscous fluid tentacles. Eight slimy limbs lashed out and ensnared her arms and legs, binding her immobile. There was one Vell remaining in my Mystwell, and even as I watched Rose struggle to break free, I drew that last dreg of power. I had saved just enough blood held in reserve, still in my hand for this moment. I converted this last Vell into Umbra Myst and infused it into my tendrils. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was enough for a tier-one weakening hex. That should be enough to keep her from breaking free. As I infused this last bit of power into my already active spell, the grey-green translucent fluid grew veins of black that pulsed and throbbed. The veins spread up each slimy limb and even to just around where they touched Rose¡¯s limbs, her veins seeming to bleed shadow. I lifted her from the floor, only a few inches, but enough to ensure she had no traction.


    ¡°Submit to my mighty power!¡± I said in a melodramatic villain tone, holding up my free hand in a fiendish, claw-like manner.


    I caught a twinge of an itch in my senses and snapped my gauntleted hand from claw to fist, aiming at my five o¡¯clock without looking. ¡°Don¡¯t even think about it, Uncle. Bite the drake¡¯s tail, and the drake snaps back.¡±


    I risked a glance over my shoulder to find Thallos, dagger in hand, frozen mid-stalk. He straightened and held his hands out to either side, palms up in a sign of submission. I made note that he did not drop the dagger, instead only holding it pressed against the side of his hand by his thumb.


    ¡°Eww. Iver, I know you feel all big and badass right now, but did the tentacles have to be slimy?¡± Rose bemoaned in clear disgust even as she writhed against the spell.


    ¡°So, do you yield?¡± I asked with a broad smirk painting my lips.


    I had kept my head just slightly off-center from facing Rose to keep my peripheral on Thallos, and it paid off. I saw the motion of a step being taken and, without hesitation, released a wave of secorus gas in quick succession with my shock bites. A heartbeat before I could release an electric current, a dagger lanced through the cloud of dense gas to pierce through my gauntlet and the arm within. Not a moment later, I caught a glimpse of a flash of light from Rose. I turned back, only for a second to find her wielding a pair of long blades made up of pure light and dancing flame. The white light spread from her palms down her arms to meet and counter my curse. With an arcing whirl of a swing, she severed the four bonds on her left side, allowing her to hack away the remaining four with ease.


    I whirled back toward Thallos in utter panic just in time to find a boot stomping down on my damaged gauntlet, pinning it to the floor. I let out a snarl of pain as I glared up at the Wild Elf. ¡°Well, boy, I bit the drake¡¯s tail, and when the drake turned to bite back, he found his teeth shattered on the plates of a Dragon.¡±


    Rose stepped up beside Thallos and pointed a light blade at my chest. ¡°Dude, the next time you want to pull something gross and creepy, don¡¯t, just don¡¯t. Especially when it¡¯s aimed at the girl you want to partner with.¡±


    ¡°You aren¡¯t going to stop holding that over me, are you?¡± I half-heartedly accused. She had played the card so many times it was more annoying than embarrassing.


    She gave me a grin that showed no mercy for me anytime soon. ¡°Not even a little.¡± Only a half-second after she gave me her answer, her light weapons flickered and sputtered before going out, vanishing and leaving nothing behind but a pocket of hot air. Rose staggered back with a shocked expression coming to her face. This set of events confused me, but before I could comment, Thallos spoke up.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to see you taking these lessons to heart so quick, boy. So here¡¯s my next nugget of wisdom.¡± He stepped off my arm and knelt down to pull free his dagger. I winced and gasped at the pain of the blade pulling free, but I kept my focus on Thallos. ¡°When you are outnumbered, and you know one opponent is your better, don¡¯t toy with the others and keep your focus on the primary threat.¡±


    ¡°Keep my focus on the primary threat? What about don¡¯t have tunnel vision? If I focused on you, then Rose would have come up from behind and made me eat dirt and leather.¡± I prodded, exposing a glaring flaw in his teachings.


    Thallos gave me an annoyed look before pointing at me with the bloody tip of his freshly reacquired dagger. ¡°Stop being stubborn and contrary, boy. You know full well you can do both. Keep your primary focus on the biggest threat while remaining aware of your surroundings. If you have a high-priority threat, then make sure your top priority is dealing with them, but keep total awareness of everything nearby. That way, Rose wouldn¡¯t be able to get behind you.¡±


    I sat up as I noticed Tess closing in at a jog. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll admit that your point has merit.¡±


    Tessa knelt down beside me and quickly set to mending my ankle. Thallos retracted his pointing dagger and tossed it into the air to dramatically catch it point first between two fingers as he stepped back. ¡°And gem of wisdom, part two, don¡¯t toy with your prey unless you¡¯re completely sure you have them outmatched, and they have no backup.¡±


    As soon as Tessa wrapped up on healing my busted ankle, I gave her an honest ¡®thank you¡¯ while I climbed to my feet. Thallos sheathed his sharp toy, and he asked, ¡°You two ready for round three?¡±


    I waited for Tessa to mend my forearms before I rolled my neck, forcing it to emit a series of pops. Then, I flexed and tested each limb, especially my fresh ankle. ¡°Give me six minutes, and I¡¯ll be good.¡±


    ¡°That fast?¡± Thallos asked in mild astonishment.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t I tell you before? My myst recovery rate is two Vells a minute. Six minutes will have me just short of topped off with my below-average Mystwell capacity. Hopefully, after enough of this training, soon my Mystwell will increase. I¡¯m getting really tired of a thirteen Vell max capacity.¡± I turned to Rose. ¡°What about you, Rose? If you need, we can take a longer break for your Well to refill.¡±


    Rose looked completely exhausted, her sagging posture only a single note that held the story of how weary she felt. She clutched her left arm in her right hand, clearly making an effort of will to remain on her feet. She shook her head, regaining a bit of the light in her eyes. ¡°No, no, six minutes will be enough. Just give me some time to get my head together.¡± Without waiting for a response, she turned and made her way back to where her bag lay. She swayed slightly with each step.


    I kept my eyes on Rose even as I addressed Thallos with a question. ¡°What is the average myst recovery rate? I know mine is above average thanks to my therra¡¯s regular body scan, but I don¡¯t know how above average I am.¡±


    Thallos shifted his stance and pinched his chin between his thumb and forefinger in thought. ¡°Well, I¡¯m no expert, but from what I¡¯ve seen, I¡¯d say the average recovery rate is about 1 Vell a minute or slightly less.¡±


    It was my turn to be astonished. My recovery rate was twice that of a normal caster. ¡°Then how common is it for someone to have a rate as quick as my own?¡± As I asked, I watched Rose rummaging through her bag and pulling free a water bottle before making a beeline for her nearest corner.


    ¡°Again, I¡¯m not an expert, but from what I¡¯ve noticed, it¡¯s exceedingly uncommon to see anything above a Vell and a quarter every minute.¡±


    Rose stood with her head bowed in the corner. Best I could tell, she was mustering her strength and trying to get back into a fighting mindset.


    ¡°So the likelihood of Rose having a rate as quick as mine is¡­¡±


    ¡°Slim.¡± Thallos finished.


    ¡°And you saw how worn out she was. I never thought I¡¯d have more stamina than that beast of a woman.¡± I felt Thallos¡¯s disapproving gaze on me for my choice of words. ¡°Sorry, slip of the tongue.¡± I backpedaled.


    My uncle cleared his throat as he moved past my accidental slur. ¡°To answer your comment about stamina, you need to keep in mind how much more of this high-stress training you have had. Couple that with her lack of a spell focus means that casting spells will have a heavier toll on her body than you.¡±


    I turned to focus my gaze on Thallos. ¡°What¡¯s this about a focus?¡±


    He turned to fix me with an annoyed glare. ¡°You can¡¯t really be that dense boy. I know we¡¯ve covered this before. Each caster classification has its own different affinity ratios. Each classification has a specific type of focus they need to cast spells safely. A Mage¡¯s affinity ratios not only determine what class they are but also how they tap into their magic, meaning each has a different type of needed focus.¡±


    ¡°So what class is Rose, and what focus would she need?¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t seen her ratios, but given the elements that she¡¯s been using during training these past few weeks, I¡¯d estimate either a Wizard with a reasonable Fire affinity or an Elementalist with a heavy Lumina affinity.¡±


    ¡°Which equates to what focus-wise?¡±


    My uncle folded his arms over his chest and gave me a very heavy eye roll. ¡°Now I know you should know this, you twit. Wizards use a gem-topped staff as a focus. Tricksters use Arcane Spider Silk Gloves.¡±


    I snapped my fingers in recognition. ¡°That¡¯s right! And Sorcerers use a Catalyst Gryo Prysm, Bards have their instruments, and Elementalists use Evvetane Convergence Gauntlets.¡± I counted each off on my fingers with eager enthusiasm to show that I wasn¡¯t a total fool. Before I could list off the rest, Thallos cut in.


    ¡°Yes, yes, you know basic classification facts. How very impressive.¡± My uncle¡¯s words were dripping with sarcasm.


    ¡°Alright, oh, wise master and mentor,¡± This time, my words were the ones to carry the sarcastic notes. ¡°Would you please enlighten me as to the dangers of using magic without a focus?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± He asked in evident confusion.


    ¡°You have yet to tell me what the threats of casting without a focus are.¡±


    For the briefest heartbeat, I saw a look in his eyes that I did not like. A look that was cold, hungry, and pondering something deeper. But I blinked, and the look was gone.


    ¡°It¡¯s a topic that I¡¯d rather leave unexplored by students for a bit longer, but I think you¡¯ve proven yourself wise enough to withhold this knowledge from¡­¡± He flicked his gaze to Rose, ¡°Other parties that aren¡¯t ready.¡±


    I raised a speculative brow toward my strange master. ¡°I¡¯m listening.¡±


    ¡°Mages that use magic without a focus put their body under enormous strain. More complex spells have an escalating likelihood of spell failure. Spell failure can result in anything ranging from an earthquake to scale with the spell, an explosion or implosion, an elemental discharge wave, or the worst result being MCFS.¡±


    ¡°MCFS?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Myst Channel Feedback Spike. It can cause permanent brain damage, Mystwell damage, or at worst the feedback could cascade, the reaction continuing from the spell through the channel and into the Mystwell. At which point, the myst reaction uses up the myst of the Mystwell. This normally causes the caster to explode in a pretty gorey manner, letting out waves of densely concentrated myst of the elements the caster had an affinity for.¡± The tone of his voice was so factual and level as if he weren¡¯t talking about the potential death of the girl that stole my heart.


    As his explanation continued, I felt my face grow paler and paler by shades. ¡°You¡¯re telling me that at any given moment if Rose casts a spell, she could just explode in a shower of gore and possibly lethal myst?!¡± I hissed in exclamation.


    ¡°Keep your whiny voice down, nimrod.¡± He hissed back. ¡°Besides, it¡¯s only likely for complex spells. The only spell that she has cast all day that was even possibly a threat was that light and flame swords she just used on you. You need to keep in mind that she isn¡¯t taking the same myst classes as you. You are being taught myst laws, mechanics, and methodology. She, on the other hand, I am only teaching her the basics until we can get her classification verified and have her trained on how to craft a focus.¡±


    I gave the Wild Elf a disdainful glare. ¡°Then why not verify her class and jump straight to the focus? And on the Matter of focuses¡­ foci?¡± I was unsure as to the correct term for the plural, ¡°Why am I being trained without a focus?¡± I knew the answer, but I felt like ruffling my uncle¡¯s feathers a bit more. I was well aware that he knew I understood why I didn¡¯t have a focus.


    He gave me a derisive sneer. ¡°You know full well that your blood is your focus, and I swear by Raffendus¡¯s mask. If you make me explain why you¡¯re exempt from the physical elemental draw price, I¡¯ll turn you into a dagger pincushion and make Tessa wait a whole three hours to heal you while I add them one by one.¡±


    My joking ignorance suddenly got a lot less amusing. I gave an audible gulp before turning to check on Rose. She was still huddled in the corner with her water bottle. Quick to change the subject, I asked another question. ¡°So if she most likely has a slower myst recovery rate, and her working without a focus is a tax on her body, then do you think she¡¯s pushing herself to keep up an image?¡±


    Thallos gave an amused snort as he turned to look at Rose just as I was. ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting for you to catch onto that farce. She¡¯s been playing this game since she joined the training. She¡¯s trying to prove that she can keep up with you and that¡¯s why I haven¡¯t verified her class or trained her on crafting a focus.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± That answer only raised more questions for me.


    He gave me an amused huff before answering. ¡°I¡¯m pushing her. She needs to understand her limits without a focus to really understand what she can do with one. And the classification matters even more so.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    He turned back to me with a wide smirk. ¡°Think of it this way. Wizards are well known for their talents in crafting and support spells. They often stick to noncombatant roles or support roles in adventuring parties. Now, say you didn¡¯t know that you were a Wizard, and you are in rigorous combat training. What happens to you when you do learn that you are a Wizard?¡±


    My tail flicked in agitation as I pondered the question. It didn¡¯t take long for me to come to a conclusion. ¡°You would think of your talents in a combat orientation as well as utilitarian uses. You would be a Wizard that knew how to be a threat with elements that wouldn¡¯t normally be used that way.¡±


    Thallos tapped the side of his nose with a finger in conformation.


    ¡°Speaking of support spells used for combat.¡± I brought up as the thought arose in my mind, ¡°She made blades of pure light. Lumina Myst is normally used to bless others and improve their natural attributes. I¡¯ve heard that you could craft a weapon of solid Lumina or Umbra Myst, but to my knowledge, it takes a lot of myst and a really high affinity. Wouldn¡¯t that mean that when she did that, she put herself in serious danger with that spell?¡±


    He gave a single deep nod of confirmation. ¡°Five points, red fighter.¡±


    I gave him an annoyed glare with my head cocked. ¡°This is a sparring match. Why would you let her put herself in danger? Even at the most heartless, I¡¯m pretty sure that she¡¯s a valuable asset.¡± I pointed out.


    ¡°And you are right on that note. I never taught her how to condense raw Lumina Myst into a hard light form. She must¡¯ve figured it out on her own. Before this next match, I¡¯ll be sure to tell her the spell is barred.¡±


    I gave a slow nod of agreement even as I thought to myself that I would need to ask Rose how she pulled it off. I had been trying the shadow blade trick for over a month and had no luck.


    It was at this moment that Rose turned away from her corner, flexing her left arm in a test of the limb, before putting her water bottle away in her bag. She jogged back over to meet me and Thallos, clearly with some more pep in her step.


    ¡°Are you ready to get back to work?¡± I asked as she closed the distance.


    ¡°Damn straight snake tail. It took you guys a good fifteen minutes to stop bickering like children at the playground. So I took my time getting back into the zone.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me.¡± Came Thallos in warning.


    Rose came skidding to a stop with a look of panic. ¡°S-sorry, Mystagogue!¡± she stammered out in panic.


    Thallos propped his hands on his hips. ¡°I won¡¯t lie, kid. You¡¯ve got some chops and definitely some serious potential. But that doesn¡¯t give you permission to talk to me like a fellow student.¡± He scolded.


    ¡°But Iver-¡± She started with an accusing finger aimed at me, but Thallos cut her off.


    ¡°But nothing, girl. It may look like I¡¯m playing favorites with the boy because he¡¯s family, but think about it. This boy closes up to authority out of fear, and he has all the social grace of a mule with a second ass instead of a head. I let him talk to me like he does because he¡¯s more receptive to conversing with someone he thinks of as an equal. But don¡¯t think that because this boy is a retard that means you can throw respect in the mulcher.¡± Thallos pointed his own accusing finger at me with the retard comment, and that verbal blade dug deep.


    I knew I had problems. I had trouble communicating with strangers and making friends. I knew that most thought of me as eccentric and weird. But retard? Was I really mentally stunted or damaged? Was I really broken? My thoughts raced around this theme even as Thallos continued, unaware of the harm he caused.


    ¡°Girl, you need to understand that I tailor my training to each individual. This is why I normally only take on one pupil because, eventually, someone thinks it unfair. But I push you harder only if I know you can go farther. If things get hard, keep in mind what I think you can become if you can withstand the trials. Now, girl, before we start, I expect you to mend the floor you tore up. I¡¯ll walk you through the steps to get it done. But both of you,¡± He turned to ensure that I was included in the talk, ¡°Need to mend any damage you cause if you are at all able to even try.¡±


    I was only dimly aware of his words. I heard them, but they had no meaning. I numbly looked on as I watched Thallos walk Rose through mending the floor. Before I knew it, he was ordering Rose to stand across from me. It wouldn¡¯t be over-exaggerating to say that Rose completely decimated me in every match for the rest of that day and many days to come. But I wouldn¡¯t let this mental block slip to anyone. I hide my weakness, shame, fear, and guilt from everyone. I would rather be physically weak than show emotional weakness. I would keep this bottled up for many days.

 Chapter 35

    The Catlar is an ancient weapon of unique design. Covering the fist and forearm in layered plating, ending in a pair of curved punching blades mounted to an armored fist. The top and sides of the weaponized armor are lined with spikes or blades.


    Day 343 Castestday


    Since Thallos¡¯s comment about my mental state that had wounded me so badly, just over forty days had passed. twenty days. Those four weeks had passed at a rate that seemed both flitting and slothful. For a whole month, I had been bottling up a flood of dark thoughts, and because of it, my studies suffered. I¡¯d lost focus. I second-guessed everything, every word, action, and thought. The year¡¯s end trials were closing in at top speed, and I had barely managed anything. Even Nel and Ferris noticed that something was wrong, but I kept on telling them not to worry.


    The only escape I found was in crafting. It was my last emotional vent. I hadn¡¯t won a match in months. I failed most tests. My mundane class scores were plummeting like a brick of adamantine in the ocean. But where my life was burning down around me, I dove deeper into crafting, designing, and improving. I remade my tactical gauntlet, basing the concept on an old weapon known as a Catlar. I modified, added, and/or replaced every tool on my gauntlet and several other tech tools that I had made a habit of keeping on my person. Thallos had spoken of training Wizards to be fluent in combat casting months ago, and I soon learned that my affinity was disturbingly close to that of a Sorcerer. Sorcerers were combat casters. Their trade was destruction, be it in the form of demolition, siege, mass creature eradication, clearing extensive areas of plant life, or anything long along those lines. Sorcerers had an innate penchant for large-scale ruin bordering on a habitual addiction. So it stood to reason that if a Wizard¡¯s constructive magic could be used for destruction, I should be able to harness my magic¡¯s destructive nature to create.


    My unaided work was still rough. Utilizing my finger to weld presented difficulty in the precise nature needed to keep a consistent bead. Charging empty myst crystals with electric or thermal power to use as batteries was also a matter of precision, which led many crystals to rupture from over-saturation. The use of Death Myst was strictly prohibited in the academy, but it didn¡¯t have any relevant use in my crafting. My affinity for Chaos Myst was minimal, so I was unable to utilize myst hacking to any great advantage. I did have a strong affinity for Eldritch Myst, which was a volatile and dangerous force and just as prohibited as Death Myst. While that didn¡¯t stop me from trying and shattering several batteries, those failures were far more disastrous than the other attempts. These elements were those that Sorcerers had the highest affinities for, other than Air which I only found a use for in controlling the temperatures while at the forge.


    I had descended further down the rabbit hole of crafting, forsaking sleep, and hiding from worried friends whenever they expressed concern. Endless hours were spent trying to push questions from my mind. Questions of how defective, faulty, or damaged I was as a person. Was that why I had such a hard time understanding people? Was that why people hated me so badly and not because of my breed? Was this all because of my Myst-Blooded nature?


    I struggled to push these thoughts away with study, practice, and craft. I honed down my tactical gauntlet, altering the design around the new Catlar base. A framework mounted with circuitry and impact padding under a shell of layered plates. Matte gunmetal with black leather mounting straps and padding. The whole design was short, without the spikes and blades of a normal Catlar, but it had an asymmetric series of deformations concealing shock bites, secorus gas disks, a grappling hook, and a welder/gas spray nozzle. I even added new features. A collapsable Vekenna blade mounted to the top of the Catlar and linked at the hilt with a cord of woven steel fibers. And an illusion projection system set to cover me in any guise I could imagine and focus on.


    I wore the tool at all times, not even taking it off to sleep. When I wasn¡¯t working on my craft, I was studying for classes and practicing sect skills. Even as I failed test after test, I only drove myself to study harder. I took on disguise after disguise, playing any role I could step into to hone my ability to become anyone. I was always caught and was often forced to evade capture. Now, evasion was something I was good at. I fled from foes, be they students or Mystagogues I tried to trick. But I wasn¡¯t just running from people. I fled from memories of failure, of abuse, and of loss. But even more than anything else, I fled from dark thoughts. I saw scars in every dark corner of my mind. I found flaws in every word I spoke. With every failure brought about by second-guessing, I only questioned myself even more.


    I fought harder in every duel, tried harder in every exam, ate less, and slept less if only to push myself just a little more. I failed every sparring session I had until it became too much.


    <hr>


    Rose flung a dagger at me, aimed at my abdomen. The blade flew at top speed. I deflected the blade with a sweep of my Catlar, knocking it aside and sending it toppling to the floor. In quick response, I drew the clawed end of my gauntleted index finger across my left palm, bringing a line of blood welling up. I clenched my fist, drawing the blood from the wound even as I sidestepped a thrust from Thallos aimed at my chest. Spinning away, I flung my hand out to leave a sprayed trail of blood and froze to a sheet of crimson ice around me.


    I held my gauntleted fist up in a sign of defiance as I loosed the mounted Vekenna. The blade shot seven feet into the air before expanding into a full Vekenna blade shape. I watched Rose¡¯s eyes track the launched blade, and I struck even before the blade started its fall. I lashed out with my still bloody hand and set loose a swarm of burning fireflies, a mass of crimson droplets set ablaze and given flight to rush forward in a burning cloud. Thallos sidestepped the cloud to swing a morning star in a wide arc aimed at my chest. I tried to throw myself back but found myself a half-second too slow. Even as I hurled backward, the broad head of the weapon struck the side of my chest, spikes biting deep into flesh and fracturing bone. I found myself spinning away from the strike, burning barbs of agony in my chest flared only brighter as the spikes peeled free of my flesh, drawing new furrows as they went.


    I struck the floor and slid like an oversized, meaty Kreegen puke. As I coddled my wounded side, I rolled myself into a crouch, retracting the Vekenna to land at my feet. I scooped up the blade in my right hand. With a snarl scrawled across my face, I pressed my free hand harder against my side, willing power into the flowing fluid of life. I thrust my hand, drenched in gore, against the ground, the warm crimson seeping into the ground. With my will, I felt the ground quake and tremble. A plus in time with my throbbing heart stretched from my hand and through the ground. Thallos felt this first throb and rushed toward me. Rose, seeing his action, hurried to follow.


    The black, slick, shining floor shifted and rippled with life as my uncle closed in. I raised a wall of stone and iron supports between him and me. He vaulted over the barrier, as I expected, and fell into the pit I laid just on the other side of that wall.


    Rose skirted around the wall and raced towards me at a speed that could only have been managed with Body Myst enhancing her movements. I sent a ripple of stone towards her, but she leaped over the minor wave of stone with ease. I rolled back, away from her as she closed the distance and raised my Vekenna to block the strike I knew was coming. Her short sword came down at my shoulder in a chop.


    My blade raised in defense only just deflected the enhanced strike. Her blade hit my own and slid to strike the ground beside me. I slipped my left hand against my bloody side again before hurling my palm against Rose¡¯s chest and unleashing a kinetic strike. The solid property of Earth applied to Air, giving it a form as solid and firm as stone, if only for a moment. I threw the Primal girl back from the force of the minor spell more than ten feet and over my hurriedly formed wall.


    I only pulled that trick off just in time for Thallos to leap from my pit in an act of unnatural strength, clearly using Body Myst himself. The Wild Elf rolled his neck in an overdramatic series of cracking. He shouldered his morning star even as Rose stepped around the wall I made. I crawled backward on my back and elbows as they closed in, clearly seeing me as an easy target.


    I watched on in horror as my uncle closed in on me with an amused smile on his face, and Rose stepped up beside him, fingering her short sword like a toy. They had beaten me time and time again. Match after match, duel after duel, I was put to the metaphorical dirt in the room of black tile. They saw me as a failure. A broken boy that was little more than a mental retard. Failure after failure, they had been putting me down, and I wasn¡¯t about to go down again.


    I had had enough. I was angry, venomous, and vindictive. With my teeth clenched in an open snarl, I drew deep from my well of power, thought too dangerous to use. I pulled Eldritch Myst, and I pulled deep, drawing as much as I could until I felt I could draw no more.


    They closed in with their mocking expressions, and I released a wave of pure energy. A wave of black and green threads spread from my outstretched hand in a wave of webs. This wave of raw energy touched each of them and erupted. The moment those threads made contact, they bloomed in a flower of force and energy enough to ruin a castle wall.


    Rose and Thallos were each hurled back with enough force to cripple a squad of men from just what I had rushed to pull together in a panic. Thallos struck the wall I had made with an audible snap of bone, and Rose was sent even farther.


    The force of my spell shook the foundations of the room and possibly even further. It took me a long moment to realize that what I had released was only a handful of Vells, only five Vells at most. That force may full well have broken my uncle and Rose to the point of ruin. This thought had only barely crossed my mind as Tessa rushed in utter panic toward Thallos. She laid her hands on him, and when a wound would normally glow, his whole body began to shine.


    It was only moments after witnessing this disaster that I had wrought that I found my own breath ripped from my lungs. My strength was leached from my very bones, and I became as lame as a newborn calf. I looked on, gasping in weakness as Tessa healed Thallos, panic writ plain on her face. I gasped for air even as the Gnomish girl moved from healing Thallos to Rose, beyond my line of sight.


    It wasn¡¯t long before I found a staggering Thallos and a hobbling Rose standing over me as I gasped for air. Even as my lungs filled, I found myself starved for something. My vision swam with colors, and distant murmurs touched my ears.


    ¡°Iver, why in the hells would you use that!?¡± Thallos demanded, but his words were distant with a far echo.


    ¡°Iver? Are you alright?¡± Came Rose¡¯s voice from just as far off.


    ¡°He¡¯s not okay.¡± came Tessa.


    ¡°Of course not.¡± Thallos echoed as he glared down at me. ¡°He used Eldritch Myst.¡±


    Tessa crouched beside me, her hands on my heaving chest.


    ¡°What does that mean?¡± Rose asked in a panic.


    ¡°He¡¯s immune to most myst prices but not to the cost of Eldritch.¡± Thallos intoned.


    ¡°Which means what?¡± Rose asked.


    ¡°If he were to cast Fire, he wouldn¡¯t have to give body heat, like others.¡± Tessa explained as she examined me. ¡°But the cost of Eldritch is one¡¯s sanity.¡± My gasping eased, and the colors in my vision faded, but the murmurs persisted. ¡°He is immune to most myst costs, but not all. He just paid with a portion of his mind.¡±


    Those words threw me into a panic. I just paid for a sparring match with my mind? My mind was damaged. If I was a retard now, with a damaged mind, what would I be if I kept using that power? A drooling idiot unable to perform even simple math? Or a frothing lunatic?


    It was only after a few moments of Tessa¡¯s touch that I pulled myself together enough to sit up. I saw worry in the Gnomish girl¡¯s eyes, but Thallos was the first to draw my attention.


    ¡°Boy, you just used a banned element in utter panic. I know you well enough that you would not pull that out in a moment of minor stress. I¡¯ve seen something eating away at you for the past two months.¡±


    I was about to speak in my defense when Thallos held up a hand for silence. ¡°You have failed dozens of matches. I¡¯ve seen your scores on the recent tests. Something has been eating at you. What is the issue?¡±


    As I pulled myself to a sitting position, I chewed at my bottom lip. To buy time, I reeled in my Vekenna and collapsed it. I didn¡¯t want to admit the issue. It would be a sign of weakness. I didn¡¯t feel like I could be honest with these three. They would only mock me and see my weakness as a way to push me even further down the hell pit I was already falling down.


    ¡°It-it was an accident.¡± I claimed with a stammer that I knew sounded half-hearted.


    ¡°You don¡¯t just pull on a banned myst element by accident, Iver.¡± Thallos pointed out, his tone far too easy for the weight of his words.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Rose asked in obvious confusion.


    ¡°I mean that something has been bothering him.¡± Thallos explained. ¡°He has let something fester in his head so deep that it made him reflexively pull on a dangerous force.¡±


    ¡°Is that true, Ive¡¯? Something¡¯s been causing you trouble? You¡¯ve lost the last batch of matches, but is there a reason?¡±


    ¡°What? No. I¡¯ve just been frustrated with the past few months.¡± I lied.


    ¡°Boy, you need to work on your deception if you want to pull that card with me.¡± Thallos said sternly.


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°Come on, Ive¡¯, looking back, I can see that something¡¯s been bugging you these past few weeks.¡± Rose said.


    ¡°No.¡± I proclaimed.


    ¡°Boy!¡± Thallos demanded. ¡°Don¡¯t lie to me.¡±


    I knew I was caught and had no choice. I was about to be mocked and torn apart because of my weakness. This issue that had been eating at me.


    I lowered my head in shame, my fists clenched. ¡°You said that I was damaged.¡± I muttered.


    ¡°What?¡± Thallos and Rose asked in unison.


    ¡°Uncle, you said I was a retard. That it was the reason why you let me talk to you the way I do because I feared authority.¡±


    ¡°And how does that equal damage?¡± Thallos queried.


    I gave him a look that told him how stupid that question sounded.


    ¡°If I¡¯m a retard, that means I¡¯m damaged. If I¡¯m damaged, that means that I can¡¯t perform as desired because I¡¯m broken. If I¡¯m broken, that means I¡¯m weak, I can¡¯t be fixed, and I¡¯m a waste of time, food, space, and carbon.¡± By the end of my equation, I was snarling with venom.


    Rose looked at me as if I were mad, and Thallos massaged his brow in his hands.


    ¡°Iver. boy,¡± Thallos started, ¡°I meant the retard comment as a way of saying that your head is wired differently than most others. If I call you a retard, I don¡¯t mean that you¡¯re broken. What I am saying is that you learn differently than others, or you need different help than others. In your case, I mean both.¡±


    ¡°Both!¡± I panicked.


    ¡°Calm yourself, boy.¡± Thallos demanded. ¡°Having different mental wiring doesn¡¯t make you any worse than others. If it makes you feel any better, then go talk to that doctor who had been patching you up before Tessa.¡±


    ¡°Dr. Brooksheen?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Whoever you trust to examine you. Tessa doesn¡¯t have experience or training to diagnose you.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Tessa asked in indignation.


    ¡°Sorry, girl,¡± Thallos said to her, ¡°But I doubt you have the training to recognize mental trauma or abnormal brain chemistry.¡±


    ¡°Well, no,¡± Tessa muttered, ¡°That was supposed to come next year.¡±


    ¡°Then my point stands, girl.¡± Thallos stated, his words as stalwart as stone. ¡°If you would be so kind as to take him to the doctor who can explain his condition, it would be of great help to both he and I.¡±


    I watched as Tessa¡¯s eyes filled with tears before she gave a deep bow to my uncle. ¡°Of course, Mystagogue.¡±


    ¡°What is this all about?¡± asked Rose, her tone showing how frantic she was getting.


    ¡°Calm yourself.¡± Thallos demanded. ¡°If it helps you smooth the wrinkles in your brain, think of it this way. The boy is going to ask about his head problems with a doc. She¡¯ll tell him what¡¯s wrong and how to fix it.¡±


    Thallos turned back to Tessa, ¡°Take him to the doc and have her give some advice on how to learn and train. For that matter, have her give you advice on how to help him learn when he hits a rough patch.¡±


    Tessa gave a dramatically deep bow for her tiny frame, but I noticed the tears falling from her eyes as she bowed. ¡°Yes, Mystagogue.¡±


    Without another word, I followed Tessa to the elevator. As the doors slid shut and she swept her B.I.C over the scanner, I tried to think of how to broach my question. She seemed upset but was clearly trying to hide it. Was that how I was coming across to everyone else? Poorly and desperately trying to hide that I was upset?


    After a few moments with a silence so thick you could have cut it with a knife, I decided to just get to the point. ¡°Is everything ok, Tess?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± she muttered, refusing to meet my eyes.


    ¡°I saw those tears. What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing, really.¡±


    ¡°Tess, I¡¯m gonna keep pushing till you give me the story.¡±


    ¡°You promise not to make fun of me?¡±


    I furrowed my brow at the question. ¡°Tessa, when have I ever made fun of you?¡±


    ¡°You haven¡¯t¡­ yet.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no ¡®yet¡¯ about it, Tess. Short of you pulling an unbelievably stupid act, it¡¯s not going to happen.¡±


    ¡°What would you count as stupid?¡±


    My gaze drifted to the mirrored ceiling as I put some thought to my answer. ¡°Well, for one, selling your soul to a devil or getting into drugs,¡± I started counting off on my fingers. ¡°Getting into an arm-wrestling match with a minotaur, or trying to ride an untamed drake, maybe even trying to get caught up in political games with Elves.¡±


    She gave an amused snort. ¡°It¡¯d have to be that bad?¡±


    ¡°For me to mock you with malicious intent, yes. Other than that, the worst I¡¯ll do is some light verbal jabbing. So what¡¯s up?¡±


    She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, rising up on her toes as she inhaled and rocking back on her heels as she exhaled. When she looked up at me, there was a dark aqua blush to her cheeks. She opened her mouth to speak, only to freeze and shut her mouth. She shook her head as she turned away. ¡°It¡¯s stupid.¡±


    ¡°Let me be the judge of that.¡± I said with a patient, small smile.


    Tessa gave a huff of a sigh in aggravation, her arms folded over her chest if only for the moment before they fell limp at her sides. ¡°When Mystagogue Kiem offered this specialized training, I lept at it. I wanted so badly to prove to anyone that I was a complainant healer. At some point along the way, you kinda¡­ became a project for me.¡± she tentatively looked over her shoulder at me.


    I gave her a single raised brow in question. ¡°A project, you say. Can I ask what kind of project?¡±


    ¡°I wanted to be able to mend any of your wounds. I wanted to prove to Mystagogue Kiem, to you, and to myself that I could be successful without any help from another healer.¡±


    ¡°And learning that I¡¯ve got problems that your magic can¡¯t stitch together makes you feel like a failure?¡±


    Her head sagged forward. ¡°Yeah, basically.¡±


    An amused huff slipped from my nose that almost ended in a snort. ¡°Tess, just because my brain chemistry is off or I have overactive synapses, or whatever the issue is, it has nothing to do with you being a failure. The problem has probably been there from day one. That means there¡¯s no hole in my gray matter to be filled, and I highly doubt that you have had sufficient training to carve a hole in my skull and poke around in the squishy mass of anxiety that is me.¡±


    This time, it was Tess who let out a snort of amusement. ¡°It can¡¯t be that bad.¡±


    It was at that moment that the car came to a stop, and the doors slid open with a woosh. Tessa stepped from the space, and I followed.


    ¡°Tessa, let me frame it to you this way. Until five minutes ago, I was completely sure that if I let slip the state that I was in, you, Rose, and my uncle would think me weak.¡± My gaze fell to the floor just ahead of me.


    ¡°Really?¡± bafflement was obvious in her tone.


    I gave a wordless nod in answer even as I stared hard at the tile as we turned a corner. With my shame, I felt a powerful urge to hurry away, but I kept my stride small and pace low.


    ¡°Iver, you know you don¡¯t have to be the unbreakable guy. It¡¯s okay to have feelings. It¡¯s normal for feelings to get hurt from time to time. You really should trust Rose and your uncle. They only want to help, and telling them how you feel is what friends and family are there for.¡±


    As we passed through the front gates of Aegis Hall, I scratched the back of my head nervously. ¡°I¡¯ve never really had anyone I could talk to about¡­ this kind of thing.¡± My gaze rose to the clouded sky just through the mouth of the crater. ¡°Until Thallos, the only family I had was my father, and he was an ass who thought that men should be strong at all times. And I¡¯d never had a friend until this year.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    My hand dropped back to my side. I explained as we crossed the meadow between Aegis Hall and the Medical Center. ¡°Yeah.¡± My thoughts grew distant with memory. ¡°I¡¯d never known what it was like to have friends before coming to the academy. And my father was never the warm and fuzzy type of man.¡± My father¡¯s face flashed in my mind, closely followed by the scene of his bleeding corpse. I felt my fists clench with the flare of anger the image brought on. I had to force myself to stop grinding my teeth at the flashback.


    We passed through the front doors of the Med Center, and Tessa led me through the waiting room with only a few words to the reception. We passed through doorway after doorway until Tessa gestured for me to enter an examination room and told me she would bring the doctor. As she turned to leave, I moved to catch her by the sleeve. What actually happened was me gripping the collar of her uniform, almost causing Tessa to fall off balance. When she turned back to me in puzzlement.


    ¡°Hey, so regardless of how the talk with the doctor goes, would you mind following me back to my room? I¡¯ve got something I want to give you.¡±


    ¡°Uh, sure. I guess.¡±


    I gave her a wide grin of thanks as I let her go on her way.


    It didn¡¯t take long for the Wood Elf, Dr.Brooksheen, to enter the examination room with Tessa hot on her heels. The elderly Elf took a seat on the stool in the room before she asked me what was going on. I gave the kind matron rundown of everything I had been going through since day one. I wasn¡¯t sure what was pertinent to the talk or how far back I should start. So I started with the bullying in my hometown, jumped to my father¡¯s death, backtracked to how he treated me, and then jumped to the orphan period of my life. When I started explaining what I had been feeling at the academy, I started rambling as I started to fall into a panic attack.


    As I wrapped up my state in the past two months, the doctor took off her glasses and cleaned them with a cloth as she spoke. ¡°I think I¡¯ve got the majority of the picture. You¡¯ve never been diagnosed with any mental issues, but your uncle believes that you have some loose gears in your head. Am I right?¡±


    I gave her an enthusiastic nod. ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡±


    She pocketed her cloth and remounted her glasses atop her nose before giving me a long, scrutinizing look. ¡°I¡¯ll be the hammer giving you this explanation, blunt and simple. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if you have a condition or two.¡± My face fell at those words. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be so disheartened by the news. Now, I won¡¯t deny that there was a period in history when if you were diagnosed with even one of these so-called disabilities, you would have been strapped to a table and tortured until you were ¡®cured¡¯. But those times are long behind us. Even the days when you would not have been allowed to join the military or even an adventuring guild are behind us.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± My eyes lit with hope.


    The doctor gave a single nod, pointing a finger toward the ceiling and wagging it as she spoke.


    ¡°With the right training and, if needed, extended-release medication, anyone can enter the field.¡± She pressed her hands to her thighs as she leaned forward. ¡°Now, let¡¯s begin solving the riddle that is your mind.¡±


    With those words, she proceeded to ask me a long series of questions that, at the time, seemed to be totally disconnected. Questions on my habits and hobbies, my social skills and experiences, the hardships I¡¯ve faced, both those most difficult from my past and the daily struggle, my perspective on the world, fears, hopes, aspirations, and plenty of questions about the darker corners of my mind that made me feel extremely uncomfortable. But by the end, she had a clear answer for me.


    ¡°Well, Iver, I think I have an answer for you, my boy.¡± The doctor began. ¡°You see, there would seem to be a couple of mental disconnects or disabilities that any species could have, but there are some that are more common among some species than others. Wild Elves are known to develop bipolar disorders more frequently than most. Hill Dwarves are prone to substance abuse. Sarthorran Ceangar are known to develop anxiety disorders. The list goes on.¡±


    ¡°So then, how broken am I?¡± I asked, fearful to even press the question.


    ¡°Broken? Young man, you aren¡¯t broken. You have a problem that can be remedied with help from mentors and friends, given the chance and the knowledge. From how you have answered my questions, I would say that you have a series of issues that can be fixed.¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡± I asked, scared to hear the answer.


    ¡°You have symptoms from mild depression and severe general anxiety for sure. You display several of the markers for autism and display traits for bipolar disorder.¡±


    ¡°That sounds like an absolutely terrible diagnosis.¡± I muttered as I clutched my head between my hands.


    I looked up to find the Wood Elf doctor giving me a kind and patient smile. ¡°None of these are any cause to worry, young man. Your anxiety can be overcome by centering yourself and not losing your head when things get frantic or frightening, and I don¡¯t just mean in the midst of battle. Getting anxious, nervous, or plain fearful in any situation counts, be it social, educational, or any other possible scenario where you feel stress. I¡¯d recommend taking up regular meditation. Meditation would also help alleviate the symptoms of depression.¡±


    ¡°And what about the bipolar and thing? I thought that meant I would have random mood swings?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Well, what would you consider a mood swing?¡± She countered.


    ¡°Well, I¡­¡± I started but stopped as I considered the question. ¡°Well, I always thought it was something like flying into a rage over a lost game or breaking down into tears over a broken cup.¡±


    ¡°Those are examples of a severe case. Most cases are much less dramatic. You even answered several of my diagnosis questions in a manner that hinted at this possibility.¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°You find yourself easily aggravated. You¡¯re prone to feeling helpless and doubting yourself even when you know you have no logical need to. You yourself said that you feel worthless at times.¡±


    ¡°Really? Hopelessness and not feeling good about myself equals bipolar? But then, what about depression? And if irritability is another sign, what about the anxiety bit?¡±


    ¡°The three are not mutually exclusive to each other.¡± The doctor went back to wagging her finger as she lectured. ¡°In either case, the treatment is the same. Regular meditation, level-headed thought.¡±


    ¡°That can¡¯t be it.¡± I protested. ¡°Time thinking about the world and just not panicking when everything gets turned on its head. Isn¡¯t there medication you can prescribe? A magic pill to uncross my wires?¡±


    The doctor gave me a look of mild amusement as she sat back with her arms crossed. ¡°I do hope you know that you just asked the impossible.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I can prescribe you a medicinal concoction to help. But¡­¡± she emphasized the simple word, not only in tone but with a jabbing finger as well. ¡°It is not an instant fix. It will help you manage your condition and perform better day-to-day. But¡­¡± She continued. ¡°You will have to take the medication regularly, every morning, before you do anything else.¡±


    ¡°I think that¡¯s doable.¡±


    ¡°Oh, and you will need to provide a week¡¯s notice before you leave the academy for a quest so I can prepare enough Z.C.D elixir.¡±


    ¡°Z.C.D elixir?¡± I asked.


    The doctor activated her therra node and began working with an interface only she could see, as she explained. ¡°It stands for Zenith Crest Distillation elixir. Your daily elixir doses will be a custom concoction of herbal and chemical remedies with a calculated mixture of pre-aligned Mind and Life Myst. Zenith Crest Distillation is a method of concentrating and condensing the concoction and mixing it with nanomachines for prolonged release over the course of a month.¡±


    ¡°That¡­ sounds¡­ complicated.¡± I drew out the words as I tried to understand the theory of what she was explaining.


    ¡°Well, child, you¡¯re smart enough to know when a concept is too big to wrap your head around, but I have no doubt that if you dig a little deeper, your tinker¡¯s mind will catch on quick.¡±


    ¡°How soon will the medication be ready?¡± I was eager for a fix to my dysfunction that I hadn¡¯t even known was there until now. Having been told that something was wrong, I could feel it every moment. I had always wanted to be some form of normal. Be Human, with a caring father and present mother. To go to a normal school without worry of murder and to have friends who cared about me. But in that moment, I would have traded every one of those dreams if it meant I could function just like a normal person without fear.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have your first month of doses ready before you leave the office. I¡¯m tweaking the formula right now.¡±


    I breathed a sigh of relief and wondered what it would feel like to be normal¡ªor more normal, at least.

 Chapter 36

    Resonance Myst has a range of uses in spells and Mystechnology. It can synchronize two systems near-seamlessly. It can improve the rate at which a living body pumps blood and consumes oxygen to enhance physical performance. It can also influence emotions and thoughts in more complex spells if used carefully. But among its more common uses is for registering and/or reading the intent of a user or caster to act accordingly. This allows a wide range of adventuring and military technology to act on an instinctive level for users.


    Day 363 Quenchenday


    It had been a few days shy of a month since I had started my medication of what Dr.Brooksheen called my Z.C.D Elixir. The results weren¡¯t instant, other than feeling weird. After the first dose took effect, I felt lighter, airy even. After a couple more days of doses, my emotions didn¡¯t feel so overwhelming. I wasn¡¯t nearly as fearful. Even crossing Mallrimor in the halls, which once made me fear for my life, only made me feel an odd mixture of satisfaction and wariness when I saw the hate in his eyes and the scar under his cuff. I knew I could handle him and his cronies.


    My grades improved as the days went by. My training improved to the point that I could beat Rose every one in three matches. I had even managed to get my Vector scores for all sects up to a passing level, though that was no easy feat. One of the highest points of pride for myself in that month was devising a magic formula and device for projecting illusions. But the real high note was about to start.


    I was just wrapping up integrating the illusionary projection device system into my tactical gauntlet. I was putting the finishing welds on the system at the back of the hand of my gauntlet. With a clearer head, I had a much easier time using my magic for precision welds. The only visual sign of the device was a dial-ringed light projector that looked like just a fancy green light about an inch and a half in diameter.


    ¡°Aaannnd that oughta do it.¡± I said, drawing out the ¡®and¡¯ as I finished the final bead. I raised my welder flame-tipped finger and blew out the flame with a satisfied smirk. Not even waiting for the metal to cool, I slipped on the gauntlet and held it up to the light to admire as I wiggled my fingers. I was eager to give this baby a test run.


    I must have been high on the hot metal fumes because I only barely restrained myself from skipping like some schoolgirl as I made my way to the bathroom. I stepped in front of the bathroom mirror, and gave myself a quick examination before looking at my gauntlet. Pressing two fingers against the light, I closed my eyes and focused on the mental image of Ferris. I tried to keep as much detail in the visualization as possible before mentally pressing the image into the device. The new system spun up with a whir before fading to a barely audible hum. I opened my eyes and looked straight into the mirror to find myself looking at Ferris.


    I gave the illusion a close scrutiny as I tested making faces and moving my limbs. The details of the image were slightly off. His ears were too big. The image¡¯s eyes weren¡¯t the right shade either, the sclera were more violet than amethyst, and the irises more moss green than jade. But unless I encountered someone who actually saw my Elf regularly, I should be able to walk the academy grounds without issue. Other than that issue, there was no motion blur with limb movements. The eyes looked where I looked; the lips moved when mine moved, and all expressions seemed organic. I did make a mental note to secretly record how different people moved, from walking to lip motions to see what adjustments I would have to make to the device to make the act more believable. Obviously, I would get permission from Rose and the others first, but the less who knew I could do this, the better.


    I double-tapped the light before spinning the dial and pressed in the segment that was marked with a 1. Next, I performed the same process to project an image of Nennel. This image was closer to correct, though her hair was less platinum and more sandy. I set her image to segment 2. Next, I projected the image of Rose. Because she was three inches taller than me, things got a bit complicated. Because Nel was an inch shorter and Ferris an inch taller, the difference in our lines of sight was closer to mine. With Rose¡¯s image, I would have to adjust where I was looking so her image would appear as if she were actually the one doing the interaction. I just hoped that the adjustment could have me awkwardly staring at a woman¡¯s breasts just for me to keep up the facade of making eye contact. I set her image to segment 3.


    Beyond those three, I also added mimic facades of Mystagogues Thrasher, Thallos, and Kellennar to segments 4, 5, and 6, respectively. I was reasonably sure that I didn¡¯t get Thrasher¡¯s skin pattern perfect. The marbling of grey and green was difficult to visualize perfectly, so I needed to be careful using that one. Thallos I had on hand as an emergency. I knew how he acted better than most and could mimic his swagger and pomp pretty easily. Kellennar was purely out of spite of the slither-spine. If Rose¡¯s stature was going to be an obstacle, then those three were even more so. And yes, it was during that whole illusionary setup session I decided to call the illusions mimic facades.


    So I had three students and three instructors, and the final seventh slot I left free in case I needed someone on the fly. Personally, I thought that seven slots were plenty for almost any infiltration situation. Any more would have just needlessly complicated the system, and storing too many facades would have been a serious tax on the power supply that kept the system running.


    As an additional modification to the tactical gauntlet design, I had altered the power supply location and setup. Before, the power supply was simply a battery box that was set at the end of the device, just in the crook of the elbow. With the need for additional elements and a stronger drain on the system, I moved it. The battery box also chafed something awful in combat. So I adjusted the power conduits and set up a series of slots under the armor plating around the perimeter of the base fitted for shard-sized myst crystals. One slot for each of the sixteen elements, with each slot holding a standard six shards. I also made it a personal prerogative to only slot a minimum of moderate potency and refined quality, if at all possible.


    With the initial function test run, I was eager for a stress test. What I was planning to do would get me in a lot of trouble if I got caught. But if I pulled it off, I could get some serious plus points with Thallos and maybe even get a nice boost to a Vector score.


    I had been worried that I had hit some kind of learning and crafting wall because of my constant and routine failure in casting the Shadow Weapon or Shadow Step spells. I had been practicing those two spells on and off since Thallos first told me about them. The failure was starting to get to me. But this masterful success was about to change all that.


    My plan was to break into Master Mystagogue Kellar¡¯s office and steal something impressive. I figured that the head of the Sect of the Sightless Eye portion of the academy had to have something worth taking. Rumor had it that he was the only instructor teaching classes for his sect, which I thought was a physical impossibility. Plenty of other students agreed with this, and theories about how it worked were abound. Just from my listening in and snooping around other students, I had heard theories ranging from clones of the man to close linear range time jumps, allowing him to be in several places at once. While I had never heard of successful time travel and I was no physicist, I was pretty sure that the amount of energy, myst or otherwise, needed for even short time jumps had to be massive. It simply wouldn¡¯t be worth the energy cost to perform it frequently enough that he could teach several classes simultaneously every day.


    The clone theory, on the other hand, had some merit. The science behind the process was still completely experimental and to my knowledge, openly outlawed in every nation. But there were plenty of people who suspected governments across the globe of running secret tests with less than ethical goals. Personally, while I thought the clone theory was farfetched, it was within the realm of reality, given the allowances of the Order and the extent of their recourses.


    I put Rose¡¯s mimic facade back on before I left my room, double-checking in the mirror one last time to make sure everything was as in order as it could be. As I stepped out of my room and locked the door, I double-tapped my therra to start recording. If this was going to count towards a Vector, I needed to operate by the book. I left the dorms, inwardly nervous as all hell, outwardly displaying a lazy nonchalance, hands in my pants pockets with thumbs out, stride slow and uncaring, but set in a definite direction, Aegis Halls.


    It was so strange passing people and not having them glare at me, or even stare. The sense of going unnoticed was so alien to me. I felt this rush. Like I could do anything and no one would know that it was me. I could do anything, go anywhere, and no one would judge me or keep a watchful eye to make sure I was behaving. I loved it, relishing every second. I felt like Her Fragment of the Whispering Phantom. Unseen and yet seeing everything.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    I passed dozens of students in civilian garb on my way to Aegis Halls, and not a single one even glanced my way. It was only once I was inside the massive structure that things got interesting. I was on my way to the elevators when I turned a corner and almost ran face-first into the bosom of a large Dracose instructor. From her build and closer to human stature, she appeared to be a Dekken breed. Her scales were lavender, with areas fading to a royal blue. She was tall for her breed, around six foot one. She wore her tentacle dreadlocks were worn in a braided bun; the tendrils starting a light purple at the base and facing to a sapphire blue at the tips. Her buxom curves were very distracting and confusing, given her reptilian species. Why would they need breasts?


    The instructor was carrying a sheaf of papers close to her chest. She came to a sudden stop, with a startled ¡°Oh!¡± as she rounded the corner at the same time I was. She righted a pair of square-framed glasses as she looked down at me. ¡°Well, Miss. Swiftpaw, I¡¯m surprised to see you here today. Where are you off to in such a hurry?¡±


    ¡°Sorry, ma''am.¡± It was an active effort to restrain my stutter. ¡°Master Mystagogue Kellar to me to find him in his office today to talk about extra credit opportunities.¡± It was then that I realized that while I was staring at her face, the mimic facade was probably staring over the instructor¡¯s head. Before she noticed, I adjusted my gaze to stare directly at her mammoth melon chest.


    Before the instructor even responded, a blush colored my cheeks, and my teenage body responded as hormones are apt to do. First, I worried about the blush showing on the facade and hoped that the fur of the illusion would negate it. Then I had a fleeting thought about how I should program the facades of Primals to have natural animal responses that I could control by intent. But when my boy body did what boy bodies do, I desperately hoped that would not display on the facade. I made another mental note to program gender-set limitations to prevent anything like that from occurring.


    ¡°Ah.¡± the instructor responded with an amused smirk. ¡°Your tail tells me that you¡¯re admitted. You must be frustrated with not finding his office.¡±


    My head whipped around to check my tail. Sure enough, it was acting spastic. Another mental note for the docket, have optional manual control of the facades¡¯ tails should they have one. This stress test was definitely giving me good information. But fragments burn me, I was not ready for something of this caliber. If things didn¡¯t change quickly, I was going to have to scrap the plans and make modifications to my design.


    ¡°Well, little Miss, I should inform you that finding his office is the extra credit assignment.¡± She gave me a knowing smirk as she leaned in, covered her mouth as if to tell a secret, and mock-whispered. ¡°Just between us ladies, his office is on sub-level 13. If he doesn¡¯t intend to have you fail from the start, he would have secretly given you access when he gave you the assignment. Just head straight down the hall and turn right at the first juncture, and it should be the third door on your right. It¡¯ll be labeled ¡®utility closet¡¯ or some such nonsense. He changes it every so often and moves rooms from time to time. You¡¯ll know it when you find it if next to the door there is a slight dent in the wall. That dent is actually hiding a keypad.¡±


    I looked at her in total astonishment. She had just practically handed me the keys to the kingdom. ¡°Why, thank you, ma¡¯am. That is a huge help. Can I ask what the code is?¡±


    She gave me an amused smile of sharp teeth. ¡°Now, where¡¯s the test in that?¡± She strolled past me as she said, ¡°I gave you a head start. Best make it count, deary.¡±


    As soon as she was out of sight, I slipped into an empty classroom. While talking with the Mystagogue had given me a bushel of valuable information, I had started something by talking to her. If she stumbled into the Master whose office I was about to raid, things would go downhill like a lead ball slathered in grease. So, as a precaution, I should take on the mimic facade of a Mystagogue.


    I shifted my illusion from Rose to Kellennar. An instructor in the academy wouldn¡¯t raise any brows, and it¡¯s an easy assumption that they would know the location of Kellar¡¯s office. With the facade in place, I took a moment to get into the mindset before stepping from the room and making my way to the elevators. It was difficult to not hurry on my way there but I got lucky for restraining myself. I turned the corner to the elevators and encountered Master Mystagogue Kellar stepping from on.


    He turned to face me in his ever-uncaring way and raised a brow at me. I came up short and had to stop myself from panicking at the thought that he figured me out from just a glance. I walked up to him in a calm yet demanding manner.


    ¡°Why are you in uniform, Raffus?¡± His calm tone was tinged with curiosity.


    I looked down at myself, stamping out the rising panic before looking at the ceiling above the Master to keep things under cover. ¡°Don¡¯t even get me started.¡± I huffed in aggravation. ¡°I¡¯m out of clean civi¡¯s because of a prank from a student.¡± I stomped and waved an aggressive but warning finger that the bland Human. ¡°And before you ask. No, I don¡¯t know who did it.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s a natural response when you try to kill a student, Darkling or not.¡± The tone of his voice sounded like he was lost in thought.


    I folded my arm over my chest and glared at a wall off to my right. The head position was mostly to give my neck a rest from looking at the ceiling and help me feel less awkward. ¡°You would think attempting to murder a student would give them more of a reason to avoid me and less of a reason to cause me grief. But it¡¯s a good thing I found you.¡± I changed the subject. ¡°I was looking for you.¡±


    His brow raised again. ¡°Oh? Why¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°I need your paper files on a student. A Tier-one by the name of Roserra Swiftpaw.¡±


    ¡°Last I checked, she was training under Kiem.¡±


    ¡°Oh, trust me. She¡¯s still training under the prick. But the sack of shit promised me a nice bottle of something special if I can get him her old training files from your side of things. I asked him why he couldn¡¯t drag his cut-ear ass down here to get it, and he just grinned at me and waved a bottle.¡±


    Kellar gave a minor smirk of amusement. ¡°That does sound like the man. Well, you know the drill.¡± He pulled up his therra and flicked me something. I checked the incoming file to find a temporary authority seal marked with some sigil merged with a number three. ¡°The code this time is 775298336. And He is in there. Tell him number three sent you.¡±


    ¡°Got it.¡± was all I said as I passed him and stepped into the elevator he had just left. As I passed him, I noticed his signet ring was the same design as the seal he gave me. I gave the master a half-hearted wave goodbye as I swiped by B.I.C over the scanner and selected sub-level thirteen.


    The car descended, and while en route, I decided to use my seventh mimic facade slot. I brought to mind the image of the master that I had just passed and cast it over myself. If whoever he was happened to still be in the room, I could claim that I forgot something, just take an item or file and go. If there was no one in the room, I could keep it on just in case someone entered looking for him.


    I checked my appearance in the mirrored walls and found it perfect. The fact that I had just seen the man went a long way to help. The car came to a stop, and I stepped out, doing my best to look bland. The car opened into a hall of white walls lined with doors I followed the Dracose¡¯s instructions. When I reached the door, sure enough, it was labeled as a utility closet and there was a dent in the wall on the left-hand side. The dent looked like someone had punched the metal wall, but I pressed my hand against it, and it gave ever so slightly. I pushed harder and my hand simply sunk into the wall as if it were liquid. I pulled my hand out in a panic and followed closely behind was a metal-numbered keypad.


    After a moment¡¯s hesitation, I plugged in the code the master had given me. The door slid open, and I stepped into a room. The room was wall-to-wall filing cabinets from floor to ceiling. Each shelf had its own series of three locks: a classic dial lock, an iris scanner, and a small sigil implanted with minuscule gems, a myst lock. In the center of the room, near the back wall, was a simple desk, and sitting at the desk was Master Mystagogue Kellar.


    I masked my shock and confusion completely as I silently stood just inside the doorway. This master was reading some paper, only flicking his gaze up to me for a moment before returning the papers in hand. ¡°Seal.¡±


    Without hesitation, I pulled up the file that the other Kellar had sent me, and I flicked the authority seal to this new Master Mystagogue Kellar. I saw the file land when his eye lit for a moment with an orange light. He moved on to the next sheet of paper as he asked, ¡°Did you forget to mention something in your report?¡±


    ¡°No. Exiting the elevator, I ran into Mystagogue Kiem. He asked for me to retrieve the training records for one Roserra Swiftpaw.¡±


    He set down his papers and stood as he said, ¡°Of course he did. Come in while I find the file.¡±


    Without another word, I stepped into the room and desperately sought anything I could snag as a sign of my feat that I was about to achieve. I noticed his signet ring lying on his desk, near the edge. I slipped up to the desk and pocketed the ring while his back was turned to me as he opened a shelf to my right. Kellar turned around with a folder in hand and offered it to me. I took it with a nod and made my way for the door.


    I had just reached the door when the master said, ¡°Impressive work, Mr. Maverick.¡± I froze, hand halfway to the door trigger. Slowly, I turned around to look at the man with a carefully controlled expression. He lifted a hand in display and pointed to the fingers with his other hand. He simply said, ¡°My doubles all have illusory projection rings. Each ring has a unique seal and spell-signature.¡±


    It was at that very moment that the energy powering my projection petered out to reveal a fifteen-year-old Darkling holding a file that was no doubt full of blank pages. ¡°You can take the ring to Thallos as proof. That¡¯s the entire purpose of the thing, after all. Be sure to tell him I give you a passing grade on your Sightless Eye final. He¡¯ll trust my word if paired with the ring and the recording you are taking right now.¡±

 Chapter 37

    Illegal batches of MyCast supplements like M-Juice, Zip Pouches, and Haze are crafted by less-than-reputable scientists known as Chem-Docs. These mad scientists are also the main suppliers of other illegal drugs like Ink, Pixie Piss, and more. Chem-Docs are also known for running experiments with illicit substances, chemicals, and Myst without telling their subject. Some unwitting Orc just wanted to get high but found himself bursting into flames or sprouting tentacles.


    Day 373 Castestday


    On this particular Castestday, Rose and I had already had two rounds of sparring. I snatched victory in the first round, but she came back with a win in the second. But I made her work for that victory. We were resting before the third of the day. My shirt was slashed and punctuated in several places, bloodstains painted around freshly healed scars. Rose had also left a couple of scorch marks on me from fire and lightning and even ate a hole in the shirt on the center of my back from acid.


    However, I had left my share of marks on Rose and her attire, a menagerie of slashes and scorch marks to rival what she left on me. When the match was called, and we dropped our guards, I saw that Rose was looking more than a little ragged. Even with sweat plastering her uniform jacket to her chest and back, she still refused to remove the article of clothing. Gasping for air, she half-heartedly mentioned the need to take a break. Before Thallos could give the okay, she turned and staggered before she hurried back to her bag. I watched her as she took a seat and began guzzling water as if we had trapped her in the Iron Desert.


    I was breathing hard, but not nearly as bad as she was. It seemed like as I was improving and getting my act together, Rose had been degrading. I couldn¡¯t help but wonder if Rose had ever really been as good as I thought or if I had just imagined it all while I was performing at a barely functional level.


    The delusion theory didn¡¯t explain why she had been acting odd the past couple of weeks. She¡¯d gone back to avoiding Nel and Ferris outside of class, and she barely spent time with me outside of class. She claimed it was just a cold and that it would pass after a few days, but it had been over two weeks at this point, and she had only been getting worse. When I told her she should see a healer, she snapped at me for the idea and didn¡¯t talk to me for two days afterward.


    ¡°Hey Uncle, is it just me, or is she looking worse today than she did on Igniday?¡± I asked my uncle as I pressed my interlaced fingers against the back of my head for easier breathing.


    ¡°No, you¡¯re right, boy. I noticed her decline about two months back.¡± Thallos confirmed.


    ¡°Then why haven¡¯t you told her to visit a healer and take a few days off?¡±


    ¡°Well, normally, when a pupil catches whatever bug, I push them to work through the discomfort. In her case, I was letting her continue till she found her breaking point. But I¡¯m starting to think I need to tell her when to stop before she hurts herself permanently.¡±


    He waved to get Rose¡¯s attention from where she stood in the corner and signaled her over. She stopped by her bag for a moment before jogging over, a bit more spring in her step than there had been before. I made note of that, thinking it odd.


    ¡°I¡¯m calling the session here, you two.¡± Thallos pointed to Rose. ¡°You¡¯re about to put yourself in critical condition in the ER if you keep it up at this pace. I want you to go see a healer before you take the next six days off from class.¡± He turned to me. ¡°I want you to escort her to the Med Center, boy.¡± He pointed from me to Rose repeatedly to emphasize the need. He brought his focus back to me. ¡°Oh, and I¡¯m putting you on half course time to rest up for your combat final, but not get lazy. I¡¯ve got something I want to talk about if you pass the final I give you. Am I clear?¡±


    We both nodded before changing into non-bloody clothes and gathering our stuff to headed to the elevator. When we were both in the mirrored box and the doors closed, Rose let out a sigh as if she had been holding her breath. She turned to me with a look of pleading in her feline eyes. ¡°Ive'', I have a serious favor to ask of you.¡±


    I shot her a look of weary curiosity. ¡°What kind of favor?¡±


    ¡°I need you to lie to your uncle about taking me to the Med Center.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°What? It¡¯s not like I¡¯m asking for murder.¡± She pointed out in exasperation.


    ¡°I beg to differ! Rose, you¡¯ve been getting worse these past few weeks. I don¡¯t think what you have is a simple cold. I think you need serious medical help.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that big a deal.¡± She waved off my concern. ¡°If the Mystagogue gave me a few days of bed rest, then I¡¯ll be fine.¡± She leaned against the back wall, her eyes closed as she pressed the top of her head against the glass behind her.


    ¡°I still think you need to see a healer.¡± I pressed.


    ¡°Will you Shut Up about the damned healer! It¡¯s just a headache and some trouble sleeping.¡±


    I focused on the whites of her eyes when she turned to look back at me. The white of the sclera was laced through with thick red veins that looked more like roots digging into the soft ivory flesh. Her shoulder sagged with an invisible weight. Her hands twitched occasionally when not in active use. She brushed a lock of hair from her face with a shaky pair of fingers as she took a deep breath.


    ¡°I¡¯m just saying let Tess check you out and see if she can help.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not letting that creepy little Gnome anywhere near me any more than is absolutely necessary.¡± She sneered.


    ¡°Creepy? Come on, Rose, she¡¯s a friend.¡±


    ¡°Your friend, not mine.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to take you to the Med Center, even if it means I drag you there kicking and screaming.¡± As I made the proclamation, the car slid to a stop, and the doors opened.


    ¡°You¡¯ll have to take my corpse in because I won¡¯t be going there alive.¡± Just as she said this, she moved to take a step and toppled. Her leg crumpled beneath her, unable to take the weight. She cursed and spat venom at no one in particular as I knelt down beside her.


    I shouldered her bag on the same side as my bag before I took her arm and draped it across both shoulders. I slowly raised, helping to bear her weight as we passed out of the elevator. Her face was turned away from me in what was, no doubt, shame. Shame of showing weakness. Shame of needing help for such a simple task as walking.


    We didn¡¯t talk as we passed through the halls of the academy. The silence was so heavy you could have almost heard it dragging behind like adamantine weights. As that thought crossed my mind, I couldn¡¯t help but smirk at the brain-twisting irony of silence having a sound. This made me feel a little better about the situation. How mad would I have to be to think silence had a sound? Or did it? My mind went to the ringing of total silence in a room with no one in it, but one¡¯s self.


    As we passed through the front gates of Aegis Halls, I decided my madness best be left for crackpot philosophers. I turned my focus back to the matter of Rose and her condition.


    ¡°Rose,¡± I started.


    ¡°Yeah?¡± she muttered back.


    ¡°Why are you fighting this so hard? Is there someone at the center that¡¯s done you wrong?¡±


    ¡°No. Let¡¯s just say that I have my reasons.¡±


    ¡°Come on, Rose. You said that you trusted me. You even admitted to possibly having feelings for me. That¡¯s gotta mean I can be trusted with something like this.¡±


    She pushed away from me, staggering backward before barely catching her balance.


    ¡°I, Have, My Own, Damned, Reasons, Shit stain.¡± She snapped nearly every word with enough force that it almost felt like a whip was being cracked at me. ¡°Now give me my damned bag back.¡± She snatched for the bag, clutching the strap over my shoulder with a death grip.


    I knew that if she tried to take the bag back, she¡¯d just collapse all over again. Because of this, I clenched the other end of the strap in a fist, leaning back to counterbalance her weight pulling away from me. When she tried to pull away with all her weight, I heard the sound of clinking glass from the bag. At the moment, I barely even noticed it. Then she gave another ferocious yank, and there was the sound of seams bursting. Her end of the bag tore free from the body of the garment and we both fell back in a splay. A gaping hole marred one end of the black bag, with something spilling out. I adjusted to look at what was falling out of the bag to find a case of empty hypo-jection syringes. Eighteen vials scattered across the ground, each about six inches long, one-inch in diameter, with rounded glass at the top end and a self-injection mount at the other end. All of them spilled out from within a plastic case with a dark gray gel-foam cutout to cushion the glass bodies.


    I looked at the scattering of empty vials, picked one up, and gave Rose a look of distrust before I went digging in the bag. Just from the glance I gave the girl, I saw the look of utter horror plain on her face, eyes wide, ears folded back, mouth ajar. I pulled free two more cases of the Hypo-jection vials. One case was half empty like the first one, but what disturbed me was what I found in the still full glass tubes, a swirling opalescent fluid that shone in the light of noon with threads of any of a number of colors.


    I checked to see if anyone had witnessed the display. When I knew we were alone, I stuffed everything back in her bag, clutched the open end in a white knuckle fist, and warped my other hand around Rose¡¯s wrist. I stormed away towards the woods, not caring if she could keep pace. I¡¯d literally drag her the rest of the way if I had to. She barely kept pace with me, her staggering gait sloppy. She lost her footing a couple of times, but I didn¡¯t stop. It was only her dexterous nature, and the hard training we had gone through that allowed her to get back to her feet before I dragged her like a sack of stones.


    I was on a warpath, my face a careful mask of mundanity as I closed the distance to the cover of the sapphire oaks. We passed the tree line, and I kept going. This time, Rose did lose her footing because of the rough terrain, and I didn¡¯t stop. As promised, I dragged her by the wrist through stones and roots.


    ¡°Iver, stop, IVER!¡± Her voice rose to a desperate shout, but I didn¡¯t look back. Instead, I stopped in an almost robotic manner, the end of movement smooth and sudden. I shifted my position as Rose clambered to her feet and hurled her in a shoulder throw before she even had her balance back. Her back cracked against the trunk of an old oak, and her head landed in the soil. I heard the wind rip from her lungs as she landed, but I had enough kindness left to let her get her ass under her before I verbally tore her apart.


    I hadn¡¯t had a rush of anger since I had been medicated, but this new development brought me to a rage that, deep down, scared me. That was the first time I had come anywhere near close to the level of fury that I felt when my father was butchered. The thought brought flashes of those moments to mind, and the phantom smells of blood and a burning cabin.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    I shook the images from my head and focused back on Rose. She had just righted herself and pinned me with an enraged glare that I met with no fear. She pressed herself into the nook of the tree¡¯s roots and trunk, trying to keep her distance from me. The stupid girl still tried to be defiant to keep up an image of courage. Before she could retaliate, I spoke.


    ¡°M-Juice! Really?! I can not believe that you are that stupid.¡± I raised the bag to my face level and violently shook it, causing the contents to rattle. ¡°You couldn¡¯t naturally have magic. So what? You decide to start taking liquid myst. And for what? An hour or two of playing at caster.¡± Every word I spat had an edge, and I didn¡¯t stop even as I threw the bag down at her feet. ¡°You know this stuff is government-regulated for a reason. The stuff is known to be addictive for lots of people. And I know without a doubt that you do not have the clearance seal on your profile allowing you to use the stuff. So where did you get it?¡±


    Rose scooped up the bag and cradled it against her breast. ¡°It¡¯s not dirty if that¡¯s what you¡¯re asking. I didn¡¯t get it from some mad chem-doc on the street.¡±


    ¡°That is not what I¡¯m asking, and you know it.¡±


    Her only answer was to bare her teeth at me. I met her snarl with my own stony mask of defiance. It only took me a few moments of ruminating in the heavy silence to puzzle the mystery out. My eyes lit with understanding as it all fell into place.


    ¡°Neckar¡­¡± I muttered, my focus falling into the middle ground as I put the pieces together. ¡°Master Mystagogue Necker.¡± I locked eyes with Rose again to see her panic and shame. ¡°The head magic instructor was prescribed MyCast for her condition. She normally used M-Juice, but she was forced to take Zip Pouches because someone stole her stock of prescription.¡± I snatched the bag back, ripping it from her clutches. ¡°You¡¯re the thief!¡±


    She clawed forward, snatching at the bag, but I pulled it out of her reach. ¡°So what? I was aiming to become a Mastlok anyway, and that was going to be my proof so I could become Phase Wolf.¡±


    ¡°I knew you were aiming to join the Sightless Eye. But this is taking it out of hand. So you had the drug in hand, and what? You decide to start taking it to fake your way into my uncle¡¯s mentorship?¡±


    She got to her knees and put one shaky foot down. ¡°It wasn¡¯t that simple and you know it!¡± She dragged herself to her feet, drawing herself up to her full height, a full three inches taller than me. But I wasn¡¯t about to back down.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can trust anything I know about you. You lied to Thallos. You lied to me. I worked my ass off and pleaded with my uncle for you to join the course. Even after you lashed out, I told you how I felt. I thought I could trust you.¡± The rage ebbed, and the emotional wound began to ache. My vision blurred even as I tried to maintain a glare at the Primal. Tears streamed down my face, and I saw her anger soften.


    Rose stepped away from me, dropping her gaze and clutching at her left elbow. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean for this¡­ I didn¡¯t mean for things to get this far. It¡¯s just¡­¡± She threw her head to the side before turning to face the tree. With her back turned to me, she pressed the top of her head against the rough bark. Her next words were a mutter that I only barely caught. ¡°I was so upset that Kiem picked you. Jealous really. I had been trying to catch his eye since last year, but he never looked my way twice. But you start bleeding fire, and suddenly his nephew, who I saved several dozen times, has the skill to learn under the master. He was playing favorites with you, and I was pissed. I had been jipped the chance of a lifetime because of an orphan crybaby with emotional issues. I was so pissed that I decided I was going to catch his eye by stealing something from a Master Mystagogue.¡±


    She rolled around to put her back against the tree. She slid down the rough bark, drawing out a harsh scratching sound, to end in a crouch. ¡°Everyone Tier one knows Neckar is thirty pounds of crazy in a three-pound box, so she¡¯s prone to being a space case. I faked sick for the class and waited for her to leave her quarters for the day. Picked the lock, yadda yadda, looked for something pricey and impressive to walk out with, and found the cases of the MyCast under her bed.¡±


    ¡°And you just took them all.¡± I accused.


    ¡°As if.¡± she snapped back. ¡°I took one case at first. Then I got the idea that if all of her MyCast went missing, the instructors would go crazy. All I¡¯d have to do is present these to Master Mystagogue Kellar, and bam. I¡¯m in the Sightless Eye. But when no alarms were raised, I got worried. Then I got curious. If no one was going to come looking for the stuff, then was it any good? I wondered. Well, if no one was going to miss the stuff, I thought I might as well keep it. I got curious about what it was like to use the stuff.¡± She gave a snort. ¡°Hells, the day I snapped at you was the first day I used it. I had been trying to figure out how to use it and was irritated. Go figure when you come up to me, I lose my cool and flash freeze the grass.¡±


    ¡°That really was your first dose? I don¡¯t know if I can believe it.¡± My ire was rising again.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t give me that freak face!¡± She retaliated, ¡°Yes, that was my first dose. I only used it occasionally. I was toying with the idea that I could join Blackened Crown under another Mystagogue other than Kiem. But then you talked him into taking me on and I was so happy.¡± She flashed a sad smile and gave a huff of amusement. ¡°But to keep the role of my dreams meant that I needed to keep taking the stuff.¡±


    I looked at her in horror as I realized my role in the facade. ¡°But each dose only lasts two to three hours. That means¡­¡± I tried to do the math, but Rose beat me to it.


    ¡°Three doses a day, twelve doses a week. My current count is two hundred and sixteen.¡± She gave me another one of those sad smiles.


    Panic rose in my gorge as I realized what that meant. She was still holding her left elbow, which hinted at how bad things were. I rushed to her and grasped her wrist in a death grip in my left hand while I used a blade from my gauntlet to split her sleeve.


    There had been a reason she hadn¡¯t taken off her jacket in the past couple of weeks. I thought it was just the shame of the scars, like myself. But I was wrong, and as I sheered the sleeve past her elbow, I saw the truth. There in the crook of her elbow was a series of injection scars and open wounds in tissue that looked to have glowing blue-green chemical burns, the color of burns tracing her veins halfway down her arm. But the crook of her elbow was an utter mess, partly covered in lesions.


    ¡°Myst burns.¡± I whispered as I stared at the damage. I reached into the bag and pulled a Hypojection vial from the collection. I shot to my feet. ¡°I need to tell Thallos.¡± I told myself more than Rose, but she still replied in panic.


    ¡°Iver, No! Please! If you really do love me, you will not tell a soul about this and let me rest.¡±


    I swallowed the gorge in my throat and turned to her. I pocketed the MyCast vial as slyly as I could manage while making it look like just one of the motions in taking off my jacket. ¡°I¡¯ll get you back to your room, but first, we need to trade jackets unless you want the whole academy to know what¡¯s going on.¡±


    She looked up at me with genuine joy as she slipped from her jacket. I stuffed the thing in the damaged bag before helping Rose back to her feet. My jacket was two sizes too small, but it hid the damage. I helped her into the article of clothing but still drew a couple of winces and hisses of pain despite how gentle I tried to be. I supported her as I had before and walked her down to the dorms. She gave me her room number, and I helped her to her bed. I tried not to stare at the floor carpeted in laundry and weapon care supplies. ¡±I don¡¯t want you leaving this room for the next six days.¡± I said sternly with a matching expression and a proclaiming index finger. ¡°I¡¯ll bring you food, so don¡¯t worry. Do you want me to stay with you?¡± I offered.


    She gave me a tired smile as she shook her head in the negative. I helped her lay back on the bed before turning to leave the room. As I reached the door, she spoke one last time. ¡°Hey, Iver,¡± I turned to look at her. ¡°I really do like you too. I don¡¯t know if I can call it love, but I want to give it a shot.¡±


    I masked my agonizing emotional pain with a patient smile. ¡°Get some rest.¡±


    As soon as the door shut, I ran, full tilt, to find Thallos. I pushed myself like the forces of hell were on my heels because, for all I knew, Rose might only have minutes or days before she died from myst poisoning.


    I found Thallos in his office, looking over papers with a bottle of scotch open on the desk beside him. He looked up as he noticed me in the doorway. He took one look at the expression on my face and shot to his feet faster than my eyes could track. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± He demanded.


    I gasped out, ¡°Rose, myst burns, it¡¯s bad.¡± As I said this, I pulled the hypo-jection vial from my pocket and showed it as proof. He snatched the device from my hand in a striking cobra motion before pushing past me. I followed, hot on his heels.


    ¡°I¡¯m messaging Tessa to meet us at Rose¡¯s room.¡± He stated as he hustled down the hall.


    We met Tess at Rose¡¯s door, and with no preamble, he swiped his all-access B.I.C to open the door. Thallos glided through and was beside the bed before either Tess or I could enter the room.


    ¡°Hey! What are you doing here?¡± Rose demanded in panic as she sat up in bed.


    He spoke to me as he forcefully examined her eyes and took her pulse. ¡°Do you know how bad it is?¡±


    I told him how many injections she had in total and at what rate of use the last seventy-two days. ¡°Injection site?¡± He continued.


    ¡°Crook of the left elbow.¡± I stated.


    My uncle slit the sleeve of my jacket up to the shoulder with a blade I never saw him draw. He closely inspected the damage before taking a step back to gesture Tess into his place. ¡°Do you know how to heal myst burns and poisoning?¡±


    ¡°N-no.¡± she stammered as she fidgeted with her hands, and eyes flitted across the room.


    Thallos stepped up beside Tessa and began instructing her in a calm and level tone. ¡°First, draw out and disperse the alien myst. Then flush the system with the same technique you would use to pass as standard class-one poison.¡±


    Tessa just stared at the burns while she shifted weight from one foot to the other, her hands almost moving of their own accord in a series of nonsense gestures. Thallos locked a hand under her jaw and drew her to look him in the eye. ¡°Don¡¯t panic. There is no immediate danger. Just think of this as a normal lesson, like any other. I am walking you through the process and you¡¯re following the instructions.¡± I saw her eyes lock on his and freeze. They stopped flitting around the room and looked into my uncles. After he got her calmed down, he explained a process that went well over my head. As soon as he finished explaining what Tessa needed to do, he turned to Rose and started asking her questions.


    ¡°Be honest, girl, do you know who you are and where you are currently?¡±


    Rose looked at him in total confusion. ¡°I¡¯m Roserra Swiftpaw, and I am currently in my room. My privacy clearly violated despite my wishes.¡± She shot me a murderous glare.


    Thallos flicked her between the eyes to get her attention. ¡°Don¡¯t blame the boy. Now focus. Have you seen anything strange or out of the ordinary? Do you think someone or something is after you?¡±


    ¡°What? No. Not unless you count backstabbing cheats.¡± She gave me another betrayed glare.


    Thallos locked his hand on Rose¡¯s jaw this time and did the same thing he did to Tessa. ¡°I said, focus. Have you been moody lately? Needlessly depressed or angry?¡±


    I answered this one ¡°Yes. Definitely.¡±


    ¡°Problems sleeping or constantly recurring headaches?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, both, actually.¡± Rose answered, this time with no hint of scorn in her words.


    Thallos stood and proclaimed his diagnosis. ¡°You are suffering from class-two Myst Madness. These symptoms may stop after a while if you quit using. But with how frequently you¡¯ve been dosing, the damage may be permanent.¡± Without waiting for a response, he turned to Tessa, ¡°Finish up healing her and check in on her for the next six days. Routinely flush her system as before. If she starts experiencing withdrawal, come find me.¡± He ushered me from the room, himself stopping in the doorway just behind me to give one last command. ¡°And Roserra, after the six days are up, come find me. We will need to talk.¡±


    I walked beside my uncle as we passed down the hallway. He was gripping the bridge of his nose between his eyes as if in pain. ¡°So what happens next? I¡¯m guessing she can¡¯t stay in the program without magic. But what comes next for her?¡± I asked.


    ¡°She¡¯s staying under me to study. I just have to change my methods.¡±


    ¡°What?! You mean it¡¯s okay that she was illegally using MyCast that belongs to a Master Mystagogue?¡± I demanded.


    ¡°So that¡¯s where she got it. Regardless, the answer is the same. She used elements of her environment to get what she needed. Swiftpaw wanted to study under me. She found a supplement that allowed her to meet all standards for my training.¡±


    ¡°But the theft!¡± I almost shouted. I didn¡¯t want her to leave the training, but the theft was simply not acceptable.


    He stopped just inside the doors to the dorms to look at me. ¡°This is a lesson you¡¯ll need to learn and learn fast. You get the job done by any means. If you need to steal, steal. If you need to kill, kill. What matters is the end result and the mission.¡±


    ¡°But theft just isn¡¯t right.¡± I half-heartedly stated as my uncle¡¯s lesson sunk in.


    ¡°Boy, the only thing that is clear black and white in this world is Lumina and Umbra Myst. No one is all good or all bad. Every hero has done wrong, and every villain has some speck of decency. Think on this before you come to class tomorrow.¡±


    I was staring into the distance as I mulled over his words. The next thing I knew, he was gone, left without another word, and just vanished. I¡¯d need to learn that trick. But at that moment, I needed to think about the black-and-white thing. I decided I was going to meditate on it.


    Back in my room, I lay on my bed, hands clasped loosely over my chest, eyes closed. I had found this to be the easiest way for me to meditate. I did some breathing exercises to get my mindset into place and thought long and hard on a world with no black and white. If there was no pure good or bad in the world, then that meant the world was a place of moral gray-scale. If that was the case, what shade of gray was I? And more importantly, what shade of gray will I be after a few years working with The Company?

 Chapter 38

    A common supply used by healers and frequently used by adventurers are hemo-pills. A concoction of specially tailored chemicals, supplements, and Life Myst designed to match a blood type, increase the body¡¯s blood production rate to an almost unthinkable degree, and quickly clot even major wounds. But these pills are not to be used lightly. One pill for a severe wound, two pills for a critical amount of damage, and three pills as an absolute last resort to stop death if at all possible. Using more hemo-pills than needed can have disastrous consequences, with the possible result of bursting arteries and excessive bleeding from orifices, eyes, and nail beds.


    Day 381 Quenchenday


    Before I knew it, year¡¯s end had found me and the day of the final exams. That day, which would normally be a day of rest, was instead a day of do or die. I spent the night prior in a fidgeting state of anxiety, even with my medication. I tossed around in bed, getting entangled in my sheets. When the alarm went off, I found myself ensnared when I flailed out of bed in a panic. I freed myself from the clutches of my traitorous sheets and dressed in a frantic rush. I pressed my way through the door as I tucked my uniform shirt into my pants, my equipment bag slung over one shoulder. As I left the dorms, I was re-buttoning my jacket because I had misaligned the sides on the first try. Without a second thought, I passed the DEFAC, my stomach churning. I doubled my pace as I passed through the main doors of Aegis Hall.


    I wasn¡¯t the only one in an agitated state. You could smell stress in the air. Heads hung low, short steps, hurried paces, everyone fingering the training weapons while their eyes flit from one person to the next. I knew the collective fear of the student body, a last-minute snatch for Vector points. Anyone could challenge you in the hall or a mock assassination. The mass mutual fear was realized with the crack of lightning, closely followed by a wail of pain. As one, everyone around me turned back to look.


    Just outside the main doors of Aegis Hall, a female High Elf student stood over the fallen form of a female Human student who lay on her side. Lightning crackled between the fingers of the Elf, and I might have been imagining it, but I thought I saw a chard and smoldering hole through the center of the Human. We all collectively held our breath. Would this act begin a cascade? Would the brittle peace that kept everyone in the halls civil shatter?


    I decided not to find out. Without looking back, I turned around and blindly power-walked down the hall. As I turned down the next fork on my way to the elevators, I kept my head low and fervently prayed behind pursed lips that I would go unnoticed. With a glance at the time on my therra, I found the time was 7:27. I had three minutes to get to Thallos before things were going to get ugly for me.


    I left the mass of bodies, and for a few heartbeats, I thought I was in the clear. Then, I caught sight of four looming figures. I didn¡¯t have to focus on any of them to know who they were or what they wanted. A large broad-shouldered shape and a larger draconian figure, each were bookends between two smaller figures. One had a lithe and slender frame with golden hair, and, of course, there was the mildly masculine frame topped off with an aggravating pair of pigeon wings.


    My frantic pace stalled until I stood only ten feet from the wall of meat and rage. I unconsciously let my training bag slide from my shoulder. I took a long and slow breath in and made eye contact with each of the antagonists. Brecken hung his greatsword over his shoulders, baring a tusked smirk at me with menace.


    Kesher casually braced a morning star against his shoulder. The weapon had a shaft the length that I measured to my eye to be the same length as my body from feet to shoulder, with a bladed head twice the size of my own skull. His face bore a brand of pinkish flesh around his eye, the shape of a hand. So that was the scar that I left on the Dracose that couldn¡¯t be totally mended, even with magic. He did not look pleased to see me.


    Gellar lazily twirled one of the two short swords in his grip. He wore a sneer that only a High Elf could wear without looking comical. Lastly, the slimeball Mallrimor was trying to look intimidating with a pair of empty hands, rhythmically drumming the fingers of his left hand over the knuckles of his right, the burn scar wrapping his wrist only just poking past his sleeve. In all honesty, the slimy pigeon just looked like he was nervously fidgeting with a comical smirk on his face.


    After I met each of their gazes, I eyed the weapons, all wearing lethal edges. I pinched my lips into an annoyed knot as I let out an even more annoyed sigh, very carefully masking my climbing panic. It was at that moment I realized I hadn¡¯t taken my daily dose of my anti-crazy injection. I was thankful, very thankful, that Thallos had been so hard on me during my acting training. I couldn¡¯t let them know they had me worried. If the trolls smelled blood, I was going to be lunch meat.


    ¡°I¡¯m guessing you guys aren¡¯t going to let things be easy, are you?¡± I asked, but I already knew the answer. In confirmation, Mallrimor summoned a ball of flame in each hand. ¡°Blackened blade and broken bone, you all seriously want a repeat of last time?¡±


    Kesher stepped up, shifting his morning star to bounce the upper portion of its shaft on his free palm. ¡°Last time, we toyed with you. This time,¡± he rolled his neck, emitting a series of vicious cracks and pops. ¡°We mean to take your head.¡± I had no memory of hearing the Dracose speak, and his voice was deep, especially for someone as young as him. He sounded like gravel being ground through a mulcher.


    I activated the recording of my therra-node before I held up the same finger to postpone their advance while I leaned over to unzip my bag. The act was just as much to taunt them as to stall for time. I knew the taunt worked when Mallrimor hurled a bolt of flame aimed at my head. I pulled myself back to standing to avoid the shot. As I straightened, I still held my bag by the zipper.


    Brecken stormed forward, the hilt of his greatsword gripped in both hands and primed for a swing aimed at my neck. As he swung hard, I took a long and smooth step back. That simple motion took me just outside of the blade¡¯s range, if only by an inch or two. I yanked open my bag, plunged my hand within, and blindly sought for my tactical gauntlet. As soon as I felt my fingers wrap around a strap of elastic and metal, I felt an excited smirk curve my lips. I yanked the tool free of the bag just in time to see another bolt of fire hurtling at me.


    I tossed my bag into the path of the bolt. The two came in contact with a flare, the flame melting through the nylon bottom of the bag. The scorching attack chewed through my sweat towel and blew a hole in my water bottle. A cloud of steam burst from the bag. The bolt, while lessened, continued through the mist and zipped past my face, bringing a flash second of heat across my cheek that would have curled any facial hair if I had any.


    I popped the first of three straps on my tactical catlar. As I moved on to the next latch, I saw the steam swirl. That was my only warning of something passing through the cloud. Gellar lanced through the cloud with a thrust aimed at my chest. I deflected the strike with a backhand swing of my gauntlet. The device was still unattached, and even as I threw the blade strike wide, the rest of the gauntlet flailed and flopped about with a clatter. My deflect was only enough to save me by knocking the blade up and to my right. The blade thrust past the cheek opposite the one the flame bolt had just been warmed.


    I throw a kick at the Elf¡¯s knee, forcing him back a step, giving me some breathing room. As the steam dissipated, I popped the second latch. Brecken charged at me through the fading cloud with a downward chop aimed at my shoulder. I threw myself forward into a roll between the Elf and the Orc. I came to a stop on the heel of one foot, my other leg stretched out straight, acting as my brake.


    Throwing open the last latch of my gauntlet, I seated my arm into the catlar just in time to see a looming shadow rise over me. I didn¡¯t have to look to know that Kesher stood over me with a swing aimed to pulp my brain. As I rolled to my right, I kept the gauntlet under me. I hadn¡¯t even rolled off my chest when I felt more than heard the shattering of tile and concrete from a blow that would have ended me. My back hit the floor, and I closed the first strap over my wrist. I hurled myself forward into a crouch on the balls of my feet as I heard a shuffle from behind me. I spun on one foot and brought my right arm to bear in a defensive vertical angle just in time to meet Gellar¡¯s hack aimed at my neck. They weren¡¯t kidding about taking my head, with all the blows aimed to take my horned skull or powder it.


    I slammed the second strap into the locked position just before Gellar thrust his free blade at my chest. I responded by forcing my vertical block into a horizontal position, using my armored elbow to knock the blade up. If I hadn¡¯t locked in the second strap, what would have met the thrust would have been a bare flesh and bone elbow.


    I brought the back of my armored fist up in a swing aimed for the Elf¡¯s chin. Gellar leaped back, retracting both blades, and I released my shock bites right into his chest and gave him a dose of current. He locked up like a frozen cadaver and dropped his blades as I came to my feet.


    The next thing I knew, I found a greatsword cleaving through my cables. Gellar collapsed like a sack of meat, but I lost my shock bites, still latched onto his chest. I expanded and pulled free the Vekenna from the back of my catlar. I used the blade to draw a red line across the palm of my right hand, along my unarmored palm. Before the blood could even well up and spill from my wound, I found myself struck. Pain exploded up on my right side with a flare of light that danced at the edge of my vision. My body locked up with brief but sharp spasms in random muscle groups across my body. High voltage sucked, and irony made sure I was on the receiving end this time. The current cut off, and my body throbbed with a tingling pins and needles sensation as my muscles went limp all at once. My brain felt fried. I lost all awareness of where I was and what was going on. But I was brought back to reality violently when I found a heavy multi-bladed surface meeting my ribs at bone-cracking velocity. Sure enough, I felt ribs crack, skin and tissue split, and my body get hurtled at top speed. I had enough awareness to realize that Kesher struck me like a sports ball before I collided with a wall, and my vision filled with white static.


    I felt the cold surface of the floor against my cheek, my head spinning like a mad disk, and I heard a very distant chuckle. All I wanted at that moment was for the pain to stop, for my chest to not feel so tight, and to sleep for a week. My eyelids fell, and I was ready to give up. I felt the rubber sole of a boot stomp down on my jaw. I felt my jawbone creek, then crack under the pressure and release a jolt of pain as I tasted blood.


    As I started falling down the black hole of unconsciousness, an image flashed in my mind. My father¡¯s bleeding body and a red skull masked man leaving with a strange black box. A familiar hate flared in my chest. The hate brought to mind other wrongs that had been done to me, Mallrimor at the forefront of my mind. I forced my eyes open to the sight of three figures looming over me and a large blade aimed at my neck.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Breathing was agony, for that matter, everything was agony. But pain was nothing new. In fact, a day without some form of gash, bruise, puncture, or cracked bone was out of the ordinary. As soon as I felt the foot leave my face, I dragged myself to elbows and knees and shot a glare up at the bastards. My weighted gaze fell to the floor. I needed a way out and fast, but my brain was gooey tar, and I couldn¡¯t help but notice a growing pool of blood beneath me. The blood was of sufficient quantity to have me worried. I saw the shadow of the blade rise, ready to fall at any moment.


    So, I did the first thing that came to mind. I slapped my palm into the pool of blood and drew the tattered scraps of my thoughts together into a single cohesive desire. I pressed the needed runes and sigils into my mind and drew deep from my Mystwell. There was a part of me that knew that what I was about to do was insane. The drinking unicorn piss to gain powers kind of crazy. But that was a very distant part of me.


    I drew six Vells of Distortion Myst, one Vell of Voltreonic Current Myst, and three Vells of Morphic Myst to alter my mind, clearing it and speeding up my cognition. Time slowed to a crawl, and my head began to tingle, but the effects would only last for a few moments. Normally, four Vells of Resonance Myst would be enough for a tier-two mental enhancement and get it to last for a solid minute, but my method was not the standard method, and I tweaked the use for a tier-three mental enhancement for only a few moments.


    The rising of the shadow of the blade came to a stop. I didn¡¯t have to look to know the blade was at its zenith. I needed to hurry. I put two Vells of Water Myst to work, shifting the pool of blood. While the motion of the fluid looked slow to me, I was pushing it at a rapid rate that I could only pray would get where I needed it in time. I drew three Vells of Umbra Myst, two Vells of Distortion Myst, four Vells of Evulsion Kinetic Myst, and one Vell Morphic. As I finished the formula that I threw together on the fly, I tried to keep track of the downward arc of the blade aimed for my neck. I felt the mental enhancement slipping just as I triggered my spell.


    The world wound back up to normal speed. The greatsword hurtled down at me. I fought the reflex to squeeze my eyes shut, partly because I needed to stay aware and partly because I wanted to watch all hell break loose. The blade was only just descending its arc when gray, purple, vermillion and black energy rippled across the blood, spreading from my hand at an unnatural rate. None of the thugs realized that they stood in my expanded crimson pool. But they learned rather quickly when the blood took on a black, gray, and orange-red hue and wound around their ankles.


    The thick, strange-colored blood crawled up their legs with serpentine speed, latching onto each of them and draining their reflexes. This lasted only a second or two before the whole pool of blood erupted in a blast of raw kinetic energy that was distorted to be stronger than normal. What should''ve been one hundred foot-pounds of force was closer to one hundred seventy-five foot-pounds of force.


    I directed most of the blast towards my attackers, but I still found myself knocked straight up, striking the ceiling with my back. My side burst into a fresh wave of pain, but as I was pressed against the ceiling, I had an excellent view of the other four getting blasted up and back. They struck the upper half of the wall behind them, each with their own tone of resounding thuds. I collided with the floor with enough force to see stars for the third time in the past minute and a half.


    Once my vision cleared, I hauled myself to my feet with an immense force of will. I hobbled my way over to the limp forms of the three dirtbags. Mallrimor was face down on the floor. I let out a high-pitched wheeze of pain as I tenderly knelt down to pluck a feather from his wing. My face contorted in pain as I pulled myself back up. Before I turned away, I spat a glob of bloody mucus onto the pigeon-winged ass, landing on his bare cheek. Even the act of spitting was excruciating. I limped my way to the elevator with a hand gingerly pressed against my weeping side that throbbed, the cracked ribs below the surface radiating a searing ache. I cursed under my breath the entire trip to the elevator and the entire ride down, too.


    As the doors opened with a ding and I stepped into the training room, Thallos said, ¡°Well, look who finally showed up for training?¡± in a sardonic tone with his back turned to me. But when Tessa and Rose turned to look at me, Rose¡¯s eyes bulged in panic, and Tess gasped in shock. That forced my uncle to turn around with his arms crossed over his chest. When he noticed me, he only said one simple phrase, ¡°Well, shit.¡± before Tess hurried over to me. Her action was just in time because the room was spinning, and the world was getting blurry. I made to meet the Gnomish girl halfway, but I staggered and fell to the floor.


    Tess rushed to me and laid her hands on me the moment she was within arm¡¯s reach of my side and staunched the bleeding with a few seconds of green-glowing hands. After a few seconds of some intense itching and tingling, she took me by the elbow and helped me to my feet as best she could. Once I was mostly under my own weight, she led me to the back wall as fast as she dared. She sat me down on a bench, drawing another wince and hiss of pain from my lips even as Rose and Thallos closed the distance at a frantic pace.


    ¡°What happened?!¡± Rose demanded, her fangs visible and fingers locked in claws, ready to rend.


    ¡°I¡¯m guessing they caught you by surprise.¡± Thallos stated as if he was expecting me to look like this.


    ¡°No.¡± I sneered before spitting out another blob of blood to the side. It was an effort of will to form a single word with a cracked jaw. I held up a finger for patients as I had before, but this one wasn¡¯t a taunt. I tapped my therra, stopped the recording, and activated a full body scan from the device. It wouldn¡¯t be nearly as in-depth as the med-centers deep imaging devices, but I didn¡¯t think I needed anything of that sort.


    As the scan finished, I flicked Tessa the results right before I flicked the video I had just captured to Rose and Thallos each. I watched Tess read over the results I sent her, and she listed them off, her tone rising with panic at each new injury. ¡°Fractured jaw on the right side, two dislocated ribs, two cracked ribs, three snapped ribs, moderate organ bruising, severe lacerations all on the left side of the torso, and third-degree burns around a cauterized puncture on the right side! By the blackened crown Iver! What the hell happened?!¡±


    I pointed to my jaw first, and she got my message. She held both sides of my jaw in a gentle grip that still brought a spark of pain before the green glow came back. After the itching stopped and she took her hands away from me, I shook my face and tested my jaw in over-exaggerated chewing motions. ¡°Mallrimor and his batch of brutes jumped me on my way here.¡±


    So, I explained what happened in intervals when the pain and itching were more tolerable. As I spoke, I could tell that Thallos and Rose were watching the video I sent, their gazes intense on what only each of them could see. Thallos finished first, his hand making the motion to close a window on his node even as he turned to me. ¡°Not as good as I had hoped, but still a passable display.¡±


    ¡°Wait!¡± I started in outrage. ¡°You knew this was going to happen?!¡±


    ¡°Well, of course, boy. I told them where to find you and gave them weapons and permission to attack.¡±


    ¡°WHAT!?¡± Rose and I snarled in tandem, Rose closing the distance as she exclaimed.


    ¡°I thought it necessary.¡± He said with an easy shrug of the shoulders and his hands held up in a pose that said, ¡®What could I do?¡¯. ¡°This was part of your final exam. I¡¯ve taken each of your most impressive actions per Vector and judged them as your final. It was to ensure that you were performing to my standards on the daily even when I wasn¡¯t watching. What you just went through was a test to see how you could handle an ambush from multiple enemies, aware of what you could do.¡±


    ¡°So that was my final?¡±


    ¡°Whow!¡± came Rose. ¡°If that was his final, I¡¯m guessing that I¡¯m getting expelled from your training.¡±


    ¡°Both of you relax. Iver, no, that was only half of your final. Rose, also no. You are not being expelled from my curriculum. You just have different circumstances than the horn-boy over there. Since you¡¯re still recovering from Myst overdose, you won¡¯t have a magic final.¡±


    ¡°And what?¡± I demanded. ¡°That calamity I made back there was my magic final?¡± I threw an accusing hand toward the ceiling over the elevators.


    Thallos gave a mocking laugh with an abrupt end as he simply said, ¡°No.¡± I was about to ask when he went on to elaborate. ¡°If that sad excuse for a spell was for final, then I¡¯d fail you outright. I¡¯ll admit that you use enough elemental variety in the components of the spell, but it was just sloppy. Plain and simple. You threw it together in total desperation and even got yourself caught up in the blast.¡±


    I was irked by his casual attitude as he claimed I would have failed. Maybe if I had known it was a test, I could have done better. For that matter, maybe if my head wasn¡¯t in the executioner¡¯s collar, I could have performed better. I was more than a little ticked off by my uncle¡¯s use of others¡¯ desire to kill me as a tool for testing. He acted like putting my life on the line was normal.


    ¡°Alright,¡± I said through gritted teeth. ¡°Then what is my magic final?¡±


    ¡°Simple. Both of you will try to incapacitate me. This is a test on teamwork, but there are a couple of catches.¡±


    ¡°Catches?¡±


    ¡°First,¡± he held up a single finger before aiming it at my nose, ¡°boy, you will need to use at least one spell of no less than three elemental components. The runic spell formula must also be crisp and clear. All of this needs to be done while trying to put my face in the dirt. Second,¡± He retracted his accusatory finger and raised a second finger to follow in his statement. ¡°You both have five minutes to take me down while working together. If you haven¡¯t held me in submission for a ten count by then, this will turn into a three-way dual. It¡¯s every warrior for themselves. Should one of you subdue the other for a ten count, that will count as a point in your favor, and the loser will need to sit out. Should either one of you manage to take me down, that will count as three points.¡± He turned and walked away with his hands clasped behind his back. After five steps, he turned his head to speak back to us, his stride unwavering. ¡°Oh, and one last twist. I will be using my magic.¡±


    I had wondered since I first met him if Thallos could use magic. He never used it in front of me and only taught me the most fundamental concepts on the topic. What was his focus? That would tell me what type of caster he was. I¡¯d never seen him with a staff, wand, or charm. Did he have runic bracers hidden somewhere?


    ¡°Healer, if you¡¯d be so kind as to give Mr. Thorntail over there some hemo-pills.¡± Thallos off-handedly gestured toward me. ¡°I have no doubt that the boy needs to replenish the blood in his body before he faints mid-match.¡±


    ¡°Y-yes, sir.¡± Tessa stammered. ¡°Would you say this is a need for one or two pills?¡±


    ¡°Having seen the wounds and the amount of blood lost during the fight, I¡¯d say it¡¯s only a need for one. You have them on hand like I asked?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir, in my bag.¡± Tess hurried over to her navy blue training bag and rifled through it before pulling out a small rectangular metal box. She pulled the hinged lid open to reveal two rows of pills that glowed with a swirling red fluid. Each pill was nestled neatly in a gray foam cutout. She plucked a single pill free of the container before she replaced the container and produced a bottle of water. She offered me both, and I dutifully took them. I popped the pill in my mouth and chased it with a much-needed swig of water.


    The effect was almost instantaneous: a spreading warmth from my core reaching out to every limb, quickly followed up by a tingling, not unlike when Tessa healed me. However, rather than an itching, it was paired with a sensation of pressure from within pressing out.


    I¡¯d never had a need for these pills. No matter how grievous the wound Thallos gave me, Tessa was always on the balls of her feet, ready to rush in before too much of my life juice was squeezed from me.


    Thallos stopped ten paces from the center of the room, crisply turned on his heel to face us, then fell into a lacks slouch, hands in his pants pockets. ¡°Boy, I assume you drained your Mystwell for that stunt you pulled. How goes the refill?¡±


    I pulled up my body readings on my therra and checked the readout. ¡°I¡¯m at about six of thirteen.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll give you ten minutes to recoup the rest of your Vells and ensure that the pill has worn off.¡±

 Chapter 39

    Resonance Myst, if applied to someone in a specially tailored way, can allow them to have a temporary enhancement of the mind or body. This method can increase a brain''s processing rate, allowing someone to think faster than they would naturally. Along a similar line of thought, this method can allow a person to move faster than they could naturally. However, both of these abilities can be extremely dangerous, causing serious damage to the affected region. Mental processing enhancement in this method can cause brain damage, cognition degradation, and even memory lose. Physical speed enhancement in this method can seriously damage muscle tissue, bone, and even the heart.


    Day 381 Quenchenday


    I stood in the center of the room, Rose just to my left. The tingling from the hemo-pills had subsided, and I was no longer dizzy, so I was as close to top form as I could get in the time given. I slowly and thoroughly stretched my arms, legs, and back before double-checking the straps of my Catlar. During my break, I double-checked my vitals and the status of my body and Mystwell. I was happily surprised to find that, at some point, my Mystwell capacity had bumped up from thirteen to twenty-three. I had no idea where the jump came from, but I wasn¡¯t about to laugh at the dragon offering free gold.


    Meanwhile, Rose performed her own stretches and cracked every joint she could. Thallos lazily watched us with mild disinterest, hands in his pockets, back bowed into a relaxed slouch, his eyes half-lidded. As he watched, Rose leaned in close, drawing her lips close to my ear. ¡°Don¡¯t think that I¡¯ve forgiven you for telling your uncle about my situation. While I don¡¯t want you dead, I still have every intent of burying your face under my boot.¡± She seductively hissed.


    I reflexively gulped in fear, not daring to move lest she strike like the viper she sounded akin to. She leaned back and gave me an innocent smile that seemed the antithesis of the words she had just slithered into my ear. ¡°So do your best, horn-boy.¡± Almost like a switch was flipped, her voice was so bubbly and light. Only deeply ingrained training stopped me from plainly showing my disturbed fear.


    She took a few skips away, her feet light as leaves on the wind. She playfully strolled over to the weapon racks at the nearby wall without being told. I watched with an almost magnetic focus as she fingered weapon after weapon in an almost teasing fleeting thought. She brushed her fingertips across a spear, a lance rifle, a gelatine fist, a rapier, a scimitar, a thorn whip, punching daggers, elemental pistols, kinetic pistols, bastard sword, maul, morning star, war pick, javelin, kinetic burst gauntlets, and greaves. She was trained and proficient with each and every tool of death her fingers danced across. Thanks to her, I knew the sting and bite of everything. She even toyed with the thought of picking up. But my gut clenched when I saw what she selected for the match. She pulled from the display a Serpent Sword, a blade of edged segments bound together with a wire-thread cable. If she pulled the cord at the pommel, the segments would lock together. The extended cord could end in either a bladed hook or a string of razor barbs. The one she picked ended in a hook. Bad news for me.


    Thallos had armed himself while I had been focused on Rose. He still looked so casual, lacking in posture, and absent-minded even as he toyed with his playthings. A bandolier crossed from his left shoulder to his right hip, armed with throwing daggers. Peeking out from over his right shoulder was the hilt of a bastard sword. Strapped to his hip was a short sword. The blade swung back and forth in a lazy sway as he checked the cylinders of a kinetic revolver. After I took note of the revolver, I noticed his belt was lined with quick reload packs, allowing him to empty spent shells hook the open cylinders back up, and lock back in place, full and ready for use. He had never used a gun before in matches. Magic and a gun. This was going to be tough. On the magic side, I had to be ready for any spell short of instant murder¡­ I hoped. But I couldn¡¯t take a chance with the pistol and expect rubber rounds.


    A wild card and potential life threat from a master warrior on one end. And a partner that would turn traitor in an instant, armed with a weapon with impressive reach, unpredictable movements, and the ability to catch and snare, stood beside me. On top of it all, I had burned a huge chunk of stamina dealing with Mallrimor and his thugs. I was on the losing end, no matter how I looked at the situation.


    I still saw no spell focus on Thallos¡¯s person, so how would he cast? How could he cast? Even as Rose walked back towards me, her steps even and measured, I scoured Thallos¡¯s person with my eyes. From boots up, I tracked my eyes over him. Leather combat boots with steel toes, reinforced cargo pants, no doubt laden with ammo or other tactical nastiness, a simple demon face branded t-shirt under a leather jacket with copper studs, bare hands, a lackadaisical expression masked his face, but the merest flash of his shark teeth told the true story.


    Rose stepped up beside me, locking her weapon into a solid bar of bladed steel. She took a combat-ready stance, her blade held horizontal at brow level, freehand loosely gripping the cable, ready to swing the hook. Pulling free my Vekenna, I hurried to mimic her. I held my armored right hand back in a fist in a position ready to strike in an instant and bared the blade in my left hand before me in a vertical pose, the chain that bound the Vekenna to the Catlar held lax.


    Thallos took his own ready stance, pistol held in his left hand with its barrel pointed skyward, short sword in his right hand in a reverse grip, arm crossing his chest. He bent his knees in a ready-to-pounce stance. As my muscles grew taut, ready for all hell to break loose, he spoke, his words calm and gentle despite his predatory stance. ¡°Don¡¯t forget, boy, if you can prove yourself in this fight, I¡¯ve got something to talk to you about. Prove to me your worth.¡±


    As he coiled his body, I saw it. A flicker of silver color over his hand drew me to the answer I needed. His right hand wasn¡¯t bare like I first thought. A dark ring banded around his middle finger, so dark that it seemed to eat the light rather than reflect it. I tried to draw from my memory of the training that Thallos engrained in me. What classification used a ring focus?


    I could find that answer later. First, I needed a response to his summoning on Resonance Myst to enhance his body. That could only mean one thing. A frontal charge at hyper-enhanced speed. Or did it? He knew me. He knew I would notice the drawing. He would know my first instinct.


    I went against impulse, and instead of readying myself for his attack, I drew a claw of my Catlar along the length of the outside of my left forearm, and I cut deep. The moment I felt blood break the surface, I pulled six Vells, one of Voltreonic Current, two of Distortion, and three of Morphic. The crimson along my forearm shimmering vermillion and purple with sparks of yellow before vanishing.


    What I was about to do was what most spellcasters would think insane. But there was a lot of study and testing behind something that would be simple for other casters. I had my brain mapped when I was physically active, when I was intensely focused, when I was thinking hard, and when I was intensely inspecting my surroundings. used those readings to identify what parts of my brain were working when I was doing each of these. I then spent hours of my downtime performing minor practice and experiments to get a firm grip on my idea. This might all leave readers confused as to what I  was about to do at this point in the story. So I''ll break it down. I used Morphic Myst to enforce my brain''s synapses and body muscles, then used a minuscule amount of Lightning Myst and Distortion Myst to speed up my brain''s functions to an unnatural degree.


    The world slowed but was nowhere near the same degree as I had used earlier. I summoned a tier-one mental boost that should last for a minute and a half. I matched the cognitive boost with a tier-one physical speed enhancement at the same time. I knew the threat of using these elements, and at that moment, I didn¡¯t care.


    I took in the room: glassy black paneled walls, black tile floor, and thirty-foot-high ceiling with evenly spaced indents brandishing intense lights. The minor magical improvements were enough to save me from the first attack. I saw the barest movement of Thallos coiling for his attack before he was a blur. Almost as fast as thought, the Wild Elf shifted into a blur that lanced to the wall at my left and struck the surface only to redirect and shoot to the wall at my back. My body was moving drastically slower than his, even with my physical enhancement, so every fraction of a second counted. Without a second to spare, I brought my blade up in defense. I held my Catlar just in front of my chest at an angle, sweeping my Vekenna in a tight circle before me.


    I was mostly lucky. Before I saw anything, I felt a strike land against the guard of my Catlar, my hand was forced against my chest. My sweeping blade forced the strike to the side before it knocked me clean off my feet. Instead, I staggered back. I caught my balance just in time to sidestep a downward slash from Thallos¡¯s short sword.


    With my body turned sideways, I struck out at the Elf with an uppercut aimed at his chin. He leaned back, dodging my strike with ease. His response was a kick aimed at my knee. The blow landed on the inside of my left knee, but I knew it was coming. I only barely mitigated the damage by bending with the attack. I caught a flash of motion out of the corner of my eye. From where the motion originated from, it could only have been Rose. I caught sight of a thrust from her blade that Thallos parried to the side with minimal effort. But what I really should have expected was the hook of her weapon wrapping around the ankle of my posting leg. I felt the metal hook before she gave an aggressive yank, tearing me from my feet to slam my back against the floor.


    Thallos took advantage of my position by drawing sights through his pistol to aim it at my chest. I rushed to pull the width of my blade against the shot, but he fired first. Pain lit my left shoulder, but not the pain of torn tissue and broken bone. I got lucky. The rubber bullet left only a blackening welt at the joint of my shoulder. ¡°Bang. You¡¯re maimed.¡± Thallos uttered in a mocking monotone, ¡°If I were aiming for a kill shot, you would be dead now.¡± He leaned in, drawing his face close to mine. ¡°But I want to play with my meal.¡± I could smell the predatory hunger on his breath. That was not the Thallos that I had known for the past year. This was something that I had only caught glimpses of. Something dark, hungry, ravening, and what I could only describe as caco-maniacal. The term referred to a hostile person with a disturbed mind who derived pleasure from the pain of others. Right at that moment, I felt the term fit the man like a hand in a glove.


    Thallos drew his revolver sights to my brow, an instant from pulling the trigger and ending my exam. I snapped my jaw closed in a hard bite, my bottom lip set between my teeth. I carved out a fresh gouge, drawing a well of fresh blood. As I saw the muscles of his hand begin to tighten, I pulled a single Vell of Evulsion Kentic Myst Myst and one Vell of Distortion Myst and forced what could barely be called a spell from between my lips with a rush of air from my lungs. Gray power erupted from the blood of my lip in a berserk rush of force. The blast forced Thallos to take a step back.


    I was secretly surprised by the result of the blast. I had used a fraction of the Vells that I used to blast Mallrimor and the gang, and I had expected a fraction of the result. That casting was definitely more powerful than I had calculated. There was something more at work there, but that was not the time to get distracted.


    Rose took advantage of his defense motion. She thrust out her weapon, the blade doubling in reach as she drew it into a lash against Thallos¡¯s calf. Taking advantage of the distraction, I rolled to my feet as my uncle took another step back. I centered my stance and readied my blade.


    I rolled together a mass of blood and mucus in my mouth and charged it with a single malicious Vell of Fire.


    I held the charged loogie as I took the claws of my Catlar and drew them across my chest, through the fabric of my shirt. Five long slashes crossed my chest from my left clavicle to the right side of my abdomen. These were no thin rivulets of blood. Crimson welled in the gashes before spilling over my chest in thick and warm red streams.


    If Thallos was going to toy with me because I wasn¡¯t enough of a threat, then I had to prove my worth. I locked my Vekenna back into the surface of my Catlar, not bothering to collapse it. I took my newly freed left hand and scooped a fist full of thick blood, pressing power into it. I already felt the side effects from the blood I had already used. My head was light with pain and bloodless. My thoughts were slower than the should have been. But with time slowed, I did some desperate math.


    I had already spent six for mental enhancement and two on the panicked escape method. That meant I had sixteen left, not counting the one Vell I held in my mouth as a loaded gun. I estimated the amount of blood in my crimson fist even as I used it to pull and shape the raw elements of nature. Three Vells of Umbra Myst, one Vell of Water Myst, one Vell of Morphic, two Vells of Wind Myst, and I took a gamble with two Vells of Death Myst, despite the final element being prohibited.


    No rules held in a true fight to the death, and that was my excuse for the madness I was about to pull. I pressed my cocktail into the blood in my hand and into the blood weeping from my chest.


    While I concocted my idea, Rose pressed her advantage. She stepped in, lashing her blade around Thallos¡¯s foremost ankle, forcing him off balance. She flicked her wrist even before the master could recenter himself. The blade lashed up, aiming to wrap around the forearm of Thallos¡¯s left side. The blade caught hold, cutting into his arm, even as he worked to free himself. At that moment, I made two realizations. First, Thallos¡¯s body enhancement was spent, and he was back down to just shockingly fast. Second, as Rose drew blood, I realized that at some point, Thallos had to have replaced the weapons in the room. And there I was, fighting with a training Vekenna.


    While Rose had Thallos locked in place, I flung out my scarlet hand, the blood across my palm and finger welling together in droplets that shot forth like bullets. My hand loosed seven crimson shots, each a lance three inches in length and a width close to that of a pen. The first struck Thallos in the shoulder, catching his attention. The rest landed home across his upper chest. His jacket and shirt ruptured with seven small bursts, and the flesh below tore into just as many gaping wounds, each an inch and a half in diameter and just as deep. The maimed flesh blackened and withered into dead tissue in the space of a second, thick, black sludge that had once been blood leaked from the micro craters.


    Rose paused in her onslaught, horror written across her face as she gaped at the rotting wounds. Thallos calmly and smoothly unwound his bloody arm, pulling the bladed edges of the segment after segment of Rose¡¯s weapon from his arm. Once he dropped the coil with a casual flick of disdain, he then eyed the necrotic wounds across his torso before he flashed me a look of pure annoyance. ¡°Is that really the best you can pull, boy? A ruined shirt and a few spots of gangrene. I expected better.¡± His tone reflected just how disappointed and peeved he was with my attempt.


    That was everything that I had, and it still wasn¡¯t enough. By the time my Mystwell refilled enough to do me any good, the mental enhancement would have long since worn off. I needed to step up my game.


    The blood on my chest was still charged with Myst, but it was the same elemental ratio as the last spell, and I would need to pull something bigger. The Umbra Myst I used was meant to slow his physical speed, but it looked like my attempt would only have minor results.


    I eyed the master as he traded blows and jabs with Rose. Rose pulled her blade into a single piece before thrusting it at his throat. Thallos sidestepped the thrust and pushed it aside with his short sword before drawing aim with his pistol at her face. Rose pushed inside his guard, past his range, rendering the attack worthless. She threw her sword¡¯s hook in an arch to wrap around Thallos¡¯s throat. The Elf saw the throw and ducked out of the grip of the attempted chokehold with the cable. He spun to the side in an elegant twirl and landed an elbow against Rose¡¯s temple, staggering her backward. As she fell back, he followed through to fill her recently vacant space.


    I decided that since Rose had taken a shot at me before the match turned to a free-for-all, I would let her do some heavy lifting for a little while I recouped my lost Vells. I stood back and let the two duke it out for a while. Any time Thallos tried to fire a shot off at me from his revolver, Rose took that advantage and pounced, sometimes literally. I had no doubt that Thallos knew what I was doing, and if he really wanted to, he could disengage from Rose and catch me in a matter of moments if he used another physical enhancement. And I was ready for him to lash out against me at any moment.


    I pointed my Catlar at Thallos even as he brought his short sword at me in a wide arch. I could tell this was a feint, so I stepped back and launched my Vekenna at the master. He leaned to the side, easily avoiding the attack, but I had planned for as much.


    Two minutes had passed since I had cast the last spell. I had four Vells, but I needed to play for more time. As he leaned aside from my flying blade, I wrenched my Catlar to the left, adjusting the trajectory of the weapon. The chain made contact with his neck. I took three steps to my left and yanked. For good measure, I used one of my few remaining Vells to magnetize the chain link at the base of the blade and the knuckle guard of the Catlar. The spell was minor, barely anything more than an adjustment to trajectory.


    Thallos¡¯s neck acted as a fulcrum to bring the blade back around. The Vekenna spun as it reached the apex of the chain I had allowed it to, arching back toward me in a wide swing. As the weapons closed in, about to wrap the chain around Thallos¡¯s neck, he bent forward, ending the fulcrum point as he closed in on me. He timed his duck so that my Vekenna would nearly strike me, drawing my attention to the so-called self-made threat.


    Now the blade was arching back towards me. I turned my right side forward and caught the weapon in a reverse grip with a little help from my magnetic trick. With a mere thought, I set the chain connecting my Vekenna and Catlar to retract at top speed as I threw a snap kick with my right leg. I aimed the strike to land at Thallos¡¯s Adam¡¯s apple as he closed the distance, leaning forward.


    Thallos angled his torso by the slightest amount, letting my kick pass by, close enough that I could feel the skin of his cheek against my shin. He swung a slashing strike at my chest, but I was already in the motion of turning my failed kick into a sideways evasive tumble. As I came up, I double-checked the state of my trap.


    With a mad smirk, I took a defensive stance, intentionally leaving a slight opening at my right side. Thallos stepped in and aimed a thrust from his short sword aimed at my face. A faint. I could already see the throwing dagger in his backhand, mostly hidden behind his body. I did the last thing he expected. I rushed him.


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    I intentionally let the short sword stab my shoulder as I closed in. As Thallos made to correct for my response, I spit a burst of fire into his face. At the same as my gout of flame, the chain from my gauntlet caught him at the knee while it retracted to me.


    The Wild Elf was taken totally off guard, but his sword didn¡¯t stick in my shoulder as I had hoped. As soon as the blade slipped from my body, I made my move even before he hit the ground. Quick as a thought, I slipped my Vekenna into my left hand even as I moved both hands to ensnare Thallos¡¯s blade hand in my chain. In a fluid motion, I wrapped the chain around his blade and struck his wrist with an upward backhand from my Catlar. The backhand loosened his grip; the chain arrested his movement with the weapon. With a sharp jerk, the Vekenna came up against the hilt of the Shortsword, and Catlar went down against the sword¡¯s blade; the weapon tumbled from Thallos¡¯s grip.


    I was so smug in my success that Thallos caught me off guard with a twin push kick to my chest while he was still on his back. I fell backward and reflexively rolled into a ready stance. Meanwhile, the Wild Elf kicked his legs into the air in a kip-up and landed on his feet.


    That was when Rose stepped in with another sweep from her serpent blade in whip form. The lash was aimed to catch Thallos at the knees, but he performed a feat of acrobatic flaunting. He threw himself backward over the serpentine strike, his body completely horizontal and spinning. Even as his body made its second rotation in the barrel roll, he drew his pistol to aim at me even as he flew through the air.


    Throwing myself to the side, I dodged the first rubber bullet. As I rolled to a crouch, I realized I needed a diversion. With arm outstretched, I shot out three of the secorus disks to form a smokescreen. As the gas jetted from the disks, Thallos was already sliding to a halt and aiming to draw another deep on me. Normally, I could have hit the instructor with the high voltage and used the gas as an amplifier. But since I was short my shock bites, the conductive gas was little more than a simple obfuscation at the moment. I backpedaled in a zig-zag pattern to make a harder target while I played for time. If I had really thought about it, I would have picked up more tools, daggers, a pistol, something. But I had an idea.


    I tapped the dial at the head of my Catlar as Rose jumped through the conductive fog. She locked in her blade in a single smooth motion as she chopped at Thallos¡¯s neck at the same time as she swooped her cable in from below to hook his feet. Thallos sidestepped the hack at his neck with ease and stepped over the leg hook like it was little more than an annoying puddle. He drew and threw two daggers in one hand from his bandoleer, aimed at Rose¡¯s chest. She deflected the flying blades with the flat of her own weapon.


    Thallos drew the massive blade at his back and did so in a massive swing, aimed to take off Rose¡¯s head with only a single hand, his left hand still armed with the revolver. Rose kept her running momentum and turned it into a slide across the floor on her knees. She ducked under Thallos¡¯s wide swing, sliding past. As she passed him, Rose turned and tried for another leg sweep with her cabled hook. At the same time, I lunged at him with a downward slash from the claws of my Catlar aimed at his face while wearing an illusion making me look like Rose.


    I felt a thrill of satisfaction when I saw the shock and confusion scrawled across his face as I leaped through the cloud. But the reaction was only there for an instant. As I brought the claw down, he raised the leg, about to be hooked by the real Rose. He lifted it, straight-legged and arced it across his body and upward in a sweeping motion, carrying the momentum to cleave the kicked downward, catching my gauntlet and pushing it aside. The whole motion was a simple crescent kick, except rather than using it to strike an opponent across the head with the side of his foot, he modified it as a deflection. He hadn¡¯t taught me that use before. I¡¯d needed to take note of that one.


    When Thallos deflected my strike, I was still mid-jump, and my momentum was diverted. Thallos¡¯s foot landed only a heartbeat before I hit the ground and rolled. I landed in a crouch just behind my mentor. But he was already making his next move. While I rolled to land on one knee, he had seated his kicking foot against the floor and brought his other leg around in a roundhouse kick aimed at the back of my neck. I only deduced these actions after his kick struck. My head whipped back with the force before the entirety of me was hurtled forward. I face-planted against the tile floor and skidded for another three feet.


    As I pulled myself back to my hands and knees, I heard the buzzing chime of an alarm. I pull the HUD of my therra-node up to see a timer reading triple zero, under the numerals, read three simple words ¡¯Free For All¡¯. I had just taken in the phrase when a shadow fell over me from above. ¡°Shit!¡± I cursed as I rolled to my left, pulling myself up into a crouch. As soon as I landed on foot and knee, a mass of black fur with copper stripes struck the floor where I had been not two heartbeats before. The furry blur landed with a resounding clang of metal on stone, paired with the sound of cracking stone. As the dust cleared, I found Rose kneeling over her whip sword, in a single piece at that moment, and she buried it point first into the tiles at her feet. This feat of strength shocked me, and I had a strong supposition of MyCast being in use.


    I had ten Vells, but if I used any of it on Rose, then I¡¯d likely fail the magic portion of the exam. Rose had me outclassed in mobility and flexibility with her serpent sword and her experience. If she really was using M-Juice, then I was in serious trouble. Before, she was just interfering, but now I had to take the very real threat she was, seriously.


    I lept to my feet with a lunge away from the berserk Primal. Rose lashed out with her weapon, the blade extending out like a striking viper aimed at my face. I batted the serpentine strike aside with the back of my Catlar. I slammed my Vekenna back into the slot of my gauntlet, blade still open. The action dispersed the illusion I had been wearing of Rose. I was about to rush the cat girl when I thought better. I decided it was best to focus on Thallos.


    I threw myself into a dash aimed straight at the master. I still kept the blood on my chest at a stable level charge with myst. The elements held there were still the same ratio from the past big spell I cast. But with how fast the blood was flowing, I needed to constantly shift the body of charged myst to the front-most mass of blood. I closed in Thallos as the secorus gas began to dissipate. He saw me coming, shouldered his bastard sword, and drew aim at me with his pistol. I quickly barricaded myself behind my Catlar. The Vekenna, still being open, acted as a wider shielding surface, if only slightly. I felt the first shot bounce off my forearm. The second deflected off my blade near the left edge. A third struck my exposed left shin. The rubber round stung like an enraged wasp and caused me to stagger but left behind little more than a welt. I quickly recovered and pressed on. The fourth shot of the volley glanced past my ear, the friction drawing a burning red line across the serrated edge of my left ear.


    I had kept a close count on his fired shots. Since the start of the match, Thallos had fired eleven shots and only reloaded once. That meant that he was down to the last round of his revolver. I doubled my stride. From around the corner of my armored forearm, I saw that I was eight feet from the man. There was another muzzle flare, but something was different.


    Something struck my unarmored left shoulder. But the projectile didn¡¯t bounce off and leave a welt. I felt a pressure in the meat of the shoulder, a line of numbness trailing behind the tugging sensation. I lost my footing, spinning toward the injured shoulder. The trail of numbness was replaced with a line of scorching lightning. I tried to right myself before I fell, but was stopped by something wrapping around my right ankle. Cold metal constricted around my leg, blades biting beep as the foot was yanked out from under me. I fell atop my Catlar, and the Vekenna dislodged and skidded away.


    My head would have been clouded by a haze of pain if not for the brutal training the trog of an uncle had put me through. I pulled the gauntlet out from beneath my weight. When I tried to reach forward with my other arm, the lance of pain in my shoulder ignited to a raw blaze. When I looked down to find the origin of the pain, I found a bleeding hole in the tattered remains of my jacket. I snarled against injury as I forced the arm to move. I pulled myself to my elbows through the pain, only to feel a boot stomp down against my upper back, forcing me back to the floor and knocking the wind from my lungs. I was getting really tired of being stepped on.


    ¡°I told you that I was going to grind your head under my boot, so guess what.¡± She stood on the foot planted on my back and slowly pressed her other boot against the back of my head, forcing my face into the floor before she ground her boot back and forth.


    The act was more indignant than painful, but I kept the focus on my stored spell. I didn¡¯t pay attention as she gloated, instead, I adjusted my spell. Used those Water Myst Vells and drew the fresh blood from my chest, around, and to my back beneath my uniform.


    I was dimly aware of Thallos closing in on me. I bided my time, letting them think they had me beat. Rose tugged on her whip blade rhythmically as I heard the blade''s sheath in front of me.


    I judged the trajectory as best I could and unleashed hell. A bramble of black-blooded spikes erupted from my back, shredding my uniform jacket and shirt to tatters. I felt more than saw Rose get pierced, her weight lifting off me for a moment before she staggered off, a fast liquid patter trailing behind her. With a mighty effort, I flopped over onto my back before crawling to my feet. I turned to see Rose struggling to remain standing. Even Thallos was mildly wounded. Rose clutched at a cluster of necrotic punctures centered around her upper abdomen and lower chest. Compared to the girl, the Wild Elf was barely scathed, bearing only a few more small wounds than when I hit him with my needle spell. As with the first collection of wounds, these new ones also blackened and necrotized.


    I checked my right ankle, the serpentine blade was still wound tight. With a level of aggravation and pain, I knelt down and pried my ankle free. As I tossed the coil of metal blades aside, I watched Thallos draw his massive blade again. I started to retract my Vekenna back when the motion was brought to a sudden halt as Thallos drove his blade down against the chain, cleaving it. The severed end reached me, and I found myself at a massive reach disadvantage. I stood favoring my left leg and coddling my left arm against my chest.


    Only one idea came to mind. I had never pulled this trick off before, but this was a now-or-never kind of moment. I checked my Mystwell level and found myself topped off at twenty-three. So I pulled one Vell of Morphic, one Vell of Death, and eight Vells of Umbra. I drew the runes in my mind and shaped the spell. I reached my right clawed hand out to the side. Thallos adjusted his two-handed grip on his weapon as he strolled towards me. His stroll shifted to a jog, an amused smirk on his face. ¡°Show, me, your, mettle, BOY!¡± he punctuated each word with a step in his pace towards me, the final word in his proclamation the only warning before he threw himself into a preternatural sprint. I hadn¡¯t even noticed him draw on Resonance Myst.


    As his shape-shifted into a blur of black and gray, I dug the claws of my gauntlet into the palm of my right hand and cast my spell. I pulled free the bladed tips of each armored finger, and blood gushed from four holes in my palm, each only a half-inch wide. I called upon my charged blood even as I pressed the myst of my spell through the spell¡¯s Kellar to saturate the runic formulas and take shape through the spell¡¯s tech. This all only took the merest moment, thanks to countless hours of practicing and failing at this spell.


    The visual result of casting this spell was dramatic, and I admit to a degree of enjoyment in the showmanship. The blood pouring from the open wounds of my hand turned black and emitted smoke-like shadows before halting mid-flow to take a shape. The shape that sprouted from my hand shifted as if made from liquid and smoke before hardening into something as solid as steel and razor-sharp. A weapon the length of a claymore sword lay in my hand, as light as air. The gently tapering blade swooped back only the lightest degree near the point. At the hilt was a basket guard, covering my hand and wrist on the right side. A blade of razor-sharp darkness, the shape sapping the ambient light and the warmth from my hand and forearm. The menacing weapon dribbled vaporous shadows and held wisps of dark green and purple.


    The Shadow Blade had been a total shot in the dark, based on faith in the theory that had been percolating at the back of my head since the fight with Mallrimor. Until that successful casting, I had failed to form even the base Shadow Weapon spell. The idea I got had been from all those close shaves with the lethal weapons of Mallrimor¡¯s goons. Originally, I had only been visualizing a black outline of a weapon, like a shadow cast by a weapon in the light. Before I got my ribs rattled and cracked, I had the thought that I should add detail. Not a cardboard cutout made from darkness, but an actual three-dimensional weapon, from the razor-sharp blade to the shape of the guard and pommel.


    I had only just shaped the blade when Thallos closed the distance. The slash came in from my left, and I blocked it with my weightless weapon point. I had an itching fear that the attack would pass right through my blade, but that thought was dispelled when the weight of Thallos¡¯s blade came to a jarring stop. I thought it odd that the clash made no sound. The strike that very well could have broken my guard with the mass being thrown, but the shadows seemed to have dulled the impact.


    I passed his strike over my head before I brought my blade back around with a flourish. Thallos adjusted his body¡¯s momentum to follow his blade away from me by kicking off, causing my impulsive slash to sever only his shirt and jacket at the upper edge of his right shoulder.


    Thallos ground in his heels to bring himself to a total stop at my right flank, even as he made his next move. With a flourishing twirl, he swapped dominant hands on his hilt before he came at me with a cleaving hack aimed at my chest. My response was to curl in my arm, blade braced against the outside of my shoulder, point down, and my free hand reinforcing the defensive act with another point of counterpressure at the flat of my blade.


    His strike sent my feet sliding across the floor a good six inches, but I held my stance. Before he could retract or shift into the next strike, I slide my back foot to alter my direction of resistance and the location of my body. His force pulled him forward as I then stood at his flank.


    But Thallos seemed to see this coming as he took the momentum gained from my tactical shift and spun it around in a chopping strike that looked like it could¡¯ve bisected me cleanly. I didn¡¯t want to count on my new tool rendering the force of the strike null, so as I brought the weapon up to block, I angled it to slide down the length of the blade. Just as before, the force of the attack wasn¡¯t totally mitigated but dulled it enough that my strength could stand against the blade better than if I had wielded a mundane blade.


    I wanted to try something. I focused on the shape of my shadow sword and envisioned the blade inverting instead of extending from the bottom of my grip. The shadow lost its solid shape, flickering for a moment before pulling into my palm and extending out the other side.


    As Thallos was pulling his weapon back, I lunged at him with a slash from my reversed Shadow Blade aimed at his neck. He brought the guard of his weapon up to block the blow, but I had hoped for as much. The moment by weapon connected with his, there was a burst of raw power at the point of contact. Thallos dropped his two-hander as he leaped backward. The moment he landed, he drew two daggers and judged me with an estimating eye.


    I tested the functionality of my leg that Rose had caught with her serpent sword and found it in a less-than-ideal state. When I blocked Thallos¡¯s hacking chop aimed at my head, the leg had been upfront, so it didn¡¯t take most of the pressure from the assault. I counted myself lucky for that fortunate setup. The leg could hold my weight, and I could keep a stance with it if I was careful, but I was pretty sure that running was out of the question.


    I definitely was not in a position to stay agile, and if Thallos was pulling out daggers, I¡¯d need to stay light on my feet. With that option out of the question, I decided to try something new. I was on a roll with testing what could be done with this Shadow Blade trick, so why not push a little further? I honed in my focus on the weapon, pulled half of the shadow mass back into my person, and then extended it out my other hand. That function was trickier. I needed to split my focus between the two weapons. The second weapon stuttered and flickered between a solid mass and vaporous smoke. The twinned focus was an alien sensation, akin to learning two-blade fighting for the first time, tracking the locations of both weapons, and moving them in separate motions.


    Thallos rushed me, one dagger held fore grip, the other reverse grip. I chanced a glance at my off-hand weapon to find it still flickering between states. I cursed under my breath as I tried to shift my weapon grips. I shifted the blade in my right hand to a reverse grip and centered my focus on my left blade. Thallos closed the distance and lashed out with a stab aimed at my posting leg. I pushed the strike away with my own blade, flicking it up at the last second, drawing a thin cut along his inner forearm. The scratch blackened, toxic green cracks spreading from the wound. I pushed the offensive with a slash aimed at his face. My aim was to force him back and get myself some breathing room, but he only leaned back, still taking the wound but minimizing the damage. The gash lined his left cheek from jaw to nose. The result was the same as the wound on his forearm but only magnified twofold.


    Thallos stepped back with his right foot, pivoted on his left, and spun around with another stab aimed at my wounded leg. I attempted to hook the blade with my reverse-dripped shadow weapon. My blade made contact with his dagger just in time for my shadow weapon to shift to smoke, allowing his dagger to pass through.


    I had been afraid that would happen, but planned accordingly. When my attempt to hook his dagger failed, I pushed the motion through, throwing his strike off course, instead glancing off my Catlar. I took the opportunity to stab at his chest with a thrust from my left hand. Thallos hooked my hand with the inside of his blade and drove my strike down and away from him. The only result was another slash in his jacket and shirt. This new slash met with the other one I had made, forming a flap of fabric to hang limply open.


    I struck out with my right hand, a slash aimed to cross his bicep. His response was to pull that side away from me and thrust at my chest. I kept the momentum of my attempted slash and adjusted the trajectory of the blow. If my blow landed, I could very well sever his hand at mid-forearm. Thallos saw this coming and threw his attempted stab wide, instead drawing a glancing slash across my left shoulder. But even that attempted divergence didn¡¯t completely save his arm from damage. I drew a groove across the width of his forearm. This wound was the worst yet. I could smell a stomach-churning mixture of rotting flesh and ozone. The green cracks reached up to his elbow.


    When that last wound finished its reaction, Thallos took two steps back and dropped his combat stance, holding both hands up in surrender as he dropped his daggers. With his hands still raised, he examined the worst of his wounds.


    ¡°Alright, boy, I know when I¡¯m beat.¡±


    I released my hold on the spell, Shadow Blades dissipating into unnaturally black smoke, and I fell backward, landing on my ass as I gasped for breath. I looked over my shoulder to find Rose being treated by Tessa, her wounds mostly healed, though her shirt was in tatters, but probably not as bad as my own.


    ¡°So, uncle, what¡¯s the verdict? Do I pass?¡±


    ¡°Slow down. Geez. Let me get patched up first, boy.¡±


    The mentor strolled over to the Gnomish girl as Rose stepped away. She took a seat on the floor away from me but facing Thallos, the same as me. He knelt down to reach Tessa¡¯s face level. Tess began undoing damage as Thallos began his verdict lecture. He pointed to Rose with his undamaged hand. ¡°Girl, you pass. You took advantage of openings the boy made and made your own when he was overwhelmed. When The timer for teamwork clicked zero, you adapted without hesitation. Something you¡¯ll both need to learn is the ability to kill a teammate if the need occurs.¡±


    ¡°Kill a teammate?¡± Rose asked.


    ¡°Sometimes allies turn traitor, or you need to end a partner to prevent sensitive information from getting to the wrong ears. Friends are all well and good, but you need to be ready for the worst case at any time.¡± He brought his attention to me. ¡°And as for you. You pass the combat exam.¡±


    ¡°And the magic end of it?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I lied. That initial trick was enough to pass. It would have put down almost anyone else. The trap when she had you pinned was quite impressive and took her out of the fight before she caused you too much trouble. But you get the gold star for the Shadow Blade spell. When did you master that one? You¡¯ve never used it in training before.¡±


    I looked away bashfully. ¡°I definitely would not call it mastered by any means. I¡¯ve had the idea for a while after you told me about the spell, and when Rose did the same thing with light, I was set on learning it. But I hadn¡¯t figured out how to work it till just then during the match.¡±


    ¡°Very impressive.¡± He gave me a nod of respect.


    ¡°Passing is great and all.¡± I started, ¡°But since when do you use live rounds in a match? I could¡¯ve died.¡±


    ¡°Pssh!¡± He waved off my concern. ¡°For starters, I¡¯ve never used a firearm in sparring that is saved for next year. The point of the revolver was to see how you would act when facing a new and outmatching threat.¡±


    ¡°And the live rounds?¡± I pressed.


    ¡°Your life was never in danger, but I wanted to make sure that you learned your lesson if you got careless.¡±


    By this point, Tessa was almost done restoring Thallos to peak condition. As soon as she finished, he sprung to his feet as if the match had never occurred. He strolled across the room to a black training bag I had only just then noticed. ¡°Now I promised you a talk, boy. So go get patched up, and we can have a life-changing conversion.¡±

 Chapter 40

    Enchanting weapons, gear, and mystech components is just as much art as science. The craftsmen must know the material or object both inside and out at an almost intimate level and have a fluent knowledge of the Solidim Magic System. Those who are truly proficient with enchanting gear for adventurers and their ilk are known as Malloricks. Standard magic item enchanters for mundane items are called Myst Smiths or Myst Engineers. But Malloricks are the height of the craft, the masters among the sought by hundreds for even the simplest of items.


    Day 381 Quenchenday


    Once Tess had finished patching me up and the itching subsided, I made my way over to meet up with my uncle. My energy was waning from the last match and the encounter with Mallrimor, so I was lethargic and eager for a reprieve, and my stride reflected as much in heavy, slow motions. I stepped up beside him as he produced a black box from the bag. The box was wider than it was tall, with a glossy sheen, its edges and corners rounded off. It bore no visible seal or hinges. Yet it looked oddly familiar, but I couldn¡¯t place it.


    ¡°You want to talk to me about a box?¡± I eyed the object with a puzzled expression.


    He bared his teeth in an amused smirk without taking his gaze from the object in hand. ¡°Not the box itself, boy. But what the box holds.¡± Thallos took the odd object and made his way to a bench set against one wall for quick weapon repairs. He set down the box in the most delicate way I had seen him handle anything. Thallos treated the thing as if it were priceless¡­ or immensely dangerous. He drew his finger across the surface of the box as if shaping an invisible symbol. As he drew back his hand, the top surface rose and split in two.


    Just as gingerly as he had set down the box, he reached in with both hands and slowly brought out¡­ Something. It was a mechanical contraption. Its right side housed a large scarlet gem shard brimming with raw power. The gem was locked in a spherical glass chamber, held to a claw-like mount, with several cables and tubs attached. On the device¡¯s left side was a mythril ring the size of my fist, its outer left edge lined with a crescent of bladed spikes, longer at the top and shorter the lower down the circle you went.


    This peculiar thing looked far from friendly. Quite the contrary, the machine looked downright vicious. I eyed the contraption with a wary expression as I took a half step away. ¡°What is that thing?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s many things, my boy.¡± Thallos¡¯s gaze was locked on the device in an almost hypnotic manner. ¡°It is the power to bring change. It is the key to improving the world. But most of all, it¡¯s what you were made for.¡±


    I took another frightened step away from Thallos as he closed in. ¡°W-what?¡± His eyes shone with a mad gleam as they lifted to pin me with an intense gaze. It was then that I saw part of the truth. I had caught glimpses of this side of him. Little more than flashes of truth beneath a mask. This man was not healthy in the head.


    ¡°Come now, boy.¡± He took a commanding step forward. It forced me to take another step back in retreat. Thallos lunged for me, and I danced past his fingertips. ¡°Don¡¯t shirk your duty.¡± He tracked me with his gaze as I rushed across the room.


    Rose watched me in obvious confusion, arms folded, brow raised. ¡°What¡¯s wrong, horn boy?¡±


    In a wordless panic, I pointed my accusatory finger at the man I had once called uncle. As my finger aimed at the man, I saw what, on the surface, looked like a casual stroll toward me. But after all the training, I saw the nuances. The length of his stride, the angle of his back, how his eyes tracked me, the light tension in his swaying free arm, and its distance from his remaining daggers. That wasn¡¯t a man. That was a predator ready to take a kill.


    ¡°Iver, don¡¯t turn away from your destiny. You were made for this!¡± Thallos exclaimed.


    I circled the room, shoulder close to the wall, and tried to get a clear line for the elevator. My pace was frantic as I pushed down the panic threatening to overwhelm me.


    ¡°You know this is what your mother wanted.¡± He raved.


    ¡°What would you know of my mother!¡± I shouted, a tinge of anger coloring my fear.


    ¡°Oh, I knew her quite well.¡± He goaded.


    I froze, my chest heaving in barely constrained panic. I don¡¯t know why, but that made me realize where I had seen that box before. The day my father was taken from me, butchered. There was a black box taken from the cabin by the man in the red skull mask. The man I stabbed with one of Fermose¡¯s arrows.


    There was a flicker of teal and white around his hand, and suddenly, Thallos was right in front of me. He had closed the distance even faster than he had in the match. He slammed his free hand against the wall beside my head with a resounding strike that echoed across the room. I brought my knee up between his legs. Just as fast as his last motion, he blurred before standing just outside of my striking range.


    I had no feasible weapons other than my catlar, which was empty of almost all its tricks. My Mystwell was near empty as well. I looked at Rose, silently pleading for help of any form. She only leaned against the wall beside her, arms still crossed.


    I needed to play for time. What could I do? I looked toward his light-eating ring, and I had a thought. ¡°Your ring there is made of Umbranite and Whither Bane Wood, isn¡¯t it? You¡¯re a NightVeil. The caster classification specialized in assassination and infiltration. The very same caster class that has a ¡®kill on discovery¡¯ order nearly across the globe.¡±


    Thallos tapped the side of his nose with an index finger in confirmation, a mad smirk still painting his lips. ¡°I wondered how long it would take you to puzzle that out.¡±


    I gradually inched myself across the wall. Only the most minor of motions. ¡°Then you were holding back during the exam. You could have screwed around with our minds, our used slashes of wind, or hit me with even more necrotic energy than I was throwing at you. You were toying with us.¡±


    Thallos gave me a lackadaisical shrug, his posture appearing to relax, but I knew otherwise. He propped his left hand against his hip, and posted on his left foot while standing on the ball of his right. The Wild Elf absentmindedly gestured with the device in his right hand. The thing he had been holding in reverence only moments before, he then treated as little more than a tool in hand. ¡°You can call it toying. I call it¡­ measuring your possible potential. But I will admit to having a bit of amusement at your attempts.¡±


    ¡°And my mother. You knew her?¡±


    ¡°Knew her, know her. The details are a bit fuzzy. But I know for sure that we need you, Iver.¡±


    ¡°And that box? Where did you get it?¡±


    Thallos flashed me a knowing look as he said, ¡°Why, I found it, of course.¡±


    I was about to press the point, edging along the wall, until I caught sight of something. Framed in the hole I had cut into his shirt and jacket, nestled among his collection of scars at his shoulder, one stood out. An X-shaped scar with the points curled in. A custom-designed arrowhead for penetrating deep and holding. Designed by Fermose.


    The moment came rushing back to me. I stood in the cabin¡¯s doorway, my father bleeding on the floor and a red skull-masked man standing over him with a bloody dagger in one hand and a black box under his other arm. The world was shades of gray aside from the color red. His mask, the blood-painted dagger, Fermose¡¯s gaping wound, the blood-stained floor. It was all so vivid they seemed to glow with a menacing heat.


    There was an arrow clutched in my hand, one of Fermose¡¯s. I clutched the arrow shaft so tight that it broke in two. I rushed the assassin head-on, full tilt. Not holding back, I lunged at him with all that I had. I drove the arrowhead half of the shaft deep into his right shoulder. There was a brief sense of satisfaction before the masked man batted me off him will effortless ease. I struck the floor, stunned, as the butcher walked out of the cabin and vanished.


    My fear ebbed, to be replaced with blistering rage. I rose a quacking hand to point at the scar. ¡°That scar. Where did you get it?¡± I demanded. I knew the answer as my past and present flashed between each other. The same height, same frame, same posture. But I wanted to hear him admit it.


    Thallos gave another amused smirk and easy shrug as he waved off the question as if it didn¡¯t matter. ¡°I picked it up from some kid.¡±


    He could have lied. He could have used mind-directed Resonance Myst to convince me. Thallos wanted me to know. This was all some sick game to him. But he needed me. I had some sort of value to him because of that device he held. I felt it was about time for me to get some vindictive venting. Time to see just how valuable I was to the sadistic sicko.


    I took my accusatory finger, quivering with nearly unbridled aggression, and turned it over into a fist, displaying my defiance. ¡°Well, that kid is out for blood.¡± I laced my proclamation with threads of iron will and dripping with a desire for blood.


    Thallos flowed into a combat-ready stance like mercury, weight on his crouched back right leg, left leg stretched forward, his right hand holding the device held back in a defensive pose while his right was outstretched in an upward-facing claw. ¡°If the child wants to play with the beast, then the beast will oblige. Now, don¡¯t turn tail if this gets bloody.¡± He sounded amused. I figured that he planned on toying with me till I gave in. Well, I had other plans. I glanced over his shoulder to the elevator, judging the distance. Then I checked my Mystwell capacity, Nine Vells, at that moment. I¡¯d need to make it work.


    I ran my left hand across my bare chest, still covered in drying blood. Through checking the capacity of the mostly dried crimson smear, I found that it was far less effective a channel than the fresh thing.


    I took a clawed finger of my catlar and drew a deep line across my chest. The moment the blood spilled over, I used it to summon one Vell of Morphic Myst to enhance my movement. I carved out a second line and used that one to summon a Vell of Distortion Myst to enhance my cognition. The claw wrent four deep gashes along the top of my forearm. As the mass of blood rose up and spilled over, I spent it to summon five Vells to summon solid shadow.


    I shaped the shadow into a clawed and spiked gauntlet, but from the amount of Vells, I cast, the mass of shadow only solidified up to my mid-forearm. Flexing my newly armored hand in a test to find it lighter than my catlar, but it was also less protective.


    I turned my glare back at Thallos to find the bastard inspecting the nails of the fingers of his free hand in a mocking gesture to tease me. My response was to take a crouching combat-ready stance. With my tier-one physical enhancement, I threw myself at top speed in a lung at Thallos. As I drew near, I lashed out with a slash from my right hand aimed at his face.


    Thallos leaned to the right, dodging my assault with ease. His response was to draw one of his remaining five daggers in a reverse grip and slash at my face. It was all done in a single fluid motion and almost faster than I could track, even with my enhanced eyes. I tried to lean away but was too slow. Fast enough to save my right eye but so slow that his blade carved a deep furrow from my right cheek in an upward arc to my right brow. The slash was so close that I could feel the tip of the blade cut my eyelid by the merest amount.


    The motion finished before I could finish a single blink, but he held the follow-through of the strike for a few seconds to make sure I could see what he had done. Blood streamed into my right eye, rendering me nearly blind. The slash across the eye¡¯s lid screamed in pain, almost worse than the rest of the gash, but I pushed through.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Blood obscuring one eye, I threw a roundhouse kick from my back left leg at Thallos¡¯s right front. He slid his leg out of my range and countered with an uppercut from the fist that held the dagger to my gut. The upward strike was powerful enough to lift me from my feet and knock the wind from my lungs.


    I fell to my knees, gasping for air, my hands clutching my abdomen. With slow and patient ease, he pushed me over with the ball of his left foot. I fell onto my left side and desperately tried to fight to reflex to curl in on myself in the fetal position.


    ¡°Come on, boy. Is that the best you can muster in an actual fight?¡± Thallos taunted as he pressed his foot against the side of my face. He brought his dagger down to my eye level and made sure to reflect light from it into my remaining good eye.


    I struggled to push myself back to at least a kneeling position I pressed up against the force of his foot and managed to lift a few inches from the floor before he doubled the weight on his pressing boot and forced me back to the tiles with enough strength to make my vision fill with static.


    I wrapped the claws of my dark left hand around his ankle and dug the talons into his flesh. Thallos pulled his foot from my head as he taunted. ¡°Oh, so the kitten has claws. Well, let¡¯s see how the fluff ball can handle a Nemean Lion.¡± Only a heartbeat after he said this, I felt a concussive force strike my chest, rolling me away from him.


    I hacked and wheezed as I came to a stop on my back. ¡®He must¡¯ve kicked me, the bastard.¡¯ I thought to myself as I pulled myself to my feet. As I rose, I tried to wipe the blood from my eye, but the effort was in vain. I rushed at him with an onslaught of blows, clawing, punching, and kicking from any angle that seemed even the slightest bit vulnerable. As I pressed for any kind of foothold against the man, I pressed questions just as hard. I knew he couldn¡¯t resist a satisfying gloat when he knew he was in a position of power.


    ¡°Why kill my father, you bastard? He never did anyone wrong.¡±


    ¡°Never?¡± He asked, his tone teasing the very antithesis to my comment even as he dodged each strike with the barest of effort. ¡°I didn¡¯t lie about us coming from the same clan. I was raised sensitive and soft in a clan of proud hunters. Fermose was older than me by a handful of decades but not too old to throw his egotistic weight around.¡±


    He threw a roundhouse kick at my face so fast I could barely notice it, let alone block it. The blow landed against the side of my skull, and the strike threw me to the side. I barely righted myself before falling, but it was a near thing. My brain rattled hard enough to have me seeing double.


    Thallos closed in with a leisurely stride as I tried to clear my sight. ¡°The bastard took it upon himself to ruin my childhood. Anything I built, he crushed. Any friend I made, he drove away in fear.¡±


    I threw a punch with my catlar, and he leaned away, dodging the attempt by the narrowest of margins. He then locked one hand around my wrist and closed in the other. With a vicious twist, a quick bend, and the right pressure, I found myself in a wristlock. I was totally immobile as he held me captive, able to break my wrist any time he wanted. He still held the strange device as he forced me into submission.


    ¡°The adults said that it would harden me up. My parents said that I needed to learn how to fight back. And oh, did I try. But a puppy with fresh teeth can¡¯t take down the young wolf who hunts with the pack. The bastard toyed with me every time I tried to fight back, and I only ended up looking the fool.¡±


    I lashed out with my free hand in desperation. He leaned away from the slash from my claws and let it pass right toward the device in his hand. I struck the contraption as I had hoped, and it flew from his grasp to skidder away. His eyes tracked the device till it came to a stop. Then he shot me an annoyed look before breaking my right wrist with the ease of snapping a twig.


    He released my hand as I stifled a gasp of pain. He walked to the valued device in no great hurry. When he released me, I looked to Rose for help. She still leaned there against the wall, watching like it was some kind of play. I turned my gaze to Tessa in desperation. The Gnomish girl looked on in horror. She clearly wanted to help but knew that she didn¡¯t have the skills. She reached a tentative hand towards me before drawing it back to slip the fingertips between her lips.


    I turned back to Thallos. He was distracted, so it was act now or lose the chance. My physical and mental enhancements provided almost no help, and he was too fast for me with whatever spell he had worked over him. I¡¯d need to out-think him.


    I rushed him from behind, knowing full well that he could hear me coming. When I closed the distance, I lept at him and threw a sidekick. Mid-air, I pulled my left knee to my chest, and when his head was close enough, I punched the leg out with all the momentum to my dash.


    When I reached him, he was only halfway to the device. Without looking, he caught my kick by the ankle in one hand. Before he reduced my momentum to nothing, he turned and drove a punch into my chest that felt supersonic. There was a blur of motion and a feeling of impact against the side of my chest that felt like a brick shot from a cannon. I was sent into a spin that he only helped by swinging me like a limp cudgel. The world blurred, and breathing became difficult as Thallos spun me around three times before driving me headfirst into the floor. I didn¡¯t really feel pain. There was pressure against the side of my head and shoulder, the world filled with static. The pressure left to be replaced with a full-body burn.


    When the world stopped spinning and the static cleared, I found that Thallos had released me to fly from his grip to land head first and roll a good fifteen feet. I was that much closer to the elevator, but I had a terrible feeling. As fast as I could manage, I pulled up my therra-node. My scan told me I had three cracked ribs, a shattered wrist, and a sprained ankle. I pulled another program to the forefront even as I heard him sauntering towards me. I crawled towards the elevator, and Thallos went on with his story as he closed the distance. ¡°Since I couldn¡¯t beat him, I took out my anger on other things. That anger turned to fascination, and I explored. But when my dearest mother and father found me picking apart a fox, piece by piece, they got worried. They tried to fix something that wasn¡¯t broken, saying my interest was disturbing.¡± I felt a vice-like grip around my broken ankle, drawing a burning pain only a half moment before I left the ground completely. I took that last moment of clarity to hit ¡®send¡¯.


    The air whistled past my ears, and I tried to ready myself for what came next. When I struck the wall, I still broke more ribs, sprouted new bruises, and knocked the wind from my lungs, but having expected some kind of hard impact, I minimized the shock. My head still spun, and my vision still shined with a dazzling static of stars, but I was dimly aware of a pair of small hands pressing against my back.


    Knowing what was happening and what would come next, I spent the last of my Vells by taking my entire remaining hand and using the shadow gauntlet to tear open five new gashes. I felt the Umbra Myst sapping my strength from the wounds I caused, but I focused and threw every last one of the five Vells I had into casting pure and raw Chaos. That new set of wounds nullified my mental and physical enhancements, but if I played this right, it wouldn¡¯t matter. I took what I had and warped the probability of the universe to give me some form of good luck. I felt the itching tingle of healing magic rush through my body as I heard Tessa whisper, ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ve got you.¡±


    I thanked whatever God or Titan that was looking down upon me at that moment as I felt my ankle and wrist mend to whole. But before Tessa could finish the job, her magic came to a sudden stop, and she let out a gasp of shock and agony. I pulled my gaze to her to see what had happened to find Thallos standing behind her.


    ¡°We can¡¯t have that now, can we.¡± Thallos said in a smooth tone as Tessa fell forward me to show a dagger protruding from the small of her back, exactly at the spine. ¡°I want a fair fight when I beat understanding into Iver. This is his baptism in blood. These are the final forging blows to hone him into a true blade worth being feared.¡±


    I rolled out from under Tessa and rolled over onto my knees as swift as light and shifted to check on the girl. I knelt over her and checked if she was living. She was breathing and had a strong but rapid pulse. I checked the dagger wound to see if it was critical. The wound location wasn¡¯t lethal currently, but it was at her lower spine, between vertebrae. She would be paralyzed from the waist down but would live. At that moment, keeping Tessa alive was all that mattered.


    I turned on my heel while still crouched to face Thallos. The glare I pressed at him would¡¯ve killed and rotted small rodents.


    ¡°You¡¯re angry. Good.¡± He stepped out of my reach before I could lash out. He spread his hands in a placating gesture. ¡°I see your eyes brimming with hate, boy.¡± He stated. ¡°Hate is good. Hate keeps a man strong. Like how I hated the clan after I disposed to that annoying girl, and they exiled me. Focus on that hate boy. Nurture it.¡±


    I slowly rose to my feet, waiting and ready. With no idea how the Chaos Myst I had cast would manifest, I had to be ready for anything. Five Vells was a pitiful amount of energy put into a luck spell, with my affinity score for Chaos being one of my lowest. That meant that the result could be as small as a misstep in Thallos¡¯s onslaught, or the entire ceiling could come down if the right conditions were met. I just hoped that the conditions I had set in place would be enough to cross with my Chaos Myst and give me something that I could use to survive and escape with Tessa.


    I held my position as Thallos circled me like a stalking hound, looking for vulnerability. I rotated to keep facing him as he circled. He pulled a couple of half-hearted lunges intended as faints, but when I didn¡¯t even flinch, I could see in his eyes when she recalculated his approach.


    Thallos stood up straight to take a lax pose. ¡°You know you can¡¯t beat me, boy. I¡¯ve taught you everything you know. I¡¯ve raised and nurtured your warrior¡¯s skill and predator''s instinct. I¡¯ve seen all of your tricks. I know your tactics and style, and I outclass you in everything. Do you really want to keep this up?¡± He shifted to check his nails like our talk didn¡¯t even matter. ¡°Why not just give in, boy? You know I¡¯ll win this, and I have plans for you. So just give in.¡±


    I brandished my catlar in defiance. ¡°And join the butcher of my father. I don¡¯t think so.¡±


    ¡°But don¡¯t you want to meet your mother?¡± Thallos gave in a tempting tease.


    I felt a small hand brush against the shadows of my left hand, trying to slip something into my palm. I took the small device without giving away what happened. ¡°You kill her too? Do you want a complete family collection?¡± I taunted.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t killed your spawn mother. And if you join me, we can find her together.¡±


    There was a tug at my leg. I knelt down, mimicking a lunging crouch, catlar held before me in a defensive yet threatening pose. I heard Tessa mutter to me, ¡°I converted it all to raw Myst. Go win this.¡±


    I sneaked a glance into my left palm to find the necklace I gave her for storing Myst for later use. I closed my fist and tried to draw from it with no luck. I guessed I needed a focus. So I shifted the shadows of my left hand around to expose my lower palm and extend the claw on my index finger. I felt the bite and the sapping of my strength even if the draw was by the smallest of margins, every scrap of ability and talent counted in this fight. I just hoped that it was a just price.


    I focused on the trickle of blood and mentally bound it to the necklace in my palm. This entire act was pure theory of the moment, but I was enjoyably shocked to find that it worked. The small rivulet of blood in the palm of my hand charged with raw and unaligned Myst. I shifted the shadows again and drove four fingers into the heel of my palm till they reached the bone. Ironically, it was only by the skills he taught me and the sheer force of will Thallos instilled in me that I hid the act. I bantered with the sinvious bastard as I took an inventory of the Vells in my palm. ¡°Find her? You mean that you knew her, and you lost her?¡± I relaxed my posture by only the slightest amount. It was meant to fool the master liar into thinking that I was taking in his lies.


    ¡°I knew he quite well, in fact, boy.¡± He took this opportunity to slowly backpedal to the contraption that still lay on the floor. ¡°She was a member of the Company till she had a disagreement with the board.¡± He knelt down while still facing me and scooped up the device with a hand pressed behind his back.


    I counted the charge at thirty Vells. The max capacity of the necklace when I gifted it to Tessa. It looked like she had been busy, but I was lucky for it. I relaxed my caltar hand by the slightest degree. ¡°A disagreement about what?¡±


    ¡°About her work. She was a certified master of biology, chemistry, alchemy, and spellcraft. She said that it was meant for peaceful times. But the board thought her work was best put to use in bringing global peace.¡±


    I relaxed a little more. ¡°How was there a disagreement? Doesn¡¯t bringing peace lead to peaceful times?¡±


    Thallos gave a smile of honest joy as he relaxed by the slightest bit while approaching. ¡°That¡¯s how the board sees it. To bring peace takes effort, and effort is still needed to maintain peace. That¡¯s the Company¡¯s goal, to unify the world in peace.¡±


    As he stepped closer, I continued to spill more blood from my palm and convert it into useable myst. At that moment, I had nineteen of the thirty Vells and channeled ten of it into Umbra Myst, the remaining nine I had converted into Death Myst. I was aiming for an even ten/ten ratio, but I needed to play for more time.


    ¡°Did my mother say her perspective?¡± I asked, trying to sound honestly curious despite honestly not believing a word.


    Thallos, with the device in hand, gave an easy shrug, his readiness still there but wearing away if I kept at it. ¡°She thought that peace through subduing misdoers couldn¡¯t lead to anything but disorder when tensions rise too high.¡±


    ¡°Then where did she go?¡±


    Thallos pointed his dagger at me in a sign of agreement. ¡°That¡¯s the issue. She fled the Company and left you and her work with Fermose. I¡¯ve already explained that in the Company, you need to be ready to kill anyone to get the job done for the greater good-¡±


    I pulled all thirty Vells into ten Umbra, ten Death, and ten Fire, only heartbeats before the elevator dinging to signal someone reached the floor. Thallos turned toward the elevator, and I took my chance. I shifted my shadow gauntlet into a whip, a weapon I had never shown talent with, and channeled all the raw myst I had been cultivating into the cord of power. Through the control of my will, the whip wrapped around Thallos¡¯s right shin. The cable supercharged with Fire, Umbra, and Death had an immediate effect. I wrenched him off his feet to land on his chest, his pant leg burning to cinders and the leg below rapidly blackening with char and necrotic power. As his leg began to disintegrate, he reached back and dispelled the cord wrapped around his leg with a sweep of his hand.


    He pulled himself to his feet as the elevator opened to release Mystagogue Thrasher brandishing a massive war hammer burning with black flames, the Mysteriarch in her voluminous robes, an orb of pure lightning in her left hand, and a sparking rapier in her right, and a woman I had never met before in black leathers with spiked shoulder and armed with a long sword in her left and a morning star in her right the glowed with a sickly green light.

 Chapter 41

    The Elven peoples are notorious for the value they put in eugenics. Marriages between Elven families take into account the ¡°quality¡± of each lineage¡¯s blood before binding together. In fact, it is because of Elven culture that many people replace the term ethnicity with breed, regardless of species, even if no true breeding is involved.


    Day 381 Quenchenday


    The three Mystagogues exited the elevator in a calm and organized manner, but the moment they left the mirrored box, they each jumped into action. Thrasher took three massive strides forward before giving an over-exaggerated stomp that sent the tile floor rippling like a fluid ocean. Thallos rode the stone waves like a pro, even with his ruined leg. Meanwhile, I struggled to keep my feet, the waves reaching every wall of the room.


    Before the floor settled, Thrasher circled to my right in a ready stance. The remaining two professors rode the waves of tile and stone as if they had done so a hundred times before. Mysteriarch Kaydammin bounded from wave crest to wave crest as agile as a cat. As she reached the closest wave to Thallos, she didn¡¯t even hesitate to lung at him with a thrust from her sparking Rapier.


    Thallos spun on the heel of his maimed leg to sidestep the lung and responded to the assault by summoning a Longsword of shadow, as I had, but the shape of his blade was far more solid and clean. He threw the Dagger he had in hand at Thrasher, forcing the massive Orc to block with the head of his hammer. Thallos followed up the hurtle with a spinning reverse stab at Mysteriarch Kaydammin. But the High Elf deflected the massive shadow blade with her Rapier easily, forcing the thrust to pass wide.


    The Human Mystagogue that I would refer to henceforth as The Warhorse circled to my left. As the Mysteriarch deflected the thrust, The Warhorse closed in with a wide swing from the Longsword in her right hand. With the blade closing in, Thallos did something I thought was near-impossible in his current state. He threw himself over the swing. His body seemed to move like liquid, his head behind the blade, back arching over the blade, his one good leg kicking out at the Mysteriarch¡¯s Rapier hilt as he went. Suddenly, Thallos was on his back on the floor; The Warhorse¡¯s swing continued unimpeded, and the Mysteriarch¡¯s sword flew from her grip.


    Without skipping a beat, the Mysteriarch reached out for her weapon, and it flew back into her grip as if it had never left. I knew that Thallos was on the floor because if he¡¯d had both legs in functional order, he would have simply flipped to land back on his feet. It felt good knowing that I had handicapped the slither-spine as he was being bore down upon by three experienced fighters.


    The Warhorse continued the horizontal slash of her Longsword but spun into and past it to throw an overhead Morning Star strike aimed for his head while he lay prone. Thallos rolled to his right to avoid the slam. He then performed kip-upped to his feet just in time to find Thrasher¡¯s War Hammer swinging for his chest. The Wild Elf nimbly danced away from the heavy swing and stepped into the Mysteriarch¡¯s lightning spell.


    Arcs of purple-white electricity danced from her fingertips and lanced to Thallos. I noticed a flicker of silver before a blur of motion. From what I had seen, it looked like he had blocked every arc of electricity with his shadow blade.


    Thrasher lifted his massive hammer, its head glowing a brown-gray color, but a half moment before he could bring the weapon down, Thallos flicked a vermillion spark into his face. Thrasher¡¯s eyes were unfocused, and his weapon fell by the wayside.


    The Warhorse adjusted her angle from the downward slam that missed by stepping toward Thallos, pivoting on her forward heel, and pulling a two-weapon-swing, Morning Star swinging low and Longsword swinging high. Thallos countered by stepping out of the Morningstar¡¯s shorter range and deflecting the Longsword with his shadow blade.


    The Mysteriarch closed in with a fist full of fire, but Thallos saw it coming and adjusted for The Warhorse to stand between him and the fist of flame. Thrasher shook himself free of the confusion spell to notice the situation and charged in from Thallos¡¯s bare side. The Wild Elf noticed the charge and took another sidestep to his right. This put Thrasher between him and the Mysteriarch.


    But The Warhorse hadn¡¯t finished yet. With her sword blocked against his Shadow Blade, she charged the sword Lumina Myst to cancel his Umbra Myst even as she pulled her Morning Star¡¯s head parallel with Thallos. Her light blade carved through Thallos¡¯s shadow weapon like a razor blade through fat. As his weapon faded, she spun around with the momentum of her sword to point her mace head at him and release a shot.


    A bolt of fire and kinetic force struck Thallos and knocked him off his feet, a large burn wound at the center of his chest. The Wild Elf struck his back against the floor and rolled back into a crouch. In his right hand, he formed another blade of shadow, but this one gave flickers of dark purple while his free left hand reached into one of his many pockets.


    As the three elite warriors closed in on the mad master, he jabbed a hypo-jection needle into his maimed leg; the flesh reconstructing at a rapid pace. The burn wound at his chest closed, but the shirt still bore the scorched scar. The Mysteriarch threw a bolt of ice as she closed the distance. Thallos batted aside the bolt, but as his shadow blade collided with her spell, she pressed the offensive with a flurry of strikes from her Rapier. Thallos couldn¡¯t help but give ground inch by inch.


    It was around that moment I thought about the physical cost of myst. I was almost completely exempt, and Rose was free from the cost because she had been using MyCast. But real casters paid a real physical price for their spells. Thrasher had used Earth magic, which drew minerals from the blood, and he had the slightest quiver to the grip of his weapon. The Mysteriarch had used Kinetic and Ice, as well as Voltreonic Current, which was a cross between Fire and Air. That meant she paid for that spell with oxygen and minerals from her blood, and heat and hydration from her body. Yet she showed no sense of even the slightest weakness. I guess that just went to show the amount of power she could bring to bear.


    Meanwhile, The Warhorse had used Lumina, Air, Earth, and Fire. The prices for those were  passion for Lumina which I really couldn¡¯t tell if she lost any at the moment. But a loss of oxygen and minerals from the blood as the price for Kinetic was only slightly more visible. If I hadn¡¯t known about spells and their costs would have just thought that she was barely winded and weak from her physical attacks. But body heat was another hard one to notice in the heat of battle (No pun intended). Was the master cold? Hard to tell as she tried to beat in the skull of the man who had ruined me over the course of almost two years.


    Thrasher closed in with caution, swinging that massive Warhammer in wide arks to force Thallos back step by step. The tactic worked. He couldn¡¯t lose a fraction of his focus from the massive maul because it was a threat that could put him down. The Warhorse and the Mysteriarch divided and moved to close him in from separate angles. Holding my breath, I watched as the net closed on the man who had ruined me.


    But somehow, Thallos saw the tactic coming. With one of the wide swings of the Warhammer, Thallos jumped up and posted both feet against the weapon and used the momentum of the attack to help him kick off and land free of the triangle of capture. He pulled from his pocket some kind of smoke bombs and threw them at the three masters. As they coughed and tried to regroup, the Wild Elf circled around into plain view of me.  With his strange contraption in one hand, he reached out his other hand in offer to me. ¡°Come with me, and we can find your mother.¡±


    I had a moment of pure desire to meet the woman. A moment where I tried to forgive Thallos¡¯s actions and find a reason to trust him. I had never had much of a family, and even if Thallos was sick in the head, he was still family to my father. He had quite a bit in common with the man who raised me, and he even had a better sense of humor and was more willing to help me. What if I lost a father to gain an uncle to help me find my mother? Was that fate? All of this flashed through my mind in the space between heartbeats, but I knew what I had to do.


    My answer was obvious when I took a defensive step back, but his next move was a complete shock. Thallos looked past me and offered his hand again. ¡°Come with me, and I will make you a legend.¡± His promise wasn¡¯t for me. I turned to follow his gaze to lock eyes with Rose. I saw what he was trying and I couldn¡¯t let it happen. I lashed out with the shadow whip I still had bound to my hand. My first strike merely wounded his right eye, drawing a scorched and necrotic line from his brow to his cheek.


    The Primal girl glanced from me to the bastard, back and forth, again and again, before she gave me a look of apology and hurried to Thallos¡¯s side. He commanded her to collect the box the device had come in, and she acted in instant obedience.


    When she moved to follow him, I felt my heart crack. When she followed his instructions without question, my heart broke. And when Thallos reached into his pocket to throw down an object that ripped open a portal, I took my second chance, striking out again with the shadow whip. The coil wrapped around his left arm, and I yanked back with every scrap of strength I had left. There was the sound of charring meat followed by a sound of tearing. The whole thing ended with a sickening squelch paired with the sound of flesh being thrown to the stone floor. I looked up in a panic to find Thallos missing his left arm, stepping through the gate. When Rose followed him through without even a glance back, my hopes for love shattered. The gate closed with a loud sucking sound, drawing in some of the dispersed smoke before it collapsed.


    I fell to my knees, any spells I controlled vaporized with my loss of focus, tears streaming down my face. I couldn¡¯t even sob, I was in such deep shock. The closest thing to a father figure I had found since my original father¡¯s death was my father¡¯s butcher. I had trusted the man with my training and guidance, and he turned out to be a mad sadist. At the moment of shock, I was dimly aware that in the honest fight with him, he only drew blood once. Almost like he expected me to draw power from blood, so he used blunt force damage. Had he always been so twisted?


    But beyond the betrayal of Thallos, there was Rose. The girl who saved my life and took countless hours of her free time to teach me how to fight. One of my first friends and one of my closest friends that I confided in. The girl I could have loved and grown closer to. She left without a second look after the promise of glory. Had she always been so shallow?


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Was everyone this way? Did everyone have secrets that would wind up burning me in the end? What about Nennel? What about Fermose? Were they hiding some kind of monster under their skin? Were they going to turn against me? Were friends always this painful? How was I supposed to live if the people in my life were all going to turn against me?


    I lay there on my knees, tears streaming, face blank, body limp for an amount of time only the Gods would know. I was brought back to reality when I felt a massive, calloused hand touch my shoulder with a feather¡¯s weight. I raised my tear-streaked face to see the Mystagogue Thrasher looking down at me with concern. My saviors. The three instructors of the academy came without question, ready to fight. Were they going to ask for something in return?


    I hurriedly wiped my eyes with a balled fist, snorting away any snot I could before looking up at the instructors. Thrasher had a fraction of his massive hand gently resting on my bare shoulder. I saw concern in his eyes, and I felt hope. I turned to the Mysteriarch, and in her good eye, I saw worry. Did she really care? I looked to the third instructor and found an aged Human woman¡¯s face. Crossways of scars lined the whole of her face, her right eye covered with an eye patch. She just looked annoyed.


    ¡°Iver,¡± Started Thrasher, ¡°I got your message. I found support and came as quickly as I could manage. What happened?¡±


    The Human instructor piped in, ¡°Let¡¯s start with that message. This fight pulled me away from a fine lunch to beat some ass. I¡¯d like to know why I came down here armed to put down a beast.¡±


    Thrasher shot her an annoyed look without turning away from me. ¡°I only got the minimum details from his message. It read: ¡®Thallos is schizo and trying to kill me. Come quick.¡¯¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it? I was dragged away from my glorious turkey and swiss, because a student thought their mentor was trying to kill them.¡± She rolled her eye as she sheathed her blade with one hand and shouldered her Morning Star with the other. ¡°If I had a copper for every time a student thought their mentor wanted them dead, I¡¯d be able to buy a better meal than a turkey and swiss sandwich.¡±


    Mysteriarch Kaydammin shot the woman a glare of exasperation. ¡°Patients Navor. Let¡¯s hear the boy¡¯s story.¡± The headmaster of the academy turned back to me. Her expression was caring, her demeanor was gentle. She seemed to genuinely care. But the authority of the headmaster of the academy intimidated me into silence. I didn¡¯t want to complain about something that was normal in the school. It would only look weak.


    When I turned to Mystagogue Thrasher for some hint of how to act, I found him examining my bare chest. The massive Orc looked disturbed by what he saw, and I didn¡¯t know why.


    ¡°Iver, where did all these scars come from?¡± The large man¡¯s voice was gentle and soft, but it drew the other two''s attention to my body.


    ¡°By the dark fragment! How did he get all those?¡± the Human Mystagogue almost demanded in shock.


    I turned back to the Mysteriarch to read her expression, but the one-eyed Elf was featureless as a marble statue. I turned back to Mystagogue Thrasher and answered as best as I could manage while feeling like I had done something terribly wrong. ¡°I-it¡¯s from my training. I-I know I wasn¡¯t d-doing well in the beginning,¡± I muttered, scared to make eye contact. But I forced myself to speak up and look Mystagogue Thrasher in the eye when I spoke next. ¡°But I¡¯ve really improved. I worked ridiculously hard to improve so that I would have fewer shame scars.¡±


    ¡°Shame scars?¡± Asked the new Mystagogue in clear confusion.


    I sat back on my haunches and lowered my gaze to my knees. ¡°I wasn¡¯t very good at most of the Dark Hunter training other than crafting. And you know¡­¡±


    I could hear the accusation in her tone when she said, ¡°I know what?¡±


    ¡°Well, I was pretty bad at combat training, and Thallos made sure I had pain-reinforced assassin and spy training. You know, the normal. If I got a question wrong, I got injured. I just wasn¡¯t good at most of it, but I worked insanely hard to get good enough to pass the stab training.¡±


    ¡°Stab training?!¡± Eyepatch exclaimed.


    ¡°Iver,¡± Started the Mysteriarch, ¡°We don¡¯t have any training like that. We train even the Dark Hunter students in safe and respectable ways. The only exception to that is on training quests, and even then, students are sent out with a mentor.¡±


    ¡°But it was safe and respectable.¡± I argued. I pointed over to Tessa as she lay on the floor. ¡°We had Tessa as a healer to make sure we wouldn¡¯t die.¡±


    ¡°WHAT?!¡± they all exclaimed in unison. Thrasher hurried away from me to check on Tessa.


    ¡°Well, yeah. Thallos said Tess was getting extra credit for watching over our training and healing any damage. But Thallos stabbed her in the lower back when she was healing me after he went the way of Kassidan¡¯s parade.¡±


    Thrasher muttered to the Gnomish girl, and she muttered back. He delicately checked her wound before proclaiming, ¡°She¡¯s in no immediate danger, but her lower spine has been severed. We need to take her to the Med Center.¡±


    I raised my hand in an offer, hoping for an escape from the interrogation. But Thrasher pinned me with a level look as he said, ¡°Not you, Mr. Maverick. We still have more questions for you.¡± He turned back to the girl as he tapped his therra-node. ¡°I¡¯m summoning some med students and giving them clearance. They should be here within fifteen.¡± he laid a ginger hand atop Tess¡¯s head as he muttered to her before rejoining the others in interrogating me.


    ¡°So, to be clear, Iver, are these scars from standard daily training?¡± The Mysteriarch asked. I gave a vigorous nod and responded quickly with ¡°Yes, Mysteriarch K.¡±


    Thrasher lowered his gaze to the floor as he scratched his brow. Mysteriarch K stood up straight and stretched her back, pressing her hands against the lower portion of her spine as she turned her gaze to the ceiling. The new Mystagogue rolled her eye in a very dramatic manner before massaging her brow.


    ¡°Iver,¡± started Thrasher. ¡°We don¡¯t have any training like that in any of our academies.¡±


    ¡°But Thallos¡­¡± I started, but Thrasher cut me off, ¡°But nothing, Iver.¡± His tone sounded as final as a concrete block to the jaw.


    Mysteriarch K leaned back in and asked in a gentle tone, ¡°Did Thallos tell you anything that he wouldn¡¯t want to be shared?¡±


    My lips sealed in reflex before I thought about what my so-called uncle did. I gave a single steadfast nod in answer before opening up. I told them everything: the stab training, Thallos¡¯s words about the hidden fragment and her hunger for hearts, the Order hiding shadows, and the hope of The Company. As I spewed everything out that had been building behind my lips, I thought of how Thallos had treated me for the past half-year and how it was all false. I looked back at his words as I repeated them to the masters, and I wondered how much of it was lies and propaganda for brainwashing me. He said the Order was made up of sacrifice-hungry goons hiding their acts behind a facade, but that all came from the man who said the routine stabbing was standard training and almost preached that it was okay that he killed my father.


    I hated the man. I loathed him and his ideals. I was revolted by Rose for following him. As I verbally carved out every inch of my training for the masters, in the back of my mind, I wondered who was next. Who would stab me in the back next? Would the betrayal be for fame, money, success, or power? I only had two friends left if I didn¡¯t include Tess. But at that point, was she just the same as the others? Using me? Toying with me? Was it fun to make me feel hope and trust before stripping it to the bone? Was it all some sick game to climb the social ladder that I had barely been aware was there? If that was the case, then what was the difference between Nennel and Mallrimor? Better yet, who was worse between the two? The traitor playing me like a tool, or the bastard breaking me down for fun?


    All these thoughts passed back and forth in my head, echoing, repeating, fading just to come back again as I was honest with the masters. But I wasn¡¯t even sure if they were safe.


    ¡°Iver,¡± Came the Mysteriarch. ¡°We have never been so brutal as to perform ¡®stab training¡¯. I can promise you that the Dark Hunters aren¡¯t some bloodthirsty cult. In fact,¡± she gestured to the new Mystagogue, ¡°Mystagogue Terra Navor is a Dark Hunter instructor.¡±


    Mystagogue Navor knelt down to attempt to look me in the eye, but I stalwartly held my gaze locked on my hands as I clutched them together atop my knees. She took my jaw in a gentle yet firm grip and guided my face to look her in her remaining eye. I stubbornly kept my eyes lowered. I didn¡¯t want to see what I could feel in her gaze. Disdain, disgust, annoyance. If she was a Dark Hunter Mystagogue, then she would be just as hard as Thallos.


    She knocked me out of my downward spiral when the old warhorse of a woman flicked me between the eyes with her free hand. I jerked back, more from shock than out of pain. ¡°Don¡¯t get caught up in your head, kid.¡± she shifted the hand holding my jaw to wipe away the congealing blood below my cut eye with a gentle sweep of her thumb. ¡°How about we get you patched up at the Med Center? After you are back in one piece, we can sit down and have an honest talk, no lies, no secrets. I¡¯ll tell you everything I can. The good, the bad, the respectable, and the dark.¡±


    I gave her a look of heavy skepticism. The Mystagogue was an old matron of an iron warhorse, her right eye was hidden behind a form-fitted metal patch held on by three leather straps. Crow¡¯s feet eyes framed her eye and patch. Her hair was salt and pepper and cut close to her scalp. Her face was hash-marked with a crosswork of scars. ¡°Thallos already spoonfed me his propaganda. So now it sounds like you¡¯re about to do the same. You¡¯re going to tell me that Thallos¡¯s organization is an evil agency and that you are the good guys.¡±


    She flicked me between the eyes again, and this time, it stung. ¡°You¡¯re not listing, you twit. Open your ears, kid. If I were going to ¡®spoonfeed you propaganda¡¯, do you really think I¡¯d tell you the darker side of what we do?¡±


    I rubbed my forehead with two fingers to work out the sting. ¡°I guess.¡± I conceded.


    Navor pulled herself to her feet and offered me a hand up. I eyed the hand, thinking of all the possible ways such a simple gesture of trust and acceptance could end in total disaster. Where could it lead? Would I wind up getting used again? Would this lead to another year of abuse under the guise of training or seven years? No. I was overthinking it. She wasn¡¯t Thallos. I couldn¡¯t let fresh wounds ruin my future.


    I took the proffered hand, and the warrior matron lifted me to my feet with ease. She patted the top of my head in a manner that made me feel like a favored pet dog. I shot her a peeved looked, but she didn¡¯t pay it any mind. ¡°Let¡¯s start with a damage report. Where¡¯s it hurt, kid?¡±


    I took a mental tally of my pains. ¡°Tessa partially healed me during the fight, but it feels like I¡¯ve still got a couple of bruised ribs. My ankle feels tweaked. I think there might be something wrong with my shoulder, and, of course, there¡¯s my eye.¡±


    ¡°You think you can manage the trip to the Med Center?¡±


    I tested the functionality of my injured ankle. ¡°I think I can manage.¡±


    ¡°Good. Your name¡¯s Iver, right?¡±


    I nodded in confirmation.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get you down there.¡± She turned to Mystagogue Thrasher. ¡°Meet up with us after you can verify the girl¡¯s condition?¡± The colossal Orc gave a nob before turning back to Tessa with clear worry in his expression.


    Navor turned to Mysteriarch Kaydammin. ¡°And do you want to come with, Mysteriarch?¡±


    The High Elf shook her head. ¡°I need to inform the Master Mystagogues of the betrayal and set countermeasures into motion. I¡¯ll check in after I¡¯ve finished.¡±


    ¡°Confirmed, my lady.¡± Navor gave a salute before signaling for me to follow. ¡°Let¡¯s get going.¡±


    ¡±What about Tessa?¡± I asked.


    Navor kept an even stride as we left the room. Her tone was totally unreadable. ¡°The girl might not be in imminent danger, but I¡¯d still rather not move her unless strictly necessary.¡±

 Chapter 42

    If the Sophic Species are the peoples capable of complex thought and civil organization, then the Bellicose Species are their dark twins. Firbolgs, Arachnytes, Lizard Folk, and many more. These are the sapient species capable of complex thought, and as a whole, their cultures commonly revolve around raw power, trickery, suffering, and the hunting of the Sophic Species for sport or food.


    Day 381 Quenchenday


    Dr. Brooksheen entered the examination room as I sat atop the table. Her motions weren¡¯t exactly hurried, but she seemed to move with more purpose than usual. Mystagogue Navor sat in a chair against the back wall beside the holo-display, cycling through anatomy displays from a variety of species.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s nice to see you again, young man. I only wished it were under different circumstances.¡± the doctor mused as she operated her therra-node, no doubt looking over the notes on me. ¡°But I must admit, I¡¯m shocked that I haven¡¯t seen you more frequently.¡± She teased with an amused smile. ¡°Have you been putting lady Kaysim through the rings?¡±


    ¡°Lady Kaysim? Oh! You mean Tessa.¡± my expression fell when Tessa¡¯s state came to mind. ¡°She¡¯s been a big help, but everything kinda fell apart today, and she got hurt, badly.¡± My tone was somber as guilt set it. If she hadn¡¯t stepped up to heal me, she wouldn¡¯t have gotten hurt. I pulled the necklace I had made for her from my pocket. I examined it in the palm of my hand and noticed the storage crystal at its core was cracked. I must¡¯ve drawn the myst from it too quickly.


    ¡°I saw her name on the patient list. Could to tell me what happened?¡±


    I guiltily glanced up at the elder Wood Elf, meeting her eye for only the barest moment before throwing my gaze to the floor. I didn¡¯t want to see the accusation in her eyes when I told her what happened. ¡°Thallos wasn¡¯t who he acted to be and tried to¡­ separate me from my mortal coil. Tessa stepped in to heal me, and he put a dagger in her back.¡±


    I heard her shocked intake of breath, and I tightened up on reflex, curling in on myself by the smallest bit. I hurried to explain, the words pouring from my mouth. ¡°Thrasher said that she wasn¡¯t in immediate danger, but her spine was severed.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s just terrible to hear. But you can¡¯t blame yourself for this accident.¡± The doctor¡¯s tone was gentle.


    I felt tears welling up as my vision blurred. A weight was lifted from my shoulders, but I still couldn¡¯t help but blame myself despite the doctor¡¯s words. I voiced as much. ¡°How can I not blame myself?¡± I snapped with vitriol towards myself.


    Mystagogue Navor sharply stood and walked the two paces to reach me before she slapped me with an open palm across the back of my head. ¡°You need to grow up, kid. The girl knew the danger she was getting into when she helped you.¡±


    I massaged the back of my head with one hand. ¡°I just hope that whoever heals her is good enough to get her walking again.¡±


    ¡°Oh, sweetheart.¡± Dr. Brooksheen cooed in sympathy, the weight of bad news left unspoken.


    I raised my head to look at the doctor with pleading eyes. ¡°What? What is it?¡±


    ¡°Gnomes can¡¯t have Life Myst used on them for healing.¡± Navor stated.


    I looked at the Mystagogue in horror. ¡°But what about cybernetics? They can still bind the spinal cord back together. Right?¡± I could hear the desperation in my own voice, and I hated myself for it all the more.


    Both the doctor and the instructor slowly shook their heads in the negative. My heart shuddered with the blow of their silent answer. Tessa would be bound to a wheelchair for the rest of her life. How was I supposed to not feel responsible?


    ¡°Kid,¡± the Mystagogue started, ¡°I can feel the self-loathing rolling off you like stink rolls off a troll.¡±


    The doctor cleared her throat before I could deny the lady¡¯s statement. ¡°There¡¯s nothing you can do for her at the moment, so let me tend to your wounds.¡±


    I reluctantly agreed, and she went to work examining me and mending each injury as she found them. For the entire hour and a half that Dr. Brooksheen patched me back up, she tried to start up small talk about school and my plans for the future, but I was as receptive as a dormant golem. She never gave up trying to pull me out of my self-imposed isolation. The only time my distant stare was brought back to Anogwin was when she moved to heal the cut over my eye. She moved her hands in to mend the slash and I caught one in a strict grip. She gave me a quizzical look but didn¡¯t force the issue as I thought about this.


    That cut over my eye was the last time Thallos drew my blood. Should I keep it? Let it heal and scar naturally? A mark. A reminder of the hell Thallos put me through. Then I thought better of it. I had plenty of reminders under the collar. More than enough reminders. I didn¡¯t need to bear a brand that I couldn¡¯t hide from the world. Everyone already made assumptions just because of my species and odd skin. I didn¡¯t need to look like some budding supervillain or thuggish felon.


    I dropped my grip on the doctor¡¯s wrist and offered my eye. She gave me a kind, understanding smile as she pressed one hand above the wound and the other below, fingers on either side of the gash. I hadn¡¯t needed to have a wound on my face healed before, and it was definitely worse than I expected. Ants writhed under my skin, biting. The itch was more of a burning pins and needles sensation. I gritted my teeth and bore it till the gentle doctor finished.


    She gave me one last once over, then she gave me some encouraging words that I barely even noticed before she left. Navor gently jostled my shoulder to bring me back to reality. I gave my head a quick shake before I focused on the instructor. ¡°Listen, kid. I know you¡¯re in shock. Your life just got spontaneously reshaped by force. If you don¡¯t want to talk about the truth and all its ghosts, we can talk tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°What? No, no. But I want to have this talk with some other people present.¡±


    ¡°Who do you want to hear all this?¡±


    ¡°My friends. My real friends. Nennel, Ferris, and Tessa. I¡¯ve been telling them tales for long enough. They deserve the truth.¡±


    The Mystagogue gave me a warning look. ¡°Are you sure? This is not something to be shared lightly. If they hear this, they can¡¯t turn back. They could be in danger if things get dirty later. Or they could get seriously upset with you. Are you willing to take that chance?¡±


    I couldn¡¯t hide that I was scared, terrified that what little good I had managed to put together in my life could fall apart. My so-called uncle was a sadist and the girl of my dreams was a traitor. Nennel, Ferris, and Tess were all I had left. If they walked away, I didn¡¯t know what I would do. I didn¡¯t want to be alone again. I didn¡¯t think I could go back to being alone.


    But Nel and the others needed to know. I would want them to tell me if they had been doing something dangerous behind my back. I couldn¡¯t make this about me. Just because my life took a maul to the glass door didn¡¯t give me an excuse to keep things from them. I needed to grow up and man up.


    ¡°Y-yeah.¡± I muttered.


    The instructor rubbed her cheek and lips in thought. The motion drew my notice a notch missing from her upper lip. ¡°Alright, I know you¡¯re probably not hungry, but your Gnomish friend will be in surgery for a bit. Gather you''re cohorts, and tell them what¡¯s about what happened. But tell them you¡¯re waiting for me to gather you all when Tess can have visitors. Have a light snack while you wait. Trust me, you won¡¯t think about eating for a while. But you still need food for body, mind, and soul.¡± She walked to the door and waved us through the open passage as she held it. ¡°Now move your scrawny ass, kid.¡±


    I gave a dejected sigh before dragging myself from the table to follow orders.


    <hr>


    I did not know how, but it was evening. On the last day of the school year, at six in the afternoon. I should have been celebrating passing my Slate year at the academy. That is, if I actually had, given the situation. Instead, I was sitting in the back corner of the DFAC, half-heartedly picking at a plate of what might have been some kind of stroganoff. Nel and Ferris sat across the table from me, each with gray sandwiches untouched before them. We sat alone in the cavernous room. The only thing cutting through the pregnant silence was the buzzing of the fluorescent lights.


    The two looked at me in shock after I had explained what I could. Ferris let out a slow huff of air as he ran a hand through his wild hair. ¡°I don¡¯t know, Ive¡¯. This is a lot to take in. It¡¯s all a bit¡­ Dacker.¡±


    ¡°Dacker? You¡¯re kidding.¡± Nel was trying to stay calm, but there was a pressure to her words. ¡°Iver, this is full-blown insane. The flavor insane that brought about gene chimeras. The rumors about a secret sect being true.¡±


    ¡°And they follow a bloodthirsty fragment that was kept even more secret than the sect.¡± came Ferris.


    ¡°That Thallos was actually working for another organization.¡± Said Nel.


    ¡°And that he¡¯s spying on the hidden sect.¡± Said Ferris.


    ¡°Or how about that you talked Thallos into letting Rose join your secret spy club?¡±


    Ferris turned to her with a pointed finger. ¡°Secret assassin spy club.¡± He corrected. ¡°Or that Rose was stealing MyCast from the Master Mystagogue of Blackened Crown to trick you and Thallos into thinking she was a Mage.¡±


    ¡°And that she almost died from myst poisoning and was upset with you for saving her.¡±


    ¡°And this thing about stab training. Iver, do you have any idea how all this sounds?¡± Nennel said in clear skepticism.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Nel. Look at him. His shirt is scraps, and I¡¯m pretty sure that I¡¯m not hallucinating all those scars under.¡± Ferris pointed out.


    She raised her hands in surrender. ¡°Alright, the training bit might be near the truth. But Thallos nearly killing him and stabbing Tess. And Rose fleeing into a portal with him to evade three Mystagogues. This has to be some elaborate story.¡±


    ¡°Nnneelll.¡± Ferris teased knowingly. He pointed to me with a jabbing finger while mock-whispering behind his other hand. ¡°Tatters.¡±


    As they took turns questioning every point of my story, I chewed my cheek and bounced my knee faster and faster. When I had taken enough, I jabbed an accusatory finger between them. ¡°Fine! You two want proof.¡± I waved both hands at my decimated shirt. ¡°Exhibit A.¡± I thrust a finger at the entryway. ¡°If you still need more, you are welcome to ask Tessa, Mystagogue Thrasher, Mystagogue Navor, and the Mysteriarch. You can even do so separately. They will all corroborate.¡±


    Nel leaned against the table and gave me a look of challenge. ¡°Well, Mystagogue Thrasher is a silent wall of meat. I doubt I could get a word out of him. The Mysteriarch would never even agree to meet with a Slate even if I passed the Mastlok exam. The only one that could give me a straight answer is Tess, because I¡¯ve never heard of Mystagogue Navor.¡±


    Ferris leaned in to interject. ¡°Actually, I have heard of her.¡±


    She turned to look at the Elf. ¡°What?¡±


    He gave a vigorous nod. ¡°Oh yeah! She¡¯s kinda hard to miss. Angry, scarred up, old Human lady in all leather, with one bad eye.¡± He melodramatically pulled open one eye. ¡°They call her the Beast Eater.¡±


    ¡°Beast Eater?¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah! They say that she makes a sport of hunting dangerous monsters. They also say that she cooks up what she kills, regardless of what it is.¡± Ferris spoke like he was telling a ghost story, climaxing his tale with a crazy look in his eye as he looked between Nel and me while he said, ¡°She¡¯d even eat other sapients, including the Bellicose Species.¡±


    Nell rolled her eyes at the guy. ¡°Okay, now I know you¡¯re making this stuff up.¡±


    Right on cue, the doors swung open with a clatter, and a female figure strolled in, clad in studded leather from head to toe. I shifted from gawking at the Mystagogue to giving Nel a triumphant grin. Navor stalked up to the table like a predator. ¡°Alright, kids, your horned hero here. ¡° She gave a wide gesture to me. " Wants to share some very dangerous information with you.¡±


    ¡°Beast Eater.¡± squeaked Nennel, her eyes bulging as she choked on her comments.


    The instructor shot a glance at the girl with a raised brow. ¡°I don¡¯t see what my pastimes and culinary tastes have to do with me disclosing confidential information.¡± The comment raised brows all around the table.


    ¡°Wait. Dangerous information. Dangerous how?¡± Ferris asked.


    The Mystagogue cocked a hip, posted a hand against it, and glanced from me to the other two at the table. ¡°You told them, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± I said with a weighted sigh.


    ¡°Everything?¡± she pressed.


    ¡°Everything from my end of things.¡± I confirmed.


    She turned to Nennel and, without skipping a beat and stated, ¡°Everything he¡¯s told you is true.¡±


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°Everything?!¡± exclaimed Nel.


    ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t witness everything, but both Thrasher and K have confirmed a good bit of it.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s K?¡± Ferris asked.


    Navor looked at the boy as if he was stupid before something clicked in her head. ¡°You would know her as Mysteriarch Meckra Kaydammin.¡±


    ¡°The secret sixth sect?¡± pressed Nel.


    ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m a Dark Hunter, in fact, and an instructor in the Sect of the Dark Hunters. But I will say that while Horn Head here told you what he thought was true, he¡¯s been spoonfed¡­ altered information by a terrible man.¡± She gestured with her head towards the doors. ¡°I¡¯ll explain everything when we get into the Gnome girl¡¯s room.¡±


    ¡°She can have guests?¡± I asked, perking up.


    ¡°Why else would I be taking you three to her room?¡±


    I shot to my feet, ready to go. Without another word, we were on our way. I was eager to get there until I passed the front doors of the DFAC. Hope turned to dread as I thought about Tess never being able to walk again. Would she blame me? I found myself trailing the group until Navor threatened to string me up by my toes if I kept falling behind. After Thallos, I was not willing to take that gamble.


    We passed through the front doors of the Med Center, and Navor led us straight past the check-in desk. We moved through the halls until the Mystagogue stopped before a door to an infirmary room. She turned to us, one hand on the handle. ¡°If you follow me through this door, there is no turning back. The information you are about to be given is dangerous. If you take this information, your future moving forward, in the academy and in the Order, will be completely changed. Are you still willing?¡±


    We all wordlessly nodded in unison. One by one, we each stepped into the room, myself entering last. Tess¡¯s room was larger than any room I¡¯d had. Her bed was centered against the back wall. Tess herself lay slouched under a mound of itchy-looking blankets. She had a lazy, drugged smile, her eyes half-lidded. Two chairs stood against each wall to the left and right. The back right chair was twice the size of the other three and filled with a certain monolithic Orc who waited patiently.


    Navor gestured to the chairs in a wordless command. I took the seat beside Thrasher to spare the other two the awkward intimidation of taking the position. ¡°Hey, Tess.¡± I said tentatively, trying to get her attention. She turned her half-lidded gaze to me.


    ¡°Oh. Hey there, Iver.¡±


    ¡°How are you feeling?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Well, I can¡¯t feel my legs, but I feel kinda¡­ foamy. Like a bucket full of butterflies having a bubble bath.¡± She gave a light giggle at her own comment.


    She was clearly in the stratosphere on pain meds. I highly doubted that she would remember a thing of what was going to be discussed in the coming moments. I started second-guessing this idea but knew that it was too late.


    Mystagogue Navor locked the door to the room before she propped her back against it with her arms crossed. ¡°Alright, before we get neck-deep in facts, let me start with a question for you, Iver. I¡¯m guessing that Thallos told you his side was the good guys, and the Order was the bad guys.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± I confirmed


    ¡°And what did he say that his organization was?¡±


    ¡°He said that he was a Blood Arbiter of a group called The Company.¡±


    The instructor gave a roll of her eye so heavy that her head rolled with it. ¡°I¡¯ve heard of those jack-mule twits.¡± She pulled herself from the door and began a lax circular pacing. ¡°Let¡¯s get one thing straight from the beginning. Everyone is a hero in their own story. Every organization thinks its goals are what¡¯s best. In actuality, nothing in this world is truly all good or all evil. The whole of creation is painted in shades of gray.¡± Navor stopped, pressed a hand against her neck, and rolled her head as she continued.¡° That being said,¡± A series of pops emitted from her neck. ¡°I will admit that our order is no exception. While we do try to make the world a better place, we still operate from the shadows. When the ends justify the means, we do dirty work for what we consider the greater good.¡±


    ¡°You mean why we have assassins.¡± Nel stated.


    Navor gave a deep nod. ¡°That is just a shadow at the surface, but yes. We will not bargain or barter with those who refuse to think of the good of the people at large.¡±


    Ferris leaned forward in his seat. ¡°The greater good bit. Is what the Order teaches us, our mission and duty, really what¡¯s best for everyone?¡±


    This time, Thrasher spoke, one ankle propped atop the opposite knee, and he sat back. ¡°There is seldom something that is best for everyone. Most of the time, someone ends up on the losing end when we do our work.¡±


    ¡°And The Company?¡± I asked. ¡°Is what they want truly for the greater good?¡±


    Navor blew out a deep breath through tight lips. ¡°Their goal is global unification.¡±


    ¡°Well, that doesn¡¯t sound so bad.¡± said Ferris


    ¡°It is when their process to go about achieving that goal starts with inhumane experimentation and training,¡± she gestured to me, ¡°which Iver here is an example of. Or when their process of ¡®global unification¡¯,¡± she said this with air quote and a tone a heavy skepticism. ¡°Is based around destroying or controlling any other form of civil order and ends with the goal of total world domination.¡±


    Ferris pointed at her as he looked at me. ¡°Now, that does not sound nearly as warm and fuzzy as I thought it was going to.¡±


    ¡°And that is why we have labeled them an extremist faction. They do have people who agree with their methods and ideas and even have entire nations that they are friendly with. So they are no minor player on the global board.¡±


    ¡°But what about the Dark Fragment of the goddess and the Dark Hunder Sect?¡± I pressed.


    Navor turned to me. ¡°That¡¯s where things get on the darker end of morality. But even at our worst, you won¡¯t find Dark Hunters stealing away innocents on mass for blood sacrifice. The Dark Hunters are the Sect that is trained to fill any role. We specialize in being the most versatile tools with the sharpest skills in the Order¡¯s back pocket. We are the Order¡¯s multi-tool for when things get messy.¡±


    ¡°And the Fragment?¡± I was getting annoyed with her edging around the topic I wanted.


    Navor waved me away like a pesky insect. ¡°I¡¯m getting there, hornhead. Now, put down the torch and pitchfork. The goddess fragment of the Dark Hunters is known as Her Fragment of the Blighted Heart. Starting next year, you all are going to learn just how involved the Fragments are in their sects, and Her Fragment of the Blighted Heart is no different. She was the part of the Nameless Goddess that came in contact with the darkness she fought against. Originally, the Order thought that she was the shadow of the Goddess, the dark side of who she once was, if you will. When we learned the truth, we tried to communicate with the warped entity. It turned out that she could easily be the strongest of the fragments, but she has no love for life without a heart to call hers.¡±


    ¡°She has no heart?¡± Nel asked. She seemed completely enraptured by the story.


    Thrasher stepped in to answer this. ¡°No, she craves one. When we thought her just a dark shard of a deity, she would take hearts from members within the Order.¡±


    Navor took the reins of the discussion again. Their trade-off almost seemed seamlessly planned as she picked up from his comment without dropping a beat. ¡°Records from around those times say that the entity was a nightmare to behold and that she could appear anywhere within the Order¡¯s walls or grounds. She¡¯d just slide into existence, rip the heart from someone¡¯s chest, and vanish. We tried to put an end to the bloodshed, but it was pointless. Slaying her, trapping her, banishing her. Nothing worked. When the Order realized that she wasn¡¯t some monster you could put down but an actual deity, that¡¯s when the research started.¡±


    Thrasher stepped in again here. ¡°What was found was that she was after a particular type of heart.¡±


    ¡°Particular, like blood type or species?¡± I asked, looking at both Mystagogues for an answer.


    Thrasher shook his massive head. ¡°Something more ephemeral. She needs the heart of someone who has loved and lost. A wife whose husband died in war. A father who lost his child to sickness. We think the reason for this is for the emotional pain of losing a loved one. It reminds the Fragment of what she once was and what her duty is.¡±


    Navor picked it back up. ¡°The key component is that the owner of the heart has to have felt trust and honest love for someone and the pain of having that person lost in tragedy. If Her Fragment of the Blighted Heart consumes a heart with these conditions, she changes. For the next seven years, she will be a kind and powerful matron goddess. She watches over the whole of the whole world even if her acts go unnoticed.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± Ferris verbally tried to piece it all together. ¡°So crazy, powerful, heart-eating secret goddess turns to nice, but still powerful, goddess that¡­ acts like a mother?¡±


    Both of the instructors gave a snort before Thrasher answered. ¡°You can think of it that way if it helps.¡±


    I leaned forward, hands interlaced, elbows propped on my knees. ¡°And where do these hearts we need to appease the dark lady come from? I doubt that is something that we can readily farm or cultivate.¡±


    Navor pointed a finger at me in confirmation. ¡°And that¡¯s where things get dirty. Every seven years, a member is chosen from among the Dark Hunters to venture out, and find a heart that meets our standards and take it. It¡¯s not pretty, and we never enjoy the task, but the choices are either kill someone to keep the goddess sane or let her tare through our people night after night. This is why the Sect of the Dark Hunters is kept hidden from the rest of the order members while they are in the academy, aside from a select few. Between that and keeping the sect¡¯s knowledge out of unfriendly hands, we merely call the Dark Hunter members Type-three Mastloks.¡±


    Sitting back, I chewed on this new knowledge, brooding over it as I tried to decide what I felt about it. I could see the reason for hiding the sect. I could even understand the logic of a world of shades of gray. Even though I tried my best, I knew not even I was all good. If I wasn¡¯t all good and no one was pure in mortals, then a Priest or Monk likely wasn¡¯t all good. I¡¯d seen members of faith covet money or power. I¡¯d seen them turn away people who needed their service. But if that were true, then wouldn¡¯t the opposite? I hadn¡¯t really thought about it before, but I guessed even warlords had families they loved. Thieves had their reasons for what they did. Maybe even serial killers could have some shadow of goodness. This was a flawed world filled with flawed people. Following that thought chain, then even organizations weren¡¯t intended to be evil even if they had selfish motives. Everyone had their reasons for their choices, good or ill. I couldn¡¯t just jump to conclusions about someone I¡¯d need to dig deeper. That¡¯s why the Silent Heart training had so much on profiling and working with given data.


    Damn it! That would mean that Mallrimor had his reason for being a total scumbag to me. Well, I couldn¡¯t pick and choose who I looked into. But I still didn¡¯t feel comfortable about the heart thing. Even if it was for the greater good, carving out someone¡¯s heart was just downright disturbing.


    ¡°How would this be dangerous for Ferris and me?¡± Nell asked. ¡°I mean, I can see why it¡¯s secret and why you do what you do, but what¡¯s the danger of just knowing the facts?¡±


    Navor cocked her head at the cyborg girl. ¡°Think about it, Tin Cheeks. If you know something secret and you let slip that you know something you shouldn¡¯t, then you become a prime target for enemy agents and worse.¡±


    I turned to Nel and Ferris. ¡°So you guys don¡¯t hate me for all this?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± came Nel.


    ¡°Dude, of course not.¡± Ferris said. ¡°I mean, I thought my Slate year was bad with my lack of talent. But you, Ive¡¯. You take the cake. Attempted murder, secrets, theft, lies, brainwashing, intrigue, AND STAB TRAINING! Dude, it¡¯s a divine force of will that you survived all this madness. And how you had to do it all while training for all five sects.¡±


    I looked down at my feet, too shy from what Ferris had said. I shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s not that big a deal, guys. They told me to do something, and I trained until I could. You two did the same.¡±


    A shadow loomed over me. I looked up to find Nennel glaring down at me just as she flicked me between the eyes like Navor had. ¡°Aw!¡± I hissed as I reeled back. She crouched down to my level and looked me in the eye, her crystal blue eyes bright with intensity.


    ¡°Now you listen here, you horned goofball. I have already been very clear about how I have claimed you as my brother. It¡¯s gonna take more than pulling a school year of a trainee action hero to get me to hate you.¡± She stood and affectionately rapped her knuckles on one of my horns.


    ¡°I don¡¯t hate you either, Ivey.¡± Tess said in the warbling tones of someone under the influence.


    I gave her a kind smile. ¡°Let¡¯s wait till you''re sober to decide if you want anything to do with me.¡±


    She opened her mouth to reply when the shadows in the corner beside me darkened and expanded to coalesce into the shape of a tall and slender High Elven woman swathed in voluminous black robes.


    Tessa threw up her hands and exclaimed, ¡°Mistyarss lady!¡±


    The Mysteriarch stepped over to the bedside in three smooth strides, which was impressive given the combat boot high-heel contraptions on her legs. But if I thought back to when I saw her going toe to toe with Thallos I was pretty sure she wore them then too.


    She gently patted Tessa on the head. ¡°Yes, young one. I¡¯ve come to check up on you and the others. Tell me how you''re feeling.¡±


    Tess comically waved her in closer, and the woman leaned over to oblige. The mint-skinned girl cupped her hands around her mouth as she whispered into the headmaster¡¯s ear. The woman nodded gravely, with light grunts of confirmation as she dutifully listened to the girl. After around three minutes of muttered whispers, the Mysteriarch straightened. She looked at me with a critically arched brow that, after a few heartbeats, was paired with a smirk of pure mischief and looked totally alien on the wise woman¡¯s face. All she said was, ¡°I see.¡± before turning to both Navor and Thrasher. ¡°Am I late?¡±


    ¡°No, ma¡¯am.¡± Reported the Human instructor, ¡°Just wrapped up that talk about the dark fragment. How¡¯d it go? Any issue?¡±


    Mysteriarch K rubbed at the scarred edge of her missing cheek with fingers tipped razor nails. The nails shined silver beside her gold wolf¡¯s fangs, exposed by her wound. ¡°No issue that I¡¯ve found as of yet. I¡¯ve triggered all pertaining protocols and spoken with the other Mysteriarchs. I¡¯m shocked that we could even have a sleeper agent as deep in the order as Dark Hunters and a teacher no less.¡±


    Navor nodded to me. ¡°The kid says he was part of The Company.¡±


    ¡°That explains his training and skill at worming in.¡± K commented as she bit at a knuckle in thought.


    ¡°We should call in all of his previous students.¡± Navor stated. ¡°It¡¯s a safe bet that some, if not all of them are double agents as well.¡±


    K gave a single grave nod. ¡°Agreed, but we need to do so quietly. If we can catch them for data extraction, it will go a long way toward knowing how much The Company has dug up.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll jump on it.¡± Navor said, ¡°But what are we going to do with the kid?¡± The two veteran women turned to look at me in thought.


    Navor eyed me as she said, ¡°He¡¯s going to need some conditioning reversal and a rigorous reeducation, so we can¡¯t just send him home.¡±


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t have a home.¡± The Mysteriarch stated.


    Navor turned to the Elf. ¡°Parents?¡±


    ¡°None. He had a father, but from what he said, Thallos killed him and took in the kid off the street.¡±


    Navor¡¯s lip curled in a sneer of disgust. ¡°That man is sick in the head.¡±


    Nennel piped up with a raised hand. ¡°If Iver doesn¡¯t have a home, he can spend the holiday break with me and my mother.¡±


    The Mysteriarch shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, child, but the mental reconditioning he needs to make sure his uncle can¡¯t get a hold of him means he will need constant supervision from an instructor.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take him in.¡± The entire room turned as one to look at the source of the deep, sonorous voice. Thrasher gave a shrug that could have shifted mountains. ¡°I have a summer manor that¡¯s a short AV trip from here. It¡¯s still in the Titan¡¯s Fall range, so it¡¯s secluded and free from distractions.¡±


    I gaped at the Orc. ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong, Mystagogue, I am beyond thankful for you giving me even a temporary home, but can I ask¡­ Why?¡±


    He gave a look of deep understanding and wisdom. ¡°Let¡¯s just say that I can relate to your situation with your father and uncle. I¡¯ve worked with you before. You¡¯re a precocious boy who¡¯s done nothing wrong and needs time to heal. Let¡¯s say that I will extend you an open invitation to join me at the manor at any time, but for this break, it will need to be mandatory.¡±


    I let out a rush of air in shock. This was all a bit much to take in today. I felt like my brain was overloaded from the day. But then, a thought came to mind. I turned to the Mysteriarch. ¡°But what about next year? I won¡¯t have a mentor?¡±


    The noble Elf showed a glimpse of a mischievous side with the merest hint of a sly smirk. ¡°Terra¡­¡±


    Navor looked at the Elf in confusion. ¡°What?¡± Then it set in what the headmaster was hinting at. ¡°Oh. Oh, no. Oh no, NO, NO!¡± She took a retreating step toward the door as she waved her hands back and forth in a vigorous sign of denial. ¡°Maidra, you know I don¡¯t teach greenhorns.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re between pupils¡­¡± the Elf teased.


    ¡°I¡¯m taking a break. Besides, next year, I need to head into the hive-city capital. There¡¯s no way he¡¯ll make it there.¡±


    ¡°I have the utmost faith in the boy. Now I¡¯m setting this in place as of now. Dark Striker Terra Navor, you are hereby paired with the newly graduated Tier One Trainee Iver Maverick. You best get lesson plans drawn up before the next school year starts.¡±


    Navor looked from me to the Mysteriarch in shock and horror. ¡°Oh, you have got to be-!!!¡±

 Epilogue

    Epilogue


    Iver threw back the last of his drink, the seventh one that night that Tave had seen. He¡¯d probably had more before Tave even entered the establishment. ¡°And I think that¡¯s where we¡¯ll call it for the night.¡± Despite how much alcohol the Darkling had ingested, he barely even had a slur to his words.


    Tave checked the time on his therra. ¡°Um, Mr. Maverick, it¡¯s four in the morning.¡±


    The Darkling cocked his head and shot Tave an annoyed look.¡°I told you already, kid, just call me Iver. Besides, I¡¯m not exactly shocked to hear that the sun¡¯ll be comin¡¯ up soon.¡± He spun on his stool before planting his hands against his thighs to push off. ¡°But while I have enough get-up-and-go to walk on to the nearest diner for a meal before doing some gear repair,¡± Iver shot the young Half-Elf a knowing look. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure you need some actual sleep.¡±


    Tave stowed his notebook and pen before pushing up his glasses with a guilty yet tired look. ¡°Is it really that obvious?¡±


    Iver hoped from his stool with surprising grace from someone who had been drinking like he was attempting to change into an alcohol-fueled fish. ¡°Hit the sack, kid. I¡¯m pretty sure the caustic rain has stopped, and the Mange Hounds should be long gone by now.¡± He slipped his hands into the pockets of his black leather duster coat as he strolled towards the establishment¡¯s doors. ¡°There¡¯s a reasonably priced motel two blocks south of here that should be mostly free of druggies and their toys.¡±


    ¡°Wait.¡± Tave tripped over himself to catch up the three steps to the Darkling. ¡°How did you know about the Mange Hounds?¡±


    ¡°I heard them, obviously.¡± He tapped his right ear with his cybernetic right hand. ¡°Cochlear enhancement implant. It¡¯s saved my bacon a couple of times, but I gotta say, it was a bastard to install myself.¡±


    Tave was about to ask how he had installed the implant himself, but thought better of it. Instead, he asked another question that had been bothering him since earlier that night. ¡°So, Iver. If the Hermetic Order of the Aegis is so secret and that Dark Hunter Sect even more so, is it really safe to publish this work?¡±


    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    By then, the two of them had reached the entrance. Iver turned back to give a grateful parting wave to the only remaining patron in the tavern. In the far back corner of the room sat a Ceangar woman with spikey scarlet hair dressed in a maroon corset. The short woman was nursing a Tankard that was half her size and wielding it like it weighed nothing. ¡°Thanks for the drinks, Vala. I¡¯ll be sure to stop by the next time you¡¯re in town.¡±


    As the two stepped from the building, Iver pointed a thumb back toward the woman. ¡°That wonderful lush back there is the owner of this place.¡± He said this with a wide and joyful grin. But like a switch had been tossed, his expression turned somber. For most of the night, Iver had shown a range of emotions as he recounted his past, but it was nothing more intense than amused, fond, sad, or annoyed. At the end of the tale, and as he left the tavern, he seemed honestly happy. But at that moment, he looked worn down, like a stone losing itself to the tides of the sea.


    ¡°To answer your question about the Order and your safety, they¡¯re gone.¡±


    ¡°Gone? How? Was it the Netarrum Calamity?¡± Tave asked as they walked down the alley leading to the tavern.


    ¡°No. The Order fell before the calamity, if only by a few days. I was the cause of the fall of the Aegis and countless deaths. But we¡¯ll get to that story in a few days. For now, I¡¯ve got a scene to show you.¡±


    By then, the two had reached the end of the alley.


    ¡°A scene?¡± Tave asked in open puzzlement.


    In answer, Iver laid a hand on Tave¡¯s shoulder and steered him to turn around. The two looked back at the out-of-place building. As soon as the first rays of the sun touched The Cantankerous Tankard Tavern began to fade in and out of reality with a warbling sound of space distorting. Within thirty seconds, the Cantankerous Tankard Tavern was gone. Only an empty parking lot in its place.


    ¡°What?! How?!¡± Tave almost gagged on the question in his shock.


    Iver turned around and patted Tave on the shoulder in concealment. ¡°Vala¡¯s got a special brand of Wyrd.¡±


    While Tave gawked at the vacant space, Iver slipped his hands back into his jacket pockets and said, ¡°Best get some rest, kid. I¡¯ll see you tonight.¡± He then walked into the smog of the city streets, to vanish like a phantom.


    To be Continued

 Bleeding Aegis Book 2: Phantom In the Machine

    Phantom In The Machine


    Book 2 of Bleeding Aegis


    Iver has survived his first year at the academy. He managed to join the Sect of the Dark Hunter but must keep that truth veiled. The young Darkling is still recovering from a broken heart and the bitter sting of betrayal. But just when Iver thinks he knows what to expect from his next year at the Academy, he gets a nasty surprise. He is sent out into the Hive-city capital of the nation with his new master and a party of friends and strangers.


    But something isn''t right. While Iver is performing simple jobs in a dangerous city cloaked in smog, he stumbles across a new mystery.  People are dying from having their brains cooked while they are hooked up to the Full Dive network. This is something that should be impossible. A mysterious internet presence known only as The Phantom is targeting members of a local mega-corporation, but why?


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    While Iver struggles to solve this mystery before it takes too many lives, things get complicated. A team member wants Iver dead. His friend Nennel becomes the target of a gang of cybernetic harvesters that will stop at nothing to break down the young girl because of something her father did. While this is happening, Iver''s other friend, Ferris, is acting strange. What is he hiding? On his hunt for answers, Iver is forced into the derelict Undercity that runs miles down and is filled with monsters, cannibals, and something truly horrible.


    Iver will be forced to pay his pound of flesh to get his friends to safety on more than one occasion down this road. With missing pieces and life-altering mistakes, Iver is forced to seek help from a strange Elf who helps him find some answers to who and what he truly is. But the deeper Iver digs into his origins, the more questions come to the surface, and worries linger unsaid.


    Things are about to get harder before anything starts going right.

 PITM Chapter 1

    In all hive-cities, they have an independent ecosystem because of the sheer size of the colony. Hive cities span just as far underground as they do across the surface. As sources of massive industry, providing near-unthinkable amounts of various products, they suffer from dense pollution. Toxic fogs, acid rain, and sewage floods are just a few of the common environmental hazards that savage hive-cities.


    Tave stepped from the Motel he had spent the early hours of the morning sleeping in, arching his back with his fists raised to the smog-filled skies. The young man was obviously a Half-Elf with his pale lavender-white skin, gray sclera, silver irises, and slightly pointed ears. His chestnut hair was must, and his square-rimmed glasses were askew at the end of his nose. Tave was dressed in a black t-shirt displaying stylized blue text reading ¡®To the winner go my pages¡¯ under a brown duster jacket that was still heavy with dust from the day before. His pants were a pair of starched and well-pressed jeans that only had a few drips of ink stains on his right thigh. He trod the streets of the hive-city in sneakers that had clearly seen better days.


    Tave pushed his glasses up his nose as he turned to look back at the shoddy motel behind him. It was a simple three-story affair of aged gray synthcrete under chipping daffodil yellow paint. A hologram sign above the front doors read ¡®The Morning Flower Motel¡¯ in glowing golden cursive font. Under the title, in a smaller cursive font, read the line ¡®Every morning is a good morning under the Morning Flower¡¯.


    ¡°Good morning, my half-breed ass.¡± Tave muttered as he turned away. ¡°My Human mother was ten times more hospitable than that place, and she had a quick and hot temper.¡± He double-checked the satchel at his side, patting it reassuringly before checking the clock on his therra-node. He tapped the small triangular piece of tech mounted to his right temple, and a holographic display overlaid his vision. In the upper right-hand side of his HUD (Heads Up Display), the clock read 5:34 PM. Tave brought his gaze to the sky above to verify the time, only to find a thick ceiling of smog.


    His thoughts shifted from wondering how he had slept so long to noting just how gross the hive-city Grimvale was. Even after the acid rain from the night prior, there was still trash littering the streets, sidewalks, and alleys. Since entering the city, every building he had seen was either some degree of run down and/or marked with graffiti.


    He idly wondered if all hive-cities were this bad when a figure stepped from the obscuring fog that covered the streets. Tave jumped in surprise, as he would have sworn he should¡¯ve seen the man from at least ten feet away, but the figure seemed to simply appear only six feet away.


    The figure was near Tave¡¯s height at five foot ten, maybe an inch taller. He was dressed in all black. Black cargo pants with reinforced padding at the shins and knees. Black combat boots, each with a single bladed-spike arching up from the toe. He wore a black t-shirt with the design of a bleeding mechanical anatomic heart. Over the shirt, he wore a jacket much like Tave¡¯s, a black leather duster, only his looked heavier and had a wide mantle that was standing on end to obscure the wearer¡¯s face.


    The features of the man became apparent as he stepped under a street light only a few paces from Tave. He was a Darkling. His horns tiered horns bent back to follow the curve of his skull before swooping up into a pair of sharp points. At the top of each tier of his horns displayed a barb-like spike. His hair was a chaotic black mess. The disheveled look was almost stylish if not for the near transient vibe. His left eye was covered by a tight leather eyepatch, held on by three straps. Writhing behind him was a serpentine tail ending in an arrow-shaped spade tip. As dramatic as his horns and tail were, his complexion and remaining eye were what really caught the attention of passersby. An olive bronze laced with threads and webs of ivory white. This pattern covered every inch of exposed skin. When Tave first saw the strange markings, he thought it was a full-body tattoo, yet now he knew better. The Darkling''s eye was a bright acid-green with diamond-shaped pupils that would narrow down to plus signs in bright light.


    ¡°Gods above and below, Mr. Maverick. You nearly scared me to death.¡± Tave said as he pressed a hand over his heart.


    ¡°I¡¯ve already told you, kid. Just call me Iver. It makes me feel old.¡± The Darkling groused as he stepped up to the Half-Elf with his hands in his pockets. Iver¡¯s voice was on the higher end, much like Tave¡¯s, except his was gruff, colored by years of hardship, drinking liquor as Tave had witnessed the night before, and some unknown amount of smoking. The latter was verified as Iver pulled out a metal case full of hand-rolled cigarettes. He pulled a single stick from the case, pressed it between his lips, and lit the end with a flame produced at the end of the index finger of his cybernetic right arm. As an afterthought, he dropped the wings of his jacket¡¯s mantel.


    ¡°You really are a creature of vices.¡± Tave said with brows raised and a light smile touching his lips.


    Iver looked at the young man in confusion, then down at the lit cigarette in his mouth. ¡°Oh. It¡¯s not tobacco. These are a custom blend of herbs to help with my mental state. I call them my blessing sticks.¡±


    ¡°Blessing sticks?¡±


    ¡°Yep.¡± Iver verified as he blew out a puff of smoke that smelled strange to Tave¡¯s nose. ¡°A Witch I met a while back taught me about the beneficial properties of herbs, both medicinal and spiritual. This current blend is mullein, coltsfoot leaf, linden flower, skullcap, red clover, and hawthorn leaf. I use them as a supplement to help my medication to help keep me stable.¡±


    ¡°Is there any likelihood of you not being stable in the near future?¡± Tave asked nervously.


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°Nah.¡± Iver waved off the question. ¡°I¡¯ve taken my daily dose of anti-crazy medication. This bad boy,¡± He gestured to the so-called ¡®blessing stick¡¯. ¡°Is partly to satisfy an oral fixation I have and partly to help curb any negative emotions that will be dredged up from this next story.¡±


    ¡°Should we really be going over the story then, Mr. Maverick?¡±


    Iver shot Tave an annoyed look.


    ¡°S-sorry. How about Pale Raven?¡± Tave asked nervously.


    ¡°Okay, one, how would you feel if I call you Mr. Interviewer?¡± His arrow-tipped tail thrashed behind him in aggravation. ¡°Two, I swear that if you call me that in public, I¡¯ll crush your pen hand and walk away from this interview.¡± He rubbed at his acid-green eye. ¡°Please, just call me Iver for the sake of all that is right.¡±


    ¡°Okay, Iver.¡± Tave tested the name. ¡°Where are we going to keep the story going?¡±


    Iver let out a deep sigh as he rolled his neck from shoulder to shoulder, aided by his cybernetic right arm.


    ¡°Well, now that you¡¯re rested, and I¡¯m hungry, now I¡¯m taking you to a diner nearby that has some killer yaggen steak burgers.¡± Iver said as he started walking down the street. Tave hurried to keep up.


    ¡°What¡¯s a yaggen?¡± Tave asked as he stepped around the puddles from the acid rain the night before that the sponge-filter-blacktop hadn¡¯t absorbed.


    ¡°You seriously don¡¯t know? Yaggen are something like a cross between a yak and a lizard. There¡¯s a big debate on whether the reptile part is more crocodile or komodo.¡± As Iver spoke, he quickened his pass, his stomach giving an audible rumble.


    ¡°You¡¯re hungry? After ten cocktails? For that matter, how do you not have a hangover?¡±


    ¡°Oh, calm down, cut ear. I¡¯ve got a high tolerance for most types of poison from my training and some body modifications.¡±


    ¡°Body mods? But other than your arm, you seem pretty whole.¡±


    Iver turned the corner and strolled down the street, hands in the pockets of his black tactical cargo pants as he puffed away on his cigarette. To Tave¡¯s eyes, he seemed to almost vanish between the street lights because of his black leather duster and dark spikey hair, but the strange pattern of his skin made his hands, neck, and face stick out with pale threads. Tave hurried to follow as Iver passed down the street with a stance that told the world he was not to be screwed with.


    ¡°If you can stay patient, you¡¯ll get the whole story, cut ear.¡±


    ¡°Can you stop using slurs, please? I¡¯m only a half- anyway.¡±


    ¡°Would you rather I call you a taint-blood?¡± Iver teased.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be a dick. Taint-blood is a Darkling slur.¡±


    ¡°So you want to be called half-blood, mud-veined, or a spoil-bred?¡±


    ¡°If you want me to call you Iver, then just call me Tave.¡± The half Star Elf demanded.


    Iver raised his hand to point to a shop across the street. ¡°There¡¯s the good food.¡±


    Tave tracked Iver¡¯s finger to find a slapshot one-story diner. Its exterior was a mess of chipped and stained concrete and dirty and chipped glass, all surrounded by bags of trash that survived the acid rain because of the overhang of the roof.


    ¡°Are you sure it¡¯s safe to eat there?¡± Tave asked with worry.


    ¡°Of course, I¡¯m sure. It may look like a wreck, but their food always hits the mark.¡± Iver boasted as he crossed the street, heedless of passing traffic.


    Tave dashed to catch up, nearly getting run over by a local guard cruiser in the process. The sleek black armored vehicle didn¡¯t even slow as it nearly ran the Half-Elf over. Tave spun to avoid the bumper and wheels. Iver glanced over him to ensure the interviewer was okay before stopping by the front door.


    Tave picked himself up and hurried to meet his subject. As he crossed the street, Iver pressed through the glass door with the sound of a bell chime. Tave followed in hot pursuit. Iver moved through the white and orange-tiled room to take a seat on a moss-green bar stool. He spun around it twice before stopping himself with an elbow on the stained countertop.


    ¡°Hey there, Keetar. What''s up, Render-blade? How¡¯s business?¡±


    Over the serving counter and behind a waist-high prep counter, a Half-Orc and a Wild Elf worked the grill and cooking stations. They both were scarred messes. The Wild Elf wore black hair down his back in a tied-back tail. His right eye was green irises with brown sclera. His left eye was covered with a patch, a long scar cut down his missing eye to sever his lip, and a segment of his jaw was missing. The Half-Orc was covered from the neck down was slash scars across his gray skin and short an ear.


    ¡°Oh look, it¡¯s the taint-blood with a bad attitude.¡± teased Keetar, the Wild Elf.


    ¡°Welcome back, horn head.¡± came Rend-blade. ¡°You drunk enough to stomach my grill grub?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t cut yourself short, tusk-face. You¡¯ve got the best burgers in the district. And let¡¯s be honest. I¡¯m not going to take the eight-hour drive to reach Grub Shack in district two.¡± Iver taunted back as Tave took a seat beside him.


    ¡°Give us two steak burgers with a heap of fries and two black coffees.¡± Iver gave his order with a twirl of his fingers.


    Tave pulled up his notebook and pen. ¡°Can we get back to the story?¡±


    ¡°Give me a sec to get some food in my gut. Then we can move on.¡± As he spoke, Iver flexed the fingers of his cybernetic hand, the motion seeming stiff.


    It only took a matter of minutes for a pair of burgers plated with fries to get slung before the two. Iver plucked up his yaggen burger in his mechanical hand. A rich and juicy aroma wafted up from the patty, and he savaged the sandwich like a beast rending flesh from a stag. As he chewed the mouthful of meat, he emitted moans of pleasure that could only be matched by a starving man.


    Tave sniffed his burger and found the scent odd, like beef and frog rolled up into a single patty. He took a tentative nibble of his burger and found himself admitting that the food was of astonishing quality, given the appearance of the establishment. He took a larger bite before turning back to his work. ¡°So, Iver, you join Aegis Academy, passed your first year to join a secret sect of Dark-Hunters, and then what?¡±


    Around a mouthful of potato and meat, he muffled his answer. ¡°Mystagogue Thrasher took me to his countryside estate and continued to train me, if at a more leisurely pace, to let me regain my senses after the betrayal of my uncle and Rose. He also ran me through regular mental exercises to undo the brainwashing Thallos had done to me over the course of the year.¡±

 PITM Chapter 2

    Dangerous regions in the world are labeled as Threat Zones and are given a color to mark just how dangerous the area is. Blue Zones are rare with 0% of death from an attack or injury of some kind. Green Zones are uncommon, with between 1% and 20% chance of death or injury. Yellow Zones have between 21% and 40% chance of death or injury. Orange Zones have between 41% and 60% of death or injury. Red Zones have between 61% and 80% chance of death or injury. And the ever dreaded Black Zones are rare, but they have an 81% to 90% of death. Injury in a Black Zone is all but guaranteed.


    The sun was high in a sky half-obscured by thick gray clouds. The five moons were pale shadows looking down on the dense local forest. The forest was ripe with the scents of wet grass and damp soil. Dew sparkled on the leaves of the trees in the shimmering sunlight. I could not deny that it was a beautiful day. I would have soaked in the wonder of the scene if I hadn¡¯t had a Great Axe hurtling at my face at top speed.


    I dove away from the strike, feeling its wind rush through my hair. I heard a reverberating crack from behind me as I struck the dewy grass shoulder first. Rolling to my feet, I spun in a crouch to face my assailant. Four feet from me was the massive, scar-ridden gray-green back of an Orc. His massive Great Axe was lodged halfway through the trunk of a willow that looked to be ancient from its girth.


    The burly Orc planted a massive boot against the tree trunk. The tree emitted a groan of defiant protest before releasing the weapon with a wrench of brute strength from my opponent. He hefted his axe in both hands as he slowly turned to face me.


    ¡°Remember, boy, economy of movement.¡± Mystagogue Thrasher rumbled as he shouldered his axe and used a thick finger from his free hand to push his half-moon spectacles up his nose. ¡°You avoided the blow but used too much energy. Minimal motion for maximum result.¡±


    I pulled myself to my feet and threw my Vekenna to lodge in the sod of the Mystagogue¡¯s lawn before folding my arm in defiance. ¡°Mystagogue Thrasher-¡± I started when he raised a single finger. ¡°Mister.¡± He corrected.


    ¡°Sorry. Mister Thrasher, what exactly is minimal movement when I need to avoid getting cleaved in half,¡± I pointed an accusing finger at his weapon, ¡°by something the size of a car hood?¡±


    Thrasher stuck me with a look that said he was taking none of my complaining. ¡°Don¡¯t over-exaggerate¡­ The attack was aimed to decapitate.¡±


    I rolled my eyes so hard my head followed in the motion. ¡°That¡¯s not much of a difference, sir.¡±


    The Orc, massive, even by Orc standards, blew out a sigh that could have taken a hat off someone''s head. He shifted the axe to stand head down as he leaned on the but like a gentleman with a cane. Then again, he was a high-class gentleman. At the time, he was a bit out of place with an axe in hand and dressed in premium slacks and mud-covered hiking boots. But he was a Mystagogue, an instructor at Aegis Academy of the Grimmalk. He was even retired from the secret sect I was brought into, the Sect of the Dark Hunter. He took me to his countryside estate for the summer since I had no home to go to. I looked back at the massive three-story manor of stone, complete with a tower set as a cornerstone of the estate building.


    This was the kind of home I had dreamed of as a child. I couldn''t help but think, ¡®Look at me now. Almost sixteen years of age and my life has been as mad as Kassidan¡¯s Parade, and I¡¯ve wound up living in a fancy manor and getting to be trained to be an adventurer of the highest tier. And what did it cost? Only the death of my father, the burning of my home, and the betrayal of my uncle as well as my very first romantic interest.¡¯  The thought was ripe with venom.


    ¡°Ahem.¡± Came a mock cough from Thrasher to catch my attention. When I turned back to face the off-duty Mystagogue, he continued his lecture, still leaning on his Great Axe like a cane. ¡°You should know better than to daydream. I know your uncle taught you that.¡±


    I shot the ¡°You mean when the Wild Elf bastard, Thallos, brought me to the academy and got me indoctrinated into the Sect of the Dark Hunter only to brainwash me into being a double agent for his sick organization? You mean when he trained me by actively injuring me, stabbing, shooting, hacking, and crushing me to have me healed and have it all done over again?¡± In a fit of fury, I ripped my sweat-drenched t-shirt from my torso to expose the horror that was my body. My already alien skin, an olive bronze tan laced through with threads of ivory white, was covered from the shoulders down in dozens of overlapping scars in a range of shapes. Each and every scar was intentionally left to be remembered as a failure that needed to be corrected, and they covered my body in a macabre patchwork of raised pink stripes and patches over the marble stone pattern of the skin that covered them.


    My breath was harsh and rough as I glared at the calm gentleman.¡±Iver, did you take your medication today?¡± That was all he asked, completely unphased by my tantrum. That shook me out of my rage.


    ¡°N-no.¡± I stammered, embarrassed. Near the end of my entry year at the academy, I had been diagnosed with a number of mental illnesses and was prescribed a very precise cocktail of medication to keep me level-headed. Without the medication, I was prone to fits of rage and periods of severe depression, among¡­ other reactions.


    Thrasher shouldered his axe, nodded to my Vekenna, and said, ¡°Let¡¯s take a break. I¡¯ll fix you a mug of herbal tea while you go dose.¡±


    I stooped and yanked the Dwarven broad Shortsword from the sod and picked up the rag that was once a shirt. I tucked the rag under an arm and made my way to follow the Orcish gentleman while I examined my training blade. The dull edge of the metal blade would have mashed cheese rather than cut it. The so-called edge had notches gouged from it, and its face was dented, dinged, and strained with the age of the ill-treated blade.


    As I held the blade up against the sun, I called out a question to the patient master. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Myst- Mister Thrasher, but why am I using a worthless training blade while you come at me with a bladed axe?¡±


    He turned his head and called over his shoulder, ¡°You¡¯re using a training sword, boy, because you are training. You have yet to earn the right to come at me with a lethal weapon.¡±


    ¡°But, sir, wasn¡¯t that the point of all of the training last year? By the academy standards, I have earned the right to wield a lethal weapon. So why not here too?¡±


    Thrasher stopped at the doorstep of the manor and gave a heavy sigh before turning to face me and lowering his axe back into a cane use again. ¡°Iver, I would have felt comfortable with that ruling for almost any other student that graduated to the Sect of the Crimson Blade or the Silent Heart. But Iver, you were trained by Thallos. You said it yourself. The way he trained you was appalling even by the Sect of the Dark Hunter standards. He raised and trained you as you would raise and train a prized fighting dog for the blood pits. You were supposed to be trained by a patient mentor who understood your limits and knew how to push them safely. Thallos abused you to the point of physical and psychological trauma that a standard master would have you banned from any form of combat. But I know the measure of you, Mister Maverick, and I know you can surpass these hurdles, but first, we need to teach you control, both physical and mental.¡± He stepped aside from the door and gestured toward it with a nod of his head. ¡°But for now, the first step is taking your medication as prescribed and centering yourself with some rest and some tea.¡±


    Without another word, I sprang through the doorway and hustled upstairs to my room. ¡°If I knew you still had that much energy, I should have had you fetch the firewood before coming in.¡± Thrasher called up to me as I went. ¡°I won¡¯t make the same mistake twice, boy.¡±


    I¡¯d give the odds of him holding up to that threat 60%. The 40% chance was that his soft heart would give me a break because I¡¯m broken.


    Yeah, that¡¯s how I thought of myself. Broken. I still think the same way most days. At that time in the past, I hated the thought. Every time I thought the word in relation to myself, even the word in my mind was spat with enough vitriol to shame any viper.


    The inside of the manor was decorated with dark wood panels, footboards, and banisters, all carved with depictions of lions and eagles wherever they would fit. The wallpaper was a warm red that always reminded me of a wine, with stripes of rouge that summoned thoughts of grape vineyards to my mind. But at that time, I noticed none of it as I stewed in my own self-loathing venom.


    I stepped into my room, dropped my once shirt to the floor, and tossed my training blade onto the bed before finally letting out a sigh of defeat. Hating myself for my condition won¡¯t change a thing. Like the Mystagogue said, I needed control, and I felt it was more sourly needed in my mind than in my body.


    I dropped onto the edge of my bed and pulled a metal case from my nightstand drawer. The case was a seamless dark gray metal, six inches deep, by a foot wide, by eight inches tall. I slid my left wrist over the top, the Bio Identification Chip (B.I.C) in my wrist, unlocking the case with a green light and a soft click. I peeled the lid back to reveal a hypojection mount, also known as a hypo-jector, and rows of vials filled with a glowing opalescent fluid that swirled and shifted. The hypo-jector and vials were set into Black Rack material, a micro-hexagonal formed surface designed to mold to hold any shaped item. Also in the Black Rack material was a box of disposable needle tips.


    Each vial held three doses. One dose each morning. I had already used the entire first layer of five vials. Even after three weeks of doses, the idea of taking medication was strange. It seemed like I was never going to get used to injecting myself, and always having to change injection sites only made it worse. But that was a minor inconvenience compared to what it was like when the medication took effect. It was strange having my emotions toned down. While I was more patient, thoughtful, and focused while medicated, it was uncomfortable having life become faded. Colors were less vivid, smells were less potent, and tastes were less full. The world became smothered, the same as my emotions.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    I hated these side effects so much that I questioned using the medication daily. Some days I even skipped doses when I knew I was going to be doing a lot of mental acrobatics with my crafting. That day I had skipped intentionally because I was planning on having a late night working on my tactical gauntlet. But the Mystagogue would know if I went unmedicated.


    I pulled free the hypo-jector, slotted a vial of medication into it, and uncapped the needle that, to me, looked several sizes larger than necessary. With my eyes squeezed shut, I leaned my head to the left as far as it could go and aimed the needle at my neck. I took a slow and deep inhale as I braised myself for what came next. I jabbed the needle into the meat of my neck fast and hard as I blew my breath fast and just as hard. I squeezed the injection trigger grip with white knuckles. As I felt the flow of injection stop, I heard the click confirming the same. I slowly pulled the needle free with a hiss of pain.


    I double-checked the fluid level of the vial in the hypo-jector before ejecting the used needle tip and installing a new one with the cap still on. With the addition of regular injections to my daily routine, the Mystagogue gave me an old XXXL whisky bottle to dispose of used needle tips since they were classified as biohazardous waste. Apparently, those that dealt with regular medical injections referred to containers used for this purpose are called sharps containers. The bottle he gave me was large enough it wouldn¡¯t fill for a long while.


    I slotted the device back into the case with a reflexive sneer on my face. After closing the case and hearing the sealing click, I slipped the case back into place in the nightstand. I took a few moments to wash my upper body and face with a damp cloth before selecting a fresh shirt from my dresser.


    I pulled on my new shirt, careful of my horns that back then were short but pointed, as I made my way down the stairs and into the kitchen. The kitchen was an expansive room lined wall to wall with the latest cooking appliances and a massive island countertop in the center. Every bit of new technology gleamed like new, but that was because they were never used. The only corner of the kitchen that felt lived into was near the back. An old wood-burning stove against one wall with the other side of the corner was occupied by a just-as-old gas oven. A black kettle, worn with age, piped a tune from atop the light stove as I stepped into the room.


    With practiced haste and grace, the massive Orc pulled the kettle from the flame as he produced a teacup from a cabinet. He was already moving to beat me to my spot on the counter where I ate my meals when I waved for him to stop. He gave me an expectant look, and my response was to glance at the cup in his hand. The Mystagogue adjusted his stance with a silent ¡®ah¡¯ passing his lips. He turned back to the cabinets to replace the cup and pull a clay mug for me.


    ¡°The mug, not the cup.¡± he said with the ease of habit as he filled my mug for me before turning to the oven.


    ¡°I drink tea from a cup when I¡¯m a noble. I drink rum by the tankard when I¡¯m a brigand. But when I¡¯m home, it''s tea from a mug.¡± I replied, almost on reflex.


    ¡°Well, boy, I do hope that the manor can feel like a home to you. But you know it can¡¯t be forever.¡± Thrasher rumbled his wisdom and warning as he pulled something free from the stove. The device was so small in comparison he couldn¡¯t fit two hands into the space within. But one-handed, the Mystagogue pulled free to lay a rack of ribs upon the table. My gaze jumped from the Orc to the ribs in plain confusion.


    In answer, the large gentleman gave a tectonic level of a shrug as he said, ¡°The hunter down the hill got lucky with two catches on his last trip. He was offering meat for a reasonable price, and I thought it might be a nice change for you from canned soups.¡±


    I pointed a defensive finger at the master as I accused, ¡°You were the one that said I would be allowed to cook what would make the least mess. Everything I tried, you said was a disaster. You secluded me to making canned soup.¡±


    ¡°While this is true and may have seemed harsh, part of it was to prevent spoiling you needlessly. If you''re going to be an adventurer, that means a lot of meals from cans, bags, or REMs (Ready to Eat Meals) when you can¡¯t catch anything.¡±


    I honestly didn¡¯t care why I was getting something so good at that moment. I had only had the master¡¯s barbeque once before when he slow-smoked brisket and served it with homemade sauce. After the slop that was served at the academy, nearly any other food would be a step up, but Thrasher¡¯s cooking was nothing short of the divine when he took the rare occasion to cook.


    But this was just another lesson. One I should have learned much sooner but failed to remember for most of my adventuring career. The lesson; don¡¯t get distracted by gifts or rewards. Everything has a price, and normally the prettier the prize, the dirtier the job.


    The Mystagogue encouraged me to eat. He said I was going to need my strength. As much as I enjoyed the beginning of the meal, the medication took effect halfway through the meal, and the flavor faded. I still ate as much as I could without overfilling. I wasn¡¯t going to let that meal go to waste.


    I finished my meal and my tea in quick order, licking the sauce from my fingertips as I tried to keep my thoughts clear. I leaned back on my heels and arched my back, left arm stretched high, right hand holding my left elbow.


    ¡°You ready?¡± The Mystagogue asked.


    Rather than answer his question, I turned to him and asked my own question. ¡°This was because my next academic year starts next week, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    He raised a single heavy brow. ¡°What would make you say that?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not stupid, master. If last year was a trial by fire, then this year is from the frying pan and into the dragon¡¯s flame. You forgot that I spent a lot of time with Rose last year before she fled with Thallos, and she was a year ahead of me. From the level of slate to tier one. Moving forward, murder at the academy will only become more common. Training in all fields will only intensify, and I have it worse than most. You''re trying to give me something fond to look back on, right?¡±


    Thrasher turned to reach for the door that led from the kitchen to the back garden, waving for me to follow with his free hand. ¡°You think of it in that manner. Personally, I find random acts of kindness to be some of the most cherished moments in the lives of those who face strife. You chose your path. A trail of hardship unmatched by any other sect.¡±


    I followed him through the door back out into the overcast day. We passed through organized plots of assorted vegetables and into his garden of flowers. The area was a canvas covered with a hundred colors in a thousand shades, and it all felt¡­ less. The massive man stopped by a spread of snapdragon flowers and plucked a flower free from the stalk to examine it as he continued to speak.


    ¡°You are about to start a period of your life you may very well regret. Five standard sects in the Order, each with their own roles in the goal to better the world. Warriors, mages, spies, engineers, and assassins. Each sect has a specialized study and training regiment to turn each student into a precision tool.¡± He turned his gaze from the flower between his fingers to pin with a stare that carried the weight of years of hard-earned wisdom. ¡°And you, boy, being the mad child you are, decided to join the hidden sect. The very group that is trained to perform any role from any other sect. The sect that is often stuck with the darkest and dirtiest of the work of the order.¡±


    I tried to brush off his comment and weighted stare with a wave of my hand. ¡°I guess I¡¯m just a masochist. Why become a warrior, mage, spy, engineer, or assassin when I could become all of them wrapped up in one scarred package?¡± I joked, but my humor came out hollow and shaky. Was that because of the meds?


    The Mystagogue didn¡¯t even smirk at my lame joke. ¡°Boy, you chose to walk a path that demands heavy sacrifice. Don¡¯t think so lightly of the days ahead.¡±


    I shot the master a deadpan look. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Master Thrasher, but there¡¯s not much left for me to sacrifice. I¡¯ve never known my mother. My father was butchered in front of me by my uncle. I lost my home. Because of my species, I face daily discrimination whenever I¡¯m in any city or town because I have ¡®devil''s blood¡¯. The first girl I have ever had feelings for betrayed me and fled with my slither-spined uncle. I can barely call my thoughts my own with or without medication. And let''s not forget the topic of my last year at the academy, consisting of routine and constant abuse from the very same uncle who has done everything in his power to ruin and/or control me. What more do I have to lose, master?¡±


    Thrasher¡¯s face read of concern and sympathy as he rubbed his chin in thought. ¡°There¡¯s no need to be so bleak, boy. I will not argue that your life has been hard, but you still have good in it. You still have your friends Nennel Darrdane and Ferris Stillwind, correct?¡±


    I bobbed my head with a tilt in acknowledgment of the truth of the statement.


    ¡°And that about that Gnomish girl Tessa?¡±


    I winced at that. Tessa¡¯s state was a soar subject.


    ¡°I would also like to think that I am not such a terrible person. Bringing you to my summer home and training you as I have.¡±


    I gave him a nod of acquiescence. ¡°You¡¯re not wrong, master. But I doubt I¡¯ll be seeing any of my friends much this coming year. I have been slotted with in-field training with Mystagogue Navor this year. And from what little I¡¯ve seen of the lady, she seems on par with Thallos when it comes to a sadistic streak.¡±


    Thrasher gave an amused huff. ¡°I won¡¯t deny that lady Terra has been known for¡­ unorthodox training, and she has a temper. But she is good people. I¡¯m sure that if I spoke with her, I could set your friends to join you for your training. Mz. Darrdane and Mr.Stillwind are both Mastloks, after all.¡±


    To clarify, in the Hermetic Order of the Aegis, a Mastlok is someone that is a member of two or more sects. Because of the distasteful role of the Sect of the Dark Hunter, both the sect and my part in it were kept secret from most. But since I was training to be able to fill any role from any sect, I was called a mastlok as a cover. I was put down in the unclassified papers as a member of the Burning Hand, the Crimson Blade, and the Blackened Crown sects.


    ¡°What does their role as Mastloks have to do with Mystagogue Navor and my field training?¡± I asked as I followed Thrasher as he stepped out of the garden and passed into the woods behind his house.


    ¡°Remind me again which sects they are a part of.¡±


    ¡°Well, Nel is with the Sightless Eye and Crimson Blade.¡±


    ¡°So, both a spy and a warrior.¡± he called back.


    ¡°And Ferris is with Silent Heart and Crimson Blade.¡±


    ¡°Making him an assassin and a warrior. Now, do you remember what we talked about when I called you into my office at the end of your first quarter as a slate?¡±


    My brow wrinkled in thought. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sir, but we talked about quite a bit. The score vectors¡­ Those were used from that point on for the rest of the year. I remember that I barely got passing scores on the vectors and grades at the time.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m specifically referring to Mastloks and their role in the order.¡± he clarified.


    ¡°Wweelll¡­¡± I drew out that word as I jarred my brain for memories of that day. ¡°You said that it was a hard path to take, that it required cutting back on mundane classes to make room for the training of both sects. You also said that there was no turning back once starting down that path.¡±


    ¡°If you remember, my boy, I had explained that each sect has information that they keep separate from the other sects for security purposes. I had explained that Mastloks were a security weakness, so they are put through more rigorous training to limit the likelihood of one of them being captured and divulging classified information. Field training in active threat zones has been known to be a training method for Mastloks for generations. Mystagogue Navor likely won¡¯t be happy keeping an eye on several trainees at once, but I¡¯m confident I can convince her.¡±


    ¡°Whow, whow. I¡¯m sorry, master, but can you back up a few steps.¡± I made a slowing motion with my hands as my brain tried to keep up with the topics at hand. ¡°Are you saying my field training is going to be in an active threat zone? As in, my life will be in real danger?¡± I could hear the anxiety rising in my voice as just the thought of that kind of situation would normally pull me into a panic attack, but the medication minimized the rising anxiety.

 PITM Chapter 3

    The term Hero carries an immense amount of social weight. Pop culture has superheroes, anti-heroes, meta-heroes, and so on, but there is a deeper meaning tied to the title. Those who risk their lives to save others have been called heroes, but a capital H Hero is something else, something more. Originally called Sacred or Chosen Heroes, these are people touched with immense talent, skill, and something more. Some say that they are born under a powerful sign, others say that they are chosen by deities for a power greater than any priest or cleric, and still others say that these powerful men and women were written into the fabric of fate. Regardless of their origins, Heroes are destined for deeds worthy of legend. Every child dreams of becoming a Hero. Every adventurer hopes that they will find some astonishing talent. To join the ranks of true Heroes is a dream everyone has at some point, and many cling to that dream well into adulthood.


    It had been a week since I had the talk with Mystagogue Thrasher, and the day had come. The day I headed back to the Aegis Academy of the Grimmalk. Mystagogue Thrasher¡¯s estate was nestled way back in the Titan¡¯s Fall Mountain Range, several days west of the academy. In honesty, if I had traveled to the academy by foot, it would have been a trip of weeks. Because of this and the fact that the entire mountain range was classified as a red threat zone, the large Orc had a private AV (Aerial Vehicle) hovercraft that was designed custom to fit him comfortably.


    I packed my bags into the storage compartment of the sleek and large black craft. The storage compartment was large enough that I could have fit five of me in the space with little issue. As I loaded my belongings, the Mystagogue was prepping the vehicle for take-off. I shoved my rucksack to the back of the space beside the Mystagogue¡¯s bags, then tossed in my training weapon kit beside it. I strolled around the vehicle to the passenger side and popped the door open with a hiss of pressure and a hum of small mechanisms. The door slid out from the frame and swung upward toward the front of the vehicle like a wing.


    As I slid into the passenger seat, I noticed the Mystagogue flipping switches and checking gauges as he turned dials. I wordlessly slid into my seat and buckled in just as the Master did the same. In the past few months I had been living with the Mystagogue, I had grown used to how all of his furniture had to be specially built to fit his massive frame and hold his heavy girth, and the driver seat of the hovercraft was no different.


    Without a single word, the craft hummed to life and vibrated as it took to the air, slowly lifting from the ground before speeding through the sky. The AV was heading west to follow the path of the setting sun. I watched the world pass by below, mountains and forests rolling past like some scenic painting. Most of the trip was silence between the Master and me, but suddenly he spoke up, his voice a deep rumble.


    ¡°Are you ready?¡± He asked, concern clear in his tone.


    I glanced at the large Orc for a moment before turning back. ¡°What? Oh, uh yeah.¡± I rested my chin in the cup of my hand. ¡°I¡¯m ready to start classes back up.¡± I replied, only half paying attention.


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I mean, Iver.¡± He lightly scolded. ¡°While classes will be more difficult, you will be under constant threat. You must remember that murder between students is commonplace in the academy. We allow it to weed out the weak from among our numbers. The higher in tiers you climb, the greater the threat from your fellow students.¡±


    ¡°Why allow so much murder?¡± I cut in as I shot him a scolding glare. My tone was both accusing and curious. ¡°I thought I joined an order that worked for the greater good.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be naive, boy.¡± I flinched at the comment that Thallos had used against me so often.


    ¡°Greater good involves sacrifice. Organizations that actively fight to improve the world and don¡¯t harden their members only produce bodies. We are not a church or temple, even if we do devote ourselves to the Nameless Goddess. We allow, but do not encourage, murder among our trainees because those that live through the academy and graduate are far less likely to die in the field, and it instills a necessary level of paranoia.¡± He gave a heavy sigh as he lowered his head and closed his eyes for a long moment before raising his head to look me in the eye.


    ¡°Now, as I was saying, this year will be a whole magnitude more dangerous than last year for every student, and you will have it worse than most because of your race.¡±


    I spat on the floor between my feet in defiance. ¡°Prejudice or no, I¡¯m not letting my demon blood hold me back.¡±


    He shot me a warning look. ¡°Don¡¯t, spit, in the cockpit.¡± He chided with an edge to his words. He then leaned back in his seat and focused his gaze forward. ¡°But I applaud your steadfast determination.¡±


    That drew a snort of amusement from me as I sat back in my seat. ¡°Mystagogue Thrasher, you know what I¡¯ve been through to get this far. If I have to break bones to get what I want, I¡¯m just going to ask, whose bones and how many?¡± Even as the words left my mouth, I wasn¡¯t sure how much of it was a joke.


    In just under two years, I felt like I had lived a whole life in and of itself. The death of my father and the loss of my home was only a start. I gained an uncle and joined the Order of the Aegis. I fell in love, unlocked the ability to use magic, and joined an even more secretive sect of the secret organization. And through it all, I gained an uncountable number of scars. I had finally hit my stride near the end of the year. Then my uncle and love interest betrayed me, tried to kill me, and fled through a portal when Mystagogue Thrasher, Mysteriarch K, and Mystagogue Navor stepped in.


    Rose¡¯s betrayal was a sore subject at the time of that flight and for years after. The Primal girl had swooped in so many times before to save me from the gnashing jaws of the student body. She¡¯d spent most of her free days either training me or just spending time with me, Nel, and Ferris. I had spent so much time just trying to impress her that I had been completely blinded to her seething jealousy because I was training directly under my uncle, whom she had been trying to impress since she was a year zero Slate.


    I could feel my mood spiral as I brooded on Rose, so I forcefully redirected my train of thought. I turned my mind¡¯s eye to fantasizing about being a Hero. I mentally ran down the stereotypical Hero checklist:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Tragic backstory: Check</li>


    </ul>


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Dead or missing parents: Double check</li>


    </ul>


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Remarkable talent: (I personally wouldn¡¯t call my talent for tinkering anything remarkable, but I guess it fits) Check</li>


    </ul>


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Ability to cast spells: Check (Albeit in a gruesome method)</li>


    </ul>


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Scars: Check (a whole lot of checks to be exact)</li>


    </ul>


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Weapon skills: (I gave it a tentative half Check)</li>


    </ul>


    While Thallos did beat some martial skills into me, and I mean the term ¡®beat¡¯ literally, I could almost never match up to Rose or Thallos. The logical part of my mind thought I was being stupid by comparing myself to the man teaching me, but the emotional part of my brain kept superimposing Thallos¡¯s face over the mask he wore the day he killed my father. And the face I couldn¡¯t get out of my head wore a twisted, half-mad smirk. The very same expression he wore during that last fight I had with him. I thought I had made reasonable progress in my weapon skills up until that moment. When Thallos dropped all pretense of training me, he took to toying with me. That amusement of his was nothing like a cat teasing a mouse. It was more like some mentally deranged child slowly ripping the wings off butterflies or gutting a puppy to see what made it work.


    That comparison drew a shiver from me as I sat in the AV, and it would cause the very same response every time I thought about it for years after. After the traumatic memory of Thallos toying with me came another train of thought that had been bothering me ever since the events of that day same day.


    Thallos had the box on him, the strange box he stole from my father¡¯s house on the same day he committed the murder. My father told me I had to get that box back. He had been so desperate for me to get the box back that the strange thing hadn¡¯t left my mind. That is to say, the thought hadn¡¯t left my mind until Thallos took my training under his charge, and after that, the only thing I had really been able to focus on was living to see the next day.


    That box¡­ Even now, I can remember it so vividly. The box was a square foot and seven inches deep. Its surface was a glossy black, with rounded corners and edges but not a seam in sight. The box raised questions, but it was the contents of the thing that raised just as many questions as hackles on the back of my neck.


    It was a mechanical nightmare, a skeletal frame made up of viscous angles and gruesome spikes. On the thing¡¯s right side was a large scarlet gem that glowed with a malicious inner light held in a spherical glass chamber and firmly set into a claw-like mount. On the contraption¡¯s left side was a mythril ring the size of an adult Human man¡¯s fist. Its outer left edge was lined with a crescent of bladed spikes.


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Thallos had said that it was the key to changing the world all at once. I remember him rambling on about how it was what I was made for. That this choice was my destiny. Somewhere in his ravings, he said that if I sided with him, he could take me to my mother, but I doubted the truth of that claim.


    I turned to face the Mystagogue. ¡°Mystagogue, you remember the device in that box Thallos had?¡±


    The large man gave a single nod, only sparing me a momentary glance, but in that moment, I was his concern. ¡°I recall what you recounted of the events that day. You are the only one that got an honest look at the device. Are you dwelling on it again?¡±


    I gave a half-hearted scoff of denial. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say I¡¯m dwelling on it, per se.¡± I looked out my window again as I thought about the device. ¡°But the thing¡¯s design, that crystal, those spikes. What was it supposed to do?¡± I could feel myself getting antsy as I began to spiral. I started to bounce my knee on reflex. ¡°And those things he said.¡± I dropped my face into my hands and rubbed my eyes with my palms. ¡°He said I was made for it. That if I used it, I would change the world all at once.¡± I shifted my hands to run through my hair, slipping around my horns without a thought. I could feel my tail trying to thrash in the seat under me. ¡°What does that even mean? I was made for it? Was I selectively bred? Am I some stolen son of a mad cult leader who was born for the express purpose of using that thing?¡± I threw my head back to bounce off the neck cushion behind me even as I slapped my hands against my thighs. ¡°And if I was supposedly made for it and it can change the world, I mean, that has to mean that I¡¯m a monster in the making.¡±


    By that point, I wasn¡¯t even speaking to be heard. The pressure on that topic had been building for months, and I just needed to vent. I wasn¡¯t even paying attention to the flight, AV, or the pilot. I was so wrapped up in my own little world. A gentle but massive weight resting on my shoulder shocked me back into reality. I looked down to find a bolder of a hand just sitting there on my shoulder. I looked up to find that I had his undivided attention. His hands were off the controls, and the auto-pilot was locked in.


    ¡°Iver, do you need to dose again?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I asked, confused and a bit taken aback. ¡°No, no, Master Thrasher. I¡¯m still well in control. I¡¯m just¡­¡± I chewed at my lip as I thought of the right word. ¡°Frustrated about the situation.¡± I deflated as I let out a defeated sigh. ¡°If I¡¯m being completely honest, Master, I¡¯m lost. I¡¯m confused and scared. I was just pulling together a new life when half of the people I trusted turned on me.¡± It was around that time I could feel the AV making its landing decent. I¡¯d need to get my social mask back up before I was tagged as an easy target by other students.


    ¡°It¡¯s perfectly natural to feel the way you do. You have suffered through no small amount of trauma. And it happened in such rapid order you were still reeling from your father when Thallos revealed his true colors.¡±


    I gave a sarcastic huff of amusement. ¡°It¡¯s more complicated than that, and you know it, Master.¡±


    I felt his hand retract from my shoulder as he said, ¡°A bit of wise advice from an old Orc. There are always those you can turn to when you seek something stable. I¡¯m not only referring to myself but to those two friends of yours, Miss. Darrdane and Mr. Stillwind. After you find your footing, try making a few new friends along your journey. I speak from experience; you can never have too many friends.¡±


    As Thrasher finished giving his sage words of wisdom, the vehicle shuddered as it made contact with academy grounds. The doors swung open while Thrasher pinned me with an expectant stare. In answer, I gave a nervous nod before hopping onto the landing pad.


    I looked around the academy grounds and was shocked by what I found. The grounds had always been in the center of a hollowed-out mountain, set into a massive crater and a large hole at the peak to let sunlight in. That hadn¡¯t changed. What had changed was the contents of the crater site. Last year, the expansive grounds filled with the Circular Foundry, and clean and square Medical Center off to the right of where I stood, the massive and regal Aegis Hall set toward the rear of the crater, the dorms, and DEFAC off to my left beside a large dirt training ground. All of this was encircled by a forest of various trees with sapphire, yellow, red, and green leaves around the perimeter of the space.


    Everything had changed. The dorms were now behind me, and I couldn¡¯t be sure, but it looked larger. The DEFAC was directly to my left and was no longer a squat square thing of grey brick. The new DEFAC, or mess hall as many called it, was circular and domed with a glass roof, the walls were a seamless and shining white metal, and it even had an outdoor eating area. The Foundry was closer to the front of the crater and now seven stories instead of three with riveted black plates for walls instead of the grey brick walls I knew all too well. It also had a conical roof that strouted dozens of pipes, bellowing various colored clouds of smoke. The Medical Center was also larger and made from seamless white metal; the corners and edges of the building rounded, and the windows to the rooms were far larger than what I was used to.


    Aegis Hall still looked very much like an old stonework church, only now it was wider by several hundred feet, and it had two more stories, bringing the total up to six with towers reaching ten stories. Speaking of towers, the structure now had eight towers instead of its original four. To put the feather in the cap of the structure was an astounding amount of stained glass. The colored glass filled every window; some formed images of people, creatures, places, or objects, while others were simply abstract images. Some of these colorful windows stretched from the ground floor to the roof of the base structure.


    To top off the foreign scene was the natural scenery. The perimeter forest was now made up of trees with exclusively sapphire, rudy, or amethyst leaves and gray-black bark. The walls of the crater had flat plateaus at seemingly random locations, each big enough for at least one person to sit on if not eight or nine people. Some of these plateaus stood before the mouths of caves. At ground level in the center of the crater was a moderately sized lake of crystal green-blue water. Another smaller lake had a shore not far from the Foundry, but the body of water stretched into a large cave in the wall of the crater that was filled with glowing fungus.


    ¡°Umm, Mystagogue Thrasher,¡± I called back, even as I took in the expanse of the people wandering the area. ¡°I think we¡¯re at the wrong secret academy hidden inside a hollow mountain.¡±


    I turned around to find the large man had unloaded the luggage and was surveying the area as well. He gave an amused huff before saying, ¡°Kaydammin really let the Genius Loci have a field day. This is some impressive work.¡±


    I looked at the Orc with eyes squinted in confusion. I opened my mouth to speak, only to slap it shut as I tried to figure out what to say. In the end, I simply went with ¡°What?¡±


    Thrasher looked down at me with mild amusement. ¡°Did no one tell you about the Genius Loci?¡±


    ¡°The what now?¡±


    He turned around and tossed me my bag before shouldering his own as he spoke. ¡°A Genius Loci. Think of it as a nature spirit that manifests on sacred or revered land. If enough people consider a natural location sacred for long enough and treat it as such, the land develops a consciousness. Admittedly, the Order has artificially constructed one for each academy site. They are used as an ever-conscious, ever-present defense for the grounds and the students. Because The one for these grounds is artificial, it has a habit of altering the environment every few decades to every few years. It¡¯s also because of the spirit¡¯s artificial nature that it is also bound to the buildings and can alter them just as easily as the ground. But the Mysteriarch must¡¯ve had some serious cause for such drastic renovation because the spirit would have needed more raw materials to make all these changes.¡±


    I leaned back just as much from Thrasher¡¯s words as from the rucksack I had shouldered. I had no idea that there were spirits like that, let alone one at the academy. The thought of a spirit capable of altering an environment to such a massive degree boggled my mind. As much as I wanted to feel safe with such a powerful entity watching over the place I called home, in all honesty, I couldn¡¯t help but feel paranoid. What if the spirit went rogue, or I somehow angered it? Would the ground just open up beneath me and swallow me whole?


    I pushed the thought chain from my mind as I turned back to Mystagogue Thrasher. ¡°Mystagogue, what comes next? I kinda joined the Academy late last year, so I have no clue how to get my dorm room. Or if there are any opening ceremonies, for that matter.¡±


    The gentleman Orc rubbed his clean-shaven chin in thought. ¡°The fact had slipped my mind. Mysteriarch Kaydammin hadn¡¯t instructed me to keep an eye on you until about two weeks into the start of last year. She had only mentioned the circumstances of your joining in passing.¡±


    I gave him a questioning look. ¡°She told you to keep an eye on me?¡±


    Thrasher waved away the question. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that, young man. To answer your questions, Stop by the dorms¡¯ quartermaster first, and he¡¯ll assign you a room. Tomorrow is the Greeting Ceremony for the new Slates at 11:00 a.m., but you don¡¯t need to be present for it. What you will need to be present for is the Sect Indoctrination Ceremony at 2 PM.¡±


    ¡°Sect Indoctrination Ceremony? How should I approach that, given my¡­ position?¡±


    ¡°Each Sect has its own unique ritual to bring newcomers into the fold. Type 1 members or members with only one sect only need to participate in the ritual for their sect. Type 2 members or Mastloks that are part of two sects take part in first one ritual than a second which all sects hold later exclusively for these members.¡±


    ¡°And Type 3 members like me?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s where things can become complicated. Standard Type 3 members are simply part of three sects and undergo a completely unique ceremony depending on their sect set. While you are technically a Type 3, as a Dark Hunter, they hold your ceremony in secret. To keep up the facade, you will need to take part in a standard Type 3 ritual based on your public sect set. The Night after all this occurs is when your actual ceremony takes place.¡±


    ¡°Have I ever mentioned just how much I hate having to keep this whole thing a secret?¡± The words came out more as a statement than a question.


    The Mystagogue gave me a patient yet annoyed look. ¡°Indeed you have. Nearly several times a day, in fact. But your friends know the truth, and the academy has taken steps to prepare them, so you can count that as a blessing.¡±


    I gave him a begrudging acknowledgment of the truth of his statement before he tapped me on the small of the back and pointed me to the dorms. ¡°Now, best get moving and find those friends after you get settled in.¡±

 PITM Chapter 4

    Cybernetics in the modern era can mean the difference between a battle won or lost and even surviving to see the next day. Implants can be used to improve strength, speed, mobility, reflexes, add extra senses, or even add unseen weapons. In most Tier 1 nations, the majority of cybernetics can¡¯t be implanted until the subject is done growing. So children can¡¯t get anything too drastic because it could interfere with their development. But exceptions are always made, either for life-saving reasons or with enough deckra to grease the right palms.


    I climbed the stairs to the sixth floor after getting my room assignment from a rather grouchy Dwarf who linked my B.I.C (Bio Identification Chip) to my quarters and gave me my uniforms for the year. So, with a bag over either shoulder, I climbed the sixth floor to room 666.


    I stood before the door to my room and let out an amused chuckle. In the Cassillis religion, the number was considered one of the most unlucky and was held in close association with demons, devils, and the Eternal of Darkness Tenebrous. Go figure they would give an evil room number to the Darkling that had traits from all breeds of Darklings. I was a freak among freaks, and this would only add to my dark reputation.


    I swiped my wrist that was implanted with my B.I.C across the scanner of the door and stepped inside as the door opened. What I found inside gave me a pleasant surprise. The room was twice as large as my room from last year. The walls were an ash-gray with a purple stripe running along the center of each wall, flanked by two black stripes.


    The Black Rack against the wall to my right was three times the size of the one I had last year. The room¡¯s workbench spanned the entire wall to my left and five feet of the back wall, corner included. The bench was fitted with dozens of drawers full of raw crafting materials and a Black Rack on the wall above the bench, already filled with a range of tools that had me giddy with excitement.


    The bed was at the center of the back wall, a full-size mattress with a mounted overhang stretching from the headboard. That overhang was a connection hub for access to the LSN (Living Sigil Network) and the Full Dive system. That was my connection to the wide world outside the mountain. The comforter and pillows of the bed were dyed black with the Order¡¯s compass Rose insignia emblazoned on them in amethyst-purple, ruby-red, and ash-gray.


    The Order¡¯s emblem was a series of overlapping bars with angled bands, each ending in sharp points. Each point of the compass rose was formed from two of these mounts, with a thicker one sprouting from the overlap at the center to form a trident and a V shape under each of these directional points.


    A door leading to the bathroom was in the room''s back right corner. Attached to the wall beside the door to the room was a large locker to store my clothes. The locker was larger than last year¡¯s, and I had a feeling that the bathroom was larger, too.


    I strolled into the room, dropped my rucksack to the floor, and tossed my pack of uniforms onto the bag. For some easy entertainment, while I got settled in, I double-tapped my therra-node mounted to my right temple and started a playlist of rock music while I unpacked. I immediately set about placing my weapons, training and lethal, into the Black Rack on the right wall. After most of my weapons were in place, I put away my uniforms and civilian clothes. Finally, before I left the room, I equipped a sidearm, a Shortsword, and my tactical gauntlet.


    My gauntlet was a completely unique device that I had modified plenty of times and overhauled more than a few. The current model at the time was my Mark Five Dark Venerator. I called her Venna for short. Venna¡¯s structural frame was based on an old piece of weaponized armor known as a catlar, a set of overlapping plates to be mounted to a fist and forearm. A standard catlar was tipped with a pair of curved punching daggers, and the length of it was armed with either small blades or spikes. But Venna was a nasty piece of work that I was more than a little proud of.


    The overlapping plates reached up to a scale-layered shoulder piece. The front tip ended in a clawed five-finger gauntlet. At each of the base knuckles were what would look like simple punching spikes but were what I called Shock Bites. Built into the back of the hand was both a kinetic force projection source and an illusionary projection device. Mounted to either side of the wrist and set just above were a pair of apparatus arms that were designed to shift forward and link to form a battering ram that could channel elemental power. Mounted to the top of the forearm was hidden a collapsed Vekenna blade, also known as a Dwarven Handspan Blade, for its blade width. The Vekenna could be launched and was also attached to the gauntlet with a mythril filament woven cable that could reach up to thirty feet. On the inside edge of the underside of the device was a custom grappling hook I called the squid hook of my own design. On the side opposite of the squid hook was a blowtorch/gas projection system. On the underside of the gauntlet was a disk launcher and a magazine clip of disks that could be filled with various substances. The whole armor piece and integrated tools were painted a matte black.


    I equipped Venna and tightened all the fastenings before double-checking my other hidden tools. Lock picking set for both mechanical and electric locks set into the lining of my underwear. Utility belt full of smoke pellets, various elements and sizes of myst crystals, and several other quick-use, disposable tools and antidotes to poisons and venoms. My black cargo pants were filled with a range of crafting components and resources. Around my thighs were small but tight bandoleers filled with screwdrivers, adjustable wrenches, and other crafting tools. I finished off the whole ensemble with a pair of daggers slipped into my black combat boots.


    I needed to be ready for any potential situation from the moment I left the safety of my room. Before leaving the room to take a look around, I projected an illusion over myself that hid my gauntlet, bandoleers, and sidearm, but I made sure to still display my Shortsword. I didn¡¯t want to show just how ready for trouble I was, but I didn¡¯t want to appear totally vulnerable.


    I stepped out of my quarters wearing a leather jacket and, with a much smaller backpack, shouldered and locked the door behind me before heading back out to the grounds. As I descended the stairs, I pulled up the HUD of my therra to overlay my vision and sent out a text message to two very specific individuals and told them where to meet me. I left the dorms and made a B-Line straight to the Foundry in all its innovative glory.


    The Foundry had always been my happy place on the academy grounds. A building exclusively dedicated to crafting and designing new weapons, tools, and armor. I had spent countless hours of my free time in the labs and forges of the building. So I waited outside the front doors of the massive structure, and people watched.


    I could tell just from a glance who were veteran students and who were the new slates. The second-year students and up all walked with an air of confidence. Many of them had dedicated their very appearance to their sect. Warriors from the Sect of the Crimson Blade were all well-built and armed with at least one or two weapons. Plenty of them openly bared scars like badges of pride. That was something I could never do, my scars each being a sign of failure, and I had literally hundreds of them.


    Mages from the Sect of the Blackened Crown strode with a sense of surety and purpose that could only be found in an understanding of magic. The fact that they mostly wore mage robes also helped. Almost all the mages that passed by had their spell focus on their person. Those that didn¡¯t were just asking for trouble, but I wouldn¡¯t be the one to give it.


    Members of the Sect of the Burning Hand, the sect for craftsmen, engineers, scientists, and mystgenists, all walked by with some carrying device full of tools, and many of them wore lab coats. Men and women after my own heart, dedicating their passion to designing and crafting technology.


    Members of the Sects of the Silent Heart and Sightless Eye were easily confused with each other. They all developed some ability to blend into a crowd and avoid notice. This little trick would work on almost anyone else, but Thallos drilled into me an almost instinctive level of noticing what doesn¡¯t want to be noticed and telling just how big a threat it is.


    Just from the people that passed by, I counted thirty-six spies and fifteen assassins. Of those fifteen, on a threat scale of 1 to 10, four were rating 3, six were rating 5, three were rating 8, and two were rating 9. It also seemed fairly obvious that the ones with higher ratings were from higher-class tiers.


    I also noticed that certain species were more prone to join certain sects. There was a higher-than-average Elven populous that was drawn to the Blackened Crown and the Silent Heart. Most of the Dwarves seemed to be Crimson Blade and/or Burning Hand members. The Ceangar seemed to be mostly drawn into the Crimson Blade, Sightless Eye, or Silent Heart. Orcs were almost exclusively part of Crimson Blade, but I did take note of several of the normally brutish species that were casters. Most of those looked to be Shamen or Druids. Gnomes, however, looked to be exclusively part of the Blackened Crown, their kind being the only species with a 100% Mage birthrate. Dracose seemed to easily fit in any of the sects, depending on their breed. Humans, being the most prolific species, were the majority of all the sects.


    Half breeds, also called Halflings, were difficult to pick out in most cases. A Human/Elf could easily be mistaken for either species. Dwarf/Elves could appear as Dwarves with fine features or an Elf with a bit stouter frame and facial hair, but that could easily be mistaken for a Wild Elf. Orc/Ceangar could appear as short Orcs with thin frames and whipcord muscle or a Ceangar with Orc skin tones, a strong jaw, and maybe a little tusk showing. The really easy ones to pick out were the Halfling Species like the Drakin, Darklings, or Brightlings, but I saw none of those. Or should I say, I saw almost none of those.


    Strolling across the grounds was a pack of hounds in students¡¯ garb. An Orc, Dracose, and High Elf all flanked a certain feathered fop. The pampered pigeon I wanted to permanently pluck sauntered across the grounds like he owned the place.


    He had changed from when we last met. Mallrimor was dressed in a sharp dress suit, shirt, and pants. The jacket was ocean blue with gold trim and stitching and cut in a two-button Ambrin style with ornate sapphire and gold scrollwork embroidered across the lapel. The dress pants matched the jacket down to a strip of the same scrollwork along the same outside crease. Under his jacket was a sunflower yellow dress shirt. Capping the whole outfit was a pair of white wingtip shoes with gold laces. As before, his skin was pale and flawless, his features were angelic in a very literal sense, and his golden blond was worn long and tied back in a tail. His aqua eyes gave off a light glow as another hint of his lineage. The biggest sign of his bloodline was the large pair of cloud-white dove wings that grew from his back.


    Mallrimor was a Brightling, the complete opposite of my species as a Darkling, and he was a grade-A jackass that made it his goal in life last year to make me miserable. But when I grew a spine, developed an ability to fight back, and made a fool of him and his gang of thugs, his goal changed to killing me by any means necessary.


    I tried to keep unnoticed after I noticed the gaggle of gangers, but only a moment after I noticed the feathered fop, he noticed me. A merciless smirk spread across his face, and he redirected the trajectory of his herb of lemmings my way. I nonchalantly adjusted my stance and location to a more tactical position without seeming threatening or weak. I set myself next to the Foundry doors for an easy evacuation route. I leaned one shoulder against the stout doorframe, posted on one foot, the other crossed in front, boot toe in the dirt. To finish the look of unbudging nonaggression while remaining tactically ready, was loosely folding my arms over my chest.


    From this position, I could fall back into the Foundry for an environment I could use to maximum advantage. I could kick up dirt as a distraction or simple obfuscation attempt, or I could make a surprise attack with a fast kick. I also had the ability to either easily reach the only visible weapon I had so I wouldn¡¯t show my hand and get easily armed, or I could slash my palm with a claw from my gauntlet and unleash any of several flavors of hell.


    Within moments, they closed the distance, and I made sure to take note of each weapon I might go against as they moved in. I also found verification of a theory I¡¯d had since early last year.


    ¡°Well, if it isn¡¯t the cock-flop of a hellspawn. And here I was, hoping that you had managed to do something successfully for once and died. You being homeless and all, I figured you¡¯d have enough of an advantage that you couldn¡¯t fail.¡± The infested testicle of a Brightling said in a falsely mourning tone as he gave me a heavy shrug with palms facing up in a pose that conveyed, ¡®Oh well. What are ya gonna do?¡¯. ¡°But here you are. At the academy again to ruin things for other students because you just can¡¯t succeed.¡± He dropped his pose, and his tone shifted from sarcastically bemoaned to caustically amused.


    It was only because of deeply engrained acting training that I didn¡¯t show any of the annoyed rage I felt. My casual expression and relaxed posture were a flawless mask made from brittle glass. I didn¡¯t even clench my jaw in an effort to restrain myself from breaking his hollow bird-bone jaw.


    ¡°Really?¡± I sarcastically queried as I laxly pointed with my gauntleted right hand off into the distance above. ¡°Because I have several memories of me kicking the asses of you and your wannabe gangers.¡± I adjusted the posture of my right hand to hold up a finger as if emphasizing a point. ¡°Oh, by the way, thanks for helping me learn that I had magic that I can use without a focus. How¡¯s the wrist?¡±


    Mallrimor¡¯s sneer morphed into a snarl as he tried to hide his burn-scarred right wrist under a jacket sleeve. "Oh, and nice toy." I said with false ease as I pointed to the device strapped to Mallrimor''s hip. The device was a set of 4 concentric thin and wide rings floating around a central stone. Each ring was forged from a red-copper metal with veins of silver-blue and engraved with complex runic formulas. The metal was known as Zallerrum. The central stone of the device was a smooth sphere of partially translucent blue and purple with shining specks of silver. Starlight Quartz was the common name for the crystal. Between the two very identifiable materials and the shape of four floating rings around the centerpiece, I recognized the device as a Catalyst Gyro Prysm, or CGP for short. The CGP was the spell focus of a Sorcerer. Sorcerers were a dangerous destruction-proficient mage class with Elemental Affinities very close to mine.


    Not only had my sarcastic question brought up that I had harmed him, but my follow-up comment made casual notice of his mage classification, which would show I knew his weaknesses. This was in addition to me subtly noting that I had harmed him with an element he was supposed to have a strong affinity for.


    I can''t lie. I was more than a little proud of that subtle social skill expression. Even today, I am not the smoothest talker or the best at understanding social cues, but back then, I was much, much worse at it. This was a rare display of social skills that, under most circumstances, would have been impossible for me. Maybe I was put into a mindset that allowed me to act like a smooth and fork-tongued noble, or maybe I was temporarily blessed by some god. I legitimately can''t rule either idea out, but I''ll get into the god thing later because that''s a whole other bowl of cobras.


    Mallrimor cut his hand through the air as if to render my statements harmless as he snapped, ¡°That¡¯s bold words for some whose girlfriend left him for his master. I also heard they both hated you so much that they turned traitor on the Order just to get away from you.¡±


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    While I gave the scum-sake an almost amused smile with a cocked brow, inside was a different story. Rose and Thallos were both sore topics in and of themselves, and that final act of theirs was something that I simply couldn''t get over. Mallrimor bringing them up in such a disdainful manner almost caused my eye to twitch as I restrained myself from the desire to gut him like a holiday turkey.


    I threw Bird-boy a mocking yet curious look as I pressed the tip of my right index finger against my jaw in an exaggerated pose of questioning thought. ¡°I really am curious how that story got around. I¡¯m shocked that it got around even faster than the news of how you and your thuglets ganged up four-on-one against me with lethal-edged weapons, and I still managed to bounce you clowns off the wall like rubber balls.¡± I could see the three lackeys bare their teeth, looking for an excuse to thrash me. But not Mallrimor. He was focused on where my finger met my jaw. The moment I saw where his focus was, I knew I had made a mistake. That was my gauntleted hand, with claw-tipped fingers that stretched past the tip of my actual finger by a good half-inch. I could feel the skin under the claw dimple, but with the illusion, my finger wasn¡¯t even making contact.


    The feathered fop knew something was up. I needed to think quickly, but my mouth went off before I finished pulling together a solid strategy. ¡°You know, it¡¯s funny that I compared you all to balls because that¡¯s something I know none of you have got rattling around in those trousers.¡± That was the breaking point. Mallrimor¡¯s eyes snapped to mine with a murderous glare. Kesher, Brecken, and Gellar all moved to draw weapons, and I took my moment as they were busy drawing weapons. I kicked up a cloud of dirt using the toe of the boot that I had been unobtrusively digging into the loose soil and dust from the Foundry.


    As I kicked up the cloud, I took a step back and threw a solid punch aimed at Mallrimor¡¯s jaw while he coughed and tried to clear his eyes. The punch thrown with my gauntleted right hand was made in perfect form. As the fist passed my shoulder, I threw my shoulders into the blow and pivoted my hips in time with the strike to give the attack power from my entire body. If that hit didn¡¯t knock the hollow-boned egotist out cold, I would be shocked. I felt the blow make contact and pushed through for maximum force. As my fist struck the left side of his jaw, I watched with satisfaction as Mallrimor¡¯s head snapped to the right and his feet lost contact with the ground. The Orc, Brecken, caught the bastard before he could hit the ground, and I was shocked as Mallrimor¡¯s eyes shot open and locked on me as he raised his hand to cast a spell at me.


    That moment of shock cost me. While I was stunned by my failure to knock the Brightling out, Gellar, the blond High Elf, closed the distance with impressive speed, a pair of gladius swords coming at me just as fast. I staggered back on reflex and brought up Venna to block. Gellar was in motion to perform a scissor slash, so I tried to place Venna right where the two blades would meet and overlap. But Gellar saw what I was aiming for and altered tactics at the last second.


    He drove his left blade into my gauntlet to lock me into a block. The High Elf felt stronger than normal. I shifted my stance for a better footing and dug in my heels to prevent being pushed over, but the Elf seemed to have planned for that choice. As I leaned into my block, just barely holding him at bay, his right blade slipped around the left side of the blocking arm in a serpentine motion. The next thing I knew, my left shoulder was screaming in pain. I glanced over for a second to verify that Gellar¡¯s right blade was stabbed into my left shoulder. He pulled the blade free and positioned it to stab me in the abdomen.


    To prevent that plan from following through, I drove my front knee up in a strike aimed at his left wrist. The hit landed with satisfying force. I failed to disarm him, but I did force him to let up on the pressure against Venna. I pulled that hand back as I threw a hard push kick at the High Elf¡¯s chest. He lept back to avoid the hit, which gave me some breathing room.


    I pulled the Vekenna from my gauntlet and was about to trigger its expansion when a shape came at me from the side. With a leap back, I only barely dodged a downward swing from Kesher, the red and black-scaled Dracose with a familiar burn scar over his left eye in the shape of a handprint. He drove the chop that was aimed to cleave my arm from my elbow down with a greatsword with the massive strength of his larger frame. I gave a silent curse for not noticing the massive Dezzar breed Dracose until he was practically atop me.


    Kesher drew his blade from a deep furrow in the ground that wasn¡¯t there before. That was not natural strength. Did Mallrimor enhance his goons with Lumina Myst? How could he have had enough power to boost two people if that was the case? The questions raced in my mind even as The Dracose and High Elf came at me together.


    Vekenna in my left hand, I lifted my right hand to face my attackers and drew my line of sight on the High Elf. If I could knock him out of the fight with my Shock Bites, then I could handle the other three more easily. I shot two Shock Bites to strike the Elf. Gellar batted one aside with the flat of a blade, but the other stuck home on his chest.


    While set into my Venna, my Shock Bites looked like simple knuckle spikes and could be used as such. But their real purpose was only revealed when it was too late for the target. These two-and-a-half-inch spikes could be shot up to twenty feet, and in flight, they bloomed into small voltage flowers with claws designed to dig in deep when they made contact with someone. The claws of the Shock Bites acted as conduction amplifiers to the central spike that would pierce the skin and discharge a high-powered electric current. The amperage of these devices was nonlethal, but that didn¡¯t mean that they were easily shrugged off. It was only four amps, so the target¡¯s heart wouldn¡¯t stop, but the voltage was high enough to cause a body to lock up and likely knock out the victim they were attached to.


    But nothing happened to Gellar after my Shock Bite dug into his chest. The High Elf looked down at the device in annoyance and plucked it free as if it were little more than a large splinter. Kesher stepped in close with his blade raised for easy defense or prepared for an attack, waiting for me to make the next move. I was debating my approach as I held my ground. Something was clearly off. Mallrimor was more durable, Kesher was far stronger than normal, and Gellar was both stronger and faster than expected, as well as immune to my electric assault. Only one answer came to mind that would explain all of these new factors. Cybernetics. That was a problem.


    With this new assumption in mind, I changed gears and slipped into the Foundry. The inside of the new Foundry was a long hall made from one solid piece of red jade, the body of scarlet with fissure veins of orange and black shining in the lamplight. Lining the walls every six feet were ornate lamps burning with an orange-red flame that cast dancing shadows across the intricate walls. A part of my mind took note of the excessively expensive and rare stone even as I fled down the hall. Under the lamps, along with walls, were shadow boxes holding either broken weapons or armor or diagrams of complex feats of engineering and the systems within.


    I didn¡¯t have time to stop and inspect the walls as I dashed down the hall to emerge into a large triskaidecagon room that reached up seven stories to a domed glass ceiling. Of the thirteen sides of the room, eight held doors on each floor that were labeled ''Cauldron'', followed by a numeric identifier. Excluding the wall with the entrance I had just emerged from, the other seven walls of the room had a wide and deep groove that ran up to the roof; locked into each of these guiding tracks was a sturdy metal platform, each of them with safety rails and a sign the specified that the platforms were meant for unloading heavy equipment from the Cauldrons and NOT to be ridden up. At the center of the room was a spiral staircase that branched off to walkways on each floor, leading to an exterior path around the room''s perimeter.


    While I knew that rules in the Foundry were set for safety purposes, that was not the time for me to follow the red tape. I sprinted across the room to the platform opposite the entrance. As I skidded to a halt, I turned to the control panel and quickly looked for the button to raise the damned thing. I could hear pounding feet just in the hall I had left, which drove me into a frantic rush. I found the needed button and slammed my palm against it. Just as my pursuers entered the room, a guard rail raised to close the path I had just taken to step onto the slab of textured metal. With a shudder, the platform raised, just passing out of Kesher''s reach as he was about to reach me.


    There was a stream of cursing from the group below as I rose ever higher and repeatedly pressed the seventh-floor button. Kesher and Gellar turned to the stairs and climbed them three at a time for the Dracose and two at a time for the High Elf. I kept my eye on them as they tried to keep up with my ascent in a less-than-successful manner. I tore my eyes from the two on the stairs to search for Mallrimor and Brecken to find them riding on their own platform in pursuit.


    I needed to think of a way out of this situation and fast. Just as I reached the seventh floor, I had an epiphany. I slammed the button to drop me one floor. Just as my platform began to lower, Kesher and Gellar reached the seventh floor. The Dracose was heaving for breath, but the Elf seemed no worse for wear, which was something I took careful note of.


    Once my platform came to a stop, I vaulted the guardrail and aimed Venna at the stairway. As Gellar and Kesher reached my floor, I triggered a kinetic blast in a concentrated burst aimed at Gellar¡¯s face. The ball of force struck the Elf, and he was launched back to slam into Kesher and throw them both down the stairs. When Gellar turned to glare at me from his tangled heap with the Dracose, I broke out in a wide smirk when I saw his nose was broken, blood running free from both nostrils.


    Without taking another second to inspect the scene, I run into the nearest Cauldron. Cauldron 45 was a large room in the shape of a cake slice, with the entrance at the narrow end. Running along the left wall was a series of smelters, burbling and boils with molten metals in a range of colors, from deep red to white hot. Installed before each smelter was a crucible stand, some already holding a mold for the burning liquid metal. Along the right wall was a series of stations, each laden with tools and equipment for shaping and working metal. Along the back wall was a series of shelves and stands holding raw ores in a range of colors even more expansive than the colors glowing from the smelters, but I didn¡¯t have time to identify anything. The room already had seven students working on various projects, and from a glance, it looked like the majority of the work being done was for enchantable jewelry.


    I hurried into the room and prepped Venna for my next trick. I picked a smelter at random and triggered the gauntlet¡¯s illusion system. Because I had nothing pre-saved for images to lay over my person, I was forced to make a disguise on the spot. I needed something that would blend into the background and go unnoticed. I focused on the mental image of a Human. Male, brown hair, brown eyes, medium build with the muscle build of a smith. That meant I needed brawny arms, back, and chest, but little in the way of legs or abdomen. I set the hair to a length to cover my face while I was bent over to cover any flaws in my image and made it extra shaggy. For clothing, I wore grease and ash-stained jeans, work boots, and a smith¡¯s apron over a bare torso.


    I quickly set to looking busy. What Master Mystagogue Mallock, the head of the Sect of the Burning Hand at the academy, would call ¡®cutting wire¡¯. In other words, I looked busy while doing nothing productive. I set to adjusting the settings on the smelter before me in minor tweaks that wouldn¡¯t really affect the quality of the metal.


    The four attackers stormed into the room, ready to rip my head from my shoulders, only to find me nowhere. As a squad, they stalked deeper into the room. They passed me by, and I couldn¡¯t help but smile at my success. Kesher gripped the shoulder of a student at the back of the room and spun him with force to inspect the poor Human. The student was clearly a non-combatant as he flinched away from the massive Dracose on sight. Gellar, in pure rage, stormed through the room with murder writ plain on his face as he checked under tables and behind smelters. Brecken stood guard at the door. I noticed the Orc had changed up his standard combat equipment. While he kept the battle axe on his back, he held a pair of odd-looking hand axes in each hand. Brecken idly leaned on the entryway frame as he bounced one axe off his thigh, the blade away from his skin as if he was totally bored with the events. What made his hand axes so strange was the odd shape of their hilts and a hole at the spine of the blade that ran as deep as I could see.


    I was trying to figure out a way past the Orc when I heard Mallrimor bark, ¡°There he is!¡±


    I turned to find the Brightling pointing right at me from the center of the room. Until that moment, he had been standing in that exact spot, tapping a foot in irritation as he let Kesher and Gellar hunt me down. I looked at him in total shock, trying to figure out how he spotted me when I noticed a dim red light in the pupil of his left eye. Damned cybernetics again. I was going to need to upgrade myself soon if I didn¡¯t want to get creamed by these goons.


    Gellar stalked towards me with hate in his eyes, blades at the ready. Kesher only looked annoyed as he approached with his great sword in hand. In a panic, I dumped the smelter I had been in front of. Between the force I threw it down at and without a crucible to catch the molten metal, the burning sludge spilled across the floor and burst into flames. To literally add fuel to the flames, I triggered my welder/chemical thrower to gush phercyma onto the liquid metal. The highly combustible gel erupted into a wall of flames on contact with the molten surface.


    I took my moment and ran towards the door. I was hoping Brecken would have been too surprised to put up much of a fight, but I was wrong, dead wrong. I hadn¡¯t even made it halfway to the door when Brecken pointed one of his axes at me, and a shot rang out. There was the sound of a rush of wind from beside my head, and I heard a loud clang of metal on metal before a massive crash. I glanced over my shoulder to find a portion of the shelves at the back of the room had collapsed. It was then that I realized his axes doubled as kinetic pistols and a large caliber if I guessed right.


    With that development, I decided to kick things up a notch. I bit down on my lip hard enough to draw blood and used the crimson focus to fuel a body enhancement spell. The amount of blood wasn¡¯t enough to do more than a Tier 1 boost, but I could only hope it was enough.


    Raw power rushed to fill my body, and the pace of my dash doubled. I crossed my arms over my head, gauntlet out, and projected a hurried illusion of Mystagogue Thrasher to obfuscate by shape. I rushed Brecken even as he cracked off another two shots before I reached him. His second shot grazed the side of my head enough to draw a burning line from the brow to the back of my head. But I could use that.


    As I felt a rivulet of blood run down my cheek, I drew on yet another dose of Morphic Myst and enhanced my body, and I struck the Orc head-on in a bullrush. My arms collided with his chest and abdomen at the same time, and he was knocked clean off his feet. But I didn¡¯t stop there. I raked the claws of Venna across my left forearm and pulled on every last ounce of myst for my next trick.


    Without breaking stride, I hit the guardrail just outside the Cauldron, jumped atop it, and kicked off. I fell from six stories up and angled my feet downward as I summoned a series of lesser kinetic shields to slow my drop. I hit the ground floor with a stagger, but righted myself with a mad grin of victory. That trick was totally cobbled together on the fly in a panic, but it gave me an idea for a new device I could use. But I was shocked by who I found at the entrance to the center chamber of the Foundry.


    As I staggered on impact and only just managed to keep my feet, I looked up to find two figures. A Human girl with platinum blond hair and a body of cybernetics from the jaw down, and an Elf with a mane of wild hair that made me think of a lion. The Elf, Ferris, stepped forward while giving a slow clap of sarcastic amusement, his Wild Elf triangular teeth shown in a wide grin in sharp contrast to his High Elf-sized pointed ears. Ferris was a Quint, a half-breed between two Elven breeds.


    ¡°You know Ive¡¯s, I figured you¡¯d get into trouble at the beginning of the school year, but picking a fight before the year even starts is a new best for you.¡± Ferris stepped up beside me and clapped me on the back in a friendly sign of camaraderie.


    ¡°Don¡¯t tease him, Ferris.¡± came Nennel as even she looked at me with an amused smirk, her arms folded under her titanium bosom. ¡°You saw it as easily as I did. Those slither-spined trogs made a B-Line to give our favorite Darkling trouble.¡±


    Ferris rolled his eyes at this before commenting, ¡°Yeah, I saw it. They came to give him trouble, and he went out of his way to tick them off." Ferris turned to me. ¡°What did you say to get them so riled up, anyway?¡±


    With my hands on my knees and hunched over as I tried to calm down from the panic, I said, ¡°I may have mentioned how, at the end of last year, I bounced them off a wall like racket balls and followed it up with a comment about them lacking balls as a whole.¡± I ended the statement with a huff of amusement.


    Ferris let out a low whistle. ¡°That would do it. I gotta say Ive¡¯s, you¡¯ve got some adamantine stones if you made that comment to a bunch of thugs that almost put you six feet under last year.¡±


    I stood up straight and looked the Quint Elf in the eyes. ¡°They were mocking me about Rose and Thallos.¡±


    At that comment, both Ferris and Nennel winced. Before either of them could reply, a shadow flew overhead. We all looked up to find a winged figure gliding down. I immediately knew who was coming down and prepped a surprise for him as I stepped just under where he was going to land. The moment Mallrimor was three feet from the ground, his body dropping at around seven feet a second, I threw an uppercut with Venna aimed at his groin.


    I felt my gauntlet slam into the Brightling''s testicles and watched with deep satisfaction as his wings and body closed into a ball in reaction to the pain. He lay on the floor, gasping in pain, and without a moment¡¯s hesitation, Nel and Ferris had him flanked. Ferris had a dagger pointed at Mallrimor¡¯s neck, and Nennel had a Shortsword aimed at his chest. I could hear his goons hurrying down the stairs, so I decided to make a dramatic scene.


    I redrew my Vekenna, spun it in hand, and thrust it point first into the ground right next to Mallrimor¡¯s face. Then I uttered in a threatening tone, just loud enough for his gang to hear my words as they reached the ground floor, ¡°I don¡¯t care what cybernetics you pick up to gain an edge. I will put you in the dirt as many times as it takes to get it through your feather-filled head. I am, better than you. And your bullying amounts to nothing.¡±


    With that, I re-sheathed my blade and walked out of the Foundry without looking back. I knew without looking that my friends were following me.

 PITM Chapter 5

    Professional Myst Smiths and Enchanters are known as Malloricks. Meanwhile, scientists specializing in the study of myst and magic are known as Mystgenists. Both roles have been crucial to the development and progression of technology into what we have today. These jobs are held in high esteem in almost all nations.


    As Nennel, Ferris, and I made our way to the DEFAC for some food, I took note of the others¡¯ dress. Nel wore plain white sneakers under a pair of well-worn jeans and an airy sky-blue blouse decorated with assorted flowers. Her platinum blonde hair was cut short and worn around her neck as a straight curtain. Ferris, on the other hand, looked like a complete wild child. His mane of dirty blonde hair was a chaotic mess, sticking up at all angles. The contrast between his clothes and his Elven eyes was striking. His jade-green irises paired well with his forest green t-shirt displaying the icon for a popular metal band, the Black Tongued Demons. Over the shirt, he wore a light hooded jacket that displayed triangles of black, gray, and light green. Ferris¡¯s pants paired with his amethyst-purple sclera. The pants in question were of a style that Thallos introduced me to called trip pants. Pitch black with deep purple lining and stitching, the waist worn tight while the cuffs of the pant legs were almost comically wide.


    DEFAC was a completely new experience from last year. The structure was what you might call new-age-utopia style. The domed structure stretched longer and wider than it was tall, formed from elegant swooping arcs of white steel holding massive windows of thick glass. Within the glass dome were seven levels, each with glass floors and outdoor balcony patios around the outside of the perimeter of the structure. At a glance, the mess hall reminded me of a soap bubble that had grown rings.


    The inside of the mess hall was just as new as the exterior. The back quarter of the ground floor was a buffet-style serving area set before an open kitchen space bustling with cooks and assistants. The expansive space and all floors above looked to be filled with circular tables as before. Only these tables had a hole in the center. When I set my gaze around the room to puzzle out the strange table structure, I found at some of the occupied tables, there were actively playing hologram images.


    Nennel, Ferris, and I crossed the room by skirting the perimeter, ready for an assault at any time. Before arriving at the DEFAC, I had traveled back to my room to pick up a particular backpack. The bag was slung over my left shoulder, even as I picked up a food tray and examined the food up for grabs. Shockingly, all the food looked impressively good. I eyed it all with suspicion. But when the students ahead of me were loading up their trays, I followed suit. The next five students in line before me ranged from Tier 4 to Tier 6, so I assumed they knew what was going on. I snagged myself a cheeseburger, fresh salad, a large serving of fries and mashed potatoes, and a slab of some interesting-looking sauce-covered meat that looked to be an Eathrain dish.


    ¡°You¡¯d best get the good stuff while you can, newbie.¡± Came the student directly in front of me. A Human boy with sandy hair, freckles, blue eyes, and a rather pronounced nose. From a glance at his shoulder, where his symbol of rank sat, I noticed he was a Tier 4 student. ¡°They only serve this kind of food to us lowly students on holidays and special occasions. You only get this kind of grub regularly when you¡¯re a Tier 6 or 7.¡±


    I gave the upperclassman a silent nod of understanding and set to adding even more food to my tray. Nel and Ferris heard the guy¡¯s comment and started doing the same. So, with trays heavy with cuisine, the others and I made our way over to the dining hall map. From the look of the diagram, Slates were designated to eat on the ground floor, and they assigned each rising level to the parallel tier of student grade. From the first floor up, each level had assigned spaces for each sect, but following the seating chart was optional. There was also a note stating that a higher-tier student could sit on lower levels, but the reverse was not allowed.


    I led the procession of eager hunger that was our small group up to the Tier 1 floor. Together, we claimed a table on the balcony. I set down my mounded tray and slid the bag from my shoulder to lie on the floor beside my seat.


    With an eager ferocity, I sank teeth into a stacked burger. After a diet consisting mostly of canned soups and simple sandwiches for the past two months, I relished the juicy meat. I savored the mingling of flavors from the sauces, sweetness, spiciness, and tang. The bun was robust, and even the pickles packed a tangy-tart punch. I devoured the burger like a starving beast.


    Without breaking pace, I dove into a steaming baked potato loaded with cheese, bacon, sour cream, and shredded brisket. I picked the spud up and ate it like an Eathran taco. Three bites in, I paused to notice Nel and Ferris staring at me with surprise.


    ¡°What?¡± was all I could manage around a mouthful of meaty, starchy goodness.


    Ferris pointed at me with a fork. ¡°Dude, has the gentleman tusker been feeding you a diet of roots and shrooms for the past two months?¡±


    At his comment, Nel and I stared back at him for a whole ten seconds before I replied. ¡°Ferris, two things. Number one, do not ever call Mystagogue Thrasher a tusker. Period. The man has been a staunch supporter from day one and even helped save my life when Thallos joined Kassidan¡¯s parade. And number two, Thrasher only provided me with meals occasionally. Most of the time, I had free rein of the kitchen and part of the pantry and fridge. But I had to cook for myself, and what I was allowed to use from the pantry and fridge was limited to cold cuts and canned soups. If I wanted any actual meat, I had to hunt and catch it myself, and you two know I don¡¯t have the guts to kill anything.¡±


    Ferris gave a hasty apology for the derogatory term and, in peace offering, he donated a half serving of barbequed ribs to my tray. I wordlessly accepted the offering with one hand, even as I took another bite of potato. As the Quint Elf dug into his own food tray, Nennel waved her fork like a magic wand at Ferris. ¡°You¡¯d think someone from the most hated breed of Elf you would be most sensitive to discrimination.¡±


    To elaborate on the statement, Ferris was a Quint, a crossbreed between two Elven breeds. Elves had this deeply ingrained stigma regarding bloodline purity. A child between an Elf and any other species is simply a disgrace. But crossing two Elven breeds was tantamount to heresy. This was all brought about because of an ancient prophecy that stated a crossbreed between two Elven breeds would be the downfall of an Elven nation, and currently, there is only one Elven nation, the Evarra Queendom, on the island continent of Yesheerra. Elves have a very low birth rate, so most children are thought sacred, but Quints are another story. The majority of Quints born are killed at birth if not aborted long before.


    Ferris shot Nennel an annoyed look while he swallowed a bite of steak. With his mouth clear, Ferris gave a sharp retort with his arms folded over his chest. ¡°Who here is the one whose Wild Elf father held their High Elf mother as a sex slave for months? Who here has a mother who abused them for their entire childhood? And who here has suffered nothing but ridicule and hatred from almost everyone in their life? I think I¡¯ve earned the right to be sour.¡±


    Nennel just gaped at Ferris before turning to check on me. I held an ember of anger in my glare that I directed to the Elf. ¡°Ferris,¡± I started with a razor-sharp tone. ¡°I recommend you check yourself before you get high and mighty.¡±


    Ferris gave me a look of obstinate challenge, clearly not thinking things through. If I had thought the situation through, I would have realized that he was getting defensive because he didn¡¯t want to admit that he was in the wrong. But I didn¡¯t think when I spoke with frigid venom.


    ¡°At least you know your mother and know about your father. I was raised by an abusive Wild Elf who could not accept who I am. But he was the only person who loved me for most of my life, and I watched that man die right in front of me. At least you had a home for all of your life. Because after Fermose died, I lived on the streets. And you want hate and ridicule? Unless someone was an Elf or knows a fair amount about Elves, you¡¯re safe, just a Wild Elf with long ears and dirty blond hair. Me? Anyone can spot my tainted blood with just a glance. My tail. My horns. Hells, even my eyes and skin mark me for what I am. And no one was willing to give me a chance for the majority of my life.¡± I slammed my hands against the table and shot to my feet before lifting my shirt to show my chest and side, covered in countless scars. ¡°Ferris. Do I need to remind you what I went through last year?¡±


    Ferris paled at my outburst and only grew paler with each caustic line. When I got to my feet, he visibly flinched like I was going to hit him, and when I displayed my scars, his gaze fell to the table. ¡°S-sorry, Iver.¡± was all he muttered as I took my seat. It was then that I realized the scene I had made. Everyone within thirty feet of our table was staring at me.


    I took a deep breath and let it out slowly while mentally counting to ten to calm myself. I propped my elbow against the table and leaned forward to speak in a harsh whisper. ¡°Ferris, dude, if you don¡¯t like people calling you rude names like cut-ear or taint-blood, then you should give others the same courtesy you would like given to you.¡± I leaned back and gestured to everyone at the table. ¡°I mean, look at us. The only person at the table who could be called a pure-blood is Nel, and she¡¯s more mech than maiden, so we are all freaks. The least we can do is to be polite to others until they get harsh with us.¡±


    Ferris gave a small nod but didn¡¯t lift his eyes to meet mine. I was about to try to cheer him up with a topic change to something he enjoyed, but Nel beat me to the punch. ¡°So, topic change.¡± She said with a single clap of her metal hands. The contact made a sound of metal on metal that made me wince. ¡°Ives, what¡¯s with the bag? Please don¡¯t tell me you brought another project. You should know better than to tinker at the table when we¡¯re eating. I¡¯d rather not swallow another spring by accident.¡±


    I gave her a look that said I would do as I damn well pleased, even as I picked up the bag off the floor. ¡°Actually, I¡¯ve got something for both of you.¡± At that, Ferris dared to look up at me.


    I turned to my favorite cyborg friend, my hand in the bag, grabbing something soft and squishy. ¡°So Nel, you had made a request last year for me to make you something.¡±


    Nennel looked at me in confusion. ¡°I did what now?¡±


    ¡°If you think back, we were hanging out with Rose and discussing something that made me blush.¡±


    Nel made to snap her fingers, but no sound came. ¡°That¡¯s right. Kitty titties.¡± Her eyes went wide as she stared at me with hope and shock. ¡°You didn¡¯t.¡±


    I gave a single nod before pulling out my hand from the bag and tossed a giggly mound of custom gel in the distinct shape of a breast. ¡°My sister requests boobeg, she shall get boobeg. Now, I will admit that I designed the substance with only a vague memory of what Rose¡¯s felt like the one time she made me touch hers. So the texture might be off a bit.¡±


    Nel lept from her seat to glomp me in a tackle-hug that drove me from my own seat. Her titanium tits drove into my face with enough force to bruise. But I was happy for her reaction all the same. ¡°I don¡¯t care if they feel a bit off Ives¡¯. Thank you! I¡¯m one step closer to being a real girl again.¡± She spoke with giddy glee. As she pulled herself off me and I sat up, rubbing my cheek, she asked, ¡°So, when can we get them installed?¡±


    ¡°Well, if everything goes to plan, after we¡¯re done eating. That is if Master Mallock gives me permission to use a mechanics station in the Foundry.¡± To my response, she let out a squee of excitement.


    I pulled myself back into my seat and picked back up my bag. I tossed the other synthetic ta-ta to land beside the other one on the table. With an amused smirk, I looked Ferris in the eye. His gaze lit with eager curiosity. While maintaining that eye contact, I took a long pull of my drink, a sweet raspberry black tea. As I kept pulling from the tea, I saw Ferris¡¯s eager expression fall to bashful as he remembered what we had just been discussing.


    When I felt I had strung him along for long enough, I set down my drink, reached into my bag, and tossed a long and hard object at Ferris. As expected, his combat-honed reflexes allowed the young Elf to catch my gift without even thinking. With wide eyes, he turned the tool over.


    Encased in a matt black sheath with an edgy modern design was a blade. A foot-long dagger with a six-inch hilt. Along the length of the hilt were four diamond-shaped clear points with a ribbed leather grip. Ferris pulled the blade free of the sheath to inspect it further. The blade was dark gunmetal gray and lined with enchantment rune script and myst circuits. The serrated edge was formed from milky-pink semi-translucent crystal. Along the spine of the blade was a rod of segmented glass.


    Ferris eyed the weapon, his eyes gradually spreading wider and wider. ¡°Ive¡¯¡­What is this?¡±


    My amused smirk turned wicked as I explained what I had just given him. ¡°Well, Ferris, you¡¯re a Still Blade, right? A Mastlok between Crimson Blade and Silent Heart.¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡± he confirmed in confusion.


    ¡°Well, my Elven friend, I know you specialized in knife combat in the Crimson Blade training, and that extends into your assassin training in the Silent Heart. So I custom-made you that infusion dagger.¡±


    ¡°Infusion dagger?¡± he asked.


    I stood up and circled the table to stand over him. I pointed to the clear diamond shapes. ¡°The hilt splits open, and you slot myst crystals in each of these sockets.¡± I moved my finger to gesture to the edge of the weapon. ¡°When triggered by your will, the energy for a crystal of your choice will infuse with the blade to give you some elemental damage.¡± I gestured to the glass rod at the spine of the blade. ¡°This here is the power indicator. It will tell you just how much juice is left in the crystal you have tied to the blade at the time.¡±


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°Fang and fragment, Iver! This is incredible.¡± Ferris exclaimed in hushed awe, his eyes locked with the blade.


    I tapped the flat of the blade with a nail as I said, ¡°I even installed a security system. Once you¡¯re attuned to the blade, no one else can use it other than you and me. I added myself to the override as a precaution should I need to make active adjustments while there is power in the edge.¡±


    I stepped back around the table to take my seat again and consume some more food. But with a handful of fries pinched between three fingers and halfway to my mouth, I noticed Nel glaring at me. ¡°What?¡± I asked defensively.


    ¡°Really?¡± Nennel demanded. ¡°I get a pair of gelatin honkers, and Ferris gets a custom power blade?¡± She gestured from me to Ferris with a jell breast in hand.


    ¡°Hey!¡± I said in offense. ¡°I will have you know that those boobs took me a week and a half of straight testing to get the mixture right. And it¡¯s not gelatin. What you are holding there is a specially synthesized combination of ballistics gelatin, impact dampening fluid, and that specialized cooling goo that they put in those premium pillows.¡±


    Nel looked at me deadpan for a full ten seconds before she said, ¡°You spent, seven days, playing stay-at-home alchemist, to get me a pair of boobs.¡± With each pause, her tone gained an edge.


    In a panic, I dropped the fries and held up both hands in a defensive, non-combatant manner. ¡°Hey, come on, Nel. I¡¯m not exactly what you¡¯d call a chemist. I worked harder and for longer on your gift than Ferris¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°And you couldn¡¯t have made me a tool that I could use in the field?¡± She accused.


    ¡°I thought you could use those.¡± I defended.


    Nennel posted her free hand on her hip. ¡°How, pray tell, is that supposed to work?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a Phase Wolf, right? The Mastlok between Crimson Blade and Sightless Eye. That means you¡¯re going to need to go undercover. I¡¯m more than willing to design an illusion projection system like what I¡¯ve got.¡± I pointed to my still invisible gauntlet. ¡°But even if you look like a completely normal girl, if some trog cops a feel and finds that you rattle instead of jiggle, there would be problems.¡±


    At this explanation, she cocked a single brow. ¡°Iver, if I didn¡¯t already know you saw me as a sister, I¡¯d assume that you were just looking for an excuse to be a total perv.¡±


    ¡°Oh, come on, Nel. You know me. I couldn¡¯t even think of Rose¡¯s pair without going red in the face. You yourself saw that she had to force my hand onto her chest. Hells, in order for me to even work on your pair, I had to think of it as a project of engineering.¡±


    ¡°A project of engineering.¡± Nel echoed in a skeptical tone.


    ¡°It¡¯s only the start of an ongoing project, Nel. If you¡¯re willing to go along with this scheme, I¡¯m gonna replace your body piece by piece with a more organic-seeming material and some nice armor plating under it all.¡±


    Nel raised her head to look down on me with an expression of trepid curiosity. ¡°This isn¡¯t just an excuse to pick apart my insides?¡±


    Now, it was my turn to give her an annoyed look. ¡°Seriously? Nel, how many times did I have to pull you apart and put you together last year? I¡¯m pretty sure I know your insides better than you do.¡±


    Nennel gave a heaving sigh before gesturing to me with the breast-filled hand in a manner that said she conceded the point to me.


    ¡°Alright,¡± I said as I slapped my hands together and rubbed them together in eagerness. ¡°Ya¡¯ll done with your food? Cuz right now, I have itching fingers that are craving a wrench.¡±


    Ferris stood up and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m good.¡±


    ¡°Nel?¡± I asked as I turned to her. She gave another weighty sigh as she looked at her tray forlornly. ¡°I guess. My ice cream is melted, anyway.¡±


    ¡°Wait, there was ice cream? Where?¡± I demanded.


    Nennel gave me a mischievous smirk. ¡°You missed out, brother dearest. I think it¡¯s too late to go back and get some.¡±


    I hung my head, mourning for the frozen treat I hadn¡¯t had in over two years. Nel stepped up beside me and laid a hand on my shoulder to console me. ¡°It¡¯s alright, Ive¡¯s. But we better get going.¡±


    I pushed myself to my feet, the pep in my step lost. As we left the DEFAC, I couldn¡¯t help but look longingly at the serving line. As we left the building and made our way back to the Foundry, I tried to distract myself from bemoaning my sweet tooth. ¡°So you two know what I did over my break. What about you guys? Ferris, did you go back to your mother¡¯s manor? Nel, you go back to the homestead?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, no.¡± Nel replied.


    ¡°Screw that noise.¡± came Ferris.


    I looked between the two. ¡°So then what?¡±


    The two looked at each other before giving me a pair of knowing grins.


    Ferris laced his fingers behind his head as he leaned back while strolling forward. ¡°My bitch of a mother wouldn¡¯t want my Quint presence besmirching her noble name. I was given the opportunity for extra training with a Mystagogue, so I took it.¡±


    Nennel spoke up with her explanation. ¡°As bad as I wanted to go home and see the family, I had a talk with Ferris and heard about the extra training. After hearing about your training under Thallos, it lit a fire in my core. So I asked to join Ferris.¡±


    What about your mom?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I called her on the therra and explained that it was for extra credit. While she was sad to hear I wasn¡¯t coming home, she was proud of me for going above and beyond.¡±


    ¡°So then, who did you guys train under?¡±


    ¡°Mystagogue Navor, and the bit- I mean, woman is scary.¡±


    I paled at the name. ¡°You trained under The Beast Eater? That woman scares me.¡±


    Nel tapped a finger to her chin ¡°That¡¯s right. You saw her fight firsthand when she, Thrasher, and the Mysteriarch saved you from Thallos.¡±


    I shivered at the memory. While Thallos had fought like a rabid beast that day, he was always on the back foot because mostly of Mystagogue Terra Navor. She was brutal, relentless, and just plain ruthless. ¡°H-how bad was she?¡±


    This time, it was Ferris¡¯s turn to reply. ¡°I¡¯m not gonna lie. She was harsh. The lady pushed us to our limits but never passed. If you¡¯re asking, she didn¡¯t pull the stab training drek that Thallos put you through. But she didn¡¯t pull any punches.¡±


    ¡°No joke.¡± came Nel. ¡°That lady wound up picking me apart and putting me back together more times than I¡¯d like to count.¡±


    I turned to Nel in shock. ¡°Wait, she repaired you?!¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Nothing special, mind you. But she got me prime functional a day or two after the breakage.¡±


    I gawked at this as we entered the Foundry. I started to wonder if the woman I was going to train under moving forward really was capable of anything. I was still lost in thought, even as we entered the Master Mystagogue¡¯s office on the ground floor.


    The entire space was a total mess in the cake slice-shaped room of Mallock¡¯s office. The walls were covered in an insane patchwork of diagrams, tools, weapons, armor pieces, and devices that I didn¡¯t even recognize. The floor was strewn with half-finished projects, broken tools and devices, and heaping mounds of paperwork. At the far end of the room was a massive desk of dark oak, or what once was dark oak. The majority of the desk that was visible under the mountainous mess of papers and components was oils and grease strained and even charred in certain spots. The whole office was ripe with the scents of oil, grease, hot metal, and sweat.


    My train of thought got totally derailed at the sight of the room, jumping from Mystagogue Navor to wondering how Master Mallock got anything done. Sitting at the desk was an old Human man with laurels of gray hair that looked to have a perpetual charge of static. The old Master was shirtless, other than a leather forging apron. His exposed face, shoulder, and arm were tanned and heavily weathered. His right bicep was marred with claw mark scars. From his left shoulder down was a rough-looking cybernetic arm. Matching his left arm, Mallock¡¯s left eye was a rugged cybernetic piece surrounded by a mess of scarring. Even the old man¡¯s beard was a, charred and stained mess.


    At that moment, Mallock was working on what appeared to be an armored tech glove of some kind. He was working with a soldering iron that was part of his cybernetic arm, tacking myst circuits. Mounted to his remaining organic eye, the Master wore a multi-lense focal apparatus with three of the seven lenses in use at the moment.


    As we entered the room, a bell chimed to signal our entry, but the Master seemed so totally engrossed in his project that he was oblivious to us. I lead the way down the narrow path of clear floor to stand before the desk. We stood there, at attention for a solid two minutes before Nel gave a polite cough to catch the Master¡¯s attention. The first time failed to rouse him from his trance. So Nennel gave a heavier cough, a bit more aggressively. That caught his attention.


    The Master looked up with a start. Master Mallock made eye contact with each of us in turn. His confused expression was magnified by the apparatus attached to his face. ¡°Ho! Students! How can I help you?¡± His rough voice was high with shock.


    ¡°Um, yes, Master Mystagogue. We were wondering if we could use a cybernetics workstation for some modifications to Nennel¡¯s body.¡± I asked nervously.


    Master Mallock squinted at me in confusion. He pulled off the lens apparatus to give me another look. ¡°Ticker? Is that you, my boy?¡±


    I did my best to hide my disgruntled wince at the use of the nickname he had given me after my entry trial to join the academy. ¡°Yes, Master Mystagogue, it¡¯s me, Iver Maverick.¡±


    The Master shot to his feet, retracting the soldering iron back into his arm as he looked at each of us in turn again. ¡°Yes, yes. I remember you and the clockwork-gear-mess of a girl, too.¡± He pointed to Nennel with the statement.


    ¡°Yes, Master.¡± I said with as patient a tone as I could muster. ¡°Could we use a cybernetic station to modify her?¡±


    Master Mallock rubbed his mess of a beard in thought. ¡°I don¡¯t see much of an issue depending on the work you plan to do.¡±


    My face flushed a bright red before I could respond to the master. I couldn¡¯t tell him that I was going to install synthetic boobs on my friend. But before I worked up the courage to even think of responding, Nennel stepped up.


    ¡°Well, Master Mallock, Iver designed me some synthetic breast replacements that he was going to install on me.¡± As she explained, my face burned even hotter.


    The Master gave her a skeptical look for a long moment, his lips pursed and eyes squinted in thought. Finally, he said, ¡°Show me the new components.¡±


    Without a moment¡¯s pause, Nel produced the gelatinous boobs, one in each hand. The mad Master gave each jiggly mound a scrutinizing look from several angles. He poked, first one, then the other, then sniffed one before licking the opposite one. Finally, he stepped back and turned to me. ¡°The compound is functional but could use improvement. I¡¯d recommend you speak with the student Gaibhnigh. The young Half-Dwarf has a talent for alchemy and chemistry. This modification is for infiltration purposes, yes?¡±


    I gave a vigorous nod to his question, happy that he saw the purpose without my explaining. The Master then turned to Nel. ¡°Please lift your shirt, Miss. I need to see the plate structure of your chest.¡±


    Totally unphased by the request, Nel lifted her shirt to expose her slightly curvy chest. Master Mallock gave her chest a just as scrutinizing examination, tapping it in a couple of locations and listening carefully. After a few moments of this, he straightened as much as his hunched back would allow. ¡°I would say it¡¯s definitely doable. Especially with your skill level, Ticker. But the process will take a total overhaul of her chest plating and reworking some of her internals. So I will supervise the process.¡± Without another word, the old man hurried past us, his power shuffle shockingly fast. ¡°Come, come now. Follow.¡± He called behind him as he left his office without looking back.


    So we followed. The old man led us up to the seventh floor into Cauldron 50. The room had sixteen spaces enclosed in glass with medical curtains just inside. Inside each space was a seat in a reclined position. Above each seat was a device hanging from the ceiling made up of dozens of arms ending in tools, with a light set into the center to stare down onto the patient below like a luminous and hungry eye.


    The Master led us to the far back room in the right corner of the room. As soon as Nel entered the room right behind me, she was instructed to lie down in the seat. I was told to clean and sanitize myself before the operation. Even as I moved to the cleaning station in the corner of the space, Mallock was giving Ferris precise instructions while writing something down on a notepad that I never even saw him produce. ¡°I need you to head straight down to Cauldron 23 and pick up these parts. Tell the assistant down there that I sent you, and hand them the list and ask for a cart to carry it all.¡± Ferris gave the Master a hasty salute before hurrying out with the list.


    Not long after, I had cleaned and sanitized myself to medical operating standards. I pulled on a pair of rubber gloves as the Master was running a full-body, full-spectrum scan of Nennel¡¯s body from a screen attached to the mechanical device overhead. I pulled up a wheeled stool and inspected all the tools that hung above me, checking for sharpness, cleanliness, and functionality. I found an issue with two devices and voiced this to the Master, who left the room and returned with replacements for me to install.


    Next, I pulled up an operating tool station beside me before realizing that I needed to remove Venna, re-clean my right hand, and sanitize the synthetic breasts prior to installation. By the time I finished all that, Ferris was back with a wheeled cart laden with metal plates and small boxes that were no doubt full of components for Nel¡¯s internals.


    I checked with Nennel to make sure that she was ready before donning a mask and setting to work before anyone could tell me to do so. Piece by piece, I removed the plates of her chest to reveal her internals. Her insides were mostly mechanical, except for a few organs like the heart, one lung, her esophagus, and part of her digestive system. I noted that with my current level of skill and experience, I could make some improvements to her body with the right components and enough time. I would have to ask about that later.


    Anything critical that I disconnected from Nel¡¯s internals, I quickly hooked up to the life support systems that were for that very purpose. I swapped out part after part, making tweaks here and there to optimize the systems. Finally came the exterior plating. As I put the parts together, a thought came to mind. ¡°Master Mallock, what is the youngest someone is allowed to have non-critical cybernetics installed?¡±


    That Master, who had been quietly watching for the past half hour, spoke up without pause. ¡°Under most circumstances, in order to legally have non-vital body augmentations implanted, the subject needs to be done developing, so it would depend on species. If you''re talking about someone who develops along the same rate as a Human, such as yourself, that would be no earlier than the age of seventeen at the earliest, and there would be a possibility of medical complications later in life.¡±


    ¡°And if a student or group of students I am aware of had body modifications installed recently, then what should I do?¡±


    I caught the motion of the Master giving a shrug out of the corner of my eye before he said, ¡°Nothing can be done. The majority of implants can¡¯t be safely removed because they replace parts of the body. The academy can¡¯t force the students to have a possibly lethal operation performed on them.¡±


    I quietly gave a snarl at the thought of Mallrimor and his thugs having such a massive edge over me. I only had a moment to think about that before I had to direct my focus back to Nel. I had just slotted her new breasts into freshly installed mounting sockets before locking everything into place with a few solid screws and some sealant.


    I pushed back, flicked off my mask, and tossed both it and the gloves into the trash. ¡°Alright, sis. You¡¯re good to go.¡± Not wasting a second, Nennel sat up and hopped off the table to grope her new additions. ¡°I think I could get used to having more squish to my body.¡±

 PITM Chapter 6

    The much-beloved breakfast dish Tarraose Toast was not actually invented in the nation someone named it after. Instead, the dish was invented in Sollarra but named after the Tarraose bread used to make the meal. Tarraose bread is airy and light, with a crisp crust that covers a spongy inside. In this dish, they batter thick slices of the bread in whipped eggs and flour before being tossed onto a griddle or pan. The meal has a firm, spongy top and bottom with a crisp ring around the edge. These beloved baked goods can be served with a savory sauce and garnish or, more commonly, with maple syrup and a fruit topping.


    After a day of hanging out with Nel and Ferris came the day of indoctrination. I woke up in a dark room to a message on my therra that was marked urgent. In a half-awake state, I rolled onto my side and opened the message. It was an announcement for all Tier 1 students from Mysteriarch K.


    Attention Tier 1 students,


    Welcome back to the academy life, and congratulations on reaching this point in your education. You luckily no longer need to travel to classes in troop formations, but don¡¯t forget the basics. You will have a leisurely morning today, with plenty of time to dress, eat, and prepare for the days to come, both physically and mentally. While Slate students will be collected and introduced to academy life, all you will need to do is stay out from underfoot.


    The indoctrination process will start at 9:00 AM, and no two sects will have their rite at the same time to allow Mastloks the ability to participate in all their needed rites. The schedule is as follows:


    Sect of the Crimson Blade:9:00 AM - 10:30 AM


    Sect of the Blackened Crown: 11:00 AM - 12:30 PM


    Sect of the Sightless Eye: 1:00 PM - 2:30 PM


    Sect of the Burning Hand: 3:00 PM - 4:30 PM


    Sect of the Silent Heart: 5:00 PM - 6:30 PM


    Your sect Master Mystagogues will collect you from the auditorium fifteen minutes before your rite starts.


    After your Rite(s) are complete, you will be given access to a portion of the prayers and rites of your sect(s). You will find a large majority of your prayers in the academy database. The rites and classified prayers that you have access to can be found in your sect''s bibliotorium. These are restricted libraries you will find on sub-level 44. You will ONLY have access to the bibliotorium of your sect(s), and your access will be limited based on your student tier.


    Additionally, starting in your Tier 1 training year, you will be introduced to the Team Training Mission System or TTMS. Moving forward, each year, you will have the opportunity to go on supervised training missions out in the world. You can select your teammates up to five in a party  with select exceptions determined by the leading trainer. Some missions will have a required party size. This may limit your group size or require additional members.


    The mission type you will be sent on will be largely based on the skill and ability composition of your party. These missions are meant to be educational through field experience and specialized training from your supervisor party leads. There can be as many as three instructors to a party of five  or more students, but this will also largely depend on the mission you will be sent on. These supervisors are also meant to keep you safe and out of situations you can not handle. But be warned, the danger out there will be very real, and if you act rashly, there will likely be steep consequences.


    On a happier note, I hope you all enjoy the remodel by our resident Genius Loci. Improvements have been made across the academy grounds. To all you new Tier 1 trainees, blessings of the Fragments upon you all.


    , Mysteriarch Maidra Kaybammin


    I skimmed over the message before checking the clock on my hud (Heads Up Display). The time read 6:34 a.m. Normal academy training hours started at 5:30, but if the big-dragon Mysteriarch said that I didn¡¯t need to be anywhere until 9:00, then I was sleeping till 7:30 and taking a long breakfast. I rolled over and dozed in the warm softness of my bed for a while longer, but when I realized I couldn¡¯t actually get back to sleep, I shambled into a hot shower.


    After a speedy dress in my new uniform, I made a quick once over in the mirror. The entire ensemble was similar to last year¡¯s. A dark gray cotton t-shirt, black boxer-briefs, and dark gray socks as the underlayer. Over that were pressed pants and a left-breast button-down jacket with a notched lapel, all made from sturdy and mildly elastic black fabric with purple trim. At the shoulders of the jacket was a rank insignia. Last year, it was a stylized eight shape made of straight lines and sharp angles and an open top half shaped like a forked bident, colored silver, purple, and black. My new rank insignia was much the same, only this one had a pair of spikes jutting out from either side of the center of the eight shape. The whole outfit was brought together with a shined pair of black leather combat boots.


    I straightened the collar of my jacket before leaning in toward the mirror for a closer look. I straightened the enamel pin of the Academy¡¯s mascot¡¯s head, a Grimmalk, where it sat in my lapel. My gaze raised from the pin to my face in the mirror, then a little higher. Were my horns growing? I honestly couldn¡¯t tell. If they were growing, when would they stop? I knew next to nothing about my own species other than what was shown in the entertainment media. And I couldn¡¯t exactly trust the media. If you listened to what they said and showed in holo-vid shows, movies, video games, comics, and novels, Darklings were always villains. We Darklings were all Cultists, Necromancers, Bloodletters, swindlers, rogues, charlatans, thieves, or any other unsavory title you could think of.


    As I made my way to the DEFAC, I thought more about the Darkling thing. I had never met another Darkling. Was I different because of the way I was raised? What about my skin pattern? Was it some condition like albinism only exclusive to Darklings? I had spoken with Dr. Brooksheen last year about my species, and it only raised more questions. She had never even heard of someone with my marble-threaded skin pattern. In addition to that, I apparently had traits of all four breeds of Darkling, which she said shouldn¡¯t be possible. Hells, even my eyes were strange, acid-green irises and diamond-shaped pupils. What in Pandemonium was I?


    By this point, I had stepped into the DEFAC and was already in line, waiting to grab my breakfast. Still wrapped up in my brooding, I thoughtlessly picked up a plate of Tarraose Toast, a side of sliced fruit, and a glass of yaggen milk. With food collected, I made my way to the next floor up, to the same table I, Nel, and Ferris had claimed the day prior. I stepped out onto the balcony to find Nennel already at the table, with a tray of food already before her. She had a plate of syrup-laden flapjacks, a double rasher of bacon, an apple, and a glass of orange juice.


    ¡°By the Gods above and below. Sis, how can you put away so much? I thought you didn¡¯t have much organic tissue left?¡±


    Nennel looked up at me with a mouthful of pancake, accusation in her eyes. She gave a hard swallow before responding as I took a seat across from her. ¡°Don¡¯t judge a girl on her dietary habits, Iver. While, yeah, I only really have an organic skull, brain, and most of a spine, my cybernetics are a constant drain on my Mystwell and need a supportive power system, but I need as much nutrition as I can get. And even if I have fewer organic components, they are far more taxed than anyone else with cybernetics, so they need more fuel. So quit slinging glass my way.¡±


    ¡°Hey, I was only making a playful jab. How¡¯s the food, anyway?¡±


    Nel gave a weighty shrug. ¡°The pancakes are flat and doughy, the orange juice is watered down, and the bacon is overcooked.¡±


    ¡°And the apple?¡±


    Nel picked up the red fruit and eyed it in annoyance. ¡°It¡¯s the only thing that¡¯s actually good, and I find it to be a tease of the kind of food we don¡¯t have till we reach 6th Tier.¡±


    I looked down at my food with an inspecting eye. The Tarraose Toast did look undercooked. I cut a bite of the toast, slipped it between my lips, and chewed slowly in thought. I was right. The syrup was cold, and the toast was undercooked and soggy with egg batter. My face curdled at the gross texture. I took a swig of my yaggen milk to wash down the slime, only to find the milk was just as unpalatable, lukewarm, and thicker than normal. The milk wasn¡¯t curdled per se, but the milk thickens when warm and is only really enjoyable when served cold. So I washed down cold slime with warm slime and nearly gagged at the surprise. But I forced the substance down, violently shaking my head in a reflexive effort to clear the taste and texture.


    I looked up to find Nel watching me with a pitying smile. ¡°It looks like your breakfast is even grosser than mine. Bad luck, brother.¡±


    I gave a wordless nod of affirmation before looking down at my meal in disappointment and frustration. ¡°Yeah. Just my luck that I picked a meal that is truly gross.¡± I gave a weighty sigh. ¡°But I need to finish this dreck. I¡¯d rather not have to go hungry during the ceremonies.¡± I took a deep breath and dived back into the food, forcing the meal down as fast as I could to keep my misery as short as possible.


    Most of my way through the terrible excuse for a meal, a shape slipped into the seat beside me. ¡°Hey guys, sorry I¡¯m late. Waking up was crazy hard this morning.¡± Ferris apologized with hurried words. He turned to me and raised his brow. ¡°Your food that good, Ives¡¯?¡±


    ¡°Just the opposite.¡± Nel corrected. ¡°He¡¯s guzzling the slime to keep the suffering short.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± was all Ferris managed to say as I finished the Tarraose Toast. I clenched the glass of slime milk in a white knuckle grip before throwing it back and chugging it all. As I finished the glass, I slammed it down against the table hard enough to make all the trays atop it jump. My body gave a shudder so intense that it was almost a convulsion.


    ¡°By the way, Iver. I was wondering, because of your sect position, which indoctrination rite are you taking part in?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I was wondering the same.¡± Came Ferris in agreement.


    I smacked my lips and tongue a couple of times in a vain effort to get the taste out of my mouth before answering. ¡°I need to keep up appearances as a type 3 Mastlok. So I¡¯m taking part in the rites for Crimson Blade, Burning Hand, and Blackened Crown. But I will have a rite for my actual sect tonight.¡±


    ¡°Dude, I wish I could join your sect. It sounds so cool.¡± bemoaned Ferris.


    I looked at him with a skeptical expression. ¡°Ferris¡­ How in the nine hells does getting stabbed, slashed, beaten, bruised, and broken several times a day sound cool to you?¡±


    ¡°That was your schizo uncle, not the actual training of your sect. Mystagogue Navor was very clear about that over Nel¡¯s and mine¡¯s extra training. While she¡¯s a grumpy old iron horse, she¡¯s actually really an awesome instructor once you get past her gruff attitude.¡± Ferris said.


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    ¡°Really? The Beast Eater is actually a good instructor?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Nennel agreed. ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong. The lady drinks like a fish, smokes like a forge, and has all the manners of an irritable goblin. But the Mystagogue was always patient with us and very insightful.¡±


    I gave a huff of amused surprise. The lady seemed like a brutal master from what little I saw of her at the end of last school year. ¡°Well, you two do know that you can join the Dark Hunters even after your Slate year. If you can prove your skills to Navor, you can join at any time, to my knowledge.¡±


    ¡°Really?!¡± Nel and Ferris exclaimed in tandem.


    ¡°Remember, Rose joined when she was a Tier 1 trainee.¡± I reminded them.


    ¡°Damn, I totally spaced on that fact.¡± said Ferris.


    ¡°Our Fragments¡¯ sacred grace.¡± Cursed Nennel. ¡°But don¡¯t we need to have access to our Mystwells?¡±


    ¡°Rose didn¡¯t. She was using MyCast. As an alternative, you could always become a Theurgic Mages.¡± I pointed out.


    For those that don¡¯t know, Mages like Sorcerers and Wizards are what are known as Solidim Mages. They use a hard set system of equations and metaphysical laws using runes and raw myst to cast spells. Theurgic Mages are mages that gain their magic powers from a higher power like a God or Titan. Theurgic Magic had looser laws that applied to them because they were coming from an immortal entity that could warp reality.


    ¡°Hot damn.¡± said Ferris.


    It was at that point I stood. ¡°You two should hurry and finish your sad excuses for meals. We all are participating in the Crimson Blade rite and should get there early.¡±


    ¡°Shit, you¡¯re right.¡± cursed Ferris before he started shoveling a plate of sausage and bacon into his mouth. Nel did the same even as I told them I would wait for them at the DEFAC doors. I left with my tray in hand, putting it in the collection receptacle on the ground floor before doing as I said, waiting just outside the doors to the DEFAC, with my hands in my pockets.


    <hr>


    It wasn¡¯t a full five minutes before the two rejoined me. Together, we made our way to the auditorium at Aegis Hall. By the time 9:00 AM rolled around, the large room was filled with a couple hundred students that ran the range of species, from the largest of Dracose, to the shortest of Ceangar, the broadest of Orcs, to the lithest of Elves. Each and almost every single student came armed with at least one form of weapon. I saw blades in all shapes and sizes, a good number of melee blunt weapons like maces, mauls, and war hammers, a couple of bows, and nearly everyone with a one-handed melee implement was also equipped with a sidearm of some sort.


    It was as I was examining all the weapons in the room I noticed Nel and Ferris¡¯s weapons. Ferris was armed with a short sword at the small of his back, the infusion dagger I made him at his left hip, and a revolver at his right hip. Nel was armed with two daggers at the small of her back and a Snuffer elemental pistol at each hip. Both of them wore ammunition belts for their sidearms.


    After a while, I noticed a number of confused glances directed my way. I found this a strange difference from the glares of disdain and disgust I normally got until I realized that Venna was still cloaked on my arm, so I looked totally unarmed. While I wasn¡¯t the only one who appeared to be lacking for weapons, everyone else who lacked a weapon were all obviously unarmed martial artists with wrapped hands and feet, knuckle guards and foot guards, or very callused and scarred hands. Me, on the other hand (no pun intended), had soft, unscarred hands aside from calluses on the pads of my fingers from crafting and weapon training. In a hurried panic, I dropped to cloaking on Venna, which drew even more attention to me as a complex clawed gauntlet just seemed to appear on my right hand. I felt a blush burning my cheeks as I gave a timid grin to no one in particular. The sudden development changed all the confused looks toward me into angry and offended glares like I had deceived all of them.


    As I pressed my lips together in a tight line of shame and embracement, Nel playfully jabbed me in the shoulder as she said, ¡°Ignore the twits. They''re all just jealous that you can hide your gear and gain the advantage of surprise.¡±


    When I realized that there was no winning with this crowd because of my species and less-than-bulky build, I just gave a heavy sigh and did my best to ignore the looks. It wasn¡¯t long after that a large figure stepped up to the stage and gave three loud claps to quiet the drone of talk in the room. She was an Orc, a Gorren to be precise, a cross between two Orc breeds. This was made obvious by her green-brown skin. She wasn¡¯t even tall for an Orc, and short by Gredgore breed standards, only standing just over six feet tall. But she was a presence in the room that was not to be toyed with. Her right eye and the right side of her jaw were bare cybernetics, not even covered with synth-skin. She wanted everyone to see the maiming. There was a long and deep scar running across the bridge of her nose that reached each of her cheekbones. Her body was covered in thick, corded muscle that bulged even through her Master Mystagogue uniform. She was Master Mystagogue Derrnia Bail, also known as the Iron Jawed Master.


    ¡°Quiet down, trainees. If you don¡¯t recognize me, then you¡¯ve been lax in your studying. I will be leading you to the Indoctrination Chamber of the Crimson Blade. This will also be the maiden voyage of our new class freight elevator. So don¡¯t fall off the platform and make a fool of yourself by needing medical aid on day one.¡± She turned away from the student body before spinning a single finger above her head in a group-up gesture. ¡°Now form up. I want nine breaker formations. You know what to do.¡±


    Without the need for another command, students formed up into groups of fifty. Nel, Ferris, and I joined the same group. Each breaker formation comprised five columns of students aligned in ten rows. Systematically, the shorter students tapped the right shoulder of the taller students ahead of them, the taller side-stepping before stepping back until the tallest were at the back. After that process was finished, the front-left most student took command and ordered a left turn. As one, all students in the formation took a half step back with their left foot and pivoted on the right to face to the left. Then the shoulder tapping continued until the tallest student was in the rear right corner, and the shortest was in the foremost left position. I wound up near the center of the breaker, as I had in my Slate class formation. Nel and Ferris were both on my left side, Ferris directly beside me, Nel right in front of him.


    The new student in the front left position took command of the formation, turning to back to face front. After each breaker was in the appropriate shape, the Master organized the breakers into a single five-person wide column. Master Bail then opened a hidden door in the left wall that spanned thirty feet across and twenty feet high. The door revealed a single large platform.


    One by one, the breaker formations were directed onto the platform, where the Master directed it to an unknown subfloor. The platform dropped at a rate faster than even the mirror-walled elevators from the year prior, but not that a pace anywhere near dangerous. After a few minutes, the platform returned, and the next breaker was ushered in. I was part of the last breaker to enter, which was accompanied by Master Bail. The door to the freight elevator closed behind my breaker, and the platform dropped fast enough to make my stomach lift, and my heart skip a beat.


    I don¡¯t know how many floors we passed, but after a short period of time that I couldn¡¯t really track, the platform slowed to a gradual stop. As the door to the new subfloor opened, the formation lead at the front commanded an about-face, and as one, each student turned one hundred and eighty degrees, and the new student and the front left position, the tallest in the formation took command and gave a marching cadence to direct us out of the space. I was annoyed to find the new formation led to be Brecken Stonefange, the Dracose from Mallrimor¡¯s gang of thugs.


    We entered an expansive, rough-hewn cavern. two rows of black, purple, and red banners marked with the symbol of the sect lined the length of the long cavern hanging from the ceiling. These banners lightly danced over two rows of just as many ornate braziers lit with brilliant purple and red flames. At the back of the long cavern stood a massive statue. As we entered deeper into the space and were directed to form three rows on either side of the cave, just outside the braziers, I got a better look at the statue of a female figure.


    She stood sixteen feet tall, dressed in a full plate chest piece, and grieves over monk robes. Her face was strikingly beautiful, but the socket of her right eye was empty. In the palm of her left hand was a sphere of silvery gray metal tinged with blue that glowed with a faint light. In her left hand was an ornate blade held point down between her feet. A half circle of Mystagogues stood at the base of the statue, each holding their weapon in a fashion that was clearly ceremonial.


    As soon as all the students were in place, the Master Mystagogue stepped up just under the foot of the statue. When she turned to face the student body, she spoke, her voice amplified to fill the space. ¡°Those of you that actually studied the origin of our Fragments of the Forgotten Goddess, you should know the origin of each of these fragments. But I will remind you of our fragments story. Ranna Kelthain, commonly known as Her Fragment of the Warrior¡¯s Eye, is the embodiment of the Goddess¡¯s combat prowess. When the Goddess shattered, Ranna was full of rage at the break and developed a bloodlust when she claimed the legendary blade Dredger, which was secretly a cursed blade. Under Dredger¡¯s influence, she hunted down and killed Immortals, which fed the blade on their essence. When she was confronted by Gantinthue, the Elven God of Wisdom, he disarmed her, and broke the curse, and bestowed her with the Water of Wisdom. As Her Fragment found peace, she also found a purpose in knowing when to fight and when to make an effort for peace. She developed a love for the grace and beauty in the flow of honorable combat. When she looked back at the brutality she caused, she was heartbroken, and in an act of repentance, she tore out her own right eye.¡± The Master gestured to the statue behind her. ¡°As you can see in her monument here in her hand, she replaced her lost eye with a sphere of pure Luminite.¡±


    Master Bail then pointed an accusing finger at the student body before her. ¡°Today, you shall make sacred vows to Her Fragment. Upon making these vows, it is your duty as a member of this Order to uphold the tenets she has laid down for us. Even if Her Fragment is unknown to the majority of the world and your vows are to be secret, your duty is to never act rashly and strive for peace whenever possible.¡±


    Bail then tapped her therra and made two quick motions. Almost instantly, after she did this, I received a notification that I had been sent a document. Even as I made the motions to open the document, I noticed everyone else in the room doing the same. ¡°I have just sent you the instructions on how to perform the rite. Read over the instructions as you wait for you to be called forward. Starting from the far left of the first row, I will call each of you forward. As you finish your rite, move to the back of the room, and the next row moves forward.¡± The Master explained. She then waited for a few minutes before checking to make sure the first trainee was ready.


    I read the instructions several times and paid attention to each student before me. By the time it became my turn, I had it totally memorized. As Master Mystagogue Bail called me forward, I pulled off Venna and held her under an arm as I did as everyone else before me had. I stepped up to the Master Mystagogue, trying my best not to seem nervous in front of the mass of students and instructors. The Orcish woman handed me a chalice forged from Luminite. The rare metal famous for enhancing those who used equipment made from it thrummed in my hands. I peered into the chalice. The red-black fluid it contained was Yellerra, a ceremonial alcoholic brew. I held the chalice in both hands even as I brought it to my lips and tipped it back. I took two swallows of the tart and tangy fluid before lowering it. I then offered my right hand to the Master. Without hesitation, the large woman took my hand in a surprisingly gentle grip of one hand, her palm and fingers rough with calluses. She drew a ceremonial dagger known as a Kurkina across my right palm. I only barely winced; my nerves dulled to the concept of pain. The moment the blade left my hand, I squeezed it into a fist to spread blood across my palm and finger. I then covered my right eye with the scarlet hand, leaving a handprint over my eye.


    With my eye covered, I recited, ¡°Nemor Sellona Ranna Kelthain. Bloonra fos Kelthain. Physsoran fos Kelthain. Solltra fos Kelthain.¡± The language spoken had long since been mostly forgotten, known as Grenorran. The rough translation was; I do swear myself to Ranna Kelthain. Blood for Kelthain. Body for Kelthain. Soul for Kelthain.


    After I recited the verses, I moved my wounded hand over the chalice and squeezed until blood dripped into the Yellerra. Six drops, exactly. Each drop burst into small scarlet flames when it made contact with the fluid. I handed the chalice back to the Master, who turned to climb a narrow staircase beside the statue. She reached just above the statue¡¯s hand holding the Luminite sphere. She poured the cocktail over the orb to flow through a trough to reach the down-turned blade and flow down the face of the stone weapon to pool in a bowl at the statue¡¯s feet. After a few heartbeats, the blood vanished, and a voice flowed into my mind. ¡°Sacred child of two worlds, take my blessing and stay strong. May the iron of your blood become iron in your soul. Remember what I stand for and uphold.¡± The voice was a soft female tone with warm notes in her words of wisdom.


    Without another word, I turned and made my way to the back of the cavern. Because I was in the last breaker to enter, I was near the end of the ceremony. After the last student performed her rite, we were commanded to reform our breaker formations and left the cave in the reverse order we had come in. My breaker was the first to reach the auditorium, and the moment we left the lift, the formation dissolved, and groups of students each went their own way. Me, Nel, and Ferris were no different.


    Wordlessly, I lead the other two outside the building and around to the back of Aegis Hall. The moment we were out of line of sight, I spun to face the other two. ¡°Did you guys hear a voice during your rite?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Nel answered.


    ¡°It was so weird.¡± Ferris said. ¡°She called me a child of twin blood. Said I was stronger than even I knew and to keep a kind heart even in dark times.¡±


    Both he and I turned to Nel, who looked uncomfortable. After a long moment, she spoke in a nervous tone. ¡°She called me the broken child. Said I must not waver in trying times and remind those around me of honor and heart.¡±


    I could see why she felt uncomfortable. But then they both turned to me, and I was reminded of what the voice said to me. ¡°She called me a child of two worlds. She told me to take her blessings and stay strong. She also said something about the iron in my blood becoming iron in my soul.¡± I looked down at my open hands for a few moments before clenching them into fists. ¡°Honestly, I¡¯m confused. What she called you guys makes sense. Even her advice makes some kind of sense. But me¡­ Child of two worlds. What does that even mean?¡±


    Nel and Ferris looked at each other before turning back to me. ¡°I have less than a clue about that two worlds bit.¡± Ferris said. ¡°But hey, the goddess, if that¡¯s who she was, gave you her blessing. That¡¯s more than we got. Plus, that talk about iron and blood sounds like she¡¯s talking about your magic.¡±


    I turned my head away from my friends and gave a weighty and annoyed sigh. ¡°I¡¯ll find you guys later. I¡¯m going back to the auditorium since my next rite is the next one up.¡±

 PITM Chapter 7

    Thallerite is a mythic metal. Forged from four rare magical metals smelted together under the heat of four different types of magical fires. Thallerite is a matt black metal with waves of silver and scarlet and pecks of white that shine like stars. The metal seems to devour nearby light, and muffles localized sound naturally. A weapon forged from Thallerite is feather light but strikes like it has immense density. The metal naturally bestows its user with a type of Lumina element enhancement known as a Boon. Weapons forged from Thallerite not only enhance the user but can weaken those struck by the blade with an Umbra element diminution known as a Hex. The recipe to make Thallerite is coveted knowledge to smiths who have an interest in magical materials, but the ability to craft it seems near impossible unless the smith is fabulously wealthy, has powerful social and political connections, and an impressive dose of luck.


    While I waited in the auditorium for the indoctrination rite for the Sect of the Blackened Crown to begin, I questioned if I could sit at the sect tables for the indoctrinated students, so I chose to sit at the Slate bleachers at the back of the room. I waited in the nearly empty room, brooding over what I had heard in the last rite.


    Child of two worlds. What did the goddess mean? I was positive that voice was Her Fragment of the Warrior¡¯s Eye. Many deities, such as the Gods or Titans, seemed to derive immense entertainment from being cryptic, petty, and just as likely to cause trouble as to help. From what I understood, The Fragments were more active among their followers than most higher powers, but I had yet to see if that was a good thing. Those words were the first I had heard from any of the Goddess¡¯s Fragments, and all I got out of it was more questions and no idea where to find answers. My first encounter with a higher power, and I wound up with equal parts cryptic words of wisdom and an even more cryptic title. I started the day with questions about my species and got questions about who I was stacked on top. I found it all deeply aggravating.


    While I sat alone, the room was not empty. It looked like a couple dozen other students had the same idea as me. That meant that everyone in the auditorium was, at the very least, a Mastlok between Crimson Blade and Blackened Crown. A couple of them might have been Type 3 students, Mastloks training in three sects. Most of the students in the space looked bored, and a couple looked like they were itching for an excuse to pick a scrap with someone.


    To keep myself distracted from the questions and make anyone looking my way think twice before getting hostile with me, I kept Venna exposed and made minor adjustments to her. I made a display of extending and retracting my shock bites and toying with the flame of my welder. I also rolled my fingers so that anyone looking my way had to take note of the clawed fingers I had.


    It may only have been a half hour until the next rite was about to begin, but it felt like hours, alone in a room full of people gauging me for a threat. The next batch of trainees was less than a quarter the size of the last group. This wasn¡¯t exactly surprising. The ratio of caster to mundane varied from species to species and, at times, from breed to breed. But the average ratio, when accounting for all species, was normally one in five individuals were a caster, often less. But I needed to remember that not all casters were Mages. More than likely, a large chunk of those here were Embers or Dyads that had a talent for martial combat in some form. I counted no more than a hundred and twenty or so students that were in the room by the time Master Mystagogue Neckar stepped up to the stage.


    The small Gnomish woman wore ornate Master¡¯s robes of scarlet with dancing pink and purple flame designs that shifted and shimmered across her torso and at the cuffs of her sleeves. Her skin was a deep tan with sea-foam green irises around triangular pupils under an explosion of pink, dandelion-textured hair.


    I was not a fan of the Master. She had attempted to instruct me after I developed my Myst-Blooded magic. She proved to be just a short-tempered lunatic of a woman that over-shared. I tried not to blame her. She was unstable because, at the time, Rose had been secretly stealing the Master¡¯s MyCast. For any other species, MyCast was a substance that gave mundanes the ability to use magic for a short time but was prone to be both highly addictive and dangerous. Because of this, it was a restricted and highly regulated substance in nearly all nations. But Gnomes, being a species native to another realm, were not subject to the same laws of magic as the rest of us. Neckar had developed a disease unique to Gnomes that reduced their Mystwell capacity and was fatal if left untreated. She was short on marbles when she attempted to train me because of MyCast withdrawal. I really did try not to hold it against her, but even when she was dosed and stable, she had an ego on par with a Dragon and disliked me because she failed to teach me how to access my Mystwell. She saw me as a failure and didn¡¯t like being reminded.


    Just as with Master Bail, Neckar gave a brief speech about honor and upholding duty. She was, as always, strict and relentless. As she spoke, she marched back and forth across the stage as she went on a monologue that had me dosing in my seat. When she finished, we all formed up into breaker formations again. This time, I wound up in the same formation as Mallrimor. As was the case last year, he was directly behind me in the formation. But this time, he didn¡¯t have the courage to give me trouble. Because he was a Mage, he knew just how crazy the Master Mystagogue was, and if she caught me in a ¡®mess up¡¯, then the whole breaker, if not the whole student body in the room, would be punished. While I had no doubt Mallrimor would love nothing more than to blame me for the punishment of the whole student body in the room and turning them against me, he probably knew that it was a serious gamble. If he was caught causing me trouble and he was the cause of the room-wide abuse, he would lose all of his standing and clout with the class, which he valued more than causing me trouble.


    One by one, the breaker formations entered the freight elevator with instructions for each formation to take a position in the room we were heading to. One breaker to head to the left side of the room. The next breaker was to head to the right side of the room. This pattern was to continue until all breaker formations were in the room and evenly split between the left and right sides of the room. I was part of the third formation to step atop the elevator and make our way to the next indoctrination room. The room in question, I would later learn was called the Hall of Sacred Tomes, and it lived up to the name.


    It was a long room with high walls that bent into an arched ceiling. The walls were packed tight with tomes from floor to ceiling, the ancient books even occupying space in the arch above. Standing in a row against each wall between the books and the students were the Mystagogues, each blindfolded with a black silk ribbon baring a purple diamond shape between their eyes and a closed tome held against their chests with both hands. At the end of the hall, the back wall was perfectly curved and mirrored the other walls with how thick it was covered in leather-bound books. The High Mystagogues stood against this back curve, each with a massive tome held open and facing outward in both hands. They were also blindfolded. In front of the High Mystagogues, centered near the back end of the room, was a throne standing atop a dais of steps.


    The throne was shaped from mythril and gold. The base of the royal seat was formed from layered plates of gold and mythril in a patterned sequence and tightly twisted to form a dense helix. The metal of the base was made of layers of this design and intricately carved. The design of the base showed blooming roses at the center, with creeping barbed vines reaching out to either side. The arms of the throne were shaped similarly with the twisted metal, only they were shaped to look like woven ivy vines. The back of the throne was shaped from the same metals in tight braids from threads, reaching high into a series of tiered spikes. The center two and tallest of the spikes held an ornate silver crown with an emerald nestled at the brow.


    As the final breaker stepped into place, Neckar marched down the center aisle, the length of the space carpeted with purple and green silk. As soon as she reached the throne, just when I thought she was about to take the seat for her own, she turned sharply on one heel and just as sharply gave two loud claps in quick succession. Without a single word, the Mystagogues that lined the walls beside the students all turned to face forward as one before setting into a march. As best as I could tell, none of them could see, but they still marched in perfect sync to the front of the room before turning to line the center walkway, facing center.


    The Master flicked a digital document to the student body, just as Bail had. As one, we all read the instructions and followed them without question. Starting from the back of the room, one student at a time walked the aisle known as the Gauntlet of Forbidden Knowledge. Each open book they passed held secrets that were deemed too dangerous to be known to anyone but the Order. The student would circle around behind the throne, stopping at each of the open tomes held by the High Mystagogues and recited an archaic chant in the same dead language as in the last rite, before proceeding to the throne.


    Sooner than I would have liked, my turn came. Each student that had gone through the rite took up a position at the front of the student formations, and row by row, we all stepped back. I was at the back of the room when I stepped out of formation to walk the gauntlet. I circled around the back of the throne, stopping at each tome to lay my right hand on the pages that held the names of great leaders and Heroes and recited the chant.


    ¡°Nemor sellona Zenna Kelthain. Twisson eyous layoss tetha. Twisson hosser moath spellen lerro. Twisson crysiloon minnor marllose fennon. Twisson purino spilross vissoran jounoss. Twisson porrous corren stiden tollerous.¡± It roughly translated to "I do so swear myself to Zenna Kelthain. With eyes, I see the truth. With honest lips, I speak no lies. With clear mind, I make my choice. With pure soul, I step upon the path. With strong heart, I step forward.¡±


    After reciting the tongue-tying chant several times, slowly articulating each word, I stepped up to the throne. To show just how seriously Neckar took this rite, she didn¡¯t even glare at me. Just as with every student before me, she handed me a smoking pipe carved from the tooth of a Stigmagaunt and stained with the blood of a Dragon. I took three deep inhales from the pipe, coughing horribly after each hit. The vile concoction of herbs had disturbing effects. The document each student read told us what each of the herbs in the pipe were in case of an allergic reaction, and I studied the herbs and their effects while waiting for my turn. The effects of the blend resulted in a thinning of the blood, minor hallucinations, and compulsive truth-telling. The herbs took effect after my first hit of the pipe. My head grew light, and it became hard to breathe. The colors of the room began to ripple and swirl together.


    It was a good thing that I needed to take a seat on the throne to continue the rite because I had a hard time standing. As soon as I took my seat, Neckar levitated the crown from the head of the throne down to her grip. With ease, she split the headpiece into two jagged but even pieces, and the gem split as well. She closed the two pieces together with a light ¡®click¡¯ before resting it atop my brow. She then set to asking me three questions.


    ¡°Where does your faith lay?¡± Neckar asked


    ¡°I have faith in my friends and my Mystagogues.¡± I answered.


    ¡°What is your deepest wish?¡± She asked.


    ¡°To find my father¡¯s killer and get justice.¡± I growled.


    ¡°What is your greatest fear?¡± This was her final question.


    ¡°To be abandoned and forgotten.¡± I muttered only loud enough for the Master to hear.


    She gave a single deep nod of satisfaction before taking the crown from my brow and splitting it in half again, and handed one piece to me. I gently took the offered half of the crown. The edge of the metal and crystal looked brutally jagged and sharp to my eyes. I held the piece of metal in my right hand and drew it across the pads of my index and middle finger in a single swift motion while the Master pulled out a massive leather tome that was almost as big as she was. Without looking, she flipped it to the last marked page, where I found a list of names written in blood. These were each of the students that had come up before me. After a moment of hesitation, I wrote my name at the end of the list.


    The moment I finished writing my name on the page, the blood ignited to burn the name into the page, and a voice spoke in my mind. This voice was like the last that spoke to me in the previous rite, only this one was more regal and wise sounding. ¡°Child of elder-kin blood. Have my blessing. Show the world your valiant heart. Remember my values and judge those you encounter with honor and fairness. Show those of corrupt hearts no mercy.¡±


    I took a long moment to digest those words, then a longer moment to ready myself to stand. After that, I stood and took my place in the front row of students. While the next few students passed through their rite, I used a breathing trick Thallos taught me that helped clear my head of the effects of the herbs. He also trained me to have a degree of resistance against hallucinogenics and truth drugs, as well as how to lie while under the effects of truth drugs. I honestly would have been tempted to test that training up there, but at that moment, I was stuck on what the Fragment said. Sacred child of two worlds? Child of Elder-Blood? What the hell was I?


    I was pulled from my thoughts when I saw Mallrimor taking his turn. I desperately hoped that he made a fool of himself. But he recited the chant with no issue, and he answered the questions in a way that made him sound like a prick to anyone who knew him like me but like a badass to everyone else.


    When Neckar asked where his faith lay, he said, ¡°I have faith in my power to do what is right.¡± When she asked what his deepest wish was, he said, ¡°I want to become a Hero.¡± When she asked him what his greatest fear was, he said, ¡°I fear being defeated by those of darkness and evil.¡±


    If he wasn¡¯t under the effects of a truth-telling herb, I would have called it all a total crock of shit. But his answers told me just how skewed his perspective of reality was. The Drake-eyed Trog believed he was in the right when he tried to kill me. I had half a mind to put him down for good. As the formations left the hall, I brooded, thinking on the best way to kill the feathered bastard. Traps, poisons, ambushing him while in the restroom. I ran down a list as long as my arm of how I could kill him. But I decided against it because my father taught me to be the bigger man. If I killed him, everyone would blame me, and I¡¯d shoot to the top of everyone¡¯s hit list. With the Vector System still in place from last year, attacks against me would still be common, and a fair amount would probably try to put me in the ground. I didn¡¯t need every single Tier 1 student gunning for me.


    Just like the last group, the moment a breaker formation left the elevator to enter the auditorium, the formation dissolved like sugar in water into small gangs of students, ready to take advantage of the rest of the day. I had a hunch that the first chance he got, Mallrimor was going to cause me trouble, so I decided to make his goal harder. Keeping my posture slack, tired, and seemingly unaware, I slipped into the crowd at a pace like I had somewhere to be. I got a dense group of students between him and me to break line-of-sight before putting up a mimic facade to look like just a bland Human student. The moment my facade was up, I changed my posture, stride, pace, and stance to look like someone bored. With my hands in my pockets, leaning back, and strolling along, I made my way to the DEFAC. I sent Nel and Ferris a quick message through my therra to meet me for lunch.


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Even as I made my way to the mess hall, I kept an eye on Mallrimor. I watched with satisfied amusement as the feathered twit wandered around with an annoyed look as he tried to find where I had gone. I actually got annoyed when I saw him give up and storm back to the dorms. I had hoped to see him struggle for a while longer. After I passed through the mess hall doors, I picked up my food and made my way to our now-standard table. After I took my seat, I dropped the facade and waited for the others. Not even three minutes later, I was joined by a borg girl and Quint. They both looked nervous as they took their seats.


    With my turkey, roast beef, and swiss sandwich in hand, I pointed to Nel with my palm up and turned to aim it at Ferris. ¡°You two okay?¡±


    As one, the two looked at me like I had lost my head. ¡°Why would we be okay?¡± Ferris snarked. ¡°I still have one more rite that I need to go through. ¡°Nel and I are both one for two.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I asked in clear confusion.


    ¡°Nel and I are one rite down, one to go. And that blood and Goddess voice thing has me worried.¡±


    I turned to Nel to find her verifying the statement with a quick nod while she kept her eyes locked on the sandwich on the tray before her. I took a vicious bite out of my sad sandwich and chewed it with hard bites while I thought. I washed down the bland mouthful with an aggressive swig of juice from a can. When I finally decided on my response, I gestured to Nel, then Ferris with the juice can, fluid sloshing around and dribbling out with the motions. ¡°Guys, I¡¯ve been through two of these rites, and I have two more to go. Count yourselves lucky. I won¡¯t lie. Yeah, the two I¡¯ve been through sucked Minotaur testicles. Yes, they both were stuffy and scary. Yes, they both had a load of symbolic dreck. Yes, both used blood. Yes, two Fragments spoke to me through my synapses. And, yes, by the gods, do I have an aggravating amount of questions.¡± With each statement, my tone grew a harder edge.


    I watched as they both got more and more uncomfortable with every verification. I gave a heavy sigh before speaking again, in a softer tone this time. ¡°Look, guys, yeah, they are uncomfortable to go through. But they give you a document beforehand. Read it over a couple of times and watch anyone that goes before you. You guys will be fine.¡±


    ¡°You sure?¡± Ferris asked.


    ¡°Oh yeah. You two should be fine.¡±


    The rest of the meal was filled with talk about pop culture. It was all talk about holo-vid games, shows, and movies. I did my best to distract the two from their worries, talking about topics that I didn¡¯t even have an interest in. Nel went on a tirade about a book series that had her frustrated because the last installment ended on a major cliffhanger. Ferris got wrapped up in a monologue about a Faell Ball holo-vid game he had been waiting for the past two years. I kept the two of them occupied even as we left the mess hall and wandered the nearby woods. It was true that everything in the environment had changed since last year. Even the tree that Rose liked to sit under so much was gone, and that gave me mixed feelings.


    When the time came for Nel to head to her next rite, both Ferris and I walked her back to Aegis Hall and gave her a strong pep-talk. After that, I talked with Ferris about my own things while I waited for my next rite. While Nel and I enjoyed reading, our tastes in books were very different for the most part. But Ferris and I had a lot in common when it came to holo-vid games. We talked about the next Reaper Fury X game that was due to come out that year and went over the trailer videos together, looking for clues of what to expect. He and I also griped about a show we both had an interest in, Vellerra and the Nine Stars. The show was not holding true to the comic that Ferris had gotten me into reading over the summer.


    Before I knew it, the time was 2:50 pm, and I was about to miss my next rite. I hurried back to Aegis Hall to find Nel waiting for me at the front gate. Ferris had been waiting for her to come back, and I had been worried. I felt relief seeing her for a few moments, then I got closer and saw that something was bothering her. Nennel leaned against a wall beside the front gates, arms folded over her new chest with hands holding both of her upper arms. Her head was bowed, so her hair blocked sight of her face.


    I jogged up to her. ¡°Hey, sis, is everything alright?¡± I asked.


    She raised her face to meet my eyes with her own gaze. That gaze was heavy with something dark that bothered me. ¡°We are going to need to talk after your rite is over.¡± Was all she said in a numb tone. I tried to press her for more information, but she just pointed to the gates beside her in a wordless command. I waited for a few seconds, but when she didn¡¯t shift or speak, I took the hint and made my way to the auditorium.


    As I went, I put up the same mimic facade I had used to avoid Mallrimor. I had a feeling that this rite was going to have something to do with crafting something. I wouldn¡¯t put it past any student taking part in the rite to make an attempt to ruin my crafting project, whatever it was going to be. So I planned to keep the mimic facade up for as long as I could and only drop it when I had to. That would give everyone around me little to no time to plot anything against me.


    Even as I stepped into the large room with my disguise active, I looked over my shoulder with worry, hoping Nel would come rushing in to explain. I was so worried I didn¡¯t even notice when Master Mystagogue Mallock entered the room until he spoke with an amplified voice. ¡°Greetings, students. It warms my heart to see so many of you here today. I know you all have the spark of talent to become someone great who can craft things even greater. After today, you will officially be under my tutelage. I will warn you now, while I will nurture your sprouting talent to grow, I won¡¯t be pulling punches. The strongest metals are forged under great heat and shaped by the diligence and precision of a mighty hammer in the hands of a master.¡±


    That line about metals being forged reminded me of a line that a Dracose doctor told me last year. Was Master Mallock where Dr. Dreggren got that line? Before I could think more about it, the Master continued his speech.


    ¡°Today, you shall take the Rite of the Tempered Soul. Each of you will be given a very special metal to forge a great tool. The tool will be of your choice, but it should be something you will use frequently. It can be a hammer, pliers, a file, or anything else that you can imagine. While you forge your tool, you must mark it with six drops of your blood before quenching it in water. You also must recite a chant while you forge. I will send you that chant in a digital document before you start. You also will be forging with specially enchanted gloves made by yours truly.¡±


    The Master stepped from the stage to walk over the freight elevator doors even as he continued speaking. ¡°Now, the other Master¡¯s will or have made their students form up into breakers, but I¡¯m not one for formalities until necessary. If you could step into this elevator in groups that should not exceed fifty-five students, we shall descend. I will join the last group. Now, once you enter the Ceremonial Forge Hall, simply pick a forge. We will all start at once, but you may continue as long as you feel necessary to craft your best tool.¡±


    As students began grouping up to make the descent, I felt something strange. It was a tingling and throbbing in my Mystwell. The Mystwell was where casters drew their myst from to cast spells. Everyone had one, but only casters had access to it, known as a channel. If I didn¡¯t know it was my Mystwell, the best I could describe the sensation was a tingling and throbbing down my spine and in my veins.


    I looked around to see if I could find the source. No one was paying attention to me aside from one figure. S18, the Half-Dwarf that stood in the formation position ahead of me last year. I would know that bald pate anywhere. But there was no way that he could know who I was. I still had my mimic facade up, making me look like a bland Human. But he still stared at me for a long few moments until he moved to step onto the elevator. But even after he walked away, I still had that strange feeling.


    I was so distracted trying to find the source of the feeling I was part of the last group to leave the auditorium. Personally, I would much rather have been among the first. I wanted a good forging position in the Ceremonial Forge Hall.


    The hall was a cavernous room, standing so tall I could barely spy the ceiling and so wide I couldn¡¯t run from end to end in three minutes if I were sprinting. The hall was broken up into aisles that spanned twenty-some-odd feet, with a forging station every nine feet. Each station was chock full of tools for shaping and honing metal, wood, leather, or plastic. As I walked down the center aisle, I was searching for a good spot, preferably near the crafting material, because I had a plan, and it was going to take a huge chunk of time.


    I found the material at the very back of the hall. What I found was astounding. A range of rare materials, from the unbreakable Adamantine to the Death Myst-infused Grave Stone. From the Lumina Myst-infused Luminite to the Umbra-infused Umbranite. From the miracle-healing Deccarra Wood to the poisonous Death and Umbra Myst-infused Whither Bane Wood. Shelves of these and more. I eyed the racks of rare substances and found something special at the ground level of the shelves. Magical fuel. I found Arcane Fire fuel, Shadow Fire fuel, Sacred Fire fuel, Warp Fire fuel, Frost Fire fuel, Ever-Fire fuel, Deddra Fire fuel, and even both Heaven Fire and Hell Fire fuels.


    I was shocked by what I found. Row upon row of these rare materials and all right behind a stone desk where Master Mallock took a seat, even as I gawked. I turned to the Master and asked, ¡°Can we use any of these?¡±


    ¡°Why, yes.¡± Mallock answered before he turned away and spoke with an amplified voice again. ¡°At the back of the hall, behind my desk, you will find an extensive selection of materials that you may use. If you have nothing special planned, I would recommend you use Adamantine to forge your tool. It¡¯s always useful to have an unbreakable tool.¡±


    Students swarmed the shelves, taking a range of materials, but mostly Adamantine. It was then that I had an idea. I picked up bricks of Luminite, Umbranite, Mythril, and Adamantine, then turned back to the Master. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t happen to have Ikor Crystal?¡±


    Ikor Crystal was an unbelievably rare substance. It was a crystal formed from the blood of a deity that had been spilled on Anogwin and allowed to harden. Gods, Titans, and even Eternals could produce the crystal, and the more powerful the deity, the more powerful the Ikor Crystal they produced.


    The Master looked at the ingots I held under one arm with a raised brow before meeting my eye. ¡°Are you planning to make what I think you are?¡±


    I gave the Master a grin of manic jubilation. ¡°Thallerite.¡± I said proudly.


    ¡°Well, Ticker, I must say, you are awfully ambitious.¡±


    I gawked at the Master Mystagogue for a brief second before I asked, ¡°You can see through my illusion?¡±


    In answer the Master simply tapped under his mechanical eye. That was all I needed to understand that his cybernetic ocular piece was able to pierce illusions.


    ¡°But, Ticker, if you can pull it off, I will be very impressed. Yes, I have some Ikor Crystal from the Titan of Night Nocterra.¡± Mallock bent over his desk and pulled free a drawer with the sound of grinding stone on stone. He straightened as much as his hunched back would allow to reveal a small crystal in between two fingers. The shard was a deep scarlet color that throbbed with a dull inner light. I pocketed the small shard with a hasty yet profuse thanks.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to save you the fuels you¡¯ll need for this project. You¡¯re lucky that these forges have six burn sources.¡± Mallock said with an amused smile.


    I hurried to an unclaimed forge not far from the back of the room and set down the metals. I hurried back to collect four canisters of fuel. One tank for Shadow Fire, one for Sacred Fire, one for Heaven Fire, and one for Hell Fire. I hooked up the tanks to the forge and readied all my tools and molds. I slipped off Venna and set her aside as I prepped for a serious forging marathon. Removing my gauntlet ended my mimic facade, but the nearest student was seven forges down to my left and facing the other opposite direction.


    Not long after I finished setting up, I got the document from the Master that gave the details on the rite. I read it over time and time again before setting the chant into the corner of my vision at a size that was just barely readable. I slipped on the enchanted smithing gloves Mallock mentioned, and the strange throbbing came back with vigor. I tried to ignore it even as the rite started.


    I set each of the ingots of mythic metals into four stone crucible bowls set to the side, ready for use. I set each crucible over a specific flame. Every minute and a half, I juggled the bowls from one magic flame to another in a systematic pattern. I did this repeatedly until all four metals were fully liquified. Next, as quickly as I could manage, I poured the Mythril and Luminite into a much larger crucible bowl that I had set aside before moving that bowl to the Hell Fire. I carefully dropped the Ikor Crystal into the alloy and watched in fascination as it dissolved, giving the liquid a red tinge. Next, I added the Umbranite to the alloy, slowly pouring it to make sure I didn¡¯t waste a drop. It was then I noticed something. My Mystwell channel, normally only active and useable through my blood, was free. I spiritually felt around to find an easy path from my Mystwell to the liquid metal through the gloves I wore. I didn¡¯t question it.


    I needed to infuse the substance with myst while forming it. I was originally planning on just bleeding into the alloy until I couldn¡¯t anymore. The open channel was a happy surprise for me. While pushing unpolarized myst into the liquid metal, I slowly added the liquid Adamantine. I had to be very careful with this. Adamantine could only be shaped once. After the metal cooled, it was unbreakable by any natural means. But that was only part of the issue. If I added too much myst in the smelting process, the result would be unstable and very dangerous to use. If I used too little myst, then the result would be a muddled mess of half-meshed metals.


    While adding each metal, I made sure to juggle it between fire types to keep the fusion process up. This all was a serious test of dexterity and hand-eye coordination. Without Thallos¡¯s training, I would never have managed this. Next, I prepped the first of the molds while I let the metal simmer. I needed a total of sixteen molds to get every component I needed for my tool. I started with seven molds set into a ready position. I pulled the metal from the fires and let it cool slightly before pouring it into each shape. While I poured, I recited ¡°Nemor Sellona Venna Kelthain. Bennora fera arg forrus wel shadon. Bennora merrona arg porruser tegetha. Bennora intess arg meven tollerous. Bennora derriousarg pess un. Bennora sullik arg tullun en congyure. Bennora fanool arg hullen fassoon.¡± This roughly translated to ¡°I do swear myself to Venna Kelthain. By fire and forge, we shape. By metal, we strengthen together. By innovation, we move forward. By dedication, we push on. By skill, we take on any challenge. By faith, we hold fast.¡±


    I recited this over and over again as I juggled the crucible from the fires to the molds what felt like dozens of times, and that might not have been far from the truth. Each time I finished pouring a mold, I had to set aside the crucible, and bleed six drops onto each piece like I was supposed to for the rite. I honestly may have lost more blood from this process than if I had just bled into the molten metal while it was over the fires. The molds I used were formed from Adamantine with rubber seals enchanted to withstand the intense heat of molten metal. Luckily, I could skip the standard quenching process. Thallerite was a metal that naturally set and hardened with cooling, the molecules falling into place to form the rigid structure.


    After all the metal was cured and set, I moved on to assembling my tool. Component after component was slipped together, every piece forged from the legendary Thallerite metal, even the screws. Once the metal was fully cooled, it was a shocking material to look at. Matt black with waves of dark silver and scarlet with specks of white like stars.


    As I neared the end of my process, I heard a voice in my mind. This one was like the previous two, only rougher, less soothing, and more like a gruff blacksmith. ¡°You¡¯ve done good, kid. It¡¯s good to see that you took the open myst channel and made the most of it. You picked up a monumental task, forging that tool, and it will serve you well in the days to come. Be sure to snub your nose at your old lady and show her that you¡¯re no tool of hers.¡±


    I tried to ignore the Fragment¡¯s voice so I could wrap up my project, but that last line shocked me out of my focus. It took me a good couple of moments to get back into a working state of mind. Once I finished my tool, I stood up and wiped the sweat from my brow. I looked down at a multi-tool. A small collapsable device equipped with wire cutters, a screwdriver with replaceable heads in their own sockets, a metal file, a utility knife, a small saw blade, needle-nose pliers, and even a hammerhead. When I looked up, I found I was the only one in the room save for Master Mallock, who was leaning over my project with an inquisitive eye. ¡°Well, boy, I gotta say, you really went all out for your symbolic tool. I think it¡¯s rather fitting, given your profession in the Order."

 PITM Chapter 8

    Casters are those that can wield myst to cast spells, but not all casters are Mages. A large majority of casters are known as Sparks or Embers. These are those that can only cast spells with a single element. Embers are more powerful than Sparks. Embers are capable of holding their own in combat with spells. While Sparks are only able to perform small acts of magic. Mages are capable of combining several elements into complex spells. More common than Mages, but less so than Sparks or Embers are Dyads. Dyads are casters that can use two sides of a Duality, such as Life and Death, or Chaos and Fate.


    I was alone in the Ceremonial Forge Hall. As I left alone through the freight elevator, I checked my clock on my therra to find the time to be 10:30. Two and a half hours past curfew. As stated by the rules for me set down by Thallos last year, if I was out past curfew, I would not be given a pass and must use my skills to get back to my room. But I wasn¡¯t going to my room.


    I slipped from the dark auditorium into the shadowed halls beyond. Thanks to my Darkling heritage, I could see just fine in the dark. This was one of the few blessings from what I was, and I used it to the fullest. As I made my way from one hall to the next, I kept my ears sharp for even the slightest sound. I had to stop and backtrack twice when I heard footsteps and saw the light of patrolling guards.


    I finally made it out of Aegis Hall and checked my surroundings. The night outside was deep. Thunder rolled overhead. Rain started to patter down even as I scanned the area. The woods at the perimeter of the crater were lit with a dim blue glow from the leaves of some of the trees. I slipped along the side of Aegis Hall while I kept an eye out for patrolling guards. Sure enough, I counted eighteen guards, all with flashlights. Some traveled in pairs, while others moved alone. I waited for an opening, and when I spotted my chance, I sprinted to the wall of the Foundry.


    As the rain came down harder, I skirted the wall, eyes peeled for any movement. I was soaked to the bone, but I didn¡¯t care. I was still on edge from the day of ceremonies and an unnerving amount of bleeding in the name of the Nameless Goddess. (No pun intended).


    Something shifted out of the corner of my eye, and I snapped my head over to find a deer wandering toward me. The buck looked young and strong with sharp antlers and a black fur coat. It stepped from the woods to approach me. I watched it in nervous curiosity. Unphased by the rain, the deer got within twenty feet of me, clearly staring in my direction.


    A light flashed across the ground near me, and I snapped my head toward it to find a pair of guards approaching, both with umbrellas in hand. Suddenly, a whistle was blown to my left. I snapped my head back that way to find a student standing where the deer had been. I vehemently cursed under my breath as I skirted back around the Foundry wall in the direction I had come, moving to break line-of-sight with anyone who might see me.


    I heard the sound of pounding feet through wet grass, and I broke from the wall to sprint into the woods. I passed through the treeline and moved deeper, shifting my trajectory every few seconds to make it harder for the guards to track me. I glimpsed movement above me. I looked over my shoulder to find a bird, an owl, following me. It was then that everything made sense. The deer from before and the owl now were the same person. A Druid.


    While running, I popped off the cartridge of shock bites I had installed at the moment, pocketed it, and slapped in a new one. This one was armed with darts with a knockout poison. I slipped around behind the trunk of a fat oak to break his line-of-sight and tried to slow my breathing.


    Just as I had hoped, the owl landed above me in the tree. Its body blurred and distended to shift into a person. While he was mid-transition, I spun around, stepped back, and lined up my target. I launched a single dart that landed in the center of the Druid¡¯s body mass, and the shape fell from the tree. He was actually a she. The Druid was a female Moon Elf. I plucked the dart from the meat of her left breast with a wince.


    Me and my luck with breasts. As a young male, I had a strong fascination with the female form. But thus far, I had unwillingly groped Rose¡¯s chest twice, and once involved me burning a handprint through her shirt and fur. I had also had Nel ask me for a pair of her own breasts. Now, I just shot an innocent girl in the breast with a drugged dart. I was starting to wonder if I had been cursed. The boob curse, I mused in annoyance even as I circled around through the woods to reach the dorms.


    From the treeline, I checked the front of the dorms to find what I expected. A pair of armed student guards were at the front door. A pair of Dracose, one Dezzar breed, and the other was a Damra breed. Both were large breeds of a large species and could snap me like a dry twig if one of them got a hold of me. And they were both armed. The warrior breed Dezzar was armed with a large maul. The metal hammer appeared to be integrated with myst circuits, meaning that it had some kind of elemental effect. The labor worker breed Damra was armed with a cutlass at his hip, sized to fit him, and an elemental Lance rifle, also built to his size.


    So, the front door was out of the question. That meant Plan B. Keeping to the treeline, I circled the dorms until I reached the back of the building. The floor layout of the dorms was the same on each floor. Rooms lined the perimeter of the building, with four halls lined with additional rooms meeting in the center where the stairs and elevator were set. The rooms along the perimeter of the building had actual windows, while those set deeper inside had holographic walls that displayed the outside. Nennel had a perimeter room. Ferris, Nel, and I shared our room numbers the day before so we could find each other. Her room number was 674, and I remembered her being quite happy with having an actual window because she claimed she needed fresh air after a hard day.


    I double-checked the floor layout on my therra, then counted the rooms until I found her window. After I found her room, I crept up to the wall and prepped the grappling hook on Venna. The device was a design I pulled together last year and had in nearly every version of my tactical gauntlet from MK 2 moving forward. Every part of the hook was a custom design of my own devising. A six-limbed, multi-jointed apparatus that looked not unlike a squid, with rows of pressurized deployable anchor spikes on each limb. These spikes released on contact with any surface to imbed in stone or punch through metal. With this newest incarnation of my squid hook, as I affectionately called it, the spikes could be released from the inner or outer surface. I designed the limbs to stretch out upon launch and clench once it made contact with a surface, but this incarnation, if the inner surface of the limbs didn¡¯t touch a surface, they would bend backward into a more standard hook shape and deploy the spikes once the limbs reached the outer limit of their flexibility.


    I was quite proud of the design, but enough of my gushing.


    I launched the hook at the top edge of the wall, directly above Nel¡¯s window. The squid hook attached with a firm grip that I tested with a few hard tugs before I began climbing. As I climbed, I retracted the mythril fiber cable bit by bit to reduce slack. My footing up the wet wall was slick, and tested my balance with every step. Once I reached her metal shuttered window, I tapped on it with a boot heel. When no response came, I tapped a bit harder. Soon enough, I was stomping against the shutter.


    The window flew open in a fraction of a second, and the next thing I knew, there was a dagger blade pointed at the sole of my boot as I began to thrust another stomp. I stopped my thrusting boot only a fraction of an inch before impaling it on the blade. I reseated my boot against the wall and leaned my head down to look in the window. Framed there in the opening was a very ticked-off-looking Nel. She wore a heated glare and nothing else, her metal body on full display and with both a dagger and a pistol at the ready.


    ¡°Hey there, sis. Sorry I¡¯m late. That last rite took a lot longer than planned. Can I come in?¡±


    She glared up at me for a moment longer before dropping her guard and stepping away from the window without a single word. I hopped through the opening and retracted my hook before shaking myself off like a wet dog. Nennel flopped down on her bed, weapons in hand, as she crossed her legs. ¡°Do you have any idea how late you are, moron?¡±


    I stretched my shoulder and back as I answered, ¡°Yeah. Sorry about that. The Burning Hand Rite involved forging a tool of my choice from a metal of my choice. I went a bit overboard. Did I wake you?¡±


    She gave a weighty sigh before her shoulders fell. ¡°No. I couldn¡¯t sleep. What I wanted to talk with you about kept me up.¡±


    I looked around her room as I strolled over to the seat at her workbench. Her room was a mess. Casual clothes were strewn across the floor in wads and heaps, while her uniforms were in pristine order and on display in her open locker. Her crafting bench was littered with tools and components for her body¡¯s upkeep. Books could be found on any surface in a range of states, from tattered to fresh. But what really got me was the stack of stuffed animals on Nennel''s bed.


    I flopped into the seat, pressed my knuckles together, pulled them to my chest, and pushed my elbows and shoulder forward in another stretch. That was what I got for not warming up before physically exerting myself. Stiff joints and pulled muscles. ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m here, Nel. What¡¯s got you bothered?¡±


    She cocked her head to the side as she pinned me with a stare that exuded just how tired and troubled she was. ¡°It¡¯s Tessa.¡±


    At the name, my stomach dropped out. Tessa was a Gnomish girl that I had befriended last year. She was a healer who had been a critical part of my training under Thallos. The bastard of an uncle trained me with a method I called Stab Training. Every time I messed up, gave a wrong answer, or showed an opening while sparing, he severely injured me. I had been stabbed, slashed, crushed, shot, burned, shocked, poisoned, and nearly any other way someone could suffer. I was put through it, and it was Tessa who patched me up. But at the end of last year, when Thallos showed his true colors and went totally schizo, she was severely wounded. He severed her lower spine, and Gnomes can¡¯t be healed by magic because they originated from another realm. They also can¡¯t use cybernetics because of their biology.


    Tessa was permanently paralyzed from the waist down because she tried to help me. It was my fault that her life was ruined. She was wheelchair-bound, and she had to blame me for it. ¡°W-what about her?¡± I stammered.


    Nel gave me a deadpan look as she said, ¡°She¡¯s asking about you, nitwit.¡±


    ¡°I-I don¡¯t think I can face her.¡± I stuttered.


    ¡°What in the nine Hells are you talking about, Ives¡¯? You need to talk to her. She deserves to see you.¡± Nennel scolded.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Nel, but I can¡¯t.¡± I turned my face away from Nennel in shame. ¡°I can¡¯t face her after what happened.¡±


    She pinned me with a glare of judgment. ¡°Dude, grow a spine. Own up to the damage and talk to the girl.¡±


    I opened my mouth for a reply I didn¡¯t have when I received an incoming call. My focus shifted to the call, and Nennel noticed, raising a brow at me that said, ¡®don¡¯t you dare pick up.¡¯ When I saw who was calling, I knew I had no choice but to pick up, and I thanked the Nameless Goddess for the stroke of luck.


    ¡°Sorry, Nel, it''s Mystagogue Navor.¡± Without waiting for her response, I pressed the answer icon on my HUD. ¡°Yes, Master?¡±


    ¡°Get your ass to Aegis Hall, Maverick. Your actual indoctrination rite begins in fifteen minutes.¡± The lady was gruff, brusk, and to the point.


    ¡°But, ma¡¯am. What about the patrols?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t give me that, kid. I know you were at the Burning Hand rite, past curfew, and I know you stopped in to talk to your metal girlfriend.¡±


    ¡°I-it¡¯s not like that!¡± I defended. ¡°She¡¯s like a sister. There¡¯s no way I could date Nennel.¡± I glanced over at the metal girl in question to see her glaring at me with accusation, and I knew I misspoke. I gulped in fear of the aftermath of what I had just said, but was brought back to the call when Navor scolded me.


    ¡°Use that training of yours and get here, NOW. I¡¯ve prepped your B.I.C with clearance for subfloor one fifty.¡± My eyes bulged at the number in disbelief. The Academy went down that far? ¡°Now, you have five minutes to get here before I start planning out your punishment. So chop chop.¡± Without another word, she hung up the call, and I started to panic.


    I lept from my seat and moved to the window in three quick strides. I stopped, one foot on the sill to turn back to Nennel. ¡°Sorry, sis, but she¡¯s put me on a five-minute clock to get to Aegis Halls. We can talk about Tessa later. But¡­ please. Let me have some time to build up the courage to talk to her.¡± Without waiting for a response, I stepped through the window.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    I turned mid-air and latched my hook to the wall beside Nennel¡¯s window and repelled only barely slower than falling speed. I hurried back into the woods at the perimeter of the crater and circled back around to get as close to Aegis Hall as I could. As I passed through the woods, I made sure to leave no trace and made not a single noise. I trusted none of the fauna I spied in the woods, now that I knew Druids were patrolling.


    As luck would have it, my getting noticed earlier in the night made my job getting back into the main building that much easier. I was spotted heading back to the dorms, and the majority of the patrols were focused around there. The initial reentry into the woods was difficult because I had to avoid no less than five groups of searching guards and two of those groups were scouring the woods. To avoid capture, I traveled from treetop to treetop, careful not to rustle any leaves.


    By the time I made it back to the front doors of Aegis Hall, four minutes had passed, and I booked it through the halls. I only stopped once, slipping into a classroom to avoid yet another patrol. I hid under the instructor¡¯s desk just in case, and it paid off when I heard the door open and saw the passing circle of light across the walls. After I heard the door shut, I waited for a ten count before leaving the room, closing the door as quietly as I could manage without losing too much time.


    The moment the searching figure turned the corner at the end of the hall, I booked it to the hidden elevators at the center of the building. I barely even came to a stop in front of the hidden doors before I swiped my B.I.C over the obscured scanner. As I waited for the car to come, I paced back and forth at a manic pace.


    While yes, I was in a hurry because I wanted to avoid punishment, but I also wanted to make a good impression with my new training Master. I had only met her twice before, and one of those times was pulling my ass from the Hellfire of Thallos trying to cripple and capture me. I knew for a fact that I was going to be following her on a training mission into the nation¡¯s hive-city capital, and I wanted to prove to the woman that I could be depended on to get the job done and follow orders. While thinking about the training mission, I made a mental note to check in with Nel and Ferris to make sure that they were okay with joining me. I¡¯d also need to be careful to keep my sect hidden if there were other students beyond those two joining me.


    After what felt like an age, the doors to the elevator slid open, and I hopped inside before they even finished opening. I was thirty seconds behind schedule and trying not to panic. I would just have to tell Navor that I was at the elevator within the designated time window and hope that she believed me.


    As always, the elevator car dropped at stomach-lifting speed. I could hear the floors pass by at a whizzing pace so fast I couldn¡¯t keep count. As I dropped through the floors, I watched my clock with painful intensity. By the time the car slowed to a halt, four minutes had passed. The moment the doors were wide enough for me to squeeze through like a slime through a crack in a door.


    I stepped into a natural cavern of a room that, while large, was not nearly as large as the past three rooms I had taken rites in. The space was circular, with a floor formed from perfectly shaped bricks of purple jade, each precisely fitted square marked with natural starbursts of white and gray, and even a few threads of white and gray that reminded me of my own skin. The circular wall of the room was marked with thirteen large braziers lit with dancing purple and white flames. Between each brazier was a throne, each crafted from a single piece of a different, rare magical stone. Just from a glance, I noticed Grave Stone, Scaiben Crystal, Starlight Quartz, Baddrum, and Mirrorloom Coesite. Each throne was carved in a distinct style. Just a few of the themes I noticed at a glance were styles based around life, death, hope, despair, love, and hate. I assumed that there must be some form of symmetry to the themes, but what really caught my eye was at the center of the room.


    A statue of glass stood at the epicenter of the room, standing nine feet tall. The figure was that of a nude woman with a tattered cloak framing her face and running down her back. Her face was half beautiful maiden with an eye of Luminite, half skull with a maw of needle-point fangs, and an orb of Umbranite nestled in the eye socket. In her left hand was a skull with a dagger lanced through the crown. Her right hand was reaching out and down as if accepting something from someone much smaller than her. But most shocking of all was her chest. Half was bare ribs, while the other was a just-as-bare breast, but between the two was a cavity. Held within the cavity was a heart that pulsed like an actual organ, but I could tell it was formed from Ikor Crystal because of my recent experience with the substance. The organ throbbed with an inner light that brightened and dimmed in time with its pulsating. Reaching out from that living core were veins of the same crystal that laced through the whole of the statue.


    In the room, sitting at each of the thrones were obvious masters, most of whom I did not recognize. Every single adult in the room was scarred, and displayed some form of cybernetics, and every single one radiated danger. That is, all save for two figures.


    One was the Mysteriarch, who stood at the foot of the statue with a kind and patient smile. The other was Master Navor, who lounged in a throne of Starlight Quartz carved to show powerful mythic monsters. Her left leg was draped over the arm of the throne. She had a pocket knife in her left hand that she used to trim the nails of her other hand. While everyone else in the room looked to be taking the event very seriously, she simply looked bored.


    I looked to be the only student in the room at the time, and I found that surprising. When Navor noticed me, she waved me over with the knife in her hand. I nervously hurried over, feeling the eyes of everyone in the room pressing down on me. As I stepped up to her, she said in a lazy tone, ¡°Nice job, kid. You got to the elevator with time to spare, and you didn¡¯t get caught. Just as I hoped, you just showed every stuffy jackass in this room that my pupil is quick and skilled.¡± She gestured to everyone in a throne in the room with her knife in a single sweeping motion. ¡°You just won me six gold. Remind me when we get to Grimvale, and I¡¯ll get you something nice with a bit of those winnings.¡±


    I fidgeted nervously as I eyed the room. ¡°Thanks, Master. But, um, what am I supposed to do?¡±


    ¡°Simple. Stand next to me and look pretty till I say otherwise.¡±


    I eyed her warily as I stepped up beside her and took an at-ease stance. One by one, students entered the room, each called over by one of the masters in the thrones, spoken to in hushed tones before taking up an at-ease stance beside their instructor. thirteen masters in total, each with only one student. Every single student in the room looked like an elite, ranging in age from sixteen, like me, to twenty. The adult students looked like they found everyone else in the room younger than them weak, and I hated the arrogance that radiated off of them. While I felt like the weakest student in the room, deep down, I knew that I had survived training that none of them could imagine.


    A few minutes after the last student took their place, the Mysteriarch spoke to the room. ¡°Each and every single student in the room will have the hardest life of any other at this academy. Your duty to uphold could be called monolithic. The training you will endure moving forward will be brutal and harsh. In the days to come, you will be forced to make choices where there is no good answer. You will take lives. Some of them will be innocent. You will be faced with impossible challenges and will have to weigh the lives of the many against the lives of the few. Your role in the Order must be kept a secret until you graduate. Once you are a full Order member, you can be open with what you do but do not expect any love or praise from your peers. What you do for the Aegis is dirty, bloody work that many will see as corrupt and heartless.¡± The Mysteriarch circled the statue, making eye contact with every one of the students as she continued to speak.


    ¡°As some of you may have been told, there is an act that some of you may need to perform every seven years. It is a terrible act that should not be revelled in, but it should be honored. Your Fragment has a heart that rots away over the course of seven years as she takes on the sins of the world and acts as a bulwark against many of the darker deities that seek to ruin our world. On that seventh year, seven of you students from across the academies will be sent to find her seven hearts. You will need to find the heart of an innocent with a just and uncorrupt sense of self and view of the world. They are someone who must have loved someone with all their heart and lost that loved one to tragedy. You will have to carve out their heart and offer it to Her Fragment of the Blighted Heart. This is a role that should be done with the deepest of solum honor, and you will have to live with what you have done till the day you die.¡± She stepped away from the statue at this point and walked up to the doors of the room before turning to face all of us.


    ¡°Today, you shall take on the Rite of The Beloved Lost. Each of you shall step up to the feet of the statue and kneel. Your Master will be given a knife, and they will tell you what to recite even as they carve a sigil into your flesh at a site of their choosing. Now, let us begin.¡±


    One by one, the students went up to take their position before the statue while their instructor was given a ceremonial dagger of a strange green crystal by the Mysteriarch. Each student stripped off an article of clothing and recited a chant through gritted teeth as they were carved. Some students were marked on their chest or back. Others were marked on their thigh or calf. One student was marked on the sole of her foot, which made me wince. I was the last to step up to the statue. All eyes were on me as I kneeled down before my Master. I looked at her and said, ¡°I will carve myself.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± asked Navor.


    I nodded in answer. ¡°I¡¯ve memorized the sigil, and I know the words. I need to prove to the others what I am worth.¡±


    She eyed me for a long moment before handing me the dagger and stepping back. I performed the rite alone. I pressed the tip of the dagger into the heart of the statue until only the tip was marked with crystal scarlet. I stepped back and stripped off my shirt. At the sight of my scars, the entire room started muttering, but I tuned them out. I pressed the tip against the flesh over my heart and cut deep as I recited the chant. The blade was scolding hot, acting more like a brand than a simple knife. I drew line after line even as I spoke in a clear, and unhampered voice.


    Because this is such a long vow, I¡¯ll give you a line-by-line translation.


    ¡°Nemor sellona soll bloonra tu heru connus.¡± (I do swear my blood to her cause.) ¡°Bennora bloonra nemor tavnar jounoss.¡± (By blood, I walk the just path.) ¡°Nemor tavnar sollon twissen solleph.¡± (I walk alone beside myself.) ¡°Nemor fennor rudnuss sellonm pukrad merrousious.¡± (I choose the path less traveled paved in bones.) ¡°Nemor am teth wuroon impaithen nexurron.¡± (I am the tool for a better tomorrow.) ¡°Twisson soll corren nemor proveth plentia ov solleph tu theen purroses.¡± (With my heart, I give all of myself to this cause.) ¡°Bennora bloonra nemor fussun revoos ten corruppus insunnu ak insunnat.¡± (By blood, I push back the blight within and without. I trust in my duty.) ¡°Nemor tethanna nat soll jusson.¡± (I shall live for the justice of others.) ¡°Nemor vowen pathen fos bloonra twisson nu regos.¡± (I shall walk this path of blood with no doubts.) ¡°Nemor am teth lunus umberoo.¡± (I am the light in the darkness.) ¡°Nemor am teth umberra passun eyien.¡± (I am the shadow beyond sight.) ¡°Nemor am teth sharrew tethu bloonek.¡± (I am the edge that bleeds.) ¡°Nemor am teth umbra wardroonex.¡± (I am the Dark Hunter.)


    My tail thrashed as blood streamed down my chest. The edges of each line of the fresh wound were blackened and smelled of burnt flesh. I stood and handed over the dagger to Mysteriarch with a false ease I didn¡¯t feel inside. As I pulled my shirt and jacket back on, the sigil throbbed, beating like a second heart out of pace with my actual heart. I was faintly aware of an aura of power that radiated from the bloody design. The energy felt similar to my own myst, but just slightly different.


    Even now, I can¡¯t tell you the logic behind why I did what I did that night. By all rights, I could have been punished for not adhering to the rite. My actions could have been viewed as dishonoring my Master, the ceremony, and everyone in the room. But I felt like I had to prove to everyone in that room that I was not the weakest. There was no logic to my action. It was an impulse to display my mettle and show my worth through my scars and carving myself like a holiday turkey. I will admit I found deep satisfaction in the response the room gave at the sight of my scarred body.


    With the ceremony finished, the room was filled with the murmur of low talk between the students and their masters. Navor watched everyone in the room with a quizzical eye. ¡°You seem to have made an impression, kid.¡±


    I watched the master before turning to see what she saw in the room. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Listen closely.¡± was all she said in response. So I did as I was told and tried to pick out individual voices.


    ¡°What¡¯s with that Darkling kid? Those scars¡­ What happened to him?¡± asked a Wild Elf student to her Moon Elf master.


    ¡°That¡¯s the boy that trained under Thallos, the traitor. If what the masters in this room were told is true, then the Darkling was literally tortured during his training. You should watch him and be careful. He might not be mentally stable.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow at that statement before moving on to the next pair. A lithe Dekken Dracose master spoke to his Wolf breed Primal student. ¡°Remember that Darkling boy. What he did today is a level of self-control and dedication you should strive for. Step up your game.¡±


    That comment made me smirk in amusement and satisfaction. I listened in on three more pairs after that. Two masters told their disciples to keep a wary eye on me because I could be a threat to the Order. The last master instructed his student to watch my training as often as possible and work to beat me and, if possible, kill me. The student of this last master was a young adult Cougar Primal who looked like he wanted to eat me.


    ¡°None of these reactions were what I expected.¡± I confessed to Navor.


    I turned back to her to find that she was picking her teeth with a dagger while looking at me with a question in her eyes. ¡°And what did you expect?¡±


    I nervously bit my lip before responding with a muttered, ¡°I honestly didn¡¯t know what to expect.¡±


    She pulled air through her teeth as she inspected the tip of the blade in her hand before she looked at me with an aggravated expression. ¡°That¡¯s because you didn¡¯t think before you did what you did. You were underestimated and easily looked over until you pulled that stunt. Now, you¡¯re a Priority One threat, kid. Now every student in this room is gunning for you, either to be better than you, or to put you down like a Warg that wandered into town.¡±


    I looked at the old iron war horse of a woman in shock, but before I could comment, she continued speaking. ¡°And before you ask me why I didn¡¯t stop you, this was the kind of lesson you had to learn yourself. If I had just told you not to make a scene, the magnitude of the repercussions wouldn¡¯t have sunk in.¡±


    I rocked back on my heels at the impact of her words.


    ¡°So, kid, what¡¯s the first rule of the Sightless Eye?¡±


    ¡°To go unnoticed. Always appear as something you are not.¡± I recited numbly.


    ¡°Good. Now, will you make that mistake again?¡±


    I muttered a sullen ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Good. This is the way I teach. I will give you pointers and straight info when you need it. But it¡¯s up to you to think ahead and make the right calls. While I will step in to pull your ass outta the hellfire when things get hairy, don¡¯t rely on it. I won¡¯t be around all the time, let alone for your whole career after you graduate.¡±


    I chewed some of the skin off the inside of my cheek while I rolled around what she said in my head. Navor seemed to know that¡¯s what I was doing because she patiently waited for me to come to a conclusion. While I wasn¡¯t going to be stabbed constantly day after day, I still needed to mentally prepare myself for the days to come. After a few moments of thinking things over, I looked Navor in the eye and asked, ¡°So what comes next?¡±


    The Master gave me an amused smirk as she said, ¡°Invasive cybernetic integration.¡±

 PITM Chapter 9

    Chapter 9


    The term Node in regard to cybernetics refers to a contact point of some form. The mounting apparatus that connects a what remains of an organic limb to a cybernetic replacement is an example of a node. A therra-node is called so because it connects the user to the wider network. Some cybernetics have mounting nodes installed for easy attachment of additional devices or modules. There are certain forms of advanced combat suits that require integrated body nodes to allow them to monitor the user¡¯s body, and even intuitively respond with the body to enhance agility or strength.


    After the final rite, Master Navor and I rode the elevator up together, and she escorted me back to the dorms under the pretense of after-hours practice as punishment. On the trip back, she explained that I had the majority of the next day to myself and would meet her outside the Foundry at 5 PM on the dot as she would oversee my cybernetic enhancements. When I asked her what kind of modifications I would be receiving, she told me I would have to wait and see. She said that if I knew, I would only worry about the procedure and get no sleep. Just by saying that, she had me worried that it would be something drastic.


    I couldn¡¯t help but imagine having my body chopped up and replaced with metal, circuits, and servos. Would they replace my lungs? Or my heart? How many of my limbs would I lose to this procedure? I spent most of the night in sleepless worry.


    My alarm startled me awake. As the buzzer went off, I leaped from the bed, naked, in a combat-ready stance as my heart raced and my breath heaved. When I was sure I wasn¡¯t about to have to deal with Thallos with a flamethrower again, I calmed down. And yes, that had happened before. I checked the clock on my therra to find the time to be six in the morning. I stared at the hateful number with a snarl for a long moment as I debated crawling back under the covers. I hated mornings. Personally, I¡¯ve always been more of a night owl, and waking up early was either drudgingly hard or resulted in what I had just done. A combat-ready response, and that was solely thanks to Thallos¡¯s brutal training.


    I straightened upright, looking from the time to the bed and back. I gave up on the hope of sleep with a heavy sigh and moved to my locker to pull out the case of my medication. As I had done almost every day since I had been diagnosed. I couldn¡¯t tell you what life was like for other people compared to me when it came to mental disabilities and illnesses. I was just me, and that was all I knew. Dr. Brooksheen and I had spoken several times over my break to go through and modify my diagnosis and tweak my medication to optimal standards.


    My current diagnosis at the time was a combination of Depression, severe General Anxiety, Bipolar disorder, Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Attention Deficit-Hyperactivity Disorder, and a heavy dose of Autism. This had been my life for as long as I could remember, but I never knew just how broken I was until I was given a diagnosis. For your sake and any reading my story, I try to glaze over some of the symptoms, like my difficulty maintaining eye contact, my struggle to stay focused on things that didn¡¯t interest me, or my active loathing of myself and my failings. I also doubt anyone wants to see my emotional breakdowns over stupid things, like misplacing my favorite screwdriver. But some are evident just in how I interact with the world. Like my jumpiness, paranoia, lack of self-confidence, and I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll notice my total lack of a social filter and social grace, and the ever-spontaneous emotional outbursts.


    I set the medication case on my workbench, brushed my B.I.C over the scanner, flipped the lid, and prepped the hypo-jector. After checking the fluid levels of the vial slotted, I slipped off the needle cap. I aimed the device over the meat of my thigh as I took a deep breath through the nose. As I jabbed myself and depressed on the trigger, I blew out my breath, hard and sharp. I felt the opalescent fluid push into my body and reach for my bloodstream. Moments later, the world faded, and my mind slowed. The panic attack from the alarm faded into memory, and part of me hated it.


    Once I had taken my anti-crazy juice, I dressed in my uniform for the day. My chest still ached from the night prior, even if the bleeding had stopped. Once I was fit to leave my room, I dragged myself to the mess hall. I fell into my seat at our usual table, Nel and Ferris already there and starting in on their meals. With the mug clutched in one hand, I sipped what they claimed was coffee. This so-called coffee was thick, pitch black, and bitter, even after two creams and three sugars. The jolt of awake I felt was three-fold. The tongue-scalding temperature was the first thing to shock me from my haze. Next came the bitterness. It tasted like I had just drank burnt coffee flavored with earwax. It was only after that trauma that the caffeine kicked in and gave my body a low buzzing sensation.


    ¡°Dude, are you okay?¡± Ferris asked around a mouthful of cereal.


    ¡°You look like you just got sapped by an Essence Wraith.¡± Nel said in concern as she pointed at me with a fork dressed in what might have been scrambled eggs with hot sauce.


    ¡°Oh, shut it, you two. I had to sneak from Aegis Hall to the dorms after curfew, then back to the Hall for my damned actual rite. During that horror show, I had to carve myself up like a sweet ham in front of a pack of bloodthirsty masters and students. Then I got chewed out by Navor and told I was going to have invasive cybernetic surgery today. That last bit kept me up for most of the night worrying about limb and organ replacement. Yeah, I know I look like a cadaver. But please don¡¯t rub it in.¡±


    ¡°Invasive?¡± Nel asked with obvious skepticism.


    ¡°Wait.¡± Ferris spoke up with a curious look on his face. ¡°Why did you sneak to the dorms and then back out? Why not just hide out at the Hall till your rite?¡±


    I turned to Nennel with a pleading look for a long moment. When she shrugged and went back to her food, I took it as a good sign. ¡°I Had to help Nel with some internal tweaking. Apparently, something was loose after the boob installment.¡± I answered Ferris before moving to address Nennel with her question. ¡°All that Navor said was that I was due to have some form of invasive cybernetic surgery today at five. She wouldn¡¯t say more because she claimed it would keep me up with worry. Well, I worried anyway. So here I am.¡± I said this last line with no small amount of venom.


    Nennel shot me a knowing look as she bit into a sausage. ¡°What Ives¡¯? Are you expecting to wind up like me?¡±


    I cringed at her words before giving her an embarrassed shrug and a look that said, ¡®yeah, kinda¡¯. ¡°The thought had crossed my mind.¡±


    ¡°Iver, brother dearest, it¡¯s honestly not that bad.¡± She spoke in a patient and soothing tone. ¡°I doubt you¡¯ll wind up looking like me. Besides, I woulda¡¯ thought a gearhead like you would be jumping at the chance to gain some chrome. I know plenty of people like you say this weird motto. ¡®The flesh is weak. Metal endures¡¯.¡±


    I took a bite of my cereal to try to wash out the taste of what they called coffee. It didn¡¯t help. The starch flakes were flavorless and just plain sad. ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong, Nel. I¡¯ve thought about getting chromed up for years, and I¡¯ve always had three serious worries.¡±


    ¡°And those are?¡± Nel pressed, pointing at me with her fork. ¡°Spill your fearful beans, boy.¡±


    I pinched my lips at her tone and gave her an annoyed look before I spoke. ¡°First, I¡¯ve always worried about the pain. I can¡¯t even imagine what it¡¯s like getting my arm chopped out, or having my ribcage torn open and having my lungs ripped out.¡±


    Ferris¡¯s eyes went wide with panic at the thought of my comment, but Nel just rolled her eyes before she spoke. ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid, brother. There is no ripping or tearing being done. These are expert Cy-docs. They work with precision tools. And about the pain. They¡¯ll sedate you, Iver. You¡¯ll go under in a dreamless sleep and wake up a little sore, but nothing more. What¡¯s your next fear?¡±


    I worried at my lip for a few seconds before I said, ¡°What if something goes wrong during the operation? What if I don¡¯t wake up?¡±


    This time, Nennel gave me a flat look that said I was being stupid. ¡°What did I just say? Expert Cy-docs.¡± she gave her last two words heavy effuses.


    ¡°Do you really think that even a standard Cy-doc would let that happen? Even the lowest Cy-docs have to go through years of intense training and practice. And let¡¯s not forget that the Academy wouldn¡¯t just pick up some chop-doc off the street. These men and women have been tested in dragon¡¯s fire and under the hammer of giants. They have been trained to handle any possible medical emergency that can occur on their table.¡± She gestured to herself with both hands. ¡°Look at me as an example. I was put under the laser and scalpel on the brink of death, with almost nothing in my body functioning. Do you really think that some half-assed doctor could pull me back to the land of the living from that state?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I said meekly as I lowered my gaze to my lap in shame.


    ¡°Now, what¡¯s this third fear of yours?¡±


    Now, I just felt stupid for my fears. I didn¡¯t want to tell them the last fear, but I had no choice. ¡°I¡¯m worried I¡¯ll turn into an Augged Lunatic.¡± I muttered my answer into my lap. There was no response for a long few moments. When I looked up, I found both Nel and Ferris both looking at me like I had grown a second head. ¡°What? What is it?¡±


    Ferris was the first to speak up this time. ¡°Do you know how Augged Lunatics come about?¡±


    I looked from Ferris to Nennel several times before I said, ¡°They are addicted to cybernetic augmentation. They take on too much artificial anatomy, and they go crazy.¡±


    Nel snapped an accusing finger at me like a whip as she said, ¡°That is completely correct. While I can see you becoming a chrome-head, I could even see you taking on the flesh is weak motto because of what your craptastic uncle did, I highly doubt you¡¯ll take it to dangerous levels.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Because, Iver, while you can be thick-headed at times, you¡¯re not stupid. The fact that you even have that worry shows that you will remain aware of the threat.¡±


    I metaphorically chewed over what she said as I literally chewed on mouthful after mouthful of my sad cereal. It was on my fifth mouthful that I had an idea. My hand stopped mid-path to my mouth before slowly lowering back to the bowl as the idea shaped into a plan. I shot to my feet, knocking my chair back with the force of the motion. ¡°Sorry, guys. I need to talk to Brooksheen.¡±


    Before either Nel or Ferris could reply, I was gone. I hurried from the dining hall to the medical center. I stepped up to the front desk and hurriedly requested an appointment with Dr. Brooksheen to the quiet Mouse breed Primal working the desk. I made sure to have the receptionist tell the doctor that it was me and that it was a consultation on a pending operation that had me worried.


    I was lucky. I hadn¡¯t even made it to a seat in the waiting room when a nurse stepped out to call me into an examination room. The tall Human nurse led me to a door exactly as an Orc boy stepped from the room, his arm in a cast. As he passed me, the boy gave me a hostile sneer. I did my best to ignore it as I stepped into the room he had just left.


    The room was formed from gray walls, each with a mint-green stipe near the top of the walls. To my right was an examination table, complete with long, multi-jointed metal arms, each ending in a tool of some form. Against the back wall was a holo-display cycling through varying layers of the anatomy of varying Sophic Species. To my left was a long desk integrated into the wall, with cabinets sitting above. On the desk was a holo-screen for doctors and nurses to pull up information from a database that was not accessible to the therra-nodes. Sitting at the desk, atop a wheeled stool, was an aged Wood Elf. Her hair was a light brunette and worn in a tight bob-cut. Her eyes were made of leaf-green irises set into the oak-brown sclera. Set before her eyes was a pair of half-moon spectacles with a beaded cord attached to the end of either arm of the glasses. That day, she was dressed in an open lab coat over a striped aqua blue and jade green long-sleeve shirt, a pair of clean but well-worn jeans, and a pair of sandals that clearly had seen better days.


    Dr. Brooksheen was one of the kindest people I had met in my life. She acted more like a wise grandmother than a stuffy doctor who was there just to do a job. Her eyes shone with an inner joy and glittered with innocent mirth whenever I asked a question that she enjoyed answering.


    As I stepped into the room, Dr. Brooksheen looked up from a digital notepad in her hands. She gave me a kind yet knowing smile as I took a seat atop the table examination table without being prompted. ¡°So I hear you¡¯re about to have a cybernetic operation done. Am I right?¡± She asked as she set down her notepad and wheeled over to me.


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am. It¡¯s required for my sect. But I don¡¯t know what is being done. I was wondering if you had any insight or advice?¡±


    She tapped a finger against her lips as she thought with a drawn-out hum of ¡°Hmmmm.¡± Then she said, ¡°Well, I honestly don¡¯t know much about that sect of yours. From what I hear, the augmentations done to the students in your position are decided by their master.¡± She rolled over to an interface mounted on the table I sat on and began typing. ¡°I¡¯m assuming your master told you nothing of what to expect, didn¡¯t she?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± I said with a nervous chuckle.


    ¡°Well, Terra is a gruff woman, and she isn¡¯t exactly known for being soft or coddling her students. But she knows what she¡¯s doing. Mz. Navor has had more field experience than most instructors in her position. But to put your thoughts at ease, how about I do a quick scan? Please lean back.¡±


    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    I did as I was told, and seconds later, two curved scanner faces swung around to latch together over me. The scanner hummed to life as its face began to emit a blue glow that shifted and shimmered like light dancing over a body of water. The device tracked up to the top of my head and moved down, then back up and down again. As the scanner shut down, detached, and slipped back behind the table, I sat up.


    I waited patiently as the doctor looked over the readings. I quickly became worried when I saw her brow crinkle in confusion and only deepen with each line she read.


    ¡°What is it?¡± I asked, trying to hide my panic.


    ¡°Well, young man, you are quite the oddity. I¡¯m sure you remember last year when we discussed how you display traits of all four breeds of Darkling. That already raised questions for me, but looking at these scans¡­¡±


    I could feel my eyes bulge as she trailed off, and my panic rose. ¡°What? What is it? Do I have some deformity? Or a curse of some kind?¡±


    ¡°No, no. Nothing like that.¡± She waved away my concern. ¡°It¡¯s your Affinity Ratios. They are normally in a student¡¯s records to check before cybernetic augmentation, but yours were locked to me, so I made my own scan to get some answers. You see, you have a score of zero for every single positive element. I have never seen this before. The lowest score anyone should have in any element is One. With no Lumina affinity, I don¡¯t know if you can receive any form of blessing, but that¡¯s just the start and least concerning. A Synthesis Myst Affinity Score of zero will mean that conjuring material will always be more costly for you than others. With a Fate score of zero, I don¡¯t think you can be tracked by standard scrying magic. I don¡¯t know what to expect with a Resonance or Stasis score of zero. But most worrying is the Life affinity score of zero. That shouldn¡¯t be possible for anyone living. By all accounts, that should mean that you''re some form of Blightling, a sapient undead. But you have a body temp above room temperature. Your heart is functioning above standard performance. Your nerve response time is within the normal range, but it looks like you have extra nerve endings. And your synaptic response time and neural connect count are well above average.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± was all I said, my worry dying out.


    The doctor looked from the readings to stare at me. ¡°You seem completely unphased by this news.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Sorry, doc. I got most of this news last year when the Zenwel twins tested me. They saw the readings and were nose-deep in research for weeks after. They did verify that I can¡¯t be blessed, and that I can¡¯t be scried. I honestly forgot about it after the emotional detonation that was Thallos¡¯s betrayal.¡±


    She nodded slowly at my response, her chin lightly cupped in the crook of her finger and thumb. ¡°I can see how that could happen. But I am surprised that the information is redacted on my database.¡±


    It was then that I had a thought. ¡°What does this mean for my cybernetic operation? Will my Affinity Ratios cause any issues?¡±


    Brooksheen looked from me to the readings and back with her lower lip lightly bit between her teeth. ¡°Possibly. Some cybernetics use Life Myst as a magical connection between their system and the user¡¯s body. I¡¯ll bring this up with your master. When is your operation?¡±


    ¡°This afternoon.¡± I answered.


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll need to hurry.¡± She stood and made her way for the door. ¡°I trust you can see yourself out.¡±


    Before I could even respond, she was gone. In the empty room, I quirked an amused smirk. That had gone better than I had hoped. I had seen that my Affinity Ratios were redacted at the end of last year. I even asked the Mysteriarch about it before I left with Thrasher for his manor. She claimed it was something that could cause me quite a bit of trouble if it became common knowledge. It could be used as an easy excuse for people to call a witch hunt on a freak like me. I was already a Halfling, a half-blood, which plenty of people saw as lesser. My infernal or demonic blood only threw fuel on that fire. Couple that with my strange skin pattern and unsettling eyes, and I was a prime target for anyone looking for an excuse to look for a villain in the crowd.


    I figured the doctor hadn¡¯t seen my readings, and it would give her cause for concern. I knew that Master Navor was already aware of my ratios and likely planned accordingly. But, the information would get the doctor out of the room in a panic and give me easy access to the medical database.


    I hopped off the table, moved to the holo display, and began tinkering with the interface. It required a username and password, as I had expected, but I had a digital skeleton key. It had taken days of preparation during my time at Thrasher¡¯s manor, but I had taken a few classes on rudimentary hacking and designed what I called my Sniffer.


    The Sniffer was a simple program that crossed a worm virus format with that of a trogorn virus. I knew I was going to need to crack some security systems when I came back to the Academy, and I uploaded my little bug to the network the moment I was within range. Before Thrasher¡¯s AV even landed on day zero, in fact.


    I keyed to the program with a simple click of a button on my hud that looked like a link to start a small game. I activated the Sniffer and set it to hunting down a master administrator login. Twenty seconds later, I had what I wanted and keyed it into the display. With full access to the medical records of every student, I pulled up the records, notes, and images of four individuals in particular. Mallrimor and his gang were who I was after. This info would tell me what modifications they had undergone and any weaknesses they had. It also would give me a rough idea of what to expect that afternoon.


    As it turned out, they all had the exact same modifications. They had plated their skeletons with surgical steel for durability and density, and all of their joints had micro servo enhancement motors installed. That explained everything. That was how they all hit harder and faster and why it was much more difficult for me to crack Feather-face¡¯s jaw.


    So, I dug deeper into the process they underwent. I watched the operation videos and was horrified by what I saw. Yes, they were sedated beforehand, but the horror of what came after disturbed me. Every single surface of their body was sliced open. Blood was everywhere. Bits of them were removed to make room for what was being added. By the gods above and below, I was not ready for any of that to happen to me.


    I checked over all their notes and watched one video before I closed everything and left the room. As I passed into the waiting room, the Mouse girl working reception stood and asked, ¡°What took you so long? Dr. Brooksheen said you would leave shortly after she left the room.¡±


    I gave her a bashful smile and rubbed the back of my head as I said, ¡°Yeah, sorry. I needed some time alone to ready myself for my procedure later today. I¡¯m kinda scared.¡±


    She sat back down with a look of annoyance and worry. ¡°Well, next time, tell someone what you¡¯re doing so you don¡¯t get into trouble.¡± I gave her a single nod of agreement before I left the medical center.


    To keep myself busy and distracted, I went back to my room and worked on a new project till it was time to meet the Master. I got to the meeting spot a whole fifteen minutes early, and she was still already there waiting for me. She leaned her back against the wall of the Foundry, arms folded over her chest, one leg out straight, the other foot pressed against the base of the wall she leaned on.


    ¡°Good, you¡¯re early.¡± Was how she greeted me. ¡°Let''s get inside and get ready.¡±


    Wordlessly, I followed her into the building. As we climbed the center staircase, she spoke over her shoulder to me. ¡°I¡¯m guessing that operation video you watched shook you up good.¡±


    ¡°What? I-¡± I started in denial when she cut me off.


    ¡°Don¡¯t give me that, kid. When you cracked those files, every instructor in charge of information management got an alert. You¡¯re lucky I calmed them down before you got tackled the moment you left the building and locked up.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± was all I managed to get out in the strangle of my embarrassed shock.


    ¡°Your work was sloppy, and slipshod. Any two-bit Plug-&-Player could have used what you did. Cyber security picked up on your little toy the moment it touched the local system. I had to convince them to not quarantine it under the lie that it was a training project.¡± By this point, we had reached the seventh floor. Navor ushered me into Cauldron 48 with a repeated circling wave of her hand and a rushed ¡°In now, shew, shew.¡±


    I hurried in to find this cake-slice-shaped room not too different from the room in which I had installed Nennel¡¯s new chest. Rows of small cubical rooms with an operating chair at the center of each. The walls of each space were lined with surgical hand tools and common cybernetic components. Each space had tables at each wall, ready for use, some still covered in drying blood. Each of the operating chairs had multi-jointed limbs stretching out from the back to circle around and hang tooled ends above the seat. The room was totally empty save for me and the Master. I turned around to ask the lady where I was supposed to go from there.


    Navor gestured to the room at large with a sweep of her hand. ¡°Pick a space, any space, and we can start.¡±


    I eyed each of the spaces nervously, unsure as to which I should choose. When I saw that she was getting impatient, I picked the first space that I found with no blood. As I stepped into the space, Master Navor told me to strip naked. I eyed her for a long moment to make sure she wasn¡¯t joking before doing as I was told. After I stripped off my boxer briefs, I covered my man bits with both hands, trying not to shiver in the cold room.


    ¡°Oh, calm yourself, kid. You have nothing I haven¡¯t seen before.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, b-but you''re a woman.¡± I stammered.


    Navor rolled her eyes before she turned away and stepped out of my line of sight. ¡°Calm yourself. I¡¯m not a cougar. Now, hop into the seat while I gather the gear.¡±


    I slid into the reclined surgical seat, the cushions frigid against my bare skin. When the Master returned, she was carrying a metal case that she set atop the table. She flipped the lid and turned to me with a small disk the size of a large coin in her right hand. When she stepped up beside me, I noticed that the underside of the gunmetal silver disk was lined with small latching teeth.


    ¡°You¡¯re gonna sedate me. Right?¡± I asked in a nervous tone.


    ¡°Nope.¡± Navor said in a deadpan tone. ¡°But thank you for reminding me to set up a noise barrier. We don¡¯t need to alert the whole campus what¡¯s going on.¡±


    ¡°WHAT?!¡± I hissed in panic.


    She didn¡¯t even bother to respond to me. Instead, she pulled a hexagonal coin marked with runes held by a cord of black silk from her pocket. Navor turned away from me and waved the coin back and forth. Seconds later, a translucent box of purple shifting energy manifested around us. I recognized it as the spell Quiet Space. That only escalated my panic.


    I moved to leave the chair, but without looking at me, Navor reached out a hand toward me, and a massive pressure pressed me back into the seat. ¡°Don¡¯t chicken out now, Iver.¡± She said in a chiding voice. ¡°You¡¯re not going to die. You¡¯ve been through plenty of pain before, thanks to your uncle. Think of this along the same lines.¡±


    I tried to respond to her, but the weight made it difficult to breathe. All that I got out was a tight ¡°Why?¡±


    It was then that she looked back at me with pity in her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m not doing this out of cruelty or enjoyment. But you need to experience the process in order to be able to fully exploit the use of this new equipment. Now, do you promise not to run?¡±


    I thought about it for a long few seconds before I gave her a single nod of confirmation. When the pressure vanished, I inhaled a massive breath before readjusting to get comfortable for the trail ahead. ¡°What is the new equipment, and what does it do?¡±


    Master Navor held up the coin-sized device for me to see, turning front and back. With a clear look at the back, I saw it had a circular row of curved teeth around a starburst of razor-sharp blades with a round multi-limbed aperture at the center of it all. ¡°This is an ANFEN. Short for Anatomy Nano Filament Enhancement Node. These little guys are going to attach to key points on your body, where they will release microscopic fibers to interweave into your muscle mass, tenons, and bone structure. You need to experience the process so you can feel how it alters your body. After you adapt to the new state, you will be stronger, faster, and more resilient than almost anyone your age. That includes most with cybernetics of standard legal quality.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± I asked with a note of hope. ¡°Stronger than even¡­¡± I was about to ask her if I would be stronger than Mallrimor and his thugs, but held back at the last moment. I wasn¡¯t sure if I should ask her that, but she seemed to know what I was thinking because she answered my unfinished question.


    ¡°Yes. You will be stronger than Mr. Featherfall and his hangers-on.¡± She said this with a knowing smirk.


    I resisted the urge to lick my lips in anticipation. Mallrimor had given me endless trouble since I joined the Academy. For a long time, he and his had kicked my ass up and down the campus more times than I dared count the year before. I had only just managed to get to regularly beating them back by the end of last year, thanks to Thallos¡¯s horrific training regimen. When they upped their game with body-augs, I dreaded that things would back-slide to me getting my teeth kicked in on the regular. But this fresh development would put me back on top. What was more pain if it meant that I could improve my physical skill enough to put Mallrimor¡¯s face in the dirt with little effort?


    ¡°Fine. Let¡¯s start.¡± I said with a tone of confidence.


    Without any preamble, she said, ¡°Very well,¡± and moved in. The first node she pressed against my sternum. There was a light clicking noise before I felt a sharp pain as the teeth bit into my flesh and latched on. At this discomfort, I took in a tight hiss. Then things got worse. I felt as the blades dig into my skin, shift, and rotate to sheer off my flesh. I was in the midst of a grunt of pain at that sensation when the fibers of the device entered my body. I screamed in agony, my body thrashing as I felt the molecule-wide threads pass into my body and interweave into my flesh and bones. It was over in moments, but it felt like a lifetime.


    As the pain faded to intense throbbed in time with my heart, I gasped for breath. My aching chest heaved as I looked down at the new implant to find a small river of blood leaking out from beneath it. The vision in my left eye tinted over with a cloud of a red-pink hue. I must¡¯ve burst a blood vessel in that eye. I tried to blink the cloud away, but nothing worked.


    ¡°Don¡¯t Worry. That was the worst one. That¡¯s why I started with that location.¡± the Master consoled me even as she picked up the next node from the case.


    I took a deep breath and blew it out long and slow before I looked to her and asked, ¡°Where¡¯s the next one going?¡±


    ¡°You choose. Shoulder or hip.¡±


    ¡°Shoulder.¡± I said without skipping a beat.


    And so on it went for another hour that felt like an epoch. By the end, I had nodes at my chest, shoulders, just above both elbows, on both hips, both knees and at both the base and top of my spine. Eleven in total. When I finally stood from the surgical seat, I was doused in blood.


    As it turned out, Master Navor was actually rather considerate, even if she came across as abrasive. She helped me from the seat and gave me her shoulder for support as she walked me to the back of the room, where there was a pair of medical showers. She walked me into the shower in the right corner of the room and started the water from a control screen on the outside of the space. Mist sprayed across my body from three heads on each wall. The temperature was pleasant. Almost too hot to stand, but not quite there. Just the way I liked it. I spent longer than I really needed in the space, my hands braced against the back wall.


    My body felt strange, hypersensitive. I had a hard time controlling my limbs. It seemed like the slightest muscle spasm caused the whole limb to flex. When I stepped from the shower, Master Navor helped me dry off and even helped me dress. Once I was dressed and resting on another operating chair that I had been augmented on, she called Nennel and Ferris to help me back to my room. She claimed it would be less suspect for students to help a wounded friend back to their room rather than an instructor. When Nel and Ferris arrived, she explained everything to them. She then told me that I had the next week off for recovery and recuperation. She then told Nel and Ferris to bring me my food for the next couple of days. Lastly, before we left, Navor gave me an exercise regimen to begin after three days of rest. The regimen was to help my body get accustomed to the modifications in a way that wouldn¡¯t cause injury. This new body augmentation was going to take some getting used to.

 PITM Chapter 10

    AdRecs are a popular form of visual media entertainment. These are live recorded field encounters made by and following Adventurers. These videos are a cross between reality TV and action-adventure entertainment. They can range in genre from reality crime mysteries where real adventurers hunt down murders and the like to action-packed monster hunts and everything between the two. But in the adventuring field, death is common. Any AdRecs that catch a legitimate Adventurer''s death are slapped with a warning before being heavily modified and censored if they are ever released, and many won¡¯t be released. Illegal AdRecs that are released without legal permission are called Black Adventure Recordings or BAdRecs. These BAdRecs commonly show Adventurer deaths and normally in only the most direct and vivid display to the viewer.


    I spent my week off crafting a few different projects. My primary focus for the week was a pair of Panner brand running shoes. The project name I was working with was LeaGri combat-ready footwear. The current device model at the time that was successful in testing, I was calling my Pacer shoes, or simply Pacers. On the following Quenchenday, my last day off to recuperate, I wore my jet-black Pacers as I made my way to the DEFAC to meet Nel and Ferris for lunch. That day was the day I was going to ask the question that had been bugging me for over a week.


    I took my seat at our normal table, armed with a turkey and swiss sandwich, a bag of poorly flavored cheese powder corn chips, and a glass of watered-down juice. Nel and Ferris were already seated and having a heated debate over something about an AdRec that had just been released.


    ¡°Did you see how she went down?¡± Ferris exclaimed to Nel, who looked uncomfortable. ¡°I can¡¯t believe she slipped.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you showed that to me, Fer¡¯. That was just wrong.¡± Nennel sounded a little nauseated, and I doubted it was from the food.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± I asked as I took my seat.


    Nennel turned to me with an expression that looked tired, pleading, and disturbed. ¡°Ferris found a viral video on the net that should not have been on the net.¡±


    Ferris turned to me with a look of giddy excitement. ¡°It¡¯s this AdRec I found. The party it follows, I¡¯ve been a huge fan of for months. They are called Raiders of the Final Age. They stopped posting AdRecs after one of their members died under mysterious conditions. Some hacker released a BAdRec of how Serah Ghost Step died.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± I asked, partly distracted, as I took a bite out of my sandwich.


    ¡°Dude!¡± Ferris exclaimed. ¡°She was a legend for her mobility. One of the best Rogues to make it into AdRecs in years. She was in a brutal fight with her party against a sheerfang spider. She made a move to slide under its body and between its legs. But her momentum stalled right under the spider¡¯s head, and she got cut in two, as easily as scissors through paper. Man, it was brutal.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding.¡± I said, stunned at the news. ¡°Someone released a BAdRec of an Adventurer death? How could that get past all the censorship?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Ferris said with vibrating enthusiasm. ¡°But it¡¯s sweeping the net of Ventic. It is the next hot new vid.¡±


    I stared at my food, chewing the inside of my cheek. My appetite vanished. ¡°How can you be excited about this?¡± I asked numbly.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Ferris asked. ¡°Everyone is watching this, and one of my favorite parties is getting insanely popular.¡±


    My gaze snapped from my sandwich to Ferris. My stare was frigged and cutting sharp. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare get excited over this.¡± I hissed.


    ¡°What?¡± was all Ferris managed to say in his shock.


    ¡°Ferris.¡± I started coldly. ¡°You are getting excited over the death of another sapient being. A woman that you admired got cut in half, and you seem happy. Do you have any idea just how wrong that is? That could be one of us someday. Would you be so happy if Nennel was the one to die?¡±


    Ferris¡¯s face fell. ¡°No. I guess not.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you were taught growing up, but I was taught that all life is priceless. I was also taught that the act of taking a life is sacred and should never be done with joy.¡±


    ¡°I-¡± Ferris started but stopped. After a few seconds, he simply answered with, ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re right. I was caught up with the rush of social media and lost track of things.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s change topics to something more relevant to us.¡± I said in a forcefully light tone.


    ¡°What are you thinking about?¡± Nel asked.


    My gaze fell back to my food as I took a deep breath. ¡°So, you two know that Navor is taking me to Grimvale soon for a training mission, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. So what?¡± Ferris asked.


    ¡°Are you two¡­ okay¡­ coming with me?¡±


    There was a long period of silence that forced me to look up. I found Nel and Ferris both looking at me in annoyance.


    ¡°You¡¯re joking.¡± Nel stated in a deadpan voice.


    My gaze shot down to my lap as I hurriedly said, ¡°Sorry to bother you guys. I figured you wouldn¡¯t want to go. Just forget I said anything.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Ferris asked in confusion. ¡°No, Horn-head. We were planning on joining you from the get-go. That¡¯s the whole reason Master Navor gave Nel and me extra training over break.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± I asked in disbelief, my timid eyes slowly lifting from my lap to look at the other two.


    ¡°Yes, Gears-for-brains.¡± Nel scolded. ¡°She offered us spots in the expedition before we even packed to leave for break. When we both said yes, Master Navor took us to a mountain retreat lodge where she drilled us like we were about to storm the shores of Lacia.¡±


    ¡°We said that we were sticking with you, Ives¡¯, and we meant it.¡± came Ferris.


    ¡°Really?¡± I repeated in shock.


    ¡°We couldn¡¯t help you against your schizy uncle when you really needed us.¡± Ferris growled, his sharp teeth gnashing at the thought.


    ¡°So we made a promise to each other and ourselves that we would stick with you no matter where you went.¡± Nel said as she stood and stepped around the table to punch me playfully in the shoulder. ¡°We both know that you have all the social grace of a Whithered and are more than likely going to make more than a few enemies along the way. So we¡¯re sticking with you for as long as we can to keep you breathing.¡±


    ¡°Are you two sure?¡± I asked nervously. ¡°I don¡¯t want to make you guys babysit me and waste your time.¡±


    Nel slapped me across the back of the head lightly. ¡°Don¡¯t be a troll-dung moron. You don¡¯t waste our time, twitwind. You¡¯re our friend. We pull your ass from the Dragon¡¯s fire so you can do the same for us when things get out of hand.¡±


    ¡°Besides,¡± Ferris said as he stepped to my other side. ¡°If you wanted to leave us behind, you lost your chance.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Master Navor already slotted up our party.¡± Ferris pointed from me to himself, the Nel. ¡°It¡¯s you, me, Nel, and four others.¡±


    ¡°What? It¡¯s not just the three of us?¡± I asked in aggravation. I was not good with people, and I was not looking forward to four strangers pushing me around.


    ¡°The Master told us not to tell you about the setup and to wait till you broached the topic.¡±


    ¡°You have got to be kidding me.¡± I groused as I looked back at my barely touched food. ¡°Why would she tell you to do that?¡±


    Nel flashed me an amused smile. ¡°She said that she wanted you to see what it costs if you wait too long to take action.¡±


    ¡°And what¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± I snapped defensively.


    Ferris gave me a knowing and amused look. ¡°I think what she¡¯s getting at is if you had brought it up sooner, we could have talked it over and had some input on choosing the other four members.¡±


    I could feel my left eye spasming in agitation. ¡°You¡¯re saying¡­ that I could have chosen the other four members of the party¡­ if I had grown a pair¡­ and spoken up.¡± I could feel pressure building as my anger ramped up. I couldn¡¯t help but think that I was about to go through months of torment from strangers in a dangerous environment. If Navor picked the party balance, I was likely to be the only combat equipment technician in the group. I was going to be worked like a slave, pumping out equipment on their whims. I also expected plenty of impossible equipment demands. I, no doubt, would be stuck with the bills for all the material.


    I wanted to blame Navor for this whole situation. She orchestrated it all and, likely, was going to put me through the Nine Hells to test my mettle. I really, really wanted to hate her. I wanted to think of her as just the next Thallos. But she hadn¡¯t steered me wrong yet. Then again, Thallos seemed reasonable, if harsh, in the beginning.


    ¡°Uh, Ives¡¯. Are you okay?¡± Ferris asked with worry in his voice.


    ¡°I think he¡¯s about to blow a gasket.¡± Nel replied in a perfectly level tone. ¡°Iver, you need to calm down. It¡¯s not that big a deal. We can work with anyone we¡¯re stuck with, and we¡¯ll watch your back.¡± Nennel tried to pacify me, and her words almost reached me, but there was a block.


    I couldn¡¯t help but see Navor as the new Thallos. I couldn¡¯t help but mentally see her putting me through the same trauma and horrors as that bastard. My fists clenched with a white knuckle grip in my building rage. I was not willing to go through that again. I would not be pushed around and abused. This year would not be like the last.


    In a flash, I noticed the metal of my tactical gauntlet. In a burst of inspiration, I bit down on my cheek and slashed a claw from Venna across my brow, between my left horn and eyebrow. The pain cleared my mind, and I pushed a bit of will into the freshly welling blood. At the point of the cut, the blood evaporated into red-black smoke. As the one Vell of Distortion Myst cool effect, I closed my eyes, took another deep breath, and willed my mind to calm down and stop spiraling.


    ¡°Dude!¡± Ferris hissed at me in panic. ¡°What in the Hells do you think you''re doing?! Just randomly cutting yourself is not a good thing.¡±


    Nennel looked to Ferris. ¡°I think I know what he did. Iver just forced himself to calm down with magic.¡± She turned back to me and asked, ¡°Better?¡± with her arms folded over her chest.


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± I replied with a long sigh.


    At this response, Nel gave me a weighty eye roll before turning away with a muttered ¡°Mr. Melodramatic.¡± Just loud enough for me to hear.


    ¡°You okay?¡± asked Ferris with a worried look at me. ¡°You looked like you were about to go Eldritch meltdown on us. I was expecting you to go ballistic.¡±


    I took another deep breath, letting it out slowly, all with motions with both hands that mimicked breathing in and exhaling it. ¡°This was a lesson I needed to learn. Don¡¯t get me wrong, I completely hate the iron goat of a woman. But I need to keep in mind that if Thallos was teaching me this lesson, he would¡¯ve added three assassins to the party that he would¡¯ve paid off to try to kill me at random moments during the mission. Navor shouldn¡¯t be that malicious towards me¡­ Well, not unless Mallrimor is her darling son.¡±


    ¡°You do have a point there, dude.¡± Ferris admitted with a tilt of his head.


    ¡°So, what¡¯s next?¡± I asked.


    ¡°What¡¯s next is you all get your asses to Aegis Hall and meet me at sublevel 44. Be sure to bring your shit.¡± Navor commanded over the call through my therra, and what looked to be Nennel¡¯s and Ferris¡¯s therras as well. I eyed both Nel and Ferris for a few seconds, expecting one of them to own up to messaging the Master during the talk. But neither of them said a word. In fact, they both looked just as shocked as I was.


    After another moment, the three of us looked at each other before we all gave a single confirming nod. As one, we all bolted for the dorms, our food forgotten. My new modifications made me faster than the other two by another order of magnitude, but I was still adjusting to the new body. I stumbled and tripped no less than four times on my way back to my dorm room.


    I didn¡¯t spare a second, wrenching out my packing bags and stuffing them full of civilian clothes, my weapons, and my hygiene needs. As I was pulling out my bags, I found three extra luggage bags that were not mine. Attached to the topmost navy blue bag was a short paper note.


    Iver,


    You¡¯re going to want to pack tools and recourses for the days ahead. Don¡¯t worry about food and travel needs. I have that covered. You should also keep in mind that you can buy anything you need while in Grimvale. But bring what you deem crucial or will be hard to find in local shops.


    Think carefully,


    Master Terra Navor


    I found myself pleasantly surprised by the Master at that moment. This was a very thoughtful and generous act. Especially compared to Thallos. He likely would have drugged me and dropped in on the road, buck naked and totally lost, with a note stapled to my forehead telling me to reach the city with what I had.


    I did as I was instructed. After personal needs and weapons were packed, I set about packing all of my tools, those that the academy provided, as well as plenty that I had bought myself while on break. That took up a bag and a half, and I used the remaining bag and a half to stash a range of components and materials that I would need for almost any job, as well as some specific bits I was going to use for a few special projects.


    I wound up leaving my room with five bags in a mad dash to get to Master Navor as soon as I could. I left the dorms only to find Ferris ahead of me, in the same position, only two bags less than me. But past Ferris was Nennel, running with six bags like she was being chased by a nightmarish demon. All three of us were fit and able to handle the strain. But I had been put through far worse than Ferris. And combine that factor with my recent enhancements, I outpaced him in a matter of moments. Nel and I were soon enough neck and neck as we reached Aegis Hall¡¯s front doors. I passed her as I took the corners in the halls much easier than her. Even as I lost sight of Nennel, I made a mental note to improve her legs whenever I could get a spare moment.


    I slid to a stop in front of the hidden elevators, sweeping my B.I.C over the scanner even as I passed the elevator and needed to backpedal a few steps. While I waited for the doors to open, I took my time breathing. Nel reached me only moments after I came to a stop. She slid farther than I had when she tried to come to a stop, circling around to me as she panted heaving breaths. Just as I was starting to breathe normally, Ferris rounded the corner. His stop was cleaner than Nennel¡¯s because he wasn¡¯t nearly as fast.


    ¡°Damn it, guys.¡± He complained between heaving breaths. ¡°You couldn¡¯t have waited for me?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re on a clock, Fer¡¯.¡± Nel wheezed. ¡°You need to keep up.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t Elves supposed to be fast?¡± I asked in an amused confrontation. ¡°Especially Wild Elves.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s both xenist and racist.¡± Ferris accused between gasps.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t complain, Ferris.¡± Nennel scolded, finally breathing normally. ¡°You¡¯re only carrying three bags.¡±


    ¡°What is even in those extra bags?¡± Ferris asked.


    I looked down as I lifted up the two bags in my left hand. ¡°Mine are tools and materials for crafting.¡±


    ¡°Okay. That makes sense.¡± Ferris admitted. We both turned to Nennel to hear her answer. ¡°What about you, Nel?¡±


    Nennel made eye contact with Ferris, then me, before looking away. ¡°Books and some knitting.¡± She tried to sound nonchalant in her answer, but it only got a snort out of me. ¡°Hey! Don¡¯t judge me.¡± Her tone turned both scolding and embarrassed.


    ¡°Book?¡± came Ferris, obviously trying to hold back a cackle. ¡°Really? You need an entire bag of books?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s two bags. And I¡¯m a fast reader.¡± She muttered. ¡°So hang me.¡±


    ¡°No, no. I get the book thing.¡± I said with a mirthful grin. ¡°But, knitting? You really knit?¡±


    ¡°And crochet.¡± She admitted, completely bashful at the admittance.


    ¡°I gotta say, I never saw that coming.¡± I admitted with a wide grin.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with it?¡± Nel snapped at the two of us.


    It was at this point that the elevator doors opened. As we all formed a line to step inside the mirrored box, I looked down at her with the same amused grin. ¡°Nel, there is absolutely nothing wrong with the hobby. I just never saw that coming.¡±


    She eyed me with wary annoyance. ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Hells, I might buy a hat and socks off you when you get good enough. I might even start commissioning knit plushies.¡±


    I would never admit it to her, but it was satisfying seeing my nervous fear of rejection mirrored on someone else and for me to turn those tables and make her feel better. It felt good to be supportive of Nel when she felt insecure.


    After that, talk was sparse in the tight space. We all felt nervous meeting the new teammates. How would they take our rag-tag group? A Quint Elf, a Human girl who was more mech than meat, and a Darkling with a strange skin pattern. Our odds of being accepted as equals were not looking too high, and I will freely admit that I was scared in that moment.


    The elevator car slowed to a halt at sublevel 44, and the doors slid open with a bell chime that sounded despondent to me. We all left the car in a close-knit group. The three of us examined the room for threats even as we took in the others in the space.


    The room in question looked to be about thirty feet by thirty feet, with three teleportation stations running in a row down the center of the space. Mounted to the back wall on either side of the teleportation stations were holo displays that listed arrival and departure times for groups. Each of these groups were listed by what seemed to be random names. Just from a glance, I saw group names that ranged from Gilded Rose to Blood Raven and everything in between. Lining the walls of the room to our left and right were what looked to be some form of locker system with massive spaces. Near these lockers were groups of tables and seats that were obviously for last-minute perpetration.


    The group of people we were looking for were the only ones occupying the room at the moment. Four figures sat in chairs, and a fifth sat atop a table just to our left. Atop the table, in a lax stance and showing little more than boredom, was Mystagogue Terra Navor. She was an old war-horse of a Human woman. Her salt and pepper hair was cut short in a mussed pixie cut. The hair at her temples was a pale silver that faded the further from the temples the hair got. Her skin was a red-tan and openly showed the weathering of age and hard times, recent and long since passed. Her right eye was coffee brown, while her left was milky with scar tissue and a silver pupil. There was a clean notch carved from the right side of her upper lip that put her in a perpetual sneer. Navor stood a head taller than me with my embarrassing 5 foot 7 height.


    On that day, she was dressed in black leather pants, a mustard yellow t-shirt marked an artistic design, a high-cut leather jacket, and black combat boots. As we drew closer, I noticed that both her jacket and pants were reinforced with some form of thin plating at key points, such as forearms, shins, and thighs, and also padded at the knees and elbows. I also recognized the design on her shirt to be a copy of the famous Age of Steel¡¯s Grasp painting known as The Dagger that Falls to the Leaf.


    In the seats surrounding the Master was a female Dezzar Dracose, a dark-skinned and light-haired Human boy, a female Half-Elf, and I was shocked to find S18 in the group. S18 was a Half-Dwarf that had the position just ahead of me in the breaker formation last year. I would know that bald head anywhere.


    The Dracose girl stood at the titanic height of almost six-and-a-half feet. Her scale color was a deep ruby red with stripes of sapphire blue that matched her eyes. Her horns grow from her brow and swooped down to run parallel with her jaw. She was dressed in a pair of weathered jeans and a royal purple tank top that read ¡®Look me in the eye when you want to start a fight.¡¯ in blocky black letters. She wore no shoes because her breed of Dracose had widespread and clawed feet. She also wore a pair of armored gauntlets made from what looked to me to be Luminite and Mythril. That meant that she was a Fury class Mage. I made sure to take careful note of that fact.


    The Human boy was an obvious lady magnet. His skin was a deep mocha brown that provided a dramatic contrast to his silver-white hair worn in a high-base tail and his pale eyes that carried only the slightest hint of the colors blue and green. He was dressed in dark gray pressed slacks with a matching suit jacket worn open over a plain navy blue t-shirt. His shoes were business casual, but freshly polished. I instantly did not like the guy as he sat there, looking like someone waiting for a business meeting that was running late.


    The Half-Elf girl had the telltale powder blue skin and silver irises of a Moon Elf with purple sclera. But her ink-black hair, worn in a limp mohawk, and only slightly pointed ears displayed that she was a Half-Elf. She was dressed as a classic punk. A black latex short skirt, a bleached denim jacket with sleeves ripped off and covered in a range of pins, a black t-shirt marked with a famous metal band emblem, and thick-soled leather biker boots that climbed up to just past her knees. She looked annoyed and bored, but little more.


    S18 was tall for a Dwarf of our age and slightly thinner than most, too. His pate was smooth bald, likely freshly shaven, but what he lacked on top was made up for everywhere else. His hair was a dark russet red and could be seen on any bare patch of skin, not thick enough to be called fur, but it was a close thing. He wore his bread in three braids down the center of his chin. I wasn¡¯t particularly knowledgeable of Dwarven culture, but I knew that a Dwarf¡¯s braids marked which house or clan they belonged to and that the more braids, the higher the rank of the house or clan. His eyes shone bright copper and held a gleam of calculating intelligence.


    As we drew near to the group of mostly strangers, Navor waved us over in a manner that said she wanted haste. We jogged up to her, and when we were within easy speaking range, she pointed to the lockers to our left. ¡°Stow your gear, and don¡¯t forget to pick up the translocation fob.¡±


    I hurried over to the nearest locker that was marked available and tossed my stuff in. As I closed the locker door, a screen popped into the view of my therra that prompted me to make a five-number pin. After I keyed in my desired code, the screen vanished, and a small metal stick, no bigger than a thumb drive, ejected from the door, and I was prompted to take it and not lose it.


    I pocketed the stick, and as one, Nel, Ferris, and I hurried back to the group. Once we were all gathered, Navor rubbed one temple with the pad of a thumb as if trying to stave off a migraine. When she spoke, Navor sounded tired. ¡°Alright, kiddos. Introductions.¡± Without any more instruction, she pointed to the Dracose.


    ¡°My name is Demierra Flametongue.¡± She said as she placed an armored hand over her chest. Her voice was surprisingly light and smooth for her breed. ¡°I¡¯m a Spell Blade Mastlok. So I¡¯m with Blackened Crown and Crimson Blade.¡±


    When Demierra didn¡¯t say more, the Human boy spoke up. ¡°My name is Jonathan Ozwald, but I would prefer if you call me Ozwald, seeing as this trip is all business. If you really must know, I am a Red Shadow Mastlok. If you¡¯re not well-read enough to know what that means, then I¡¯ll explain. I am an honorary member of The Sect of the Sightless Eye and The Sect of the Silent Heart. I will tell you now that I value my privacy and do not appreciate others asking me questions. If I have something you need to know, then I will tell you when it becomes pertinent.¡± Ozwold then gestured for the punk Half-Elf to take her turn next.


    The girl gave a weighty sigh before turning her head away from the group and folding her arms under her modest breasts before speaking. ¡°Gods, I feel like I¡¯m in an addiction therapy group. I¡¯m Zynna Miermor, and my drug of choice is shut the hells up and leave me alone.¡± When it was clear that Zynna wasn¡¯t going to say anything more, S18 politely cleared his throat to get our attention.


    ¡°Greetings all. My name is Kharmor Gaibhnigh. I¡¯m a Tinker¡¯s Wand Mastlok, so I¡¯m part of the Burning Hand and Blackened Crown sects. While I am good with repairing and building some field equipment, my strength is in alchemy. So if you need a magic brew, I¡¯m your guy.¡±


    After Kharmor was done speaking, Ferris spoke up with an introduction full of energy. After Ferris, Nennel gave her intro with ease, and I envied her for it. When my turn came, I stammered out, ¡°H-hey guys. I-I¡¯m Iver Maverick. I¡¯m a t-Type 3 Mastlok, and I have t-training in Crimson Blade, Blackened Crown, and Burning Hand. I-I is good-. I mean am. I am good with technical stuff. If you n-need any g-gear, then j-just let me know.¡±


    I knew I was a joke to the others, and I hated just how weak I sounded. But things went from bad to worse when Mystagogue Navor pointed to me and proclaimed, ¡°Iver here, will be your team lead. If I send you lot out as a party, you¡¯ll be taking cues from him. Got it?¡±


    Every one of the new people had their own reaction to this development. Ozwald snorted and rolled his eyes away from me. Zynna just shook her head in disappointment. Demierra looked down at me over her snout with a raised brow of challenge. Kharmor just looked at me with a skepticism so thick I could¡¯ve chewed on it.

 PITM Chapter 11

    Long-range teleportation was considered high-level magic for literal ages. It wasn¡¯t until the late era of the Age of Tempered Glass that teleportation stations became commonplace in most city-sized settlements in Tier 1 and 2 nations. There are normally between three and eight stations placed in a secure zone near the city center. These secure zones are to prevent invading armies or powerful hostile entities from using the site for an ambush on the settlements.


    Master Navor led the newly minted squad of trainees to the holo-boards at the back of the room. She stepped up beside one display in particular and pointed to a time slot. ¡°Alright, kiddos. For the duration of this mission, this is our group¡¯s title. Read it. Learn it. Memorize it.¡± The slot she pointed to read ¡®Dinner Party¡¯ beside a time stamp that was a half hour from then.


    ¡°Not a fan of the name.¡± commented Demierra in a gruff female voice. ¡°Sounds too stuffy.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind having a classy group name.¡± came Ozwald. ¡°But, Dinner Party makes us sound like pushovers.¡±


    Kharmor rubbed his bread in thought as he said, ¡°I don¡¯t know. Isn¡¯t it better to go overlooked by anyone of importance?¡±


    I liked the way S18 thought. He seemed like a thoughtful soft and inspected everything before acting.


    ¡°It¡¯s also a witty play off the Master¡¯s nickname.¡± I pointed out.


    ¡°Nickname?¡± asked Zynna.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you guys know?¡± I asked the four strangers. As they all shook their heads in the negative, I caught a glimpse of Nel and Ferris looking proud. ¡°Master Navor picked up the nickname Beast Eater because of her propensity for cooking anything she kills. I¡¯ve heard this also includes the Bellicose Species as well.¡±


    I got my own sense of satisfaction when Zynna, Demierra, and Ozwald each gave small signs of discomfort and shock. When everyone turned to look at the Master, she gave me a peeved look before saying, ¡°It¡¯s not that big a deal. Now, let¡¯s get back on track. Ya¡¯ll are going to be operating under the cover of Novitiate rank Adventurers. I¡¯ll be acting as your instructor. So that¡¯ll keep our roles pretty simple and straightforward. Anytime you catch word of a group called Dinner Party meeting somewhere, that¡¯s your cue to come find me because we have business or serious trouble.¡±


    Navor made her way over to the back-most teleporter and waved for us to follow, and she continued her explanation. ¡°For the length of this mission, I¡¯ll be giving you all odd jobs around Grimvale. I¡¯ll have you each working solo for some jobs and in groups for others. Each of these jobs you¡¯ll be sent on should be thought of as tests. I¡¯ll be testing each of you on a range of topics. You¡¯ll be tested on your sect skills, reasoning, morals, teamwork, leadership, and so on.¡±


    Navor then slapped one of the teleportation station pylons as she said, ¡°Now for your first lesson under me. Who here can explain the magic mechanics of teleportation to me?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just instant matter displacement.¡± I said, but my tone carried just as much question as answer.


    ¡°That¡¯s the basic physics principle it operates on. So, half credit, but I want more details.¡±


    This time, Kharmor spoke up. ¡°It¡¯s based on the fundamental abstract use of the Air element.¡±


    Navor pointed to him from a commanding stance as she simply said, ¡°Elaborate.¡±


    Kharmor gave a bored shrug as he looked past the master to the device that was being discussed. ¡°Its fundamental concept isn¡¯t that hard. If you apply Resonance Myst to Air Myst with the right frequency and other variables, then the element affects the core aspects of space. If you pair spatial warping with Fate Myst to target a desired location, then with enough power, you can instantly transport someone or something a large distance in an instant.¡±


    I raised my brows in surprise. I was impressed that he had just a firm grasp on a subject that I had been struggling with for a long while. The abstract uses of the Core Elements was some seriously advanced stuff that any normal student at the academy wouldn¡¯t even be touching until the sixth tier at the earliest. And yet this guy just explained the basic concept of warping space like it was grade school magic theory class. I felt a lot stupider with Kharmor in the room, and I kinda hated it.


    ¡°Well done, Mr. Gaibhnigh. Full marks. After we settle down at our home base, remind me, and I¡¯ll treat you to some good food.¡±


    I watched the Half-Dwarf in curiosity as his brows raised at this statement, and a gleam came to his eyes. I turned back to Navor as I asked her, ¡°Pardon me, Master, but I was told by Mystagogue Thrasher that we were going to travel across country to get to Grimvale. What changed?¡±


    All of the new students looked at me in annoyance, and I shrunk under the weight of their judgment. ¡°Well, Mr. Maverick, that was the original plan. But I greased some palms to get us permission to use these lovely teleportation stations. Are you telling me that you would rather trek across hostile wilds for weeks, sleeping in the mud or the trees?¡±


    ¡°What? No, no. Sorry, ma¡¯am.¡± I hurried to backtrack to get out of the hole I had just dug for myself.


    While the other students asked questions both to Navor and each other, I focused on the teleporter. It was a raised decagon-shaped platform. At every other edge was a multi-jointed arm-like pylon. Each of these structures leaned outward while their limbs arched overhead to point straight down at the center. Held in the center by each of these arms was a large yellow crystal. As I looked closer, I noticed that each tip joint of the arms was embedded with smaller crystals that glowed with swirling purple and white light.


    Given what S18 had just explained, that would make the large gray-green crystal an Air Myst crystal that looked to be battery-class sized. Then that would make the smaller crystals in close proximity to the Air crystal, Resonance crystals. The Resonance crystals looked to be cluster-sized. I couldn¡¯t help but wonder just how often those myst crystals needed to be replaced.


    I was snapped out of my ruminations when Navor said, ¡°Alright. Are ya¡¯ll ready to get this show on the road?¡±


    I gave as confident a nod as I could muster. That didn¡¯t say much, seeing as I was terrified. I had never been to a larger than my hometown of Black Rock City, and Grimvale was a hive-city, large enough to be considered a small nation of its own. On top of that, my hometown was a Green Threat Zone, which meant that death by murder or monster attack was highly unlikely. But Grimvale was an Orange Threat Zone. I was about to skip Yellow Theat Zone rating altogether and get dumped in an alien environment with a reasonably high chance of serious injury, if not death. And I was getting dumped there while in charge of four strangers who not only would ignore anything I had to say but also might kill me if given the chance. I was doomed. Plain and simple.


    As we all stepped atop the teleporter, I felt a friendly slap across my shoulder. I turned to find Ferris wearing this big, goofy grin. ¡°You ready for a real adventure?¡± he asked, and from the way he said it, he clearly expected me to give a hearty agreement.


    Instead, I gave him a timid half smile before saying, ¡°Yeah. Sure.¡± in a tone that was half sarcasm and half dread.


    Nennel stepped up to the other side of me. ¡°Come on, Ives¡¯. It won¡¯t be that-¡± She was cut off as space warped and distorted. There was a flash of flight before I was falling through a dark tunnel lined with stars. I could feel my body both stretching past natural limits and getting compacted into a space the size of a marble. I tried to scream when I felt like I was getting twisted like a dishrag, but there was no air.


    Suddenly, there was another flash as my body snapped back to normal. ¡°-Bad.¡± Nel finished her line as I fell to my knees and vomited everything in my stomach up at velocity.


    I could feel the glares of disgust from the new party members as I lay there on all fours, dry heaving. ¡°Oh, shit.¡± Master Navor cursed while Nennel kneeled down beside me and rubbed my back in a gentle and comforting manner. ¡°I forgot to make sure everything has teleported before.¡± The Master stepped over to me and single-handedly lifted me to my feet. ¡°Sorry about that, kid. I¡¯ll buy you something to eat too, after we settled in.¡± She turned away from me and began a stroll towards the area¡¯s exit as she waved for the party to follow. Ferris slipped in under one shoulder and helped me walk even as I rubbed the tears from my eyes with my free hand.


    Once my vision was clear, I checked out my surroundings. We appeared to have arrived in a large courtyard with eight teleporter stations evenly spread out across the space. Between each of these stations were patches of grass and a few trees. But as I walked through a patch of the so-called grass, I found it to be synth-turf. Completely artificial grass. I really was far from home. It was when I looked up that I was truly shown that I was out of my depth. Surrounding the courtyard were walls. All of them were five or six stories tall and capped with massive gun turret stations every few dozen yards. Overhead, the sky gave off a faint glow and shimmered, which I realized was an energy field. I also noticed that we were heading toward the only exit from the space. That exit looked to be a heavily guarded blast door and scanner checkpoint.


    I gave the space another look from a tactical perspective instead of a foreigner¡¯s. It was a kill box. There was no hiding it. If anything teleported into that space that was not meant to be there, it would get reduced to atoms before it could even move from the station.


    As we approached the exit, the party formed a single-file line. The only exception was Ferris holding me up because my legs were still weak. One by one, we passed through a full body scanner, but they didn¡¯t stop any of us because of our weapons beyond a quick inspection of the tools. When it was my turn Ferris and I stepped up to the scanner, which was being operated from an armored booth by a Human.


    ¡°First time teleporting?¡± Asked the tall male Human. I gave a wordless nod in answer. ¡°Of course, it would be a damned Fiend-kin I would have to clean up after.¡± He mumbled before he addressed me. ¡°I don¡¯t care how weak you are. You go through the field alone.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it just a scanner?¡± I asked.


    The guard gave an exasperated sigh before saying, ¡°This city is going to chew up a noob like you, boy.¡± The ¡®boy¡¯ comment at the end of his statement made me flinch in reflexive thought of Thallos. ¡°This field scans for illegal material, restricted weapons, and so on, as well as killing any foreign viruses and bacteria on your person. The last thing we need is you bringing the Weeping Plague into the city. Now, move it Fiend-fucker.¡± This last line was a command with no small amount of hostility.


    I tried to stand on my own to find that I could bear my weight. After I waited a few seconds to make sure it wasn¡¯t a flook, I nodded to Ferris, telling him I was okay, before stepping through. The blue-green wall of shimmering light washed over me, leaving behind a slight tingling sensation.


    I moved to the next station, run by an Orc woman with dark brown skin and a broken left tusk. ¡°Please empty your pockets and remove your weapons and boots. Any boots or weapons are to be set on the table before you for inspection. Do you have anything to declare?¡± She said this as a rehearsed line that had lost all meaning to the woman.


    I slipped off Venna and set her on the table before I did the same with my boots. ¡°What would I have to declare?¡± I asked.


    The brawny woman raised an eyebrow at me in challenge. ¡°You really have never been through customs before?¡±


    ¡°No, ma¡¯am. I¡¯ve never left my hometown.¡± That was a bald-faced lie, but it was an easy way to explain my ignorance.


    ¡°Before your luggage is transported to you, it will go through a thorough inspection. If you have any foreign fruits, pets, or restricted substances like MyCast, anything of that manner, you are to declare it here, with me.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have anything like that. But I do have a question.¡±


    Just like the man before, the Orc woman gave a heavy sigh before giving me a hand sign to give her my question. ¡°Why are weapons allowed in the city? Wouldn¡¯t it be safer to deny weapons?¡±


    Before she answered, she leaned in, propping her arm against the table. ¡°Listen up, kid. You need to get smart before you get dead. Even if we stopped weapons from passing this point and even the main gates, what about smugglers and Mages in the city? How would you like to be jumped by a group of gangers with weapons while you¡¯re bare-skinny? How would you feel if a drunk Mage moves to roast you like a kabob while you have nothing to put him down?¡±


    ¡°I guess that would be pretty bad.¡± I muttered in embarrassment.


    The Orc woman leaned back as she said, ¡°Damn right. The city is dangerous no matter how hard we Regulators stamp out crime. So it¡¯s better if you can protect yourself rather than pray some Regulators get to you in time. Now, move your horned ass.¡±


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Without another word, I collected my things and hurried to move on. Boots and gauntlet back where they needed to be, I stepped through the blast doors to spy the city. The primary color of the city from where I stood was dirty gray, with splashes of bright colors. I didn¡¯t see wood on any of the structures I saw. Everything was metal, brick, or synthcrete. The streets were rough and pockmarked with harsh wear. The majority of the buildings I could see were marked with some form of graffiti. Some of the illegal art was impressive. To my left, running the length of a brick wall, was a mural of a skull with roses blooming from its sockets and an Elven eye peering out from the gaping mouth. But most of the so-called art that I spotted were senseless tags of some name or word. Neon signs and holograms were at every storefront, trying to entice passers-by to step in and spend some Deckra. After taking in the striking sights of the local environment, I noticed a less pleasing layer. Trash littered the streets and sidewalks. The area stunk like exhaust, ozone, and over-ripe trash.


    When I tracked my eyes up the buildings in front of me, my gaze just kept climbing. I couldn¡¯t find a building that was less than three stories tall, and the sky above was totally obscured by smog. The shining blue I saw in the TTZ was only the barrier, not the sky.


    The streets were alive with vehicles of all shapes and sizes. Just from the moment I left the TTZ, I had spotted cars and trucks in a dozen shapes, sizes, and colors. I caught sight of several motorcycles, a monocycle, and even a mechanical horse. I also noticed AVs zipping by overhead in their own flow of traffic. For a place with no signs of plant life or animals, it was shockingly alive.


    But what really hit me was just how loud and hectic the place was. Thousands of sounds came from all directions. Wailing babies, shouts of rage and joy, honking of vehicle horns, every ad competing to take your attention with loud voices and strange sounds, the sounds of shattering glass and gunfire in the distance. It was all a sensory overload for me. I took a long moment to center myself and tune out all the noise.


    I turned to check the rest of the party to find none of them as in awe as me. Nennel and Ferris looked on edge. Kharmor, Zynna, Demierra, and Ozwald all just looked bored and impatient. Master Navor was working on the therra for a few moments before turning to us. ¡°I just ordered us a ride to our new home. Don¡¯t wander off and stay on your toes.¡±


    Everyone gave some form of confirmation that they understood, but as we all waited, no one spoke. After about fifteen minutes, a large truck pulled up in front of Navor. The truck was an impressively large design, with flaking gray paint and a few dents and scratches. The passenger side window of the vehicle rolled down as the driver spoke to the Master. I couldn¡¯t see said driver, but from the gruff voice, I knew they were male and likely either Human or Orc. ¡°You, Mz. Naya?¡±


    Navor gave a nod with a brief response of ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s me.¡±


    ¡°These your kids?¡± came the driver¡¯s voice.


    ¡°Students, yeah.¡± Navor replied.


    ¡°Alright. Pile in.¡± said the driver.


    Navor gestured for us to enter the truck, and so we did. Behind the front driver and passenger seats were two more rows of seats, three each. Ozwald, Zynna, and Nennel climbed in first, taking the three back-most seats. Kharmor and Ferris climbed in next. When I saw that there was only one seat left in the back, I was going to offer it to Demierra, but Navor spoke before I could say anything.


    ¡°Sorry, Demierra, but you¡¯re gonna need to sit in the truck bed. I couldn¡¯t find a transport with large-scale seats that would get here in time.¡±


    The large Dracose girl glared down at me, as if the situation was all my fault, before she climbed into the large truck bed. I watched her for a long moment, trying to figure out how to prove to the girl that I was worth respect. Navor pulled me from my thoughts by clearing her throat to get my attention. I turned to her, and all she did was pointedly look from me to the only remaining back seat. I got the message and climbed in.


    As it turned out, the driver was a Dwarf. The male Mountain Dwarf had red-tan skin, an ink-black beard tied in a single long braid, and his eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses that looked to cost a pretty copper. But those sunglasses were the most impressive thing on the man. His chest was covered in a stained wife-beater that only half covered his copious gut. I couldn¡¯t tell if the stains were from food or vehicle fluids, and I couldn¡¯t even guess based on smell because he was smoking a thick cigar. The cigar smoke permeated the interior of the truck and seemed to have seeped into the upholstery.


    I couldn¡¯t help but continuously cough as I closed the door behind me. I buckled in even as my eyes watered. Navor took the front passenger seat beside the driver, but she seemed totally unphased by the pungent smoke. I tried to roll down the window beside me, but I found the controls to be locked.


    ¡°Excuse me, sir, but could you please roll down my window?¡± I tried to sound polite and not pleading, but I doubt that I succeeded in that goal.


    The driver looked back at me through the rear-view mirror and said, ¡°Sure, but you¡¯re gonna regret it, kid. As bad as this smoke smells, it¡¯s miles better than the air in the neighborhood we¡¯ll be passing through.¡±


    I gave a vigorous nod as I was taken by another coughing fit that had me struggling to breathe. The window beside me descended, and as the haze of smoke cleared, I noticed Nennel and Ferris looking at me in worry and Ozwald and Zynna giving me annoyed glares. I stuck my face out the window and tried to ignore the glares at my back.


    I watched the city go by in wonder. This was a place unlike anything I had ever experienced before, and it was a lot to take in. As I spectated everything that passed by, I saw more people in the first 5 minutes than I had seen at any one time in Black Rock. I looked up at the towering buildings that seemed like monoliths made by Gods or Titans and was entranced by the holo displays larger than most houses. I recognized a lot of the names and products in the billboard ads. There were displays showing Evea-Life¡¯s newest medications. Other displays showed off Vartex¡¯s premium at-home appliances. There were also plenty of displays, both big and small, that gave public service announcements from the Regulators.


    The Regulators were Ventic¡¯s law enforcement force. They were owned and operated by the largest security and mercenary organization under Iron Cypher, Ex-Tac. For anyone who isn¡¯t familiar with Ventic¡¯s government, it¡¯s a Corporatocracy. Simply put, the nation is run and owned by mega-corporations. Iron Cypher is the big chief of the companies. They own every other company that operates out of Ventic, at least partly. Any company that is based out of the nation has the majority of its shares bought up by Iron Cypher at what the company considers a reasonable rate. Whether or not the buying price actually is reasonable is another story, because the head of state has made it law that whatever the corporation says is the value of a company is what goes. Other mega corps that aren¡¯t based out of Ventic, such as Evea-Life, only have the majority of shares for their local branch bought. There is a legal agreement between the government and these corporate giants that the companies will adhere to the law while working within the nation and will share a percentage of their income with Iron Cypher. But if Cypher gets too greedy, the other corps are ready and willing to pull all operations, recourses, and services from the nation. This kind of mass company exodus has happened a couple of times, and it¡¯s never pretty.


    At that time, I was painfully unaware of just how brutal the Ventic political field was, but I was about to learn quickly that anything goes if there isn¡¯t any proof tying it back to you. After what might have only been ten minutes, I noticed more and more of the pedestrians wearing air filtration masks. I only wondered why for a few more minutes. Then, I was stuck with a rancid stench that felt like a slap to my sinuses with a brick. I didn¡¯t know what the wretched scent was, but later, I learned it was wafting up from the sublevels of the city. Below that neighborhood was a sewage pipe that had been burst for going on two years at the time. Because of the biological waste that was accumulating in an abandoned warehouse field below, a massive nest of dire rats and other less-than-pleasant creatures made homes there. The locals had renamed the location the Stink Streets.


    I gagged and kept gagging at the smell. When I pulled my head back in, the eye-burning smoke was a relief, even if it made me cough. In an attempt to keep my lungs clean, I would trade between breathing the smoke in the truck and the air outside. Neither were enjoyable in the slightest, but I needed to breathe without coughing, so foul air it was. At one point, when I stuck my head out to breathe, I heard the crack of a gunshot in time with a loud ping of something hard moving fast as it struck the side of the truck. As I pulled my head back into the vehicle, I heard the loud whoops and catcalls of a group of gangers we had passed.


    I hid out of sight for the rest of the half-hour-long trip. I may have coughed hard enough to gag for the remainder of the trip, but that was better than getting my head ventilated by some lunatic delinquent. Yet safe or not, I felt the glare of three sets of eyes the entire trip, as they wished I could just shut up and die, no doubt. Ferris, who sat to my left, spent most of the time in the truck, patting me on the back in an attempt to comfort me. It didn¡¯t help.


    When the truck finally came to a stop, I shoved the door open and fell out in my desperation to be out and find breathable air. Luckily the air in that area was far cleaner than what I dealt with in the Stink Streets, even if it did still stink of trash, ozone, and exhaust. While I climbed to my feet, Demierra vaulted out of the truck bed, and everyone else made a far more calm and classy departure than me.


    We all stood in front of what looked to be a rundown boarding house that was only one step above a no-tell motel. The walls were worn brick, marked with a graffiti mural of a black rose with a stem of razor wire and a single droplet of blood hanging from a peddle to reflect a horned skull. I found this last detail to be ominous and a bad sign for me. The windows were all dirty and held in behind barred cages. The front door of the single-story structure looked to have once been painted army green, but most of the paint was stripped to reveal a simple wooden door.


    ¡°This is home base?¡± Ferris asked with skepticism.


    ¡°Not much to look at.¡± complained Ozwald.


    ¡°That¡¯s the point.¡± Said, Master Navor.


    ¡°Is it just as broken down inside?¡± asked Demierra.


    ¡°The camouflage is complete.¡± was all the Master said in explanation.


    In disgruntled response, Ferris, Demierra, and Ozwald all groaned in unison.


    ¡°Quiet your bitching.¡± Navor scolded. ¡°If you want to live elsewhere, that¡¯s on your own coin.¡± With that, she climbed the steps to the front doors and swiped her BIC over a spot of the door frame that seemed no different from anywhere else. There was an audible click as the door unlocked, and the Master stepped through the gateway into our new home. I followed, hot on her heels, eager to see what I was going to be working with.


    The first thing that caught my eye was the front door and its frame. About two inches deep from the exterior, the door frame was lined with steel an inch thick, and I suspected that the metal lining ran the perimeter of the building. The door, from both inside the house and out, looked like a standard wood door. But like the walls, the door had a steel core that was equipped with a magnetic locking perimeter around the outer edge. From the inside, the front door was visibly equipped with two deadbolts, a chain lock, and a key lock, but I knew that was all for show. While those four locks would be effective against most standard breaching means, it was the magnetic lock and steel core that would stop any attempts to break in short of a plasma welder, which I had.


    Beyond the impressive door, everything looked drab and simple. Off-cream-colored walls with texture. Light brown carpet that showed obvious wear but was still serviceable. Immediately to my left was a sizable kitchen with appliances that were a few generations behind current models. The fridge, oven, dishwasher, and stovetop lined the back wall and curved around to the right. The floor of the kitchen was faux tile that was a beige color stained slightly yellow with sun damage. Against the front wall was a small dining table that would fit the entire party comfortably, if barely. Near the back wall was a trapezoid-shaped island surface angled so the narrower end faced the back corner nearest me.


    To my right was an open doorway that led into what was obviously a common area. A worn pee-green couch was pushed against the back wall and wrapped around the corner furthest from me to end in an attached loveseat. An old wooden coffee table was set in front of the couch. Against the wall parallel with me was a holo-tv display of reasonable size and quality for a struggling family that saved up to splurge on something nice.


    Directly in front of me was a hall that led to a carpeted staircase that led down. Three steps before the stairs was a branching hall. Navor waved for everyone to follow her down the branch hall. Down that hall were doors to three private rooms. Navor pointed to the first door. ¡°Darrdane, you and Miermor will share this room.¡±


    The Half-Elf and Nel eyed each other warily before moving past the Master to inspect the room. Navor then pointed to the next door as she said, ¡°Ozwald, you and Stillwind will be sharing that room.¡±


    This time it was the Human and the Elf who eyed each other warily before moving to check out the space.


    ¡°Flametongue, you have the last room in the hall. I won¡¯t make you share it with anyone because that would be cruel to both of you.¡± The Dracose stepped into her room.


    ¡°Where am I supposed to sleep?¡± I timidly asked, not willing to my eye contact with the Master after the total fool I had made of myself the whole trip here.


    In answer, Navor turned on her heel and moved for the stairs, waving for me and S18 to follow. I did as I was bid, all-be-it with no small amount of nervous energy. The stairs ended at a small square platform six steps down before taking a hard left turn. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I found myself standing in a room that looked to take up half of the house¡¯s footprint. To my left was a long wall with a workbench that ran almost the whole length of the wall. At the end of that wall was a door. To my right was another door, halfway down the room. There was a third at the far corner of the space.


    ¡°With will be your shared workspace, you two.¡± Navor said to me and S18 as she gestured to the room with a sweep of her arm. ¡°I need the two of you to play nice while working in this space. Got it?¡± She commanded. Be S18, and I vigorously nodded before the Master moved on. ¡°Gaibhnigh, your room is that one.¡± She pointed to the door on the right side of the room. ¡°Maverick, your room is the one in the corner.¡±


    While Gaibhnigh moved to inspect his room, I moved to do the same. My room was around thirteen by thirteen-foot square space with the entry in the front left corner of the space. The room had no windows, but it did have a light/fan combo in the center of the ceiling. In the far back corner was a twin-sized bed opposite an open door that led to a bathroom. A closet was set into the wall to my left. Against the wall to my right was a dresser and a small table and chair. Mounted to the wall I stood parallel with was a reasonably sized craft bench. It wasn¡¯t anywhere near the size of the one I had at the Academy, but I couldn¡¯t complain because just having one was better than nothing.


    ¡°Oh, come now!¡± I heard Ozwald complain as he and the others came down the stairs. ¡°Why must I share a room when the halfbreed and the hellspawn get private spaces?¡±


    The Master looked down her nose at the Human, even though he was above her on the stairs. ¡°Because they are craftsmen. This craft space you are standing in is a group crafting space that everyone can use. You will all be using this space to maintain and repair your equipment. But the craftsmen need private space where they can think and tinker. I know how these creative, technical types think and operate.¡±


    Ozwald folded his arms over his chest as he continued to complain. ¡°This still doesn¡¯t seem fair. Why not get a safe house with enough rooms for all of us?¡±


    Master Navor pinned him with a scolding glare. ¡°This is what we have to work with, boy. Make the best of what you''re given. Besides, I think you all are going to want happy and efficient craftsmen in the house. They will be the ones repairing what you can¡¯t, and they might even make something special for you if you ask nice.¡±


    With that last comment, I caught Nel giving me a meaningful look. I remembered that she had asked for some new gear. I gave her a small nod in understanding before turning back to the Master.


    ¡°Get settled in. Summon your crap and get comfy. When you¡¯re all set, come meet me in the kitchen.

 PITM Chapter 12

    The common slang that is used across Kasis continent often sounds strange to those not native. Here are a few examples of common terms and phrases.


    Munch: A term referring to a quick meal.


    Neffer: Someone contemptible.


    Klept: To steal or have stolen something.


    Sinvious: Sinful and nefarious.


    Synapse spastic: To act nervous.


    I was pleasantly entertained when I figured out how to summon my luggage. It was as simple as pressing a button on the locker fob, inputting the pin I set through my therra, and tossing the stick onto the bed. The fob blinked with a slow blue light as I watched a prompt in my HUD that read, ¡®Please wait for inspection to conclude¡¯. After a few minutes, the fob light turned to a solid green before vanishing with a light pop. In its place were all of my bags.


    I quickly unpacked my belongings, starting with my tools and crafting supplies. Just as at the Academy, above my workbench was a Black Rack. It only took me a few minutes to get my tools in place before I moved on to my weapons, clothes, toiletries, and personal entertainment devices. Once I was done putting everything away, I rushed to the kitchen to find everyone else already there and waiting for me. Needless to say, I was subject to several glares.


    The rest of the party formed a half circle around the inside edge of the island while Navor stood opposite them with her hands spread across the table as she leaned in. ¡°Alright, kiddos. Now that everyone is here, we can get started. First, I¡¯m setting some ground rules. One.¡± She held up one finger. ¡°No killing each other. It may sound like some kind of joke, but it¡¯s not. I¡¯ve had students kill each other in the field over petty dreck.¡±


    ¡°Tied to this is rule two.¡± She raised another finger. ¡°No fights outside of sparring sessions and no permanent injuries. We do have a pool of funds for medical needs that includes magic healing, but that pool ain¡¯t deep.¡±


    ¡°Three.¡± She held up three fingers. ¡°All disputes that can¡¯t be resolved with polite words are to be concluded in a respectful sparing match. You can spar in the space connected to the common area workshop. It¡¯s a simple gym to encourage you to stay fit.¡±


    ¡°Four.¡± She raised a fourth finger. ¡°No drugs. Period. I will accept none of you smoking blunts, sniffing lines of coke, or getting Ink-Ked. The ONLY exception is if it is needed to maintain a cover identity. But I will not allow you to take on the cover of a druggy.¡±


    ¡°Five.¡± She extended her thumb. ¡°No sex. Period. I know ya¡¯ll have raging hormones, and your bodies are doing strange things. But I will not allow you to dittile each other. This isn¡¯t just because pregnancy is an undesired result, but it will emotionally complicate your relationships with each other. If you find a nice girl or boy, or whatever who isn¡¯t part of this group, and you get in bed with them, then whatever. Just use protection because, again, needless complications. This leads into rule six. No hookers. I¡¯m looking at you, boys.¡± As one, every male member in the room looked at each other and the Master in shock and confusion. I noticed Nel trying to hide a snicker and Zynna rolling her eyes. ¡°While ya¡¯ll will have an allowance, I will not tolerate you blowing your deckra to get blown. I know brothels are a common sight, especially in the pleasure district. But I will not tolerate you entering an establishment. The only exception, again, is if you need to purchase services to maintain a cover. But if this does happen, you are to pay the man or woman, politely tell them that you are not of a sexuality that has you attracted to them and tell them you¡¯re embraced by the fact and pay them extra to keep a secret. Is all this clear?¡±


    Everyone gave a wordless nod of understanding before the Master moved on to a new topic. ¡°Now, you heard me right when I said ya¡¯ll will be getting an allowance. But you should think of this as a paycheck that you need to earn. Every week, each of you will receive credits equal to three gold deckra. That¡¯s thirty credits a piece for you to spend on food and other needs. If you run out before the next Sacreday, you¡¯re outta luck unless another party member is feeling generous.¡± We all looked at each other with open excitement. That was equal to three hundred coppers, which could buy a lot of crafting supplies. ¡°Now, the craftsmen in the party will be getting extra.¡± Navor continued.


    ¡°Ma¡¯am.¡± Spoke up Ozwald. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I feel like you¡¯re playing favorites of the halfbreed and Hellspawn.¡±


    ¡°Ozwald, quit bitching.¡± Navor scolded. ¡°These extra deckra are only for buying more crafting supplies or new tools. Nothing else. Or do you want your gear to be repaired with tape and glue when it breaks?¡±


    The boy turned his gaze away in shame. ¡°No, ma¡¯am. Sorry.¡±


    When the Master spoke next, she was addressing the entire group. ¡°I¡¯m only doing this because I know what to expect. You all will have equipment and gear break, and you will need them repaired. If not for this extra pool of coin, the technicians in the party would need to choose between eating or buying materials. That would cause serious tension between them and the rest of you because they will feel used and undervalued. Happy technicians make happy teams. Am I clear?¡±


    Again, everyone nodded. With that response, Master Navor leaned back and folded her arms over her chest. ¡°Good to hear. Iver, Kharmor, meet me later, and I¡¯ll give you your extra funds and lay out the rules tied to it.¡±


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡± Both S18 and I said in tandem.


    ¡°Now, starting tomorrow, I will talk to each of you one-on-one to give you your first jobs. You¡¯re welcome to discuss the details with each other and ask for advice and even help if it does not interfere with other jobs. Aaanndd, party, break.¡± With this last line, Navor threw out her arms dramatically.


    S18 and Demierra walked away, totally unphased by this outburst. Nel gave the Master a small smile before she left the space. Ferris let out a huffing chuckle before moving to catch up with Nel. Zynna just rolled her eyes again before walking away. She seemed to do that a lot. That only left me and Ozwald in the kitchen, and Ozwald was glaring at me like I had wronged him somehow.


    ¡°Great, an enemy from the outset.¡± I thought to myself with thick sarcasm. I turned away from him with no reaction and made to follow Ferris and Nel. I found the two sitting on the floor in the ground floor common area. I popped a squat beside the two and listened in on the talk.


    ¡°So, what kind of jobs do you think we¡¯ll get?¡± Ferris asked with brimming energy.


    ¡°Probably reasonably simple and safe tasks to start.¡± Nel replied. Her tone and posture were far more relaxed than Ferris¡¯s.


    ¡°I hope I get sent undercover into a gang to kill someone nasty. Like a gang leader.¡± Ferris commented.


    ¡°Dude.¡± I said with concern. ¡°You seriously want to kill someone?¡±


    ¡°Well, someone bad, obviously.¡± Ferris said as he brushed off my concern.


    ¡°I¡¯d rather not kill if I have the choice.¡± I muttered.


    Nel turned to me with a question in her eyes and on her lips. ¡°Ives¡¯, I thought you wanted to kill your uncle?¡±


    I leaned back and propped myself up on my arms as I stared at the ceiling. ¡°I mean, yeah. But that¡¯s different. The sinvious trog killed my father and tortured me for the better part of a year while calling it training.¡±


    ¡°What about Rose?¡± queried Ferris.


    I dropped my head to look at the Elf in confusion. ¡°What about her?¡±


    ¡°Would you kill her if you were given the chance?¡±


    I looked to my right as I chewed on my lip in thought. Finally, I fell back, letting my arms spread out to either side. ¡°I honestly couldn¡¯t say. I mean, yeah. I¡¯m seriously ticked off with the lady for what she did. But¡­ I guess part of me still has feelings for her. I can¡¯t help but wonder if we could mend things.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s likely.¡± Said Nel. ¡°But I hope it¡¯s true. She may have been a pain.¡±


    ¡°And pushy.¡± Interjected Ferris.


    ¡°And pushy.¡± Nel agreed.


    ¡°And had a serious ego.¡± Ferris added.


    ¡°Yes, and that too. But she was our pushy pain with an ego. I think she just made a bad choice because your uncle is her hero.¡±


    ¡°You think that¡¯s the only reason she abandoned me and betrayed the Order?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I know you have feelings for her, Iver, but Rose betrayed all of us. You got hurt worst, but we all got hurt.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± I growled in frustration. ¡°But it¡¯s a serious wound on my heart that only feels like it¡¯s getting worse with every passing day.¡± I sat up and wrapped my arms around my knees. The closed feeling gave me a sense of safety, if only slightly.


    Nennel gave me a kind but sad smile. ¡°If it¡¯s one thing I learned from losing my dad, it¡¯s not that it pain becomes less with time. It¡¯s that as time passes and we change, we grow as people to carry the burden just a little bit better with each passing year.¡±


    I looked at Nennel for a very long moment as I thought about what she said. That was some serious wisdom from a girl the same age as me. I hoped that what she said was true, because that would also help with my own father¡¯s death. I pulled myself to my feet as I said, ¡°Thanks, sis. That¡¯ll help a lot. But right now, I need a distraction from all this.¡± I gestured to the whole room.


    Ferris hopped to his feet. ¡°You wanna game for a bit? I brought my PanKal gaming cube, and it¡¯s set up in my room.¡±


    I gave him a patient smile before I said. ¡°I¡¯ll take you up on that later. I think right now, I¡¯m gonna work on a project or two.¡±


    <hr>


    I spent the next two hours holed up in my new room, working on several projects simultaneously. Several of the items I was crafting were for Nennel. I had promised her the year prior that I would craft gear to help her out in class, and I never really got around to it. I was going to make up for that and then some.


    My priority one for Nennel was an anklet that would disguise her like my mimic facade system. But I was struggling to downsize a system that took up the majority of the back of my gauntlet¡¯s hand to a small cuff that would still function as desired. When I got too frustrated with the cuff, I would swap over to a weapon for Nennel. I could¡¯ve just made another infusion dagger, and she would have been happy, but that felt cheap. I was making another infusion dagger, but that was for myself as a backup melee weapon and tool if things got serious.


    While I worked, my mind drifted to thoughts of Rose and the mess I had made of myself earlier that day. My mind wound up drifting to S18, Kharmor Gaibhnigh. Prior to the teleportation incident, the Half-Dwarf not only showed me up in mystechnology, my strongest subject, but he totally outstripped me with what he knew. I was not used to being stupider than someone else. I was always the smart one. I was the mystech prodigy that used his brilliance to outwit his enemies with unique gear. Before S18 had outclassed me, I had a glimmer of hope that I would earn the others¡¯ respect through my wit and guile. But with me being the second smartest in the group, I was a total chump.


    I grit my teeth at the thought of being a fool. I hated stupidity. It was something I would never have a tolerance for. In a world where only the strongest survive, those that could outwit the big strong oaf were the champions. Willful ignorance was a sin that I loathed, and compared to S18, I was stupid. I made a vow to myself that I would spend every scrap of free time I could find studying.


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    I was shocked out of my brooding by a rapping at my bedroom door. My head snapped up from my project, and I set down my soldering iron before rising to answer the door. I pulled the door open with unnecessary force, only to find a shadow standing in front of me. It took me a second to realize I was still wearing my welding goggles. I peeled back my goggles to find Navor standing at my door.


    ¡°Mind if I come in?¡± She asked. Her tone was annoyed but patient, with an undertone of understanding.


    Warily, I gave a single wordless nod before stepping aside to let the Master pass. She pulled out the chair from the standard desk and straddled it backward. ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting for you to come find me to talk about your crafting funds.¡±


    I sat down beside my workbench, head bowed, hands curled in my lap. ¡°Sorry, ma¡¯am. Today¡¯s been¡­ hard.¡±


    She gave a slow nod before she said, ¡°I understand that. But first business. After, we can talk personal. You and Kharmor each will have a pool of one platinum that can only be spent on crafting tools and supplies. Your BIC has already been updated with two bank accounts that will automatically be drawn from when you make a purchase. If you need a material or tool and the craft fund does not pay for it, let me know, and I¡¯ll reimburse you and fix the error. Make sense?¡±


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡± My tone reflected my emotional state, which was a strange mix of shame and excitement.


    ¡°Kay, business talk is over.¡± She leaned the chair forward with the balls of her feet as she draped her crossed arms over the back of the chair. ¡°Somethin¡¯ is chewing at you, kid. It¡¯s obvious. We¡¯re gonna need to work on your control over emotional expression. But that¡¯s on the docket for later. What¡¯s grinding your gut?¡±


    I chewed on my lip for a few moments as I debated how much to tell her. Finally, I gave up and told her everything. ¡°It¡¯s these new party members. And the party leader thing. And me making a total jackass fool of myself from the word go. I can tell that Ozwald and the others hate me because of what I am. But things only got worse when I said that I was a Type 3 Mastlok. I could tell that they thought I was an overachiever and that I was trying to prove that I was better than them. Which I wasn¡¯t trying to do at all.¡± I threw a hand in a gesture toward the Master. ¡°Then you went and made me party leader, and they thought you were playing favorites with the Hellspawn kiss ass. Then, when you pulled out that teleporter question, S18 went and made me look the fool in front of everyone. Not to mention my shameful state after the teleport and in the car ride here. Tack on my private room and extra funds from you.¡± I let out a grunting sigh of exasperation. ¡°None of them respect me and won¡¯t listen to a thing I have to say. I look like a weak ass, half-ass smart ass, and a jackass kiss ass.¡±


    ¡°Wow.¡± Navor commented with a smirk. ¡°That¡¯s a lot of ass for one man to handle.¡±


    ¡°But Master, that¡¯s just it. I¡¯m not a man. I¡¯m a boy who just got dropped in a man¡¯s shoes and told to run eighteen miles up a mountain.¡±


    ¡°Iver. I¡¯ll be honest with you. Yeah, I kinda am playing favorites. Because you¡¯re the only Dark Hunter in the group, you¡¯re going to be tested the most. This leadership role I dropped on you is just that, a test. True, your first impression wasn¡¯t great. And I agree that Ozwald, Zynna, and Demierra aren¡¯t fans of you. But that¡¯s a hurdle you¡¯ll need to overcome. Show them that your species doesn¡¯t matter, but your skill and mind do. And don¡¯t forget that Nennel and Ferris are there to support you. You¡¯re not alone in this.¡±


    I raised a brow at the Master. ¡°I notice that you didn¡¯t mention S18.¡±


    ¡°First, don¡¯t call him that. Neither of you are Slates anymore. Call him by his name. Second, the Half-Dwarf is an anomaly in the group. He¡¯s pretty much a loner with his own scars. True, his damn smart, but he has his own shortcomings. And here¡¯s a little secret.¡± Navor leaned in and cupped her mouth with one hand as she mock-whispered. ¡°He¡¯s aiming to become a Type 3 Mastlok.¡±


    ¡°What?! As in a Dark Hunter?¡±


    She teetered her hand left and right in a so-so motion. ¡°yes and no. He doesn¡¯t know about the Dark Hunters, but he does have some suspicions. He¡¯s already part of Blackened Crown and Burning Hand, but his main goal right now is to prove he¡¯s worth joining Crimson Blade. I gotta say, the guy can tussle with the best of ''em¡¯ in your year. I¡¯m sizing him up to see if he¡¯ll make a good Dark Hunter. After you get to know him better, I¡¯ll ask for your input.¡± She rose from her seat and stepped up to me as I stood. ¡°I know things are going to be tough in the days to come, and today was pretty bleak.¡± She laid a firm hand on my shoulder. ¡°But I have faith that you can pull this off.¡± She moved to the door of the bedroom and laid her hand on the nob. But she stopped and spoke one last line to me.


    ¡°If you feel up to it later, I¡¯ll treat you to some Nemmiean Ramen later.¡± She didn¡¯t even wait for my answer before she left. I watched as the Master closed the door behind her and waited several moments after to make sure neither she nor anyone else was going to bother my work. When I was positive that I wouldn¡¯t be bothered, I turned back to my crafting. The act of creation was soothing for me. It put me in a meditative state as I shaped metal, wire, plastic, and stone. Even as I tested, planned, and retested, part of me was brewing over what Master Navor told me.


    I couldn¡¯t twiddle my thumbs and just coast along during the mission. Just doing just good enough wouldn¡¯t be good enough by Navor¡¯s standards. That meant just good enough could never be my baseline. While this trip was an honest test for everyone, it was even more so for me. I had to prove my skills in every field as well as my ability to lead and earn the respect of others, despite my species. I had to think before every action I took and take action with maximum effort. If I half-assed anything from then on, I would regret it.


    So, I locked myself in my room for the rest of that day and the night after. I studied technical designs and crafted late into the night. The next morning I wandered from my room into the kitchen, still tired from the late night. It was there that I found Navor cooking breakfast for the party. Demierra, Zynna, and Nennel were already in the kitchen, and Nennel was helping the Master cook. Demierra was sitting at the dining table looking bored with her jaw propped against a loosely closed fist as she watched the Master scramble a pan of eggs. Zynna was leaning with her back against the wall opposite me, with one hand held behind her head while her other one operated the holographic interface of her therra-node.


    ¡°And so the first male rises.¡± Master Navor playfully mocked with a smirk.


    ¡°And, of course, it had to be the horned Neffer of all of them.¡± Zynna bemoaned.


    ¡°Hey!¡± Nennel snapped at the Half-Elf from over her shoulder. ¡°Iver is a skilled and valued guy.¡±


    ¡°So skilled and useful that he pukes after a teleport and can¡¯t handle a bit of smoke?¡± Demierra pointed out with thick sarcasm. The comment drew a blush of embarrassed shame to my face and forced my gaze to the floor.


    ¡°So you judge a man on a bad day that he can¡¯t help?¡± Master Navor asked with a chiding tone.


    Demierra sat up and leaned toward the master as she got engaged in the conversation. ¡°Someone is their most honest self on their bad days. That¡¯s when they show their true colors, whether they are a jackass, or xenist, or cowardly.¡±


    ¡°Well, if that¡¯s true,¡± Navor started with a wise and knowing smirk as she dished up a plate of eggs for each student. ¡°Then, shouldn¡¯t that mean I should judge you based on that terrible day you had last year? You remember. That day you slept in past morning physical training. The same day you tripped over yourself during that team tactics battle and lost your squad the match. And wasn¡¯t that also the same day when you miscast a spell in mage class and critically wounded a fellow student?¡±


    ¡°What?! No!¡± Demierra shot to her feet in defense. ¡°That was totally different.¡±


    ¡°Different, how?¡± Navor teased. ¡°If I based my perspective of your character on that day, then you''re a lazy and dangerous klutz. Compare that to Iver. He had never teleported before, and almost everyone loses their lunch on the first trip. And his coughing fit on the ride down here. If you stopped to learn anything about the boy, then you¡¯d know that he¡¯s from a Green Threat Zone city out in the wilds. He¡¯s never dealt with smog, and I know your eyes would have been watering at the least if you¡¯d sat in the truck.¡± As she spoke, Nennel slid bacon and sausage onto each plate before starting up a batch of pancakes. Navor walked over to the tall Dracose and forcefully set a plate down before the girl as she commanded, ¡°Now, sit, and eat.¡±


    It was at this point that Zynna pushed off from the wall, fluidly moved into the kitchen, and scooped up a plate and fork as she said, ¡°It sounds to me like you¡¯re playing favorites, Master.¡± She said the title with her own brand of snide sarcasm. ¡°You give a weak-looking, kiss-ass, foul-blood who¡¯s never been in a big city the leader role. Then you give him his own room and give him extra coin to tinker with.¡± Zynna scooped a mouthful of egg into her mouth before she said around the food, ¡°It doesn¡¯t seem all that fair to me.¡± She then swallowed before finishing her tirade with, ¡°And I highly doubt that,¡± She jabbed her fork towards me, ¡°Nitwit is a Type 3 Mastlok. A wrench juggling tinker, I¡¯d believe that. I might even believe that he¡¯s a caster of some kind, but not a combat caster. But he claims to be part of Crimson Blade. That¡¯s a joke and a half, coming from someone as weak as him.¡±


    Navor gave the Half-Elf an amused grin as she said, ¡°Then spar him some time.¡±


    Zynna eyed me skeptically. I gave her a bashful smile, but it was only half genuine. While I was embraced by the Master¡¯s comment, I wanted to look weak for the Half-Elf. That way, when I sparred with her and made her eat dirt, it would be all the more impressive. I needed to think tactically. Every move, every word needed to count. I had to be the most scheming and devious Darkling I could be. True, most people already were wary around my kind and thought of Darklings as the most devious of Halflings. But I needed to use that stereotype and subvert expectations. I was going to play a layered game. If people thought I was scheming, then I¡¯d play weak, simple, and stupid till they believed it and turn the tides when it suited me best.


    ¡°Psh.¡± Zynna scoffed. ¡°When I have time, then I¡¯ll put the Neffer in his place. Till then, I¡¯m gonna prep for my job.¡± With that, she scarfed down her food before setting the plate aside and fleeing the room in what she must have thought was a calm and dignified manner.


    ¡°Wait. She already has her first job?¡± I asked.


    Nennel strolled over to me and shoved a plate of food into my hands as she said, ¡°Yep. The Master already gave all the ladies of the party our adventuring seals, needed documents, as well as our first jobs.¡±


    ¡°Seriously?¡± I pleaded. I felt like a fool for sleeping in, but I was somewhat mollified by the fact that I was the first male to wake. ¡°Do women normally wake up at such an ungodly hour?¡±


    ¡°I guess you could call me my womanly talents.¡± Nel teased.


    ¡°Any respectable adventurer wakes before dawn.¡± Demierra proclaimed as she stood and walked out with her plate of food in hand.


    Navor approached me with a plate meant for me. ¡°Scarf down this munch, and we¡¯ll talk work.¡±


    I eyed the two plates of food for a moment. I could eat that much, and I was that hungry. But should I? I did as I was told, shoveling eggs and meat into my mouth like a starving man, adding pancakes to one of the plates not long after I started eating. Once I finished, I cleaned my dishes and turned to the Master.


    ¡°Follow me to my room.¡± Was all she said before she left the room. I hurried to keep up after I realized that she had never told anyone where her room was.


    She turned down the hall with the three trainee rooms on the ground floor before stopping at the blank wall that ended the hall. I watched in confusion as she reached into a pocket and pulled out something in a closed fist with which she knocked on the wall in a strange and complex rhythm. As soon as she finished, a door unlike any other faded into reality to take up the wall. The door in question was shaped from smooth black stone, with threads and veins of sapphire blue laced throughout the surface. Its surface was carved in a detailed design of four dragons curling around the corners to breathe flames that faded into a maw of sharp teeth at the center of the surface. The handle of the door was a latch carved from the jaw of some beast, teeth still in place.


    As soon as the door was fully formed, she slipped whatever she had in hand back into her pocket before looking over her shoulder at me. She gestured with her head for me to follow, even as she opened the door. I doubled my pace to follow her through the gate and into a strange room, unlike anything I had ever seen before. Beyond the door was a circular, full-sized bed, the base carved from cherry wood to display horses running in a herd across the length. The mattress was covered in fur pelts from a range of creatures I didn¡¯t even try to identify. The circular walls were lined with stuffed and mounted trophies from some of the most dangerous creatures across Anogwin. Just from a quick scan, I identified a mother manticore¡¯s three barbed tails, a kraken¡¯s fang, a sheerfang spider¡¯s mandibles, and an averon¡¯s massive clawed arm with crystals still intact. But the most notable showpiece was the mounted head of a stigmagaunt, set above her bed. Besides the trophies, I also noticed several pieces of fine art. Three paintings were mounted to the walls, each depicting some brutal display of nature at war with itself. To the left of the room was a large holo-screen television over a bookcase weighed down with paperbacks, hardcovers, and leather-bound tomes. To my right was a large desk made from cherry wood that matched her bed with a modern wheeled chair fitted with a fur-lined back and seat padding. When I stepped deeper into the room, I found the wall that the door was attached to was lined with an arsenal of tools of death. Everything from daggers to war hammers, and pistols to infantry ballistic cannons were all set into a Black Rack that covered the whole of the wall.


    Navor unceremoniously flopped into her desk chair before motioning me to take a seat on the bed. I did as I was indicated, feeling totally out of place as I took my seat on a mattress that seemed to engulf my form, shaping to my ass and supporting it.


    ¡°Before you ask,¡± Navor started as she set her feet atop her desk and started cleaning her nails with a knife large enough to butcher most medium-sized creatures. ¡°It¡¯s a pocket dimension.¡± She off-handedly waved her blade to the entire room without looking up from her nails. ¡°I call it my pocket private space. No one can enter without my express permission and personal intent for them to do so.¡± In a fluid motion, she launched the blade in her hand to bury it into the wood floor at my feet. It was only then that I noticed that the floor was carved from a single massive piece of dark-stained oak.


    ¡°So here¡¯s the deal, kid.¡± as she spoke, she started interacting with her therra, which to me looked like she was poking and swiping at mid-air. ¡°I¡¯m about to give you all the documents you¡¯ll need to pass as a Novitiate rank adventurer. Starting now and until we leave the city, I¡¯ll give you jobs. These jobs can be anything from catching a pickpocket to infiltrating a gang for info. I might send you on more complicated jobs, like infiltrating a business for one reason or another. In those instances, I¡¯ll give you most of what you need to take on the role. Anything I don¡¯t provide but tell you that you¡¯ll need is up to you to craft. Got it?¡±


    I gave a wordless nod, my posture ridged.


    ¡°Good. Now, your first job is simple. Three blocks from here, on Pellis Street and Niden Way, is a corner store run by a family of Ceangar. They¡¯ve had someone klepting random goods from their store for the past three months. Your job is to find this thief and put a stop to the problem. Am I clear?¡±


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡± I hastily replied.


    ¡°Glad to hear. Now, I¡¯ve given everyone else in the party a set hourly minimum they must meet when working a job up until completion. You have no such limits. Work when you want, as you want. But realize that this is part of your test.¡± Navor dropped her feet from her desk and posted both elbows on her knees as she gestured to the door with the large knife. ¡°To git.¡±


    As I left the room, I couldn¡¯t help but wonder how she got the blade from the floor near me and back into her hands without my noticing.

 PITM Chapter 13

    The LSN, or Living Sigil Network, is a worldwide digital network for data storage and communication. Some call it the Internet, or The Web, but most refer to it as the LSN. This network is named so because every single device connected to it is both a complex sigil device as well as a node for a global, ever-changing sigil. Hence the term Living Sigil.


    I sat outside the Kelker Corner Store, watching and waiting. After Navor had given me my job, I packed everything I thought I might need and set out on the three-block trip. I will admit that the brief trip was more stressful than I¡¯d liked. It seemed like everyone I passed glared at me with disdain. When I was in the process of crossing a road via a crosswalk when the traffic lights said to do so, some trog ran the light, and I swore that they were trying to make me into a new hood ornament. When I got to the shop and explained what I was there for, an elderly Ceangar woman told me I wasn¡¯t allowed to loiter in the store, regardless of my business.


    So there I was, sitting on a bench across the street, acting like I was reading the news on the therra while I waited for a thief. The shop next door to the corner store was an electronics repair business called Crossline Electronics Repair. I was tempted to stop in and see if I could buy some spare parts for my tinkering later. But I restrained myself because I had a job to do. Besides, the store didn¡¯t open until 11 AM.


    The minutes ticked by at a slothful pace that I found excruciating while I watched for a thief. When 11 o¡¯clock rolled around, I watched a middle-aged Human man step up to the repair shop with a keycard. Only minutes after the store door was opened by the man, Regulators pulled up in tactical cars, emergency lights blinking. A squad of four heavily armored Regulators stepped from two cars and hurried inside.


    With no sirens blaring but warning lights strobing and no one leaving the building, my curiosity was piqued. On a whim, I digitally plugged my therra into the local Regulator communication frequency. The security for their system was paltry, even for my basic skill level. So I was in and listening within moments. There was a lot of coded chatter between the agents on site and dispatch, but I caught one term that was used frequently. A ¡®code 6719-red¡¯. When I looked up what that meant on the LSN, I found it meant an accidental death during a break-in.


    That raised some questions. It wasn¡¯t a murder, or even an accidental murder, each with different codes from this 6719-red. I couldn¡¯t help but wonder how someone accidentally died in an electronic repair shop while looting it. Did the poor sod slip on a circuit board and break their neck? Maybe they somehow severed an artery on a piece of quartz board or plastic. I had to know the truth.


    So when half of the Regulators left the scene with the Human man, I moved to the back of the building through a side alley. With agile ease, I jumped a brick wall blocking off the backspace behind the shop. When I saw the magnetic lock of the back door, I thought I was lucky that I had prepared for lock picking ahead of time for just such an instance. I slapped a magnetic disruption disk on the lock and let it fry the battery to the magnet, only to find that I was even luckier than I thought. The lock had already been cracked. I pocketed the unused disk and slipped in through the door, quiet as a ghost.


    While I was looking up Regulator comms codes, I also took some time to check out their standard procedure. Two Regulators would stay behind to watch the crime scene while they waited for the investigation team to arrive. When I looked up response times to the local area, I estimated I had about ten minutes to get in, look around, and get out without getting caught.


    The lights of the shop were on, burning with a cold blue-white fluorescent light. The back room was a total mess. Rows of shelves lined the space. Each and every shelf was broken into cubbies that were labeled with a case identifier number and packed full of half-finished projects. As I examined the projects, I saw late-era cell phones, which were a rare sight these days, game consoles, standalone microwaves, power tools, laptops, holo-display televisions, and more that I didn¡¯t care to identify from the shambles of components heaped together.


    The whole space smelled of quartz dust from circuit boards, solder, and solvents. I noticed a door to the right side of the room from where I stood and slipped through it. There, I found what I was looking for. Laying on the floor was a male Moon Elf, dressed in a black thief¡¯s suit complete with a tool belt. He lay face down on the floor in a rather unflattering position. The corpse reeked of burnt meat and voided bowels.


    His light blue-white skin looked bruised from the neck up, with an ugly purple coloring. The corpse¡¯s pink-red hair was worn shaved on the sides and long on top and tied into a single braid down to his upper back. When I drew closer, I noticed that the royal purple sclera of his eyes was shot through with burst blood vessels. His goatee-covered jaw lay slack, swollen tongue just barely visible behind his pale lips. A RAT Tail cable ran from the base of his skull to attach to a personal computer terminal on the desk in front of him. I looked closer at the base of his RAT Tail to find the cable partly melted, and the mechanical slot mounted to the skull was blackened with scorch marks.


    The best I could figure was that the poor shmuck¡¯s neurons got cooked by Lethal Synaptic Stimulation Feedback, simply called Brain Scorch. The condition was a serious threat at the early age of full-dive. But Brain Scorch shouldn¡¯t have been possible in the modern age. I might not have been a digital world genius, but I was almost positive that there were dozens of countermeasures in place on all systems to prevent it.


    This made me wonder what he was digging into to cause something so serious. I looked around for another terminal that I was reasonably sure wouldn¡¯t cook my brain like an egg in a microwave. It was simple enough, as I found another identical terminal on the other side of the room. I snuck over to the computer and double-checked all of its access ports for traps before pulling the RAT Tail from the base of my own skull and slotting the jack into the appropriate port.


    My vision faded from reality into total darkness before blinking into cyberspace. I was dimly aware of my physical body, and if I focused, I could move my limbs if needed. The world around me was formed from simple and complex shapes made up of lines of a variety of colors. The space I was in was the local shop''s server. I floated in a narrow hall with rows of cubbies to either side, much like in the physical back room, only these were digital-floor-to-digital-ceiling walls made up of cubes with small doors. The floor and ceiling were simple plains of solid teal. The small cubes that made up either wall were sea foam green with navy blue handles.


    I floated down the aisle, looking for anything out of place. It didn¡¯t take long for me to find something. The first thing that I found was an open cubby near the floor. I poked my cyber head into the space to find it totally empty. I checked for residual data of what was kept there, but the space was scrubbed clean. I pulled my head free and stared at the open box for a few more moments while I thought. Then I noticed the next out-of-place thing.


    Near the top of the wall, to my left, was a small cube with an ajar door. I levitated up to the cracked door and pulled it open to find a digital folder. This folder looked to me like a nine-inch by five-inch box of black graphics with teal lines. Hovering over the folder was a label that read Customer Information & Critical Business Notes.


    I pulled out the folder from its space to hold it between both hands while I eyed the seam and lock. Sure enough, the folder was locked and secured with IC. This was displayed as a simple lock design that flexed and fluctuated with the occasional growth and retraction of small spike-like limbs. The spikes were a visual representation of IC, Intrusion Counter-measures, simply called ice. Comparing the IC on this digital folder to the IC I found in Academy files, the one I held then was painfully simple.


    I poked the lock with a single finger as I willed that digit to take the shape of a simple skeleton key. The actual shape of my finger didn¡¯t actually matter. What mattered was the Lock Breaker algorithm I had just plugged in. The warped digit slipped into the lock, and green threads of glowing light reached out from my keyed finger to make contact with the growing and retracting spikes of the IC. Each thread emitted a code when it came into contact with the IC, and within moments, the lock clicked open.


    Inside, I found two files, predictably labeled Customer Information and Critical Business Notes. Both of the files were shaped like twelve-sided polygons with navy blue faces and bright teal seams. I made a copy of both files and uploaded them to my therra for a later in-depth look. But I need to check something before I snuck a peek into either of those files.


    I closed the folder and activated a program installed into my dive avatar called Seek Sight. The program let me inspect the coding of other programs that I normally couldn¡¯t look into. I inspected the IC on the lock and found something interesting. My skeleton key had only finished the work of someone else who had started working to crack the security. I dug a little deeper and activated another program called Anyl-find to work in tandem with Seek Sight. Anyl-find was a friend to those like me who had a basic understanding of coding but weren¡¯t experienced enough to look at a second of code and identify what it did. When I found what I was looking for, my worries were confirmed, and my confusion cranked up another notch.


    The IC couldn¡¯t have cooked the thief¡¯s brain. It wasn¡¯t even Black IC, which could be dangerous. Black IC were hostile defensive programs that could cause serious damage to anything or anyone that was hooked up to the net and trying to break through it. The stuff I was looking at was tantamount to a simple three-pin padlock.


    That had me raising a digital eyebrow. I reactivated the IC and sealed the lock before putting the file back and pulling up the files I had copied. The thief had died while attempting to steal customer information and business notes. So, I started with the notes document, thinking that would be the most likely location to find something useful.


    The large majority of the document was utter gibberish to me. Here and there, I recognized terms like ¡®dividend¡¯ or ¡®equity¡¯, but the key info was at the end of the document. At the bottom of the bullet point note sheet was a single company name typed out in all red capitals font: ¡®VARTEX Corp¡¯. Beside the company name was a note that read  ¡®No Business Allowed¡¯.


    I closed the document and was about to jack out when I felt a rough hand grasp my arm and yank me to the side. My RAT Tail was unplugged aggressively and against my will. As reality came back into focus, I turned to whoever pulled me with an expression of shock, anger, and annoyance.


    I found myself looking up, face to face, with an angry-looking female Grytess Orc. She was dressed from the neck down in matt black tactical ballistic plate armor. Her head was half obscured by a matched black helmet with a one-way visor.


    ¡°What in the nine hells are you doing, kid?!¡± she demanded.


    I needed to think of an excuse and a believable one, fast. I decided to go with a half-truth warped in a simple lie.


    ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry, ma¡¯am. I just wanted to see what all the deal was.¡± I pointed to the back door with my free hand. ¡°I¡¯m th-the trash boy for the shop. I f-found the back door unlocked, and I g-got curious.¡± I hid my inward smirk as I used the stutter I had been so ashamed of for years as a tool. I pointed to the corpse with the same free hand. ¡°I poked m-my head in and found him th-there, like that, and I g-got worried.¡±


    The regulator looked at me in confusion, but she seemed to by the act. ¡°What does seeing a body have to do with you jacking in?¡±


    So, I doubled down on my lie. ¡°W-well, I¡¯ve been wanting to apprentice here. I¡¯ve been watching how everything works. When I saw the d-died guy, I panicked and thought the system was fried. I wanted to check and make sure everything was working. I-I was hoping that if I did good enough, I could earn that apprenticeship.¡±


    ¡°You see a body jacked into the system, and your first thought is to jack in too?¡± The Orc scoffed in disbelief. I was worried that she didn¡¯t buy the story until she said, ¡°Kids these days. So eager to look good, you don¡¯t think. That coulda¡¯ gotten you killed, boy.¡± She scolded. I lowered my gaze in mock shame and slightly curled in on myself to seem properly chided.


    Without another word, she dragged me by the arm out of the front of the shop, past her Human partner, to literally throw me into the street. ¡°I better not see you here again, fiend-kin.¡± She shouted at me before slamming the door shut. I staggered a few steps before falling onto my palms.


    I pulled myself to my feet and rushed to the sidewalk across the street as a passing car sped up in what I bet was an attempt to hit me. I turned to face the shop at spat into the gutter before wiping my mouth with the back of my hand as I mumbled, ¡°Damn Regs. Is everyone in this city out to get me?¡±


    I shoved my hands into my pockets as I slouched forward. The whole brief trip back to the bench across the street, I grit my teeth with a venomous vigor. I threw myself into the seat and crossed my arms as I brooded over what had just happened. It seemed like ever since I had arrived in the city, every adult had been either upset or downright hostile to me. Even the new members of my team were aggressive and derogatory to me. Was being a Darkling so bad?


    I chewed on my lip, so lost in thought I almost missed a compact figure leaving the corner store in a hurry with an armload of something. Was that a Ceangar? I wondered as I shot to my feet to make a hot pursuit.


    Sprinting, I crossed the street, and down the alley I had snuck down not twenty minutes before. I caught a glimpse of a shape flitting down a side path. With a new drive, I pushed on down the very same side path.


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Just as I caught sight of the nimble shape, it vanished down another side street. Whoever it was, they had a sizeable head start and knew these streets far better than me. So, I¡¯d need to find a way to outmaneuver them.


    Keeping up my pace, I closed the distance between me and the wall on my right. When I was halfway toward the corner that the shadow had turned down, I aimed my gauntlet at the corner of the building on that side. I triggered my grappling hook. The hook took root at the brick corner of the building beside me, and without skipping a beat, I immediately triggered the retraction of the cable. As I was pulled in, I lept, simultaneously triggering the first enchantment on my Pacer Shoes. My footwear gripped the wall face as if it were flat ground. I used the hook to keep myself stable as I ran along the wall, climbing up the face just as much as I ran across it.


    The moment I reached my hook, I fully detached the hook from the wall and kicked off the wall face as I triggered the second enchantment in my devious footwear. A controlled and directed blast of kinetic energy launched me forward and up. I landed safely in a crouch atop the rooftop across the sideroad the figure had turned down. I broke into another sprint across the roof toward where I knew the small stranger would have to reach next.


    I underestimated my momentum as I neared the edge of the roof and was forced to make another kinetic leap to the roof across the way. Unfortunately, I didn¡¯t check to make sure the next building¡¯s roof was the same level as the roof I was leaping from. As it turned out, the roof I was aiming for was two stories taller. I learned this seconds before I splatted against the wall like a wad of chewing gum at velocity. I peeled off the wall like overtaxed velcro. Before I could totally fall, I kicked off the wall with yet another kinetic jump to direct myself back onto the roof I had left. I landed with a directed tumble before popping back to my feet. I¡¯d need to practice with the shoes before I needed them in a serious pinch.


    I looked into the alley below to find the minute shape fleeing down another side path that dead-ended in a wire fence. Just when I thought they were about to stop and backtrack, they slipped through a small hole that I overlooked at the edge of the fence near the adjoining concrete wall. The Ceangar slowed after passing through the hole and trotted into the abandoned warehouse just on the other side.


    It was that warehouse that I had slapped against like a comedy stunt double. I took a moment to give the building a solid inspection from my position. The ground-floor windows were all barred shut with surface welded bars. The door the stranger had slipped through was half open, with a slack chain and a long-severed lock hanging from the rusted handle. Many of the windows at my level were all coated in grime and muck, a few of them were broken or just left open.


    I took one of these open windows as my ingress point. I found one, not far from the entrance the Ceangar took, that was just open enough for me to fit through if I got creative with my tumbling. With a running start, I leaped at my target window and angled myself sideways in mid-air to slip through the space. After I passed through the entry with no issue, I tucked and rolled. When I came to a stop, I thanked the Nameless Goddess that I hadn¡¯t just dived headfirst into one of the many abandoned desks in the large room I had landed in.


    The space was dark, musty, and smelled overwhelmingly of moldering wood and rust. The dark aspect caused me little issue thanks to my species. One of the few authentic things I had learned about Darklings was that we have exceedingly impressive vision in dark spaces. Of course, this came at the cost of painful light sensitivity. But I had long since gotten used to the needles in my eyes in lit spaces. That didn¡¯t mean I was immune to light. Camera flashes and other similar effects dialed up the feeling of needles in my eyes to molten daggers.


    I crept through the office space, keeping my eyes and ears on edge for anyone in the space. I had heard stories of Ceangar gangs pretending to be Human children right up until they stabbed and mugged their tag (slang term for a target for robbery or murder). I was not eager to find a blade in my guts. So I stayed on high alert as I passed from the office space into a dank hallway. The walls of the hall had large holes in the drywall from looters taking the copper piping and valuable wiring. Bare support beams were visible every few paces down the hall, between the open doorways with doors stolen right off the hinges.


    I stopped at each doorway, peeking in to examine the space before moving on once I was sure they each were empty. I was on my way toward the stairwell when I stopped near the obvious exit. A space to my left once held a metal door. I could tell from the matching metal frame that was patched with peeling paint to reveal thick rust beneath. A metal door was something to take note of. That normally meant the space required stronger security. I knew I would likely find little more than dust and empty boxes. But I took my chances in the hope of finding something useful.


    I struck gold as the doorway opened onto a scaffolding system that overhung the warehouse storage area. The metal walkways were meant for maintenance crews to work on the automated hoists and cranes that moved cargo from one location to another. The only thing that remained of those systems was a lattice of rusting rails that hung below where I was and over the expansive room below.


    The cavernous space beneath me was broken up only by a few steel support pillars, a scattering of smashed crates, and a carpet of trash and debris. In a corner of this site of disarray was a single point of light. I crept across the scaffolding to get a closer look. When I was right above the small circle of light, I realized what it was. A Light Stone, a simple enchanted item that could be picked up at any market or corner store, hung from a cord to aluminate a small space that was carpeted with stained, torn, and burst pillows. Among the pillows were small broken toys, half-full snack food bags, and assorted keepsakes that only a child would take an interest in.


    That told me enough of what was going on, but the three shadowed figures that huddled at the edge of the light around something confirmed it for me.


    ¡°Come on, Bit. Hand it over.¡± Came a young boy¡¯s voice in a demanding tone.


    ¡°Byte, don¡¯t be an ass.¡± An older boy¡¯s voice said in a stern tone.


    ¡°Oh, come on, Gig.¡± said the first boy. ¡°I¡¯m not being an ass. I¡¯m just hungry.¡±


    ¡°Bit klept it. So he gets the first handful.¡± Said the older boy.


    ¡°Yeah!¡± said an even younger boy as the smallest shadow stepped into the center of the light.


    He definitely was the figure I saw leaving the corner store. The kid, a young Human boy no older than seven years, was dressed in grungy jeans with holes in both knees, a stained blue t-shirt, and street shoes that looked near the breaking point. His chocolate brown hair was an utter mess that looked to have been cut by an armature, possibly done himself.


    Close behind the first boy was a second. This one was older and looked to be around twelve years old. He was dressed in just as dirty black jeans that were held up by a belt, clearly meant for an adult. His red hoodie was smudged with dirt, grease, some other unknown substances, and a hole at his right elbow. This boy¡¯s shoes looked better, but were clearly stolen because they were a few sizes too big. He made up for the size difference by wearing several different socks on each foot, none of them matching. His hair was a caramel brown-blond and was almost shaved to the scalp. What hair was left was a thick peach fuzz across this head.


    Standing protectively in front of the first two boys was a third. This boy looked only a few years younger than me, maybe thirteen or fourteen years old. He was dressed in a grimy green t-shirt under a just-as-grimy jean jacket that had seen far better days. He wore stained and smeared gray jeans with ragged cuffs over shoes that were actually falling apart, held together with tape and wire. This boy¡¯s hair was copper-burgundy and worn long, down to his shoulders. His hair looked greasy and ill-kempt.


    ¡°Are you sure you weren¡¯t followed?¡± The oldest boy pressed.


    ¡°Some schizo tried to chase me,¡± the youngest boy said around a mouthful of food. ¡°But I lost the skavy before I even hit the fence.¡±


    I took that as my cue. I latched my squid hook to the metal ceiling above with a reverberating clang before I made a controlled drop just on the edge of the light. As one, the three boys whirled to face me. They all looked totally panicked. So I raised my hands in a gesture of peace as I slowly walked forward. I also made sure Venna was invisible so that I looked totally unarmed.


    ¡°You¡¯re gonna need to work on your evasion, kid.¡± I said with a kind and amused smile.


    The younger two made to bolt for the door while the older one pulled a weapon from his back pocket. I triggered a kinetic jump only strong enough for me to block their route of escape as I said, ¡°Whow, whow. I¡¯m not here to hurt you.¡±


    The younger two skidded to a stop before backpedaling behind the oldest, who pointed a pistol at me.


    ¡°Yeah, like we¡¯ll believe that dreck.¡± The oldest snapped as he stepped in front of the younger two.


    ¡°Hey.¡± I said in mock defense. ¡°You don¡¯t even know me. How do you know I¡¯m spewing dreck?¡±


    ¡°Because,¡± the gun-wielding boy licked his lips in a nervous action. ¡°If you¡¯re here, you either want what we have or to hurt us. That¡¯s always how it goes.¡±


    ¡°And if I said that I was here to help?¡± I asked in a light tone as I moved my raised hands in a ¡®what if¡¯ gesture.


    ¡°I¡¯d call that a lie!¡± the armed boy snapped. ¡°Now leave before I put a slug between your eyes.¡±


    I gave him a look that said I knew what he claimed was total crap before kicking up a cloud of dust and debris into his face. In the same motion, I slipped to the side as the gun went off in a blind shot. I closed the distance and harmlessly disarmed the kid in a single smooth action. He staggered back while wiping the dust from his eyes. I ejected the weapon¡¯s magazine and pumped the slide to eject the primed round before pocketing the magazine and tossing the useless weapon at the oldest boy¡¯s feet.


    ¡°I could¡¯ve killed all three of you before you could escape or hit me once. Now, do you believe that I come in peace?¡±


    The oldest boy eyed me for a long moment before snatching the pistol from the ground. While all this happened, the younger two hid in the corner. ¡°Then what do you want?¡± snapped the oldest. I could tell that he was trying to seem tough for the sake of the other two.


    I stepped into the light to reveal myself, which drew gasps from the three while I flopped down onto a cushion. The pad was shallower than I thought, and my tailbone screamed at me from the impact. In an open show of weakness, I leaned to the side and massaged a butt cheek. ¡°So here¡¯s the deal.¡± I started as I patted the cushions beside me in a sign for them to sit down. It took them a long few moments before they each took a seat, but all three of them were in positions to easily jump up and bolt if needed.


    ¡°I was hired to catch a thief that has been regularly kelpting from the Kelkade Corner Store. I¡¯m guessing that¡¯s you three.¡± I gave each of them a pointed look. ¡°So here¡¯s the deal. I¡¯ll give you some advice to make your klepting a bit easier, and I might even be able to get you guys some food and new clothes if I can swing things right.¡±


    ¡°And why would you do that?¡± The oldest snapped at me. ¡°Yeah! Why!¡± parroted the youngest.


    ¡°Before I give you my backstory, how bout we give names? I¡¯m Iver.¡±


    The middle boy scoffed as he said, ¡°What a stupid name.¡±


    I eyed him till he looked away, but other than that, I let it slide. I knew I was terrifying to these kids, but I honestly did want to help them.


    ¡°I¡¯m Gig.¡± said the oldest. He nodded over to the middle boy. ¡°He¡¯s Byte, and the young one is Bit.¡±


    ¡°Like sizes of digital data? I like it.¡± I said with an open smile. ¡°So, here¡¯s the deal, guys. Up until just last year, I was in the same position as you all. My father was snuffed, and I was left on the streets to fend for myself. So let¡¯s just say I have a soft spot for you all.¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡± Gig accused. ¡°And why should we believe you?¡±


    I decided to take a gamble and tossed him the magazine to his pistol. Then I leaned back on posted arms as I said, ¡°If I¡¯m lie¡¯n, I¡¯m die¡¯n. If you don¡¯t trust me, then shoot me.¡±


    Gig scooped up the magazine and slapped it into place. ¡°Then what do you want?¡±


    I scrunched up my lips as I thought of a reasonable trade for what I was offering. It was easy to tell that they wouldn¡¯t take charity from a stranger. ¡°I¡¯m new to the city. How about I ask you guys for info on the local area in exchange for the goods I¡¯m offering?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all?¡± Byte asked in disbelief.


    ¡°Hey, I¡¯m from a Green Zone city past the walls. I only just arrived here yesterday, and I¡¯ve got no clue who to know or avoid, where not to go, or what to ask to get the good stuff.¡±


    ¡°Seriously?¡± Gig asked in disbelief.


    I gave a noncommittal shrug. ¡°How would you feel if you had just been dropped into a totally unfamiliar environment that you had never known before?¡±


    ¡°I-I don¡¯t know.¡± Gig bashfully admitted.


    ¡°Well, I''m pretty sure that if you got spontaneously teleported into the depths of a forest, you''d want to safely locate food and water as well as how to build a shelter. That¡¯s all I¡¯m asking for. Info to keep me in one piece while I¡¯m in the city.¡±


    ¡°And what do we get in this exchange?¡± Gig asked with a wary tone. ¡°Yeah, what?¡± echoed Bit.


    I couldn¡¯t help but give an honest grin. I had always wanted siblings, and those three were the best kind of family, in my opinion. ¡°Well, for starters, I¡¯ll give you guys some advice to make your klepting easier and safer. That much I¡¯ll give free of charge as a show of good faith. But if you can give me the general download on the area, I¡¯ll buy all three of you each four fresh changes of clothes and a solid meal. And if I can come to you guys with questions later, for each question answered, I¡¯ll buy each of you a hot meal. I¡¯ll even throw in an extra, sweet bonus.¡± I left the baited question hanging like a fishing line. With a knowing smile, I finished my lure to draw them into asking.


    What I was doing was a minor form of social engineering. Social engineering is a key tool in spy work. This is something everyone does to some degree without knowing just because of how a sapient mind works. Asking leading questions, leaving a common phrase half-finished to cause an idea, or tricking someone into believing something that was implied but never said are all just a few examples of social engineering. A carefully worded question or two and a few leading comments can make someone come up with an idea that you plant in their mind and make them think they came up with it all on their own. This can make someone give you information that they might not have intended to share.


    What I was doing might have been seen as underhanded by some people, but in my mind, it was for the good of these kids.


    ¡°What kind of bonus?¡± Asked Gig, still wary of me.


    ¡°We talken clat?¡± Asked Byte with excitement.


    ¡°Sorry, kiddo.¡± I apologized. ¡°I might have an income, but I¡¯m not exactly swimming in coin. What I¡¯m talking about is if you hear something worth knowing and you stop by my place, I¡¯ll pay you in food and supplies for the info.¡±


    ¡°And what¡¯s stopping us from feeding you total dreck news to keep feeding us?¡± Gig asked.


    I gave the kid another honest smile as I said, ¡°If you come over with or without info, I will feed you if I can. If you come with good info and I don¡¯t have the means to give you food, I¡¯ll give you useful supplies.¡±


    ¡°What supplies could you possibly give us that would help?¡± Byte accused in question.


    I gave a simple shrug before I lifted up my right hand and revealed Venna for open display. ¡°I¡¯m pretty good with tools. I could give you useful survival gear, raw crafting material to sell off for some spare clat, or I might be able to craft you something special if the info is good enough.¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡± Gig gave in. ¡°Where can we find you?¡±


    ¡°South East of Kelker Corner Store on Bold Saber St., look for the house with the razor-wire rose painted on it. My party is staying there, so don¡¯t get freaked if a Dracose or an old war hound of a Human lady answers the door. Just ask for Iver.¡±

 PITM Chapter 14

    IC (pronounced ¡°ice¡±) stands for Intrusion Countermeasures. This is an advanced form of Anti-virus and Anti-malware. Black IC is an aggressive form of IC that stops incoming attacks and lashes out with offensive counter-codes that damage the source device of incoming attacks. If a hacker is using Full-Dive technology to directly inject their consciousness into the digital network, Black IC can be lethal.


    So I took Bit, Byte, and Gig on a whirling shopping spree. I got a strange sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu that I didn¡¯t figure out until I was buying the boys¡¯ street tacos. Thallos had done the same for me before he whisked me away to the Academy. I guess what I was doing was similar. I had bought each boy an expedition backpack, each a separate color to keep them easily organized but dark colors so they would be less noticeable. I got Gig a gray, green, and black camo bag, Byte a red and gray bag, and Bit an orange and brown bag. I also bought each of them new shoes designed for serious wear and tear, and 4 changes of clothes. Two summer outfits and two winter outfits per kid. I packed each of their bags with a steel water bottle with a built-in purification system, a high-power flashlight armed with several flash settings, an insulated adult sleeping bag, a sowing kit with thirty feet of military-grade thread, a complete first-aid kit, 4 REMs (Ready to Eat Meals) a person. I also provided Gig with three full magazines for his pistol.


    The last thing I made sure to get them was a Red Brazier to share, with four Greater potency, Honed quality Fire Myst Cluster-sized crystals for fuel for the burner. A Red Brazier is a mobile firepit. The bright red box could burn in the worst of weather and keep lit in anything short of complete submersion or total vacuum.


    My final act of weaponized kindness was to purchase each of the three boys two tacos a piece. That totally depleted what little remained of my personal funds for the week. I wound up totally broke on my first day on the job. To help me feel better, I thought of my total loss of funds as a long-term investment. That didn¡¯t stop said investment from being almost physically painful as I watched my digital wallet get turned inside-out.


    While we ate, the three gave me a quick rundown of the local area, specifically where to avoid and which gangs held which patches of territory. I promised them another meal the next week if they could give me a few locations where I could pick up supplies and pro-specialized information for a reasonable price. And so I went back to the home base with not a single copper to my name in my personal account.


    I walked in through the front door in a dejected stance. I turned around from closing the front door to find Navor sitting at the dining table with a whiskey glass in one hand and a fresh pulp-romance novel in the other. On the table beside the master was a three-quarters full bottle of Blue Flame CopperHead Whiskey. I thought it was too early for drinking, but when I checked the clock on my therra, I found it was 6 PM. I was shocked by this. In a city that never saw the sky and produced its own light, time seemed to have little meaning.


    Without looking up, Navor asked, ¡°You find the thief?¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure how to answer her. Technically, yes, but I not only let them go but gave them supplies and advice to improve their theft skills. I doubted that was what she wanted to hear, so I decided to lie about it and ask about the murder I found.


    ¡°Not quite.¡± I said as I scratched the back of my head in embarrassment. ¡°I thought I found them, but they got away after I got caught up in a Regulator crime scene next door.¡±


    Navor looked at me over the edge of her book as she asked, ¡°Crime scene?¡±


    I stepped into the kitchen, excitedly talking with my hands. ¡°Yeah! Some thief broke in to steal store data but got his brain cooked.¡±


    ¡°It must¡¯ve been black IC.¡± she said with a shrug before looking back to her book.


    ¡°But that¡¯s just it.¡± I continued with what some might call a manic tone and look in my eye. ¡°I checked. The IC I found was cheap at best, and the cut-ear died trying to steal a registry of customer info and some business notes.¡± It was then that I realized I had said too much.


    Navor set down her glass and book on the table before turning back to me with a look of annoyance and disappointment. ¡°Iver¡­ You¡¯re telling me that you find a victim of Brain Scorch¡­ And the first thing you do is jack into the same system to see what killed him?¡±


    I took a reflexive step back, looking anywhere but at her. I didn¡¯t even notice when the hand the had been rubbing the back of my head subconsciously clenched a fistful of hair and started tugging.


    The gripping and tugging of my hair was something I always seemed to do when I was being scolded for something I knew would be considered wrong. When I was very young, I was prone to physically punishing myself whenever I got in trouble. When my father realized that he couldn¡¯t totally stop me from these acts, he convinced me to yank on my hair instead of beating my head against a table. The hair tugging became a subconscious action that only really surfaced at times like this scolding. It wasn''t until I saw a therapist that I learned that the self-abuse thing was a common stress response for many types of neuro-divergent individuals.


    My tail thrashed behind me like a serpent having a seizure. ¡°I-I¡­¡± I was doing my best not to panic. Finally, I just gave up on any pretense of hiding my mistake. I dropped my hands to my side and lowered my head in shame. ¡°Yeah. I didn¡¯t think that through.¡±


    ¡°Revnerra¡¯s dark wings, damned right!¡± She snapped as she slowly rose from her seat. This slow motion was far more threatening than if she had just shot to her feet and stormed toward me. ¡°You are unbelievably lucky that you didn¡¯t get your brains scrambled for that action.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, ma¡¯am.¡± I apologized with guilt, my eyes glued to the floor between my feet. ¡°You¡¯re right.¡±


    ¡°Damn right, I¡¯m right.¡± Navor chided as she loomed over me despite her only being a few inches taller. ¡°Now, did you, finish, your job?¡± She spoke each clipt word with authority, both heavy and scolding.


    I knew that then was not the time to explain to her the situation with Gig and the others. So, I only shook my head in the negative.


    She folded her arms over her chest and turned away with an annoyed huff before she dropped herself back into her seat. ¡°I expect I don¡¯t have to tell you to double down on that job.¡± she spoke as she refilled her already partly full glass from the bottle. I quickly shook my head again before I fled from the room.


    My reason for fleeing the room was more than just feeling chided. I did feel like a total fool for taking the gamble that could have resulted in me frying my synapses. But there was something deeper and more related to the master than to me. The drinking. My father had been a barely functioning alcoholic when he was alive. Because of that, I always found myself on edge when I was in a room with an adult drinking hard liquor.


    I rounded the corner to find Ozwald leaning against the wall, clearly listening in. I came to a sudden stop just out of sight of the kitchen as the black Human boy pushed off the wall to give me a broad and cocky smirk. ¡°So Fiend-kin, it sounds like you aren¡¯t leadership material. Getting distracted from the job you were given. Acting impulsively to feed that curiosity. An act that could have gotten you killed.¡± He spun on his heel and walked down the hall, away from me, with his hands clasped behind his back as he continued to speak over his shoulder. ¡°I would say that it¡¯s a shame that you didn¡¯t wind up in a morgue. But this just gives me more time to prove to the whole party who the genuine leader should be.¡±


    I was about to open my mouth to reply, but Navor called out from the kitchen. At first, I thought she was about to yell at me again or punish me. But she only said, ¡°Ozwald, Maverick, mandatory sparing session. Now.¡±


    I looked over my shoulder with a confused expression. I had not expected the Master to intervene. I shifted my gaze back to Ozwald to see him looking just as confused as I was. Before either of us could move, Ferris¡¯s head poked out from the living room. ¡°Ives¡¯ is sparing?¡± He asked in an excited tone.


    Nel stepped out from the same room with her hands resting behind her head, elbows in the air, her pace casual. ¡°I think I¡¯ll watch this.¡±


    Demierra looked out from the hallway to the shared rooms but said nothing. She did look interested, though.


    I gave Ozwald a pitying look with a shrug that said, ¡®You heard the Master. There¡¯s nothing I can do.¡¯


    I stepped past the Human boy and made my way to the training room that I had yet to visit. The room was half of the house¡¯s footprint as a single rectangular room. Laid in the center of the room were sparing mats across the ground in a space that was ten feet by ten feet. The wall across from the door was lined with racks that held a range of training weapons, and the racks looked to be double-sided and on a swivel. Along the wall parallel to the door was a variety of physical fitness equipment. This equipment ranged from a lift machine equipped with a gravity weight system to a magnetic treadmill to plain and simple barbell weights.


    I took off my shoes and stepped on the mats, where I performed a few stretches to limber up. I would have been warmed up from chasing the trio of orphans, but that had been hours ago. Ozwald entered the room looking nervous, and I couldn¡¯t blame the guy. He was training to be Red Shadow. A Mastlok between Silent Heart and Sightless Eye. Assassin/spy training was not geared toward upfront fights. He knew full well that I was in Crimson Blade, which meant that I had to have at least some combat skills. Ozwald had just been dropped into a losing fight with a Darkling he had been mocking since day one. He might as well have been fed to a Leamon Lion.


    As Ozwald pulled off his own shoes, looking totally out of place, Ferris, Nennel, Demierra, and Kharmor lined up beside the mats to watch. I eyed the Half-Dwarf for a long moment. He wanted to be in Crimson Blade. If he were smart, he would watch the fighting styles of everyone in the party. I had little doubt that he was looking for a weakness of a Crimson Blade student he could exploit. I would bet good money that after he found a student¡¯s weakness, he would move in to prove himself as more skilled.


    I turned back to Ozwald, who was trying to stretch in a manner that looked completely awkward. I was going to shame him so badly that he would have to acknowledge my role. To that end, I told him he could pick any training weapon he wanted and that I was going to spar unarmed.


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    Ozwald eyed me with suspicion even as he inched over to the weapons wall. He picked a dagger and a pistol with rubber bullets. ¡®Good.¡¯ I thought to myself. ¡®I was about to put him down while he was even armed with a firearm. That cemented my role among the others as a leader.¡¯


    I even set the sparring distance to the edges of the mats. Ten feet between us. Still, technically point blank for a firearm, but with enough distance that he had a clear edge. I told Demierra to signal the start of the match, and the Dracose didn¡¯t waste a second, chopping the air with a hand as she barked, ¡°GO!¡±


    I first turned sideways, minimizing my target area exposed to Ozwald. I watched as he drew a beed on my face. That was an amateur move. I watched his chest for the last breath before he squeezed and tumbled forward. As the gun went off, I rolled under his first shot and up into a crouch. From that crouch, I lunged forward, throwing my whole body forward to close even more distance.


    I knew he would attempt to predict my actions if he had learned anything related to combat from Silent Heart. So I tumbled to the side to break my straight-ahead movement. As expected, that threw him off, though only for a fraction of a second, but that was all I needed. I rolled the tumble into a crouch again, popped to my feet, and sprinted at the idiot.


    He was smart enough to drop the gun and switch to the dagger. As I closed the distance, he swept the dagger at me, aiming for my chest. But he swung too early. I ducked under the back end of the strike and stopped when we literally came nose to nose. I replied to his sweep at my chest with a leg sweep to take him off his feet. Before he could even begin to drop from the leg sweep, I grasped the wrist of his dagger hand, stepped past him, and shoulder threw him off the mats. He struck the concrete floor face-first with a ¡°THWAP!¡±


    While still holding onto his wrist, I side-stepped so I stood over him, his back between my legs. I dropped ass first onto his back and took his arm with me in at an angle it was not meant to go. There was the pop of a dislocating joint, followed by his howl of pain.


    I raised and stepped off Ozwald with an indignant huff as I dropped his arm. He made that much noise for a dislocated shoulder? I had screamed that much when Thallos had broken most of the bones in my arm. For a moment, I thought the asshole was weak before I remembered that I had been through something no one in that could imagine. I had beaten Ozwald without even removing my jacket. So, I not only looked skilled, but I also kept my scars hidden. Win-win.


    I ignored his moaning and walked over to the spectators. ¡°So, what did you think?¡± I asked with my hands raised in a gesture that said the very same thing.


    ¡°That was brutal.¡± Nel said with a wince of pain.


    ¡°Really brutal.¡± Ferris echoed, his face reading both excitement and sympathetic pain.


    Kharmor just gave a single grunt before turning to leave the room.


    ¡°I don¡¯t agree with anything you just did.¡± Demierra growled. ¡°You disrespected your opponent and dishonored yourself.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I asked, doing my best to not sound offended by her words.


    ¡°You disrespected him. Not challenging him with your own weapons shows ego. Giving a teammate no quarter shows your goal to shame him. You hold no respect for him and didn¡¯t bother to hide it. You overpowered him with only a handful of actions and with no goal to instruct or help him improve. Then you brutalize him after the match was clearly over. You have no honor. I shouldn¡¯t have expected any less from a Fiend-kin.¡± Demierra sneered the last line before following Kharmor out of the room.


    I felt my face contort into a snarl, and my fingers locked into claws at her hate-filled words. The desire to lunge at her invaded my thoughts for a few seconds. I felt the burning urge to show her just how much of a warrior I really was. But I shoved those feelings back down and lowered my head in shame.


    ¡°What?¡± Ferris asked.


    ¡°You won and kicked his ass. Were you expecting more?¡± Nennel asked.


    ¡°I was hoping that would prove to the others that I wasn¡¯t total trash.¡± I admitted as the three of us made to leave the room. As we passed through to the next room, I was dimly aware of Ozwald cursing under his breath.


    ¡°Dude, you smeared the guy across the floor like he was an oversized bug.¡± Ferris commented, dramatically gesturing with his hands as he spoke.


    ¡°Well, the ass is more like a mosquito than a Human.¡± I replied.


    ¡°Iver.¡± Nennel chided. ¡°You¡¯ve only known the guy for two days.¡±


    I scoffed at her before I said, ¡°Two days is enough to know that the dude has a thing against me.¡±


    ¡°So what?¡± Nel pressed. ¡°Try to get to know the guy. Give him a chance. You know Darklings have a bad rep. How about you prove to him that you''re not a terrible person?¡±


    I gave Nel a skeptical look before leading the other two toward the kitchen. As we went, I said, ¡°Sis, he already has his mind made up about me. I could be as sweet as a cherub angel to him, and he¡¯d think it¡¯s a ploy to get something.¡±


    As soon as I entered the kitchen, I made a B-Line for the fridge, pointedly ignoring Navor as she kept reading and drinking. I pulled the doors of the chill box open and rummaged around for something edible. Nennel stood behind me as she continued to lecture. ¡°Come on, Iver. If you keep at it and do your best, you can totally prove to the others that you¡¯re worth following. Even Ozwald could change his mind about you.¡±


    I stepped away from the fridge with three slices of bread, four slices of cheddar cheese, two slices of salami, and two slices of roast beef. I set my ingredients on the counter and prepared a frying pan on a heated stovetop. As I pulled out a lid for the pan, I said, ¡°So what? I¡¯m supposed to play nice and trust the dude not to try to kill me?¡±


    ¡°Kill you how?¡± Ferris asked, with his arms crossed over his chest.


    I stacked up a double-decker grilled cheese, layered bread, cheese, salami, roast beef, cheese, bread, cheese, salami, roast beef, cheese, then bread. I capped my sandwich with the pan lid and set the stove top to low as I said, ¡°He could stab me, lay a trap in a doorway, poison my food. If the guy wanted to, he could turn me into a corpse if he was given the chance.¡±


    Nel stepped up to the island in the kitchen and propped her hands against it as she said, ¡°You really think that Ozwald would move to kill you?¡±


    I pointed to her with a spatula that I had just found in a nearby drawer. ¡°Damn skippy, Sis. I need to expect any of these new members to want me dead and to try to pull it off at any time.¡±


    As I checked under the pan lid to check the progress of my sandwich, Ferris spoke up, ¡°Dude, you¡¯re paranoid.¡±


    ¡°Is he?¡± Navor piped up from behind her book. She lowered her reading material and picked up her glass. ¡°You need to expect any member of a team to kill you.¡±


    ¡°Anyone?¡± Ferris asked.


    ¡°Kid,¡± Navor said in a patient but tired tone. ¡°You need to learn that anyone could want you dead. One thing that Iver¡¯s already learned from Thallos is that you could be attacked at any time, in any manner.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re saying Iver could just stab me at any time?¡± Ferris accused with obvious skepticism.


    I plucked the pan lid up and scooped my golden brown sandwich from the pan with my bare hand as I said, ¡°Yeah. That¡¯s pretty much what she¡¯s saying.¡±


    Ferris looked at me like I had just claimed I was going to stab his puppy with his own kitchen knife. I shrugged at the Quint, my hands up in an apologetic gesture, sandwich in hand. ¡°It¡¯s not like I really would do that. She¡¯s just telling you to be ready for anything at all times.¡±


    ¡°How in the nine hells am I supposed to be ready for an attack at any time from any direction?!¡± Ferris snapped in a panic.


    I took a large bite from my sandwich before I said, ¡°Ferris. Calm down. The best way to think of it is simple.¡±


    ¡°Simple how?!¡± He lashed out at me.


    ¡°Check your room for traps before bed. Check your room for traps when you wake up. Fix your own meals. And when you walk around outside, act on high alert.¡± I said this as plainly as I could before taking another bite of my grilled cheese. I was surprisingly hungry after the sparing match.


    ¡°Oh yeah. Like that¡¯s simple.¡± Ferris sarcastically accused.


    I gave Ferris a helpless shrug. ¡°It¡¯s what I do every day. Thallos trapped my bed before I would go to sleep. He would wake me up in the middle of the night with an attack. He trapped my bedroom door I don¡¯t know how many times. And he poisoned my food plenty. Honestly, dude, I check my room before bed every night. I sleep lightly in case of an intruder. I check my bedroom door before leaving my room. I also try only to eat food that I make myself, food made by someone I trust or someone who could not have expected me to purchase from. Even as a backup, I keep a range of antidotes on my person at all times. That¡¯s all because of Thallos being a total lunatic of an instructor who taught in the most brutal way possible.¡±


    ¡°Holy crap.¡± Ferris cursed. Both he and Nennel turned to Navor for confirmation. She only nodded without looking up from her novel with a distracted, ¡°Yep. He¡¯s telling the truth.¡±


    Only partly paying attention, I turned off the stove and tossed my cooking tools into the sink as I ate my grilled cheese. ¡°Sorry guys, but I need to do some work. I¡¯ll see you tomorrow.¡± With that hurried excuse, I made my way to my room.


    I finished my sandwich as I closed and locked my bedroom door. I longingly eyed by crafting table before I flopped atop my bed and activated the search engine on my therra-node. Without a moment¡¯s hesitation, I searched the Crossline Electronic Store for any related news on the networks. The first thing I found was chatter about a break-in and a corpse. Digging a little deeper, I found that a mega-corporation called Vartex was trying to buy the shop, but the owner was resisting. With some digging into the mega-corp, I found that Vartex specialized in commercial electronic sales and repair. There were a few mentions of rumors that Vartex had been doing some experimental work for the military, but I couldn¡¯t find anything definitive on that front.


    I checked out the corporation¡¯s webpage and those of each of its subsidiaries. I meticulously scoured each page of each site with a focus on finding critical information. The mega-corp had its fingers in dozens of companies, but they all revolved around constructing, selling, and repairing electronic appliances. I could tell with a cursory scan of each website that they weren¡¯t picky about what they made, sold, or repaired. If an item was powered by electrical Myst Crystals, they had some part in it.


    After checking out the websites for some general information on this hostile mega-corp, I switched sources and went looking for chat forums, discussing companies that Vartex was aiming to buy and any information on their tactics. After about two hours of searching and reading, I had a pretty firm grasp of how the company ran their company buyout schemes. First, they quietly checked out the target company¡¯s monthly income, monthly spending, and average customer base. If the target company met the desired standards, they would first approach with a buyout offer set on the lower end of the company¡¯s estimated value. If the initial offer failed, they would double the offer. If the doubled offer failed, they would search for blackmail material such as safety violations or cutting corners in the process regulations. This frequently worked, even if they had to plant false evidence of these infractions. If even that failed, rumor had it that Vartex would have the customer information stolen to both incriminate the target company and undersell services to the customers in an effort to force the company to sell out of lost profits.


    This wasn¡¯t the first time I had heard of similar tactics in the nation of Ventic. This was a blatant abuse of the corporatocracy nation governing structure. I was disgusted by this predatory practice used to consolidate economic and political power, but it was commonplace in Ventic. I knew that each type of government had its own flaws that led to corruption, but this political loophole just seemed especially toxic to me.


    I then moved from the forums to the customer list that I had picked up from the shop when I broke in and hooked up. As was standard, the customer profiles had full name, personal or company address, contact information, and payment information. I won¡¯t deny a temptation to use the payment information to gain a few credits to make up for what I had spent on Gig, Bit, and Byte, but I refused to sink that low. What I did do, was plug in the addresses for several of the customers into the GPS can figure out their locations. Out of the thousand-some-odd customers, I selected twenty-five addresses in batches of two or three with the same district code to check distance. After I got a general sense of the range of districts, I narrowed it all down to regular customers in the same district as Crossline Electronic and myself.


    I picked out eight addresses within walking distance and pinned them on my therra. Afterward, I shut everything down and made an effort to sleep before I needed to get up. The next day, I was going to need to convince Navor that I was still looking for the thieves while I was actually walking around the neighborhood.

 PITM Chapter 15

    With the swift advancement of technology across the ages, poisoning techniques and methods have also advanced. In the higher social circles, there are dozens of methods of identifying poisons and methods of countermeasures. Because of these commonly used measures, magical poisons are almost never used because of how easily they can be found and countered. The development of new poisons and poison detection methods has led to an arms race between assassins and their opponents in the legal light.


    I woke the next day feeling like a shambling corpse from among the Restless Dead. That night, I had been forced through a nightmare that comprised of Thallos chasing me down with a terrifying ritual dagger. To make matters worse, in the nightmare, Rose, the Tiger Primal that I had developed feelings for, was off in the distance, mocking me for how slowly I was moving.


    With a massive exertion of effort, I dragged myself out of bed and away from the fresh reminder of Thallos and Rose¡¯s betrayal. My body was lead-heavy, like I had run eight miles nonstop, with no shoes and carrying a duffle bag full of rocks. So, in a bitter mood, I dressed with heavy limbs and curdled thoughts.


    In a t-shirt, lounge pants, and socks, I dragged myself from my room to the kitchen. When I stepped into the kitchen, I found Nel already there, preparing to leave. She was dressed in jean shorts, purple sneakers, and a yellow tank top printed with cherry blossoms. She was just slipping on her second shoe, a piece of toast with a fried egg in her right hand, and a large white purse over her left shoulder.


    ¡°Nel?¡± I asked as I rubbed one eye with the back of my hand.


    ¡°Oh! Hey, Ives¡¯.¡± Nel greeted before taking a bite from her toast. ¡°I¡¯m about to head out for my job.¡± Her words were slightly muffled by the food as she continued. ¡°I¡¯m supposed to report to the local district sanitation department. Master Navor says I¡¯m assigned to large rodent extermination in the local alleys.¡±


    ¡°Large rodent?¡± I grumbled. ¡°How large are we talking?¡±


    Nel took a heavy swallow before she replied. ¡°Oh, only about as big as a medium-sized dog. Don¡¯t worry. It won¡¯t be an issue.¡± Nennel sounded chipper and excited about this, but I couldn¡¯t help but feel nervous for her.


    I was just gathering my thoughts when Nennel rushed out the door with a hurried ¡°Have some of the coffee Ferris made. Bye!¡±


    I shook my head to clear the grogginess. ¡°Ferris made coffee?¡± I asked Master Navor as I shuffled to the kitchen cabinets. Navor was already sitting at the table, reading the newspaper and sipping at a mug of tea. She gave a noncommital shrug as she said, ¡°It was already brewing when I woke.¡± Before she took another sip of her tea.


    I was a little surprised. Ferris hadn¡¯t woken up before me for as long as I had known him. But maybe he hadn¡¯t slept and needed the get-up-and-go worse than I did. I shuffled over to the brewer to check to coffee level. The marks on the pot read that it contained eight cups¡¯ worth of divine coffee.


    The pot was on a heating plate, so I knew the coffee wouldn¡¯t get cold. Because of this, I took my time preparing to make myself an omelet. I cracked a pair of eggs and readied the garlic and onion powder seasonings and a filling of ham, cheese, and bacon. While I cooked, filled, and folded my breakfast, the others woke up and shambled in on their own.


    First came Kharmor, who only replied to anything directed toward him with monosyllabic grunts. He directly made for the coffee. He found the largest possible mug in the cabinet in only moments before filling it to near-slipping. While Kharmor doctored his coffee with cream and sugar, Zynna wandered in. She prepared herself a bowl of cereal with milk after she made her own coffee. Zynna refused to acknowledge anyone as she made her way to the kitchen table to spoon food into her mouth like a zombie on command. Not long after Zynna sat down, Demierra dragged herself into the kitchen with thundering steps. She made herself a coffee with plenty of cream and two sugars before preparing a pan of bacon and sausage. As the female Dracose pulled the packages of meat from the fridge, Kharmor made a request for bacon and sausage. The pan was filled to capacity before Demierra put the pan on medium heat. Next came Ozwald, rubbing his eyes even as he made his way to the coffee pot. I was dimly aware of him muttering something about only having a half mug of coffee, even as Ferris shambled in. The Elf made himself a mug of coffee before preparing a bowl of instant oatmeal.


    ¡°Hey.¡± I said to Ferris as he leaned his head against the microwave door while his oatmeal cooked. ¡°Thanks for making the coffee. That was a lifesaver.¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡± Ferris mumbled, but it sounded like a question instead of a reply.


    I dismissed the strange response as I plated up my omelet, and Demierra asked for me to make her two omelets like my own. I made a half-hearted complaint even as I cracked the eggs, though I didn¡¯t think of it as much of an issue. It was around then that Ferris made himself a second mug of the coffee. While I cooked the two omelets for Demierra, I drank my coffee and ate my omelets on the countertop using my free hand.


    Not long after I finished eating my omelet, Zynna slapped a hand over her mouth as she rushed to the bathroom, where sounds of violent vomiting were clearly heard. I shot a confused glance in that general direction. She hadn''t had any of the meat or an omelet, so it wasn¡¯t caused by bad food. My concern escalated when Ferris dropped his mug to shatter on the ground. Before the mug even hit the floor, Ferris was sprinting for the front door. Just outside the door, I could hear Ferris puking with frightening force.


    Things only got worse when my stomach heaved and churned. It felt like a fist was clutching my guts and forcing everything upward. I made a mad dash for the bathroom connected to my bedroom. I almost didn¡¯t make it in time. I reached the toilet, sliding into place on my knees as freshly eaten food was launched from my mouth with eye-watering force.


    Every scrap of food I had just eaten was forced out in a matter of moments. The feeling was awful, and it only got worse when I started dry heaving. My body convulsed with violent flexes as my guts desperately tried to evacuate what wasn¡¯t there. Even as my whole body flexed and strained, I tried to figure out what was happening. I forced myself to fight through the dry heaving as I thought things through.


    What was one thing Zynna, Ferris, and I had in common? I was the first to wake up, other than Navor and Nennel. That meant whatever had caused this to me would have affected Nel and Navor if it was gas-based and released in the kitchen or through the front door. The thought of Nel suffering the same symptoms gave me a spike of panic before I remembered that her cybernetic body was designed to filter out any toxins. Additionally, Nel would have spotted something injecting poison gas when she left through the front door. If it were released through a window, then it would have affected Navor within seconds of Zynna being affected.


    The only reason I could keep as calm as I was at that moment was because it wasn¡¯t my first time suffering from poison. Thallos had subjected me to dozens of poisons and venoms, both lethal and not. I had to look at everything rationally and think fast if the toxin was lethal.


    Zynna was the first to be affected, but she didn¡¯t have any meat. Ferris was second, but he didn¡¯t have the cereal or milk like Zynna. Then it hit me. The coffee. All the trainees had fixed themselves mugs of coffee. Navor had been drinking tea, so that was why she was unaffected. I was about to pin the poisoning on her, but I couldn¡¯t think of a good reason for her to poison almost all of her students. If she had just poisoned me, it could have been a lesson to always check food before eating it. But all the trainees had fixed themselves at least one mug of coffee. Riding on the coattails of that thought was the memory of Ferris having two mugs of coffee. I cursed silently as I started to panic. Even if the poison wasn¡¯t toxic in a single dose, Ferris had two doses in his system, which could be lethal.


    I was dimly aware that the conclusion meant that Ozwald, Kharmor, and Demierra would be suffering from the same side effects, if not at that moment, then soon. But Ferris was the priority. I focused hard on the memory of drinking the coffee. It had a strange, bitter tang that I originally thought was simply a burnt flavor. I forced myself to concentrate on that bitter tang the drink had been tainted with. It was a slight chemical taste and a slight taste of lavender and cloves. With the toxin¡¯s flavors at the forefront of my mind, I focused on the symptoms I felt at that moment. Projectile vomiting, nausea, clammy skin, tingling in the toes and cheeks, and slight shaking of the hands that had nothing to do with the heaving of my guts.


    Between the unique flavor and the symptoms I was suffering, that told me I had been poisoned with Tathressin Thorn. That was a poison from the local part of the continent that could be added to hot beverages without breaking down. The coffee had been a good cover for the taste. The only reason I had caught it was because I had drunk plenty of burnt coffee in my short life.


    With that knowledge, I crawled to my dresser, guts heaving the entire way and my mouth thick with strands of bile and saliva. I dragged open my bottom drawer and shakily pulled free my belt of vials with a silent string of curses.


    Strangely enough, it was harder for me to count my antidote vials while heaving than figure out the poison and where I had gotten it from. With a massive effort, I reached vial number twenty-two. I pulled free the glass tube full of gray-purple dust with thick black-brown seeds.


    Tathressin Thorn was a scarlet and white flowered plant whose ground stems could be used as an insecticide. The antidote was a cousin to the Tathressin called Belline¡¯s Kiss. I wasn¡¯t sure how potent of a dose I had taken of the poison, but given my symptoms, I gave myself a double dose of Belline¡¯s Kiss. Because my stomach was still heaving, I opted to take the quicker and more painful route of snorting four teaspoons of the grainy dust.


    I resisted the near-uncontrollable urge to sneeze as I breathed deeply. The nostril I had taken the powder up burned and stung like I had just sniffed a line of powdered chili. But I put up with it as I dragged myself to my feet by the dresser. I was careful not to spill any of the antidotes as I made my way out of the room. My strides were uneven, shambling, and disjointed as my body still heaved under the effort to empty an already void stomach.


    Using the walls as a crutch, I staggered up the stairs, my shirt wet with strings of saliva and bile, some of which were still hung from my gasping mouth. Breathing through my nose was nightmarish, and I wasn¡¯t willing to suffer any more than absolutely necessary. I traded walls as I passed the hall, where I could still hear Zynna still retching.


    I passed by the entrance into the kitchen, where I found Demierra heaving over the skin. The fact that she could still stand was a good sign. Beside her was Kharmor, who looked panicked and uncertain about how to help. I took note of the fact that he wasn¡¯t sick but pressed into the kitchen. With all the grace of a drunk ape, I tore open drawers and cabinets until I found what I was looking for¡ªa baster.


    For those of you who are totally ignorant in the kitchen, a baster is a hollow, rubber or flexible plastic ball attached to the end of a rigid plastic or metal tube that tapers at the end.


    With the baster clutched in one hand and the antidote grasped in the other, both with white-knuckle grips, I moved the front door. Just past the front door, Ferris was on his hands and knees, puking into the grass. Beside him was Ozwald, who was clutching a planter as he ralphed into it. I gave the Human a cursory check, but it was hard to tell how bad he had it with how dark his skin was. Trust me, I know that sounds terrible and biased, but at that time, I had little experience with anyone of any species with darker skin tones.


    Because I knew that Ferris was going to have it worse than anyone else, to my knowledge, I gave him priority. I got down beside him and rubbed his back, my own heaving only just then starting to subside. When I noticed an obvious pause, I flipped him over onto his back with harsh force. I rested my hand holding the baster on his chest as I said, ¡°We need to hurry to get you the antidote. Don¡¯t panic. Don¡¯t fight. When I tell you to, breathe deep through your nose. Got that?¡±


    Wordlessly, he gave a rapid nod even as his eyes shown with panic. I tapped out three standard doses of the powder into the palm of my hand before slowly drawing it into the metal tube of the baster. I lodged the end of the device up Ferris¡¯s nose, ignoring his grimace and gasp of discomfort. I gave him a slow countdown from three. The moment I finished saying ¡°one,¡± I squeezed the rubber head of the baster with as much force as I could muster. At the same time as my squeeze, Ferris breathed in deep through his nose. The moment the full dosage was out of the baster, I clamped his nose shut with one hand and told him to breathe slowly.


    After Ferris had received his antidote and I was sure he was not about to have a negative reaction, I moved on to perform the same act with Zynna, Demierra, and Ozwald. While everyone was recovering, I pulled out the pot of coffee, which still had a cup and a half worth of coffee. I set the coffee aside but said nothing about it. Instead, I stepped up to Navor, who was still calmly reading her paper.


    ¡°Was this a test?¡± I demanded, offense clear in my tone.


    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    She gave me a long look before returning to her paper and turning a page. ¡°Call it a test of opportunity. I was not the culprit, but did nothing to stop the act.¡± Her response was calm, collected, and totally unphased. It was obvious that she had been expecting the confrontation from me.


    I was about to snap at her about the danger that everyone had been put through before I had a thought. Instead, I folded my arms over my chest and leaned back on a heel. Ferris and Zynna sat at the table across from Navor, both looking worse for wear. Zynna had her head nestled in the cradle of her folded arms atop the table before her. Ferris leaned back in the chair beside her, his arms and head limp as they hung back. It was plain to see that Ferris focused on his breathing, long and slow. Kharmor leaned against the back wall of the kitchen, his own arms crossed and a pensive look on his broad face. Ozwald was lying down on the couch in the room across the hall, but he promised he would still be listening.


    Demierra stood over the sink, her clawed hands braced to either side of the metal tub as she gave slow, shuddering breaths. Because of the Dracose¡¯s sheer mass, the poison took longer to affect her and had less of an effect overall. But her size also meant that the antidote would take longer to fully take hold. It was also a little-known fact that Demierra was highly sensitive to poisons that affected the stomach. Even after I had told her what I would do to give her the antidote, when I blew the powder up her snout, things almost went horribly wrong. She had gripped my neck with enough force to pop vertebrae out of place if she had only pushed just a little harder. Only later did I learn that Dracose don¡¯t have a sense of smell through what I thought to be their nostrils. What others normally thought of as nostrils were actually organs that could sense the heat and myst in a close area to the Dracose. It turned out that we got lucky. Those orifices were just as able to absorb chemical compounds as the sinuses of other species. I was much less lucky that it turned out those same orifices were much more sensitive than the sinuses of other species.


    In case Demierra ever reads this book, I¡¯ll glance over what happened after I blew the powder up her snout. Suffice it to say that afterward, I had several nasty bruises. The Dracose girl was recovering, all be it, with a swollen eye and a grudging respect for my tenacity.


    I scoured my gaze across everyone in the room. After everyone had been cured and was in a reasonably stable state, Navor tasked me with figuring out who had done the poisoning. I eyed each person in the room for a long moment before turning back to the Master. ¡°I¡¯m guessing you won¡¯t tell me flat out who did this. Do you at least have any hints?¡±


    Navor took her time folding her newspaper and picking up her second mug of tea she had set steeping while I was curing everyone. She raised the mug to her lips with a knowing smirk. ¡°What hints can you find?¡± was all she said before taking a sip and saying nothing more.


    I chewed on my thumbnail as I thought over all the facts. The house was almost a fortress, so breaking in would¡¯ve been near-impossible without drawing the attention of at least Master Navor. So outside forces were out of the question. That meant it had to have been a student that was living within the walls. The fact that Navor didn¡¯t intervene meant that she knew the poisoning was non-lethal, or at least supposed to be. It wasn¡¯t so much that I was putting faith in the Master but more of an estimation that the Order would punish her harshly if any of her students died on her watch. But the dosage of the poison was on the heavier side, if not lethal, given how quickly and violently everyone was affected.


    If I was just looking at the poisoning victims, that included all the trainees aside from Nennel and Kharmor. I eyed the Half-Dwarf with a long, contemplating stare that he caught within moments. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Everyone had at least one mug of coffee, but you were the only trainee that was totally unaffected by the poison. Why is that? Were you too scared of poisoning yourself, so you took an antidote beforehand?¡± I tried not to sound accusing, but my words still held a tint of blame.


    ¡°Wow.¡± Kharmor scoffed. ¡°Jump straight to blaming the one person in the room with partial poison resistance. That seems a bit shallow.¡±


    I gave him a skeptical look. ¡°Don¡¯t get upset at the obvious conclusion, Halfling.¡± I snapped back, with particular emphasis on the label. ¡°It¡¯s common knowledge that Dwarves have a naturally high tolerance for poisons and intoxicants. That¡¯s why Dwarven liquor is so potent that it¡¯s considered a poison to other species with more fragile fortitude. But I¡¯ve done my fair share of studying history. I know that Dwarves, and even Half-Dwarves, poisoning enemies from the same bottle they drank from is a common assassination strategy. I also know which poison was used, and I¡¯m reasonably certain that your half-resistance wouldn¡¯t have been enough to stop the effects.¡±


    ¡°First, please refrain from genetic slurs. You¡¯re a Halfling just as much as I am, and you don¡¯t see me calling you a Fiend Fucker. Second, you are correct. My Dwarven lineage would not have been enough to stop the poison. But if you really need to know, I have a synthetic liver. My mother made me get one installed after an attack on my life not long before joining the Academy.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t exactly rule you out.¡± I pointed out.


    ¡°If you want to sling glass at someone with synth-orgs, why not point that finger at the Borg girl Nennel? She¡¯s more likely than any of us to have made the pot before she ¡®left for work¡¯ as an excuse not to be a suspect.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you accuse Nel!¡± I snarled at Kharmor in hostile defense.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Ferris piped up in half-hearted agreement with a raised and loose right hand. He raised his head only barely from the back of the chair before dropping it back down with a dull thud.


    ¡°Don¡¯t anyone go trying to pin this on me.¡± Demierra growled from the sink. ¡°I don¡¯t know nothing about poisons. It¡¯s a coward¡¯s weapon.¡±


    I threw a dismissive wave toward the Dracose. ¡°You weren¡¯t even a suspect. I know Dezzar have strong feelings about pride as a warrior. Besides, you¡¯re part of Crimson Blade and Blackened Crown. Unless you went actively looking for information on poison, you wouldn¡¯t have found it. Plus, I doubt you have any way of finding poisons.¡±


    Demierra heaved a weighty sigh before she said, ¡°I¡¯m not sure if I should be happy you don¡¯t think me capable of this, or offended that you think me that stupid.¡±


    It was at this point that Ozwald stepped up to the doorway to the kitchen and leaned against the frame. His legs seemed unstable from his stance. ¡°We just need to narrow down the possible suspects, right? Then we can rule out the Dracose easily. Only someone who is part of the Sightless Eye or Silent Heart sects would likely be a suspect. That only leaves¡­ well, everyone else save for the Master, Mr. Gaibhigh, and the Darkling.¡±


    I gave Ozwald a wary look. He was speaking in my defense. He had to have been up to something. Was he the poisoner? Or was he just taking this as an opportunity for something deeper?


    Ozwald continued in his explanation, and his tone was weak but confident. ¡°So the suspects are, Mz. Miermor,¡° Zynna raised her head with an accusing expression. ¡°Mr. Stillwind,¡± Ferris let out a disgruntled groan. ¡°Mz. Darrdane or myself.¡±


    ¡°What are you getting at?¡± I nervously asked.


    ¡°Well, the first possibility is that Mz. Darrdane made the pot and poisoned it before she left. But, Mr. Maverick here,¡± Ozwald gestured to me with an open hand. ¡°Has voiced her innocence. The second and third options are that either Mr. Stillwind or Mz. Miermor woke up before everyone else made and poisoned the pot. If either of these is the case, then they must have snuck back to bed and played innocent and poisoned themself to keep their cover.¡±


    I noticed that Ozwald omitted himself from any possible crime. It was then that I knew that he was the one to make the coffee and poison it. But he was playing at a larger game, so I kept quiet and played along.


    ¡°Well, I can vouge for Nennel.¡± I said. ¡°While she is part of Sightless Eye, she wants to make a good impression with everyone here. She¡¯s more than a little embarrassed by her body, and she wants friends that are willing to back her when things get hard.¡± I fibbed. Nel really was self-conscious about her cybernetic body, but that girl had enough spine to hold up two adult Orcs. While she was stubborn, I wasn¡¯t about to make Nel an easy target and make her life harder.


    Ozwald took a pensive stance as he leaned against the doorframe. ¡°Well, if it wasn¡¯t Mz. Darrdane, did she see who made the pot?¡±


    I was aware that he knew the answer, but if I lied, he would use that as ammunition against me. It looked like he would pin the initial blame on Nel or Ferris. I would need to protect them.


    ¡°Well, she said that Ferris made the pot.¡± I could see Ozwald moving to blame the Elf even as Ferris gave me a wounded look. So before Ozwald could make his next move, I pressed on. ¡°But if Ferris had poisoned the pot,¡± I started, tapping a finger against my chin. ¡°Then why did he take a double dose? I recognized the poison, and with the dose he took, it could have landed him in critical condition. Would you really think him so ignorant as to dose himself twice with his own poison?¡±


    I watched with satisfaction as the Human expressed an annoyed grimace. ¡°Well, no. I doubt him to be that stupid. But did you just mention that you recognized the poison? You did have the cure on hand and gave it to everyone before things got worse. If I didn¡¯t know better, I would say that you had gotten your hands on the poison and antidote from one of your underhanded friends and poisoned everyone only to cure them, so you looked like the hero.¡±


    The word ¡®hero¡¯ echoed in my mind with a sour-sweet note. I was stunned for a moment at the thought of being seen as a hero. When I came back to the present, I found everyone looking at me. Demierra, Zynna, and Ozwald glared at me with accusations in their eyes. Ferris looked at me with worry. Kharmor¡¯s gaze only held curiosity and annoyance. Navor only looked at me with patient amusement.


    To help sell the story, I made a bit of a show. My shoulders slumped, and my head hung low as I looked at my bare feet. I clutched the vial of Belline¡¯s Kiss in a hand that obviously quacked before I evenly strolled to the island countertop, where I set down the glass container with a firm hand. I held two fingers against the container for a few moments longer. ¡°You all have heard rumors about my last Master. Thallos, the traitor.¡± I slipped my hand from the vial and used it to pull off my t-shirt. ¡°The bastard gave me all of these scars that you see here and more¡­ Much more.¡± After a few moments of letting the others see my scars, I slipped the shirt back on to cover most of my shame. ¡°He also made it a habit to poison me.¡±


    I slipped from the room with a hand signal for the others to hold for a moment. I hurried down the hall, down the stairs, and into my room. First, I slipped into a pair of actual pants, a gray and black pair of cargo pants. I reached down to pick up the belt of antidotes where I had left it on the floor. I was going to toss it onto my bed and then pull on a fresh shirt before taking the belt to show everyone in proof of innocence.


    I had just plucked the belt from the floor when I heard Ozwald¡¯s voice shouting from my doorway. His voice was projected up to the kitchen. ¡°Hey! Everyone! Take a look at this!¡± His tone was panicked and accusing.


    I turned around to find Ozwald standing just inside my room, holding a packet of gray-blue powder. I identified it instantly as powdered Tathressin Thorn. Only later did I realize that the name of the poison was written across the packet. I shifted my gaze from the plastic baggy to lock eyes with the Human who was looking at me with mock shock. Despite the fact that I was still recovering from my poisoning, a fire lit in my gut and smoldered in my eyes. I dropped the belt in my hand and stormed forward even as I heard several sets of feet pounding down the stairs.


    Moments before I struck, I enjoyed the look on his face shift from mock shock to total panic as I pulled back a fist. I decked the guy in the cheek hard enough to send him staggering out of my room. I trailed right behind him, planting a push kick from my bare foot into the small of his back to send him sprawling across the floor. I stormed over to loom over the prick, ready to give him a beating that made the one I gave the day before look like a light jog through a park.


    The next thing I knew, I was lifted off the ground and locked into a Nelson hold. Demierra held me with ease. Her arms slipped under my shoulders, locking my arms harmlessly to either side, both of her hands resting against the back of my head. I thrashed and lurched in an ineffective attempt to break free. Kharmor and Zynna helped Ozwald to a sitting position. His face was already beginning to swell.


    ¡°What in the Hells was that about?!¡± Zynna demanded of me even as I thrashed. Ozwald answered by pointing to the packet of powder he had dropped when I kicked him to the floor.


    ¡°I found, that, on his, work table.¡± Ozwald huffed out between wheezing breaths.


    ¡°That¡¯s a damned lie, you snake, and you know it!¡± I spat.


    ¡°He poisoned, the coffee. Zynna, can vouch. The symptoms match the poison in that baggy.¡± Ozwald was exaggerating the damage I had caused him. No doubt he was aiming to garner sympathy from the others. Later, I would realize that Ozwald was planning on provoking me.


    Zynna stepped away from Ozwald to pick up the baggy. As she examined it, I shouted my innocence. ¡°You planted that, you bastard! Ozwald poisoned the coffee! You have to believe me!¡± As I shouted and accused, I was dimly aware that I hadn¡¯t taken my medication that morning. The medication from the day before must have worn off by that point. That explained why I was acting so erratic and impulsively.


    ¡°Yep. Ozwald¡¯s got it on the nose.¡± Zynna said, her right eye glowing with the use of a therra. ¡°I just searched the symptoms of this stuff. Tathressin Thorn. It all matches up.¡±


    ¡°So, Iver,¡± Kharmor started in an accusing tone. ¡°If you didn¡¯t poison the party, why did you just so happen to have the antidote?¡±


    I had to be very careful with my explanation. I couldn¡¯t even hint at the existence of the Sect of the Dark Hunter. But I needed a valid reason to have the belt of antidotes that was in plain sight on the floor of my room.


    I struggled to find purchase on Demierra with my bare feet as I spoke. ¡°If you check in my room, there¡¯s a belt of various antidotes on the floor. My uncle, the traitor you¡¯ve all heard about, was prone to poisoning me to, prepare me for the real world, as he put it.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s telling the truth.¡± Ferris spoke up in my defense from his position beside the stairs. He obviously hadn¡¯t fully recovered from the Tathressin Thorn.


    As Zynna stepped around Demierra and me, I got a blip on my therra. It was a message from Nennel. She could speak in my defense. She must¡¯ve seen Ozwald tampering with the coffee before he told her that Ferris had made the pot. Desperately, I opened the message, almost not reading it in my haste to type out a reply with retinal tracking. But when I saw the message, I stopped dead. I stopped struggling. I stopped, holding myself up in Demierra¡¯s grip.


    The message simply read ¡®sos. trouble. help.¡¯


    This was a serious situation. Nennel would never send anything like that message if it was anything short of serious danger. Nothing else mattered. Everyone else could think that I poisoned them for all I cared at that moment.


    I sunk my teeth into my lip till I drew blood without hesitation. I pulled as much blood as I could from the wound as I used it for Morphic Myst. I boosted my strength and speed with a Tier 1 Enhancement. A Tier 1 Physical Enhancement wasn¡¯t a big boost, but it would be enough.


    I could feel Demierra¡¯s grip loosen by the slightest degree, and I took my chance. As fast as I could, I pulled my knees to my chest and thrust both feet back in a hard twin kick from that position. I launched from the Dracose like a shot, flying head-first across the room. In mid-flight, I tucked and rolled before I even hit the ground. I struck the opposite wall with enough force to make my eyes giggle, my feet in the air flanking my head, which lay on the floor. With a quick tumble to the side, I landed on my feet and dashed for the stairs. As I crossed the room and passed Ferris, I shouted to him. ¡°Nel¡¯s in serious trouble! I¡¯ll call you on my way!¡±


    I fled from the house, barefoot and shirtless, wearing only a pair of cargo pants.

 PITM Chapter 16

    The bandits and gangers known as CySkav-Harvesters, or simply CySkavs, strip cybernetics from corpses or the living. They either sell them on the black market or keep them to install on themselves later. There are gangs and bandit packs that specialize in this style of raiding, but many will steal cybernetics as an afterthought when the chance comes up. Many people think CySkav-Harvesters are the worst scum of society. They take body parts from living people, leaving them to die, and deface dead bodies for profit. However, there are less than reputable Cy-docs that will purchase the stolen cyberware to sell and install at a higher rate.


    I hit the street barefoot, shirtless, and unarmed, but I didn¡¯t care. I turned right and ran almost blindly as I called Ferris on my therra. The moment Ferris picked up the call, I didn¡¯t wait for him to speak as I burst into a hurried explanation. ¡°Nel¡¯s in serious trouble. I don¡¯t know what. Can you flick me the address to her work site?¡±


    ¡°Uh, yeah.¡± Ferris said in confusion. ¡°Give me a sec while I pull it up. But Ives¡¯, everyone here is pretty ticked off with you, even Navor.¡±


    ¡°Listen, Ferris. Right now, I don¡¯t give an ant¡¯s shit what the others think. Nel sent an S.O.S., so she takes priority. After she¡¯s safe, then I¡¯ll deal with the shitstorm Ozwald stirred up. I¡¯ll take the beating if I need to, but that comes later.¡± As I spoke, the address of Nel¡¯s worksite came arrived in a message through my therra. I plugged the address into my therra¡¯s GPS.


    As it happened, I was running in the completely opposite direction from where I needed to be heading. I ground to a stop, which was rather painful on bare feet, but I had no time to complain. I turned on the ball of one foot and sprinted in the correct direction, my guided path to Nel¡¯s work site in the corner of my vision. With light steps and quick bursts of speed, I wove through the crowded streets. I turned at one intersection after another, moving as fast as I could manage, not paying heed to the glares of disgust from those I passed.


    Running down the sidewalk on Bleekered Street, something caught my eye that brought me to another skidding halt. A familiar white purse lay on the ground, abandoned. It was the very same purse that I had seen on Nel¡¯s shoulder when she was heading to her job.


    Earlier, I had mentioned that the purse was large, but let me give you some details. I had recently learned that Nennel didn¡¯t leave home without a bag whenever possible. This purse could have been easily mistaken as a medium-sized backpack if not for the single strap that it was supported by. The bags that Nel normally carried could be weaponized with little effort.


    I picked up the bag, my heart racing from more than just the run. I was desperately hoping that it wasn¡¯t Nel¡¯s bag, but I knew deep down it was hers. I opened the bag to find the very definition of who Nel was. At the top of the bag were three books. A dictionary, a bestiary of creatures native to Ventic, and a fictional novel that Nel had been raving about for the past week. I found a variety of items under the books, such as a pistol, two spare ammo magazines, a dagger, a case of six Lightning Myst Crystals, a cybernetic repair kit, a bag of snacks, a metal water bottle with an integrated chilling system, chewing gum, a glue stick, knitting needles, yarn, and a half-finished crochet project.


    Yep, that was the very base of what made Nel who she was. There was no mistaking that bag for anyone else¡¯s. I clutched the bag in one death-gripped fist as I desperately looked around for any sign of Nennel. The purse was beside a mouth to an alley. After not spotting any sign of Nel on the street, I moved down the alley at a near-panicked pace.


    If something had happened to Nennel, I didn¡¯t know what I would do. She was one of my closest friends. I thought of her as a sister. She was the closest thing I had to family, and if I lost her¡­ by the gods above and below, I would lose my mind. I would find her. I would save her. I was not going to lose another loved one if I could help it.


    The alleyway opened up into a small open space of cracked and weathered asphalt with a perimeter of warehouses. I stepped into the courtyard, scouring the space for any clues to Nennel¡¯s whereabouts. I found that much-needed clue within seconds. A purple, Nennel-sized sneaker lay just outside the door of a warehouse to my left. I hurried over to the shoe and picked it up. I noticed that the air near that particular warehouse was thick with the scent of rust, old oil, and cybernetic micro-hydraulic system compression fluid. At the same time, I heard a series of malicious cackles coming from just beyond the door I crouched by.


    I examined the perimeter of the door for any sign that it would make a noise when opened, but the hinges were on the inside. So I slowly turned the handle and even more slowly gave the door a nudge open. When no sound came from the door, I pushed it gradually farther and farther open until I could slip through.


    Beyond the door was an expansive space full of rusted and degraded mechanical equipment. The majority of the space was veiled in darkness, with a center space washed in bright light. In the bright circle, there were men and women of a range of ages and species, from a middle-aged Orc man to an adolescent Elf woman who might have been in her early forties. They were all obviously gangers, wearing street clothes of varying quality and states of disorder, but they all wore a black and red band of cloth on their left bicep. Another thing they all had in common was that all the gangers I could see had some form of cybernetic alterations. None of the cybernetics looked to be of high quality, and many didn¡¯t seem to fit correctly.


    They all stood around something hanging from a thick, rusted chain that reached down from the shadows of the ceiling above. The individuals of the group were each taking turns to do something to whatever was at the center of their gathering. I had a bad feeling that I knew what they were toying with and what they were doing. I circled around the interior perimeter of the building as quickly and quietly as I could.


    The moment I found a break in the wall of people, my fears were verified. Nennel was strung up by her wrists. Her body was being picked apart piece by piece by the gangers. Nennel¡¯s legs were almost completely missing. Her pelvis was in shambles, and the components that were supposed to be contained within her abdomen hung out like entrails, leaking critical fluids to puddle on the floor below her.


    A spike of rage and panic lanced through my mind, and I almost lunged into action without thinking. But that would have gotten Nel and me killed in quick order. So, I forced myself to think up a plan. Because I didn¡¯t know how much time Nel had before her vital signs hit critical, I took a gambit. I pulled the dagger from Nennel¡¯s bag, slashed open my palm, and used the blood that welled up to fuel first a Tier 1 Physical Enhancement, then a Tier 2 Mental Enhancement using Distortion Myst and Morphic Myst. First, I used the Morphic Myst to alter the strength of my muscle fibers and how much oxygen they needed to function. Following that, I used Distortion Myst to spike the rate of my blood flow at critical moments to improve the rate of blood flow and the supply of crucial blood-transported supplies to my mutated muscle fibers. Then I used the same two elements to alter the structure and function of my brain, increasing synaptic response time and fire-rate while strengthening the synapsis against the increased strain.


    Both of these enhancement tricks, which I came to rely on frequently, are incredibly dangerous, and if I screwed up a single micro-action, I could¡¯ve ruined my body or crippled my mind. But I had been practicing the enhancements since I first formulated them in my first year at the Aegis Academy. Little did I know at this point in my story, just how insane and impossible these tricks were supposed to be.


    I focused the effects of the physical augmentation to enhance my strength just enough to get what I needed. I also used the blood flow rate spike of that enhancement to force more blood from my wound to allow me to trigger the Tier 2 Mental Enhancement. I put my cognitive processing power into overdrive and sped up my perception, causing time to slow down to half speed to my senses.


    The only tools I had on hand were in Nennel¡¯s bag, so I was going to need to get creative. I pocketed one of the magazines of spare ammo and dismantled the other. I popped open the water bottle and started pulling apart each bullet. I poured the Blast Sand from each of the bullets of the dismantled magazine into the open water bottle.


    Next, using Nel''s glue stick and a single Vell of Fire Myst, I glued the bullets to the bottle and quickly cured it. Following that, I popped off the cover of the battery for the cooling system of the bottle and replaced the Ice Myst Crystal with a Lightning one from the case of six I had found. That action put me on a timer of only seconds as the Ice Myst in the chilling system was put under pressure from the now-charging Lightning Myst.


    While Ice Myst was not conducive in a raw myst form, it was volatile when put under pressure from myst of an opposing element. Because Lightning was a compound element formed from crossing Air and Fire Myst, it very much was an opposing element. The power draw system of the chilling apparatus would pull any element from an installed myst crystal. Without the Ice Myst being used to actively cool the bottle, the circulation system was only being put under increasing pressure. The result of that action alone was going to be explosive. But I also just filled the bottle with explosive sand used to launch bullets at lethal speed.


    My work pace kicked into high gear as I used the remaining spare moments to put the other Lightning Myst Crystals in the bottle. I sealed the bottle cap, put Nennel¡¯s pistol in my free hand, and judged my launch angle.


    I threw the bottle in a high arc. As it fell, I lined up my first shot and fired at the mount-point of the chain holding Nennel aloft. The shot rang out and echoed through the warehouse. A single link of that chain holding Nennel up burst with a snap and puff of rust flakes. The chain went slack, and she dropped to the floor. While the gangers turned away from Nel to find the source of the shot, I lined up the second shot.


    The moment the now pressurized and charged bottle was just above the heads of the gang, I cracked off my second shot. The metal water bottle detonated with a thunderous crunch that sounded like the snapping of a dragon¡¯s bone. The water inside the bottle and Ice Myst in the container were vaporized, producing a thick cloud that covered the small space and blocked vision. At the same time, the bullets attached to the bottle, along with the metal shell, were sent flying in every direction. Metal bounded off metal and concrete in every direction, clattering, clanging, and ringing out from everywhere.


    Nothing thrown out by the bottle¡¯s blast would have had lethal force, but it got the job done. The gangers panicked, drawing their weapons and attacking blindly in every direction. As the gang spread out, looking for what they must have thought to be a group of attackers encircling them, I slipped in. Every ganger I passed, I struck with a non-lethal blow to knock them out without making too much sound. By the time I had gotten to Nennel, I had crippled four of the CySkav-Harvesters, but there were at least another dozen of them.


    One of the smarter CySkavs was standing guard beside Nennel, where she lay on the floor. I wasn¡¯t going to be able to get Nel without alerting the large male Human. I aimed the pistol at his head while he couldn¡¯t see me. But I hesitated. I couldn¡¯t just kill the man, even if he was a ganger and a CySkav. That moment of hesitation cost me. The man turned and spotted me. I got a good look at him. He must¡¯ve been in his early thirties, large, muscular, and bald, with a cybernetic left arm and eye that looked to be of poor quality.


    The large man gave a shout of warning as he brought a large revolver to aim at me. In a panic, I lunged forward and stabbed him in the foot with the dagger in my left hand. That turned his shout of warning into one of pain and panic in mid-vocalization.


    In one fluid motion, I spun around the man and struck him in the base of the skull with the butt of the same dagger to knock him out. As an afterthought, I took his armband and pocketed it before grabbing Nennel. I picked up what was left of Nel and slung her over my shoulder. The moment I was certain that Nennel was secure, I made straight for the door I had entered through.


    I hadn¡¯t made it six steps before a bullet whizzed by my ear. I ducked behind the nearest support beam, pressing my free shoulder against the cover while I called Navor. She picked up the call with a deadpan, ¡°You¡¯re alive. I¡¯m guessing you found Nennel.¡±


    A ganger jumped around the corner with a blade swinging at my chest. I fired a single shot into the Elf woman¡¯s knee to cripple her before I replied to the Master. ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am. But she¡¯s in bad shape, and we¡¯re in trouble.¡±


    ¡°Got it. I have your location. I have an AV cab en route to pick you up in two minutes. Meet it at the street.¡±


    I moved from one pillar to the next as the call continued, only firing my pistol when I had no other choice and always aiming for non-lethal targets. Finally, I made it to the door just as I heard the majority of the gang closing in, and I knew I did not have the skills or ammunition to handle them with Nennel over one shoulder.


    I kicked the door open and rushed across the courtyard, bullets flying by me, and Navor was still on the call. ¡°Master, please tell the team that I need help in ASAP? I¡¯m going to need Kharmor¡¯s contact number, and for you to call the nearest Cy-doc shop and get me access to their space and tools.¡±


    ¡°Alright. Zynna and Demierra will help, but they aren¡¯t happy about it. I¡¯m sending you Kharmor¡¯s number now.¡±


    ¡°Roger.¡± was all I managed to get out before I noticed an AV taxi dropping down to land on the street just on the other side of the buildings to my right. The sight distracted me enough to allow a single bullet to land in my thigh. The round dug deep and burned like hell but didn¡¯t reach the bone.


    I hobbled down the alley as fast as I could, cussing and cursing the whole way, knowing that the gangers were snapping at my heels. I reached the aerial vehicle with its doors already open and unceremoniously dropped Nennel into the back seat. Without pause, I climbed in beside her and shouted for the cab driver to move at top speed. As the cab took off, I double-checked that the Ceangar female driver had our destination. The moment she gave the affirmative, I started typing up a text message addressed to the Half-Dwarf Kharmor.


    I kept it short and sweet. I gave him a rough description of Nel¡¯s state alongside a list of components for him, Zynna, Demierra, and Ferris to pick up. Along with the message, I wired him all of my equipment funds and told him to split it between everyone I had listed and to check with the Master where to meet me.


    After the message was sent, I pulled my R.A.T Tail from the back of my neck, extending the cable, and plugged it into the side of Nennel¡¯s own neck into an emergency analysis port. My understanding of cybernetic body standard readings was rudimentary, to say the least, but I could tell that she was in terrible shape and only getting worse.


    I still had her purse by some miracle. So I pulled free the pack of gum, popped a piece in my mouth, chewed it just enough to get it pliable, and used it to plug the leaking hoses. I did this over and over again. While I did this, I shouted at the driver to get me to the Cy-doc shop faster.


    ¡°Cool your heels, kid! We¡¯ll be there soon.¡± The diver snapped back at me.


    My rage boiled at how helpless I felt. I was so furious I had totally forgotten about the bullet in my leg. I was scared for Nennel. I was seething with how I could do so little to change things. The desire to scream and strike the interior of the aerial vehicle was almost overwhelming. But I restrained myself. I also bit my tongue to stop from barking threats at the driver. But the effort was immense.


    That day of all days was not a good one to forget to take my anti-crazy injection. I knew I was unstable without the medication in my system. If I wasn¡¯t careful, I was going to make a choice I would regret. I needed to keep a tight leash on myself, or I was going to dig myself an even deeper hole.


    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    What must¡¯ve only been minutes felt like timeless hours as I seethed in my powerlessness. The moment the landing lights went on in the interior, the tension in my mind and body was so tight I could¡¯ve held the whole AV on my shoulders without even noticing. I threw open the door and watched the ground close in, resisting the urge to jump with Nel until I knew it was a height that wouldn¡¯t injure me or kill her when I dropped. I dropped eight feet from the vehicle with Nennel braced in my arms and held close to my chest. When I struck the pavement with bone-jarring force, I felt something in my thigh tear with a ripping sensation. A snarl slipped through my lips, but I pushed on.


    Ten feet from where I landed was the entrance to a two-story gray concrete building. ''Smith & Seedon Cybernetics and Medical Services'' was written on a hologram sign above the metal doors in purple and blue. I forced myself to limp forward as fast as I could.


    The twin armor-plated front doors slid open as I drew near. I stumbled into a waiting room with a white-tiled floor under gray-blue walls enclosing neat rows of navy blue and steel chairs. Directly in front of me was a reception station set behind bullet-resistant glass, operated by a young Human woman with blond hair.


    The moment the receptionist noticed me staggering in, her eyes went wide with panic. She tapped her therra and muttered something. Moments later, as I fell to my knees, the doors leading to the back swung open before three nurses. A large male Human nurse and two Ceangar nurses who looked like twins of an unknown gender.


    ¡°My Master called ahead.¡± I growled up at the Human nurse with a tired but resolute smile on my face as he took Nel from my arms. ¡°I have an appointment for a reserved operating theater.¡±


    ¡°Kid,¡± started one of the Ceangar twins; his voice revealed that he was definitely a man. ¡°You are a total mess. You¡¯re in no shape to do anything but get help yourself.¡±


    I looked down at myself. My bare chest and arms were covered in dust, and flecks of rust pasted on by my sweat. My wounded thigh was leaking a trickle of scarlet, but nothing life-threatening. I flicked my gaze to the Ceangar, who made the comment, and gave him a death stare as I dragged myself to my feet. I favored my good leg, but I wasn¡¯t about to back down. ¡°I¡¯ll stop when my sister is safe. Till then, I have work to do.¡± I turned to the Human nurse who held Nel and asked him to lead the way. He gave me a worried look up and down but said nothing, instead gesturing with his head toward to door before he moved in that direction.


    I hobbled along behind the large man as he led me down a hall, up a flight of stairs, and into a room. The room in question was about twelve feet squared, with a familiar raised and slanted operating table in the center. Stretching from the back of the operating table were several mechanical arms hung above the table, with dormant tools at the end of each. Around the perimeter of the room were various other tools, systems, and supply stations.


    The nurse laid Nel down on the operating table and started to hook her up to the life-support systems. He hadn¡¯t finished hooking up the first system when I told him I would do it myself and asked him to leave.


    ¡°Do you know how to operate these systems?¡± He asked in a skeptical tone. I gave him a hasty confirmation before almost shoving him out of the way to do the work myself.


    The Ceangar twins left the room ahead of the Human nurse, who stopped for one last look back at me with worry before leaving. I moved around the room as fast as I could manage with my damaged leg. I pulled all the needed life support and fluid supply systems from the wall. With shaking hands, I clipped off the ends of each tube I had sealed with gum using medical sheers. I then hooked up each freshly opened tube to the necessary supply systems.


    I started with the systems that kept her brain and remaining organic organs functional. Synthetic blood and hormone supplements were systematically added to her body. I knew her blood type was B-negative, so I prepped the synthetic blood in the pump. While I prepped the blood, I had a scanner mounted above the chair, checking her vital signs as well as which chemicals and synthetic hormones were needed in what amounts.


    After I set the blood-pump system into motion, I hooked her up to a saline drip feed. My primary goal was to keep her brain alive at all costs. I could replace her cybernetics and even other damaged organic components if I could keep her brain functioning. Luckily, her synth-org lungs were still intact, so I didn¡¯t need to worry about her oxygen. But I was still terrified that I wouldn¡¯t be able to save Nel if my teammates didn¡¯t get there in time with the needed parts.


    Once I was mostly sure that Nel would remain in a stable condition, I turned to my own wound. I gathered the needed tools and supplies and sat down on a wheeled stool in an awkward position. With patience, I thoroughly washed my hands before cutting be back of my pant leg open. Sure enough, the bullet hole halfway up my thigh had split horizontally about a half inch on either side. I wasn¡¯t bleeding badly, though the wound burned with constant pain. But the pain was nothing new. I systematically pulled the bullet free with a pair of medical forceps, digging deep into the meat of my leg. Once the bullet was free, I absent-mindedly dropped it on the floor and started to stitch myself up. The flesh tear was deep, so I ran the stitches just as deep, which was less than pleasant.


    I was three sutures from completion when the door to the room opened. Zynna stepped into the room with three large bags of supplies in her hands. ¡°This had better not be a jo-¡± she started until she saw me sowing up my leg. She stopped in her tracks to stare at me. When she looked over to find Nennel, she breathed a low ¡°holy shit-cakes.¡±


    With a medical thread held between my lips and my hands occupied, I nodded over to a table I had the forethought to clear off beforehand. ¡°Drop it off there.¡± I mumbled around the thread.


    Zynna hurried over to the table and dropped off the bags. Demierra came in after her with a pair of long metal cases under each arm. The Dracose looked from me to Nennel before wordlessly dropping off the cases at the foot of the table. Zynna stood in a corner of the room, looking uncharacteristically nervous, while Demierra left the room.


    Kharmor and Ferris stepped in after Demierra left. The Half-Dwarf looked uncomfortable as he saw the scene. Meanwhile, Ferris, normally an easy-going and enjoyable ass, his face darkened like a storm cloud when he saw Nel¡¯s state. ¡°What happened?¡± was all he asked. His tone was the calm before the storm he wore.


    ¡°CySkav-Harvesters.¡± I stated. ¡°They ambushed her and were in the middle of picking her apart when I found her.¡±


    My Quint friend stormed from the room with a hostile stance, Zynna hot on his heels. Kharmor was about to follow them out of the room when I told him to stay. ¡°I¡¯m going to need another set of hands to get this done right.¡±


    There was a long moment of silence as he took in Nennel in her incomplete state before he said, ¡°I¡¯m going to warn you now: cybernetics aren¡¯t my forte. But¡­ What do you need me to do?¡± His voice started low and uncertain, but by the end of his question, his tone was resolute.


    I wrapped up my last suture and tied it off before standing. I hobbled over to the table, taking the stool with me. I braced my bad leg against the stool by resting my knee on it. ¡°Are you familiar with the basic components of cybernetics?¡±


    ¡°Reasonably.¡± Kharmor replied.


    So, I listed off one component after another for Kharmor to bring from the table of supplies. I installed or replaced Nennel¡¯s body systematically as I went. I started with the synthetic organs, commonly referred to as synth-orgs. The devices are made of plastic, rubber, and silicone and are designed to function like natural organs using magical mechanisms. Nel¡¯s digestive system and most adjacent systems were a total mess, if not completely missing. I guided Kharmor through each installation process and explained what I needed when I required another set of hands.


    Kharmor was mostly silent as we worked, aside from a question here and there. He was patient, calm, and intuitive as we patched Nennel together. As we were assembling Nennel¡¯s legs¡¯ skeletal structure, Kharmor spoke up with a question that had nothing to do with the operation.


    ¡°So¡­ I take it that you weren¡¯t the one to poison the coffee this morning?¡±


    Without looking up from my work, I wiped the sweat from my brow with a forearm before I answered with a simple ¡°Yep.¡±


    ¡°Do you know who did?¡±


    I looked at Kharmor from under a heavy and still slightly damp brow as I said, ¡°Take a hard guess.¡±


    The Half-Dwarf raised a single bushy eyebrow at me before he said, ¡°Ozwald?¡±


    ¡°How¡¯d¡¯ya guess?¡± I asked with thick sarcasm.


    ¡°You defended Ferris and Nennel without a second thought. You accused him after he pointed the blame at you. That wasn¡¯t simply retaliatory. You knew. But why did you have the antidote?¡±


    ¡°I already said that Thallos had a habit of poisoning me to teach me to be paranoid. I had to find a way to counter any poison that he subjected me to.¡±


    ¡°So you got ahold of the antidotes through your friends, which are part of either the Sightless Eye or Silent Heart.¡±


    While he was totally off base, I decided to give him the win. I gave Kharmor confirmation with a single deep nod and an affirmative grunt while I locked a coupling into place. He gave me a nod in return, and he screwed the coupling closed. ¡°I had a feeling after seeing you run out to save Nel instead of defending yourself. Demierra, Zynna, Ozwald, and I all thought that you were just fleeing the accusation at first. When you called Ferris, we thought you were just making up excuses for running out like a coward. But when you contacted the Master with instructions for each of us and dropped funds for buying components¡­ I had my suspicions that something serious was going on.¡±


    ¡°And then you saw Nel¡¯s state.¡± I deduced as I hooked a silicone tube to a mounting site of a pump.


    ¡°And your¡¯s too. Yes.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know me from a fiend, Kharmor.¡± I said as I started attaching synthetic musculature to the base steel-bone-frame. ¡°I don¡¯t expect you to know that I¡¯ve run for most of my life and that I¡¯m done running. You wouldn¡¯t know that I never had friends until Nennel and Ferris. Nor would you know that I would spill blood, both mine and anyone else''s who threatens those two.¡±


    ¡°They mean that much to you?¡± Kharmor asked as he started his own process of mounting musculature to the steel-bone-frame on his side.


    I tightened down the servos set at Nennel¡¯s right knee as I replied, my voice gruff with the strain. ¡°When did you get your first friend?¡±


    ¡°When I was seven years old. Why?¡±


    I tested the servo as I continued. ¡°Were you bullied when you were younger?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I got a good bit of trouble from Dwarven children because I was a half-breed.¡±


    ¡°Did they ever beat you?¡± I asked.


    ¡°What?¡± Kharmor asked with a start, clearly confused by the question. ¡°No, I never got beaten. The worst I got was nasty name-calling.¡±


    I reached over to tap on one of Kharmor¡¯s knuckles. The feeling of the appendage was off, not quite what would be totally organic. ¡°Your hands are cybernetic, aren¡¯t they?¡± I also noticed a bracelet of woven mythril on his right hand holding sixteen glowing myst crystals. Was it just jewelry? Or was it a magic item?


    ¡°Yes, but don¡¯t change the topic.¡± Kharmor snapped as he recoiled his hands in shock.


    I gave him a dramatic eye roll before I provided him with the answer he was looking for. ¡°If you really must know, Nennel was my first friend, and I met her when I first came to the Academy. Before then, and even after I met her, bullies regularly attacked me. As much as I hate Thallos, I will give him credit for shaping me into a man able to defend myself and those I care about. So yes, Nennel and Ferris mean more to me than anyone else I know that still breaths.¡±


    I pressed my hands against the small of my back to force a series of audible pops from the region. ¡°But enough about me. What about you, Kharmor? Why did you join the Order? How did you get those hands?¡±


    The Half-Dwarf flexed his hands, looking at them with a distant expression. ¡°Do you really want to know?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± I confirmed.


    ¡°If you really want to know, I joined the Order with a goal to reach, plane and simple. Regarding my hands¡­ my mother is a Dwarven whitesmith, a smith specializing in jewelry. And my father is a Human blacksmith. I studied their work to the best of my ability and got ahead of myself. When they weren¡¯t looking, I melted down a bar of mythril and spilled it on my hands while trying to move the molten metal across the room. I don¡¯t think I need to tell you that I didn¡¯t have much of my hands left after that. My parents burned every coin of savings they had to get me these hands.¡±


    I visibly winced at the thought of spilling molten metal across my hands. ¡°That must¡¯ve been pretty bad. I am seriously sorry to hear that you had to go through that kind of pain.¡±


    Kharmor shrugged as he hooked up a power cable to the needed power plug. ¡°What¡¯s done is done. There¡¯s no changing the past, and whining about it won¡¯t change a thing. So I work with what I have and push toward my next goal with all that I am.¡±


    With an examining eye, I looked at the young Half-Dwarf for a long moment. Closely, I watched him work with a methodical and dedicated pace, with an expression that came across to me as brooding. For a brief second, I thought caught a flash of something beneath that brooding. Something manic. But it was gone in an instant. I was shocked out of my stooper when Kharmor asked me to explain the next steps. I shook my head free of the daze and rapidly blinked a few times before walking him through the next few steps. As I spoke, I pointed to the needed components, tools, and critical locations.


    We worked together with only the barest minimum of words to convey what was needed. It wasn¡¯t until we were working on the outermost layer of synthetic muscle that I spoke up with my next question. ¡°You mentioned having a goal tied to The Order?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Kharmor said with a single nod as he continued with his work, not even sparing me a glance. ¡°I¡¯ve always had a passion for fighting. I enjoy forging weapons, but what I truly enjoy is fighting. Pitting myself against a skilled fighter with nothing but my fists, that''s what I want . However, I¡¯ve had no official or professional training in my life other than the basics we got as Slates. When I was younger, I had a scorching temper and got into plenty of brawls. I can throw a decent punch, but that wasn¡¯t enough to join the Crimson Blade. Instead, I was automatically put into the Blackened Crown because I¡¯m a Mechanist class Mage. I easily got into the Burning Hand because of that same Mage class, given the ability to conjure machinery and tools. I may be a Tinker¡¯s Wand Type 2 Order member, but I am dedicated to joining the Crimson Blade and becoming a warrior.¡±


    ¡°So you want to become a Type 3 member like myself?¡±


    ¡°What, you think it¡¯s a stupid dream?¡± Kharmor spoke with a note of challenge.


    ¡°What?! No!¡± I defended.


    ¡°Don¡¯t patronize me, Dark-blood.¡± He snapped. ¡°Everyone thinks that because I¡¯m a half-blood, I won¡¯t amount to anything.¡±


    ¡°Dude!¡± I snapped back. ¡°I¡¯m just as much a half-blood as you. At least you know your parents and what species¡¯ bloods you carry.¡± I turned away to pretend to pick the next components needed while I actually hid my shame and frustration.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    I eyed Kharmor over my shoulder with a wary look. ¡°I never knew my mother or father. I don¡¯t even know the species of my genetic father. To muddy the waters even more, I apparently have gene markers and traits from all Darkling breeds. I¡¯m a genetic anomaly and can¡¯t even ask my blood parents.¡±


    ¡°You never knew your parents?¡± Kharmor asked.


    I gave a shallow nod before continuing. ¡°I was raised by a Wild Elf exile. He wasn¡¯t perfect, but I still loved him.¡±


    ¡°Loved? Past tense?¡± The Half-Dwarf wore the barest expression of sympathy.


    ¡°His clan brother, my uncle Thallos, butchered that man. The very same Thallos that got me into the Academy and tortured me under the pretense of training.¡±


    ¡°How did he become your master at the Academy?¡± Kharmor asked, curiosity clear in his words.


    I looked back at the items on the table before me. My shoulders bunched and clenched for a long moment before I forced them to go lax. ¡°Thallos was the one to take me in after my father¡¯s death. He lied to me, hid the truth. He brought me to the Academy and personally trained me after I developed magic. I was some kind of pet project for the sadist.¡±


    There were a long few seconds of silence that felt like an eternity. ¡°Wow,¡± Kharmor said to break the silence. ¡°That¡¯s pretty screwed up.¡±


    Those words sent a shudder through my body. A hurricane of emotions welled up in my core. Rage, shame, and hatred stormed in my chest like a mad swarm of venomous bats thrashing in a cutting wind. All that I managed to say in reply was a low ¡°Yeah.¡± the simple word was shockingly calm compared to what I felt.


    ¡°Sorry if I brought up bad memories, Iver. But we need to finish putting your friend back in fighting shape.¡±


    I shook my head to break free of my dark emotions so I could focus on what really mattered. After my head was clear, I picked up the next few components and told Kharmor which tools to grab. We worked in silence for a few minutes. The stillness was only broken by the sound of electric tools and occasional instructions. The whole time, I was debating something in the back of my head. Finally, I spoke up as we were wrapping up, attaching the last few of the surface plates on Nennel¡¯s legs.


    ¡°If you¡¯re up to the idea, I could train with you.¡± I offered. My voice carried a clear note of nervousness despite my best efforts. I really needed to work on my voice control, but that was something I could do on my own time.


    Kharmor looked up at me with a raised brow. ¡°What were you thinking, exactly?¡±


    I gave a noncommittal shrug. ¡°I figured, if you were willing to take me up on the offer, after each work day, we train for an hour. We can train for two hours every Sacreday.¡±


    ¡°And what would you want in return?¡±


    I honestly hadn¡¯t thought about getting something in return. But I knew that he would want an even trade. It reminded me of when I first met Ferris. The Quint Elf had never experienced much kindness in his life, and this Half-Dwarf seemed just as tough and rugged as Ferris, if not more so.


    ¡°How about you help me with my personal crafting projects?¡± My response was completely on impulse.¡°And if you¡¯re too busy to do that, I wouldn¡¯t mind if you bought me a meal.¡±


    ¡°A meal?¡± Kharmor asked in confusion.


    I gave him an embraced smile as I scratched my head. ¡°I may have taken to buying some local orphans food in exchange for local info.¡±


    ¡°Ah. That¡¯s not a half-bad idea. Sure, I¡¯ll take you up on your offer. But I want to make an amendment.¡±


    ¡°What kind of amendment?¡±


    ¡°If I need local information, I want you to ask the kids for me. Sound good?¡±


    I gave him a broad smile with an elated ¡°Yes.¡±

 PITM Chapter 17

    A commonly found defense device among adventurers and even many civilians is the Personal Sanctum Guard. A PSG is a device that can range in size from a broach to a buckler. These devices are powered by a myst crystal and provide a defensive shield that dulls attacks with the same element as the crystal installed to power it. A broach-sized PSG is considered Iron Class, a larger book-sized PSG is Steel Class, and the largest type, Adamantine Class, is the size of a small shield. The larger the item, the larger the crystal size it requires, but also the higher the energy-use threshold it has, allowing it to negate more damage.


    After hours of effort, Kharmor and I finally finished reassembling Nennel¡¯s body. Not long after we finished her internal systems and took her off the life support devices, Master Navor gathered everyone who was still conscious. I was in the middle of attempting to pick Nennel up in a cradle carry, but my body gave under the stress. Without a single word, Ferris stepped up and took her into his own arms.


    Navor escorted our entire group from the building and into an armored aerial vehicle. As the AV took off with everyone safely fastened down, the silence was thick, and the emotions in the tight space were cloying. Ferris still looked like a storm was churning in his mind. Demierra and Zynna traded between momentary glaring at me before looking at something else and glancing at me with confused expressions. I pretended not to notice the two girls, instead locked inside my own head, brooding.


    The only two in the cramped space who weren¡¯t emanating some degree of negative emotions were Kharmor and Master Navor. The Half-Dwarf was staring down at his bracelet with a distant look. Navor simply looked tired. Ozwald was completely absent from the scene, which made me dislike him just that much more.


    Nennel remained unconscious for the entire ride back to the house. Ferris laid Nel in her bed and made sure to periodically check up on her for the entire time she was unconscious. After Nennel was nestled safely in her room, Master Navor healed my wounds while she debriefed me on what happened. I told her everything from the message Nennel had sent me, up to the arrival of Kharmor and the others with the much-needed supplies.


    The others listened to my explanation, even Ozwald, who walked in shortly after we gathered in the living room. Not long into my explanation, Master Navor instructed Ferris to fix me a cup of coffee. This made everyone in the room tense up. Ferris stood from his place on the couch and left to step into the kitchen without a single word.


    As I continued my explanation, I could feel my blood boil as I described how I found Nennel, and my tone reflected that. By the time I finished, everyone in the room was visibly upset in one manner or another. Ferris was cold and hard, his gaze staring down at his feet with an intent to kill. Zynna had a snarl on her face that was trembling, and she seemed ready to emotionally explode. Demierra¡¯s fists were clenched tight and throbbing in and out of a flaming state with white-green tongues of fire. She looked like she wanted to punch something or someone. Kharmor and Ozwald were the calmest of the students. Kharmor wore a hard expression while he cleaned a kinetic pistol on the table before him. But his act seemed more like a catharsis than a preparation for violence.


    Ozwald simply looked uncomfortable, not looking at any one thing for longer than a few seconds. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other with micro motions as he kept his hands in his pockets. I chose to ignore the Human in favor of trying to enjoy the coffee that Ferris made for me while I listened to Master Navor.


    ¡°I think I get the gist of what happened, kid.¡± She said, her town was calm but with a restrained undertone of wrath. ¡°Now, I could tell you to stand back, behave, and just do the jobs I give you. But I know that you won¡¯t listen. So, I¡¯m going to tell you to act with caution and don¡¯t get into anything that you can¡¯t handle.¡±


    ¡°Wait, what?¡± I asked in surprise.


    Navor sat back in her seat and crossed her legs as she pulled a cigarette from seemingly out of nowhere. As the Master conjured a flame at the end of her index finger and lit the end of the stick of tobacco, I noted the gold stripe down the center and an electric blue filter. That meant that she was smoking the Gold-Cobalt Dragon brand. A premium brand known for being laced with pain inhibitors. What could cause her enough pain to need such a thing regularly?


    As she lit her cigarette, Navor took a deep inhale, causing the cherry to light with a bright gold and blue color before dimming to a dulling glowing ember. ¡°Kid, Iver,¡± she corrected. ¡°You should know by now that I prefer for my students to learn from experience. While I prefer using guided experiences, I won¡¯t stop a student from making mistakes to learn from them. But I draw the line when getting into a situation that could kill you.¡± She took a long drag of her cigarette and blew out a thin stream of smoke before she continued. ¡°I know you crave revenge for your friend. I also know that you won¡¯t simply do as I say if I tell you to sit back and let go. So I will let you do what you think is best, but be careful and think things through before you act.¡±


    ¡°You, you won¡¯t stop me?¡± I asked, nervous that she was just pulling my leg.


    ¡°No. But I won¡¯t help you either. You need to make your own mistakes, suffer the consequences, and learn.¡±


    ¡°So, then, you won¡¯t help me.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that what I just said?¡± She pulled her cigarette from her lips with two fingers and tapped it to dislodge the ash from the tip. The ash fell a few inches before vanishing.


    ¡°So¡­ then what do I do next?¡± I asked, numb with shock from everything that had happened.


    ¡°That¡¯s up to you, Iver. I will provide wisdom when you ask. I will give advice when I think you need it. But I will never step in when you dig the hole too deep. Start a fight and get beaten into cream filling. That¡¯s your problem. Go too far and lose a limb. That¡¯s on you. My original plan was to give each of you safe jobs that would let you learn slowly. But you stepped into a deep pile of blighted shit. And I know you¡¯re only going to go deeper. So step up your game or get buried six feet deep¡­ or deeper.¡±


    ¡°¡­Or deeper.¡± I echoed as I lowered my head and watched the carpet between my feet. I had no safety net. Even at the Academy, I had teachers who would protect me to some degree, even if murder was legal. But here, out in the real world, there were no duals to instantly warn me of a threat. There were no assassins using debilitating and nonlethal poisons to earn points. There were only a few academy students in this city, and I lived with them, and at least one wanted me shamed at least, dead at most. I needed to be careful. I needed to think through every single action I made.


    I clenched my jaw as I made my choice. ¡°Fine. I will be careful. But I will still take action against those who hurt Nennel.¡±


    Navor eyed me for a long moment as she took the final drag off her cigarette. ¡°It¡¯s good to see your resolve. But now that I¡¯ve let you off the leash, you¡¯ll need to step lightly. I feel like something bigger is at play here.¡±


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡± I muttered in a quiet tone as I brooded over what I would need to do.


    <hr>


    Nennel was unconscious for the next three days. Both Ferris and I checked on her every day. We did our best to feed her simple soups and broth when she needed food. In my free time, I worked on a special weapon designed specifically for Nennel. Whenever Kharmor wasn¡¯t on a job, I either trained with him or had him help me with my project. The Half-Dwarf helped me find flaws twice as fast as I would have found myself. He spotted errors with ease and told me what would fail before I even tested the devices. He also had an astounding nack for understanding myst crystals, their flaws, their limits, and their theoretical uses. I worked night after night, with no sleep, given the free rein that the Master granted me.


    By day three, I had finished my gift for Nennel and readied her a few modifiers to help her in battle. I made her a unique weapon and tool that could keep her safe in even the most dire of straights if she could keep a clever mind. I had been struggling with the design ever since she had asked for me to make her something on par with Ferris¡¯s infusion dagger. But Kharmor had helped me flush out the design and complete the project faster than I ever could have by myself.


    I also made an effort to spar with Kharmor daily and give him in-depth reviews after each match. The young Half-Dwarf was surprisingly skilled for someone who didn¡¯t manage to join Crimson Blade. I will admit that his cybernetic fists were pretty painful, but nothing I couldn¡¯t handle, given my trained pain threshold and honed reflexes. I also made sure to notify Master Navor of his desire to test into a Type 3 member. When I asked her if that meant that he would join the Dark Hunters, she told me that standard Type 3s were actually a thing. I was surprised by that realization, but looking back, I should¡¯ve seen it coming.


    Nennel was attacked on that Igniday. Every day after, I had devoted two hours to walking the streets to get to know the city better. What I saw on my strolls ranged from saddening to disturbing. I had seen dozens of beggars of all kinds of species. Twice in four days, I had seen building fires that the news classified as arson. In those same four days, I had stopped no less than ten attempted thefts. Sadly, whenever I attempted to return the stolen goods, the victims thought I was going to extort them. In that time, I also received an uncountable amount of glares, slurs, and people spitting in my direction, in addition to seventeen attempts to steal from me. The discrimination continued even when I entered shops to purchase goods. Grocery store employees almost always denied me service. Technology components and parts stores always had me thrown out whenever I stepped through their door. Whenever I attempted to enter Cy-Doc shops to look at cybernetic designs, I was quickly accused of robbery and quickly found a blade or firearm in my face in short order. I didn¡¯t even attempt to enter the high-end Cy-Doc shop called P¨¬osan a tha a Dh¨¬th. My Elvish wasn¡¯t exactly speaking quality, but if it was pronounced Pee-Soan a ha a Heeth, it meant something about parts of something missing. With an Elven name and a storefront that looked ready to service a corpo officer or landed noble, I thought it safe to assume that entering would have been bad for me.


    On this day, in particular, the sixth day after Nennel¡¯s attack, it was Quenchenday. Navor had replenished my funds, and I was meeting up with Bit, Byte, and Gig. After I tracked down the three, I put on a Mimic Facade of a generic-looking Human boy of my own age. The kids oohed and awed over the ability, but I didn¡¯t show them or tell them about my Venna gauntlet.


    I asked the kids where they wanted to go for food. As the kids bickered over their options, I watched with sad amusement. I didn¡¯t have any actual siblings, so I never had those kinds of arguments. As strange as it sounds, I felt like I was missing out on something that I could never get. Watching the three kids also reminded me of Nennel and her state.


    The three finally agreed to go to an Ethran restaurant a few blocks west of where we stood. I guessed at least one of them had a thing for tacos, but I could go for a bowl of black garlic tonkotsu, so I didn¡¯t argue. The restaurant in question was a small mom-and-pop shop called KymGekaw. The inside was painted fire red and peach tan with a jungle theme. The tables were well-worn but also well-cared for. We sat down and ordered our food. Sure enough, Bit ordered a taco plate with a large soda drink. Gig ordered pork dumplings and a black coffee. He came across as trying to be more mature than he really was. Byte ordered the same meal as me when I told him what I was getting - black garlic tonkotsu with a side of zesty Ethran rice, a water, and an energy drink. It was plain to see that the twelve-year-old was imitating me. Why he was doing so, I could only guess at the time. I had never been very good at understanding other people without knowing them on a personal level. Only much later would I realize that he was emulating me because I had somehow become a noteworthy person in his life.


    The three ate their food with ravenous fervor while I picked at my food. I had lost my appetite after watching the kids devour their food like starving animals. I felt guilty, so I split my meal between the three kids, who looked at me like I had grown a second head. I gave them a half-hearted explanation about a stomachache, and they took it without question.


    After they finished every scrap of food that was on the table, I pulled free the armband I had stolen from the ganger when I saved Nennel. ¡°Alright, guys, I need you to hold up your end of the deal. A friend of mine was attacked by a gang. She got scrapped pretty bad, and I¡¯m looking for answers.¡± I dropped the armband in the center of the table. ¡°They were all wearing this.¡± On the bright red fabric was a black, stylized design of a sleek bird, with wings made of a row of knives, diving at a steep angle.


    Gig poked at the armband with a fork. ¡°This is the logo of the Razor Wings. They¡¯re bad news. These guys cause a lot of trouble and will do anything that will earn them any good amount of clat. They strip cybernetics like any other CySkav gang, but they also do a load of drug deals.¡±


    ¡°Is there anything else you can tell me about them?¡± I asked. ¡°Recent news and blind spots are what I¡¯m looking for. Are they working for a corp? Has anything changed with their regular actions? Have they had any deals curdle in a big way?¡±


    Gig sat back with a pensive expression. ¡°Yeah, they have had something strange happen. Before, they sold the standard street drugs, mostly Ink-K. No more dangerous than normal, but they released a new product two weeks ago. The word on the streets is that the stuff is called ZipVane. The claims are that the stuff is a battle booster with a serious high that just happened to drop in their lap. The RWs said the stuff was clean and safe but also packed a fraggin¡¯ punch.¡±


    ¡°That sounds like a problem. But, I¡¯m hearing a ¡®but¡¯ coming up.¡± I said to Gig.


    The kid gave me a proud grin. ¡°You¡¯re right on the clat. But since they released it, their normal buyers have been droppin¡¯ like nats. A couple of the Ink-K users near our hideout, ones we know bought from the Razor Wings, ODed just a few days ago.¡±


    ¡°You think they used this ZipVane stuff?¡±


    Gig leaned forward and spoke with total certainty. ¡°I know they used the stuff. One of the guys to turn corpse, an Elf we called Weird Wellon, was bragging to his buddies that he got his hands on the stuff the day before his corpse was pulled out of an alley.¡±


    ¡°Good to know.¡± I muttered as I thought about how I could use this info to my advantage. ¡°Do you know where the gang makes their nest?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s an abandoned hospital at 332 North, and Griffin Cliff Way. We avoid the place pretty hard.¡±


    ¡°Also good to know.¡± I replied. ¡°Do you know if they have any initiation trials or rituals?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard a couple of rumors, but nothing certain.¡±


    ¡°Hmmm.¡± I hummed to myself as I thought about how to approach. I had a rough idea that might work, but I needed to be totally certain that I could pull it off without a hitch. Navor told me that I had no safety net and I needed to minimize my risk.


    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    ¡°Do you know of anyone that would know their initiation process, that isn¡¯t part of the gang?¡±


    All three of the boys looked at each other with worry. ¡°Uh, yeah. But the dude lives in Undercity and is pretty strange and scary.¡±


    ¡°Scary how?¡± I asked.


    <hr>


    After my talk with the kids, I had made my way back to the team home to make preparations for a trip. I had done some quick research on my walk back home to see what I was in for. Gig and the others had only heard of this so-called creepy guy through the rumor vines. According to the kids, the mysterious man might have more than two eyes, more than two arms, and/or more than two legs. This raised more than a few questions for me. If this unknown informant had extra anything, they had to be cybernetics, but were they for a purpose or simply an esthetic choice? If they served a purpose, what was it? Extra hands I could understand, even extra eyes. But extra legs?


    I pondered this puzzle as I stepped in through the front door to the team home. As I stepped through the door, I found Ferris preparing to leave. ¡°Where are you heading?¡±


    ¡°The temple.¡± was all Ferris said before he stepped around me and moved out the door with a determined pace.


    I watched him leave with sadness weighing on my mind. Ferris hadn¡¯t been the same since he had seen Nennel in pieces. The Quint Elf was normally so easygoing and fun. I had never realized just how much I had relied on Ferris being the laid-back goofball until that was gone. He had been someone to keep me grounded and remind me that there was always fun to be had in life, even in the darker times.


    I watched the door close even as I walked into the living room where Demierra and Zynna were lounging. Demierra sat in the recliner as she strummed at a guitar in a slow rhythm while she read something on her therra. Zynna was reading a book while she lay splayed out across the coach.


    ¡°Did I just hear Ferris say that he was going to a temple? Since when did he find religion?¡± I asked the other two.


    Zynna gave a heavy shrug without looking up from her book. ¡°Maybe seeing his friend picked to pieces gave him a crisis of faith.¡±


    I turned to Demierra. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you played.¡±


    The Dracose bared her teeth at me. ¡°I¡¯m learning. Don¡¯t give me crap.¡±


    I put my hands up in a sign of submission. ¡°No offense meant. I¡¯m just surprised.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s playing a guitar like a drunk clock with a bad gear?¡± groaned a familiar voice.


    I whipped around to find Nennel shuffling into the living room with one hand on the side of her head like she was in pain, and rubbing one of her eyes with the other. The moment I saw her, I rushed toward her. My gaze jumped all over her body, searching for flaws. At the same time, my hands traded between jumping around randomly and testing parts of her body while questions poured from my mouth in a torrent. ¡°Nel! How are you feeling?¡± Before she could answer, I knelt down and rapped a knuckle against one of her shins. ¡°Do your legs feel right?¡± I shot back up, grabbed her arm, and tested the movement of her elbow. ¡°Are your elbows too tight?¡± I shifted my grip from her arm to her hand. I rubbed and squeezed each fingertip in order. ¡°Can you feel your toes and fingers?¡± I dropped her hand and slapped my forehead with the heel of my palm. ¡°I¡¯m so stupid. Do you need water? Or food? Oh! I have something for you!¡±


    I rushed past Nennel and down to my room to snag the items I had crafted for my borg sister. I hurried back upstairs to find Nennel gingerly lowering herself onto the couch, Zynna now sitting up with a leg draped over the couch''s arm beside her.


    I approached Nel with a belt hanging over one shoulder, a pair of gloves in one hand, and a pair of broach-like items in my other hand. ¡°Ives¡¯, you need to calm down.¡± Nel said in a tired voice. ¡°I can¡¯t handle that kind of energy right now. How long was I out for?¡±


    ¡°I-um,¡± I stammered. ¡°Six days.¡±


    Nennel gave me a surprised look as she rapidly blinked her eyes. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You heard him right. Six days.¡± Demierra confirmed as she toyed with a tuning peg on her instrument.


    Nennel lowered her head into her hands and let out a long and low moan. ¡°So it wasn¡¯t a nightmare. Those gangers really did get me.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± I numbly muttered, my gaze falling to the floor. After a long few moments of total silence, I looked back up at Nennel as I explained. ¡°I rushed to track you down after I got your message. Found you in an abandoned factory in the hands of a gang. You were in bad shape. I pulled you out and fixed you up.¡±


    Nennel was dead silent and as still as the grave for almost a whole two minutes. When she spoke, it was in a quiet tone that I had to strain to hear, ¡°I, I think that I need a moment to take this all in.¡±


    ¡°What you need is therapy, sweetheart.¡± Zynna commented bluntly.


    I set down everything I was carrying on the coffee table that stood just in front of the coach. ¡°Let me get you a glass of water.¡± I hurried to get what I promised. While in the kitchen, I had a thought and brought my sister a box of gram crackers as well. When I stepped back into the living room, I found the three girls handling the gadgets that I had crafted. Nennel was inspecting one of the gloves. Demierra had set aside her guitar to look at one of the broach-sized items, the device tiny between her massive fingers. Zynna was eyeballing the belt.


    ¡°Uh, Ives¡¯, what are these?¡± Nennel asked with obvious curiosity. I was happy to see that she was feeling well enough to show interest in something. The fact that her interest was in one of my pieces only made me proud.


    ¡°I¡¯ll show you. But first, I want you to have some water and a gram cracker or two.¡± I said as I set down the glass of water and box of sweet crackers.


    ¡°Why the crackers?¡± Nel asked as she set down the glove and pulled free one of the crackers.


    ¡°I¡¯ve always found that gram crackers help settle the stomach and provide glucose, which not only tastes good but also makes me feel better for the rest of the day.¡±


    Nennel nibbled at the cracker in her hand as I began to explain the tools I had crafted. I offered a hand to Demierra in request for the item that she was inspecting. Without comment, she dropped the device in my hand. With experienced hands, I held up the small device and showed it to the group. The small item was circular, with a metallic ring around a glass centerpiece I had etched and painted with the design of a cute cat face. I did some research and designed the image in a fashion that was popular with girls that year.


    I showed the design to each girl before I clipped it to the collar of my shirt and pressed the glass piece. My appearance blurred and rippled before appearing as a young Human girl, if a very boyish one. The illusion¡¯s hair was brunette and long, with slightly tanned skin and brown eyes. The clothes were well-worn jeans with a few holes and a plain lavender-purple T-shirt. ¡°This is a simple illusion device crafted to look like a plain pin. I designed the piece for you to look like a standard Human, with no cybernetics. It has two modes. The first changes nothing about your appearance but obscuring your cybernetics, making you look like a one-hundred percent squishy flesh Nel. Twist the outer ring to switch modes. The second mode will completely cover you, giving you this appearance. The device bases the illusion¡¯s framework on the natural structure of your face and only makes slight alterations. I set this mode to change your hair and eye color into the most generic and bland colors and style. The facial alteration should be enough to throw off anyone chasing you if you don¡¯t change in front of them. But the changes should be minimal enough that someone who actually knows you will recognize you if they are aware of these changes.¡±


    I turned off the illusion pin and set it on the table in front of Nennel before picking up the second, slightly larger item. The item was diamond-shaped with a thick and dark, gunmetal-colored rim around a faceplate displaying a switch and a pair of interlocking shutters. The shutters held two small triangular windows and a center button where the shutters overlapped. One window glowing red and the other was glowing gray. I clipped the device to the waist of my pants and pressed the dial switch set at the top.. After I pressed the switch, a shell of red and gray energy flashed around my body for a brief second before vanishing. ¡°This is a modified Personal Sanctum Guard. It isn¡¯t much different from a standard Personal Sanctum Guard¡­ Well, other than a total internal overhaul. But that¡¯s beside the point. This one can shield you from two elements simultaneously.¡±


    ¡°A dual element PSG? I¡¯ve never seen one of those.¡± Demierra commented.


    I unclipped the device and set it in front of Nennel beside the illusion pin. ¡°It¡¯s not a big deal. The design isn¡¯t too different from the standard type; just reduced in size, reshaped a bit, and twinned. I assembled it with a split pair of myst circuits and a dual infusion stabilizer.¡±


    ¡°You think you could make me one, too?¡± The Dracose asked.


    ¡°I, I guess.¡± I stammered. ¡°But it wouldn¡¯t be for free. I¡¯d need you to pay for the components and throw in a little extra for my time.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not an issue.¡± Demierra said with a wave of her hand. ¡°How much would you need?¡±


    I did some mental arithmetic before I gave her an answer. ¡°I¡¯d need fifteen credits for the parts and two credits for my time.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Demierra complained. ¡°That¡¯s over half of my weekly check.¡±


    I gave her a helpless shrug. ¡°Are you willing to spend a week eating cheap instant meals for a device that could save your life?¡±


    I watched with hidden amusement as she thought about it with a scrunched snarl on her face. ¡°Alright, you have a point.¡±


    I turned back to the items on the table and picked up the belt that Zynna had been inspecting. The design of the belt was simple, but useful. Attached to the outer side of the belt were six metal cases that were about three inches long, a half-inch wide, and seven inches deep. Each case had a latched lid that could be popped open in an instant but sealed firmly. I displayed the belt before pulling three shard-size myst crystals from a cargo pocket of my pants and showed how it worked. I slipped the crystals into a case one at a time, like loading bullets into a magazine. The base platform of each case was a spring-loading floor piece that pushed the crystals to the surface. A pair of half-hook lips at the top of the interior prevented the crystals from being totally ejected all at once.


    ¡°This belt is obviously meant to hold power crystals for either the PSG that I made you, Nennel, or for the last item that I made for you.¡± I set down the belt and picked up the gloves. ¡°If you ladies would follow me to the backyard.¡± With those words, I made my way to the stated location.


    The backyard of the house was a space almost the exact same size as the footprint of the house itself. The space was filled with false grass, called synth-lawn, complete with false flowers and bushes. Because of the polluted air and lack of sunlight in the hive-city made it unbelievably difficult to grow plants within the city. Some businesses and homes used moss gardens, with bio-engineered moss designed to feed off the pollution. Other areas and homes had enclosed yards with air filtration systems and grow lights to support actual plants. But most homes that had any kind of yard were much like the one we stood in at the time.


    Installed at the far end of the yard were three training dummies that Kharmor and I had crafted and installed. The setup was Kharmor¡¯s idea. After he understood what my intention for the gloves was, he proposed the idea of setting up specialized dummies for Nennel to train on. The humanoid shapes were made from ultra-tough rubber used for all-terrain tires. That only made up the outermost layer of the dummies. The skeletal frame of each was made from elemental resistant rebar, which had been a serious pain to weld together. Each dummy was set in a T-pose shape with only minimal changes, given the time Kharmor and I had spent on them.


    I pointed to the center dummy with a freshly gloved hand. ¡°Watch the target.¡± I instructed. Without another word, I pressed the trigger button at the heel of my right palm as I stood eight feet from the target dummy. A threat of red energy extended from the inside of the wrist of the glove I had triggered. I held down the button until the thread was fully extended to its maximum ten-foot length. In a single fast and sharp motion, I spun the hand over my head and struck out toward the dummy. The line of pure Fire Myst followed my motion overhead before reaching out to lash against the target like a striking serpent. A blackened singe line marked where the whip had struck. After my display, I tapped the button on the back side of the glove at the wrist, and the cable retracted.


    I turned back to the girls with a mad grin and was deeply satisfied by the slack-jawed look on the Dracose and Half-Elf. Nennel just looked excited at the new lethal toy I had made for her.


    ¡°What, in the name of all the Gods, was that?¡± Demierra asked in astonishment.


    ¡°That, my scaly friend, is an elemental whip glove. I call them Lasher Gloves for short.¡± I walked over to the girls and the gloves to the girls as I pointed out each component, and I explained how they worked.


    ¡°The gloves themselves are crafted from synthetic fibers interwoven with AdElRen Material. The AdElRen Material resists any myst element that matches what is channeled through it. But because the stuff has a high myst bleed-off rate, I laced the material with mythril myst circuits. That improves the myst flow rate and minimizes the bleed-off rate. I based the design of the cable on MasFlux Line since those cables are intended as whips or snares. They are more effective in combat than if I just ran Fire Myst through a cable and started flailing it around, hoping to hit something.¡±


    I pointed to the wrists of the gloves, which only looked slightly bulkier than the standard for a casual inspection. ¡°I store the cable here and use a micromotor to pull it out when the button at the heel of the palm is pushed.¡± I moved my hand to point at the button on the back of the hand. ¡°This button stops the flow of energy through the cable to prevent damage and rapidly retracts it.¡±


    ¡°How does the cable work?¡± Zynna asked. This question made me giddy. It was an excuse to really explain what I had done on a technical level, which I was really proud of.


    ¡°The cable was the hardest part of the whole thing to design. It took some trial and error, but Kharmor helped me get the concept finalized. I took several molecular threads of mythril, the metal used for myst circuits, and wove it into a nano-segmented cable wrapped in Mirrorloom then the myst circuit wires are layered over that. Mirrorloom is a flexible and highly resilient fabric and reflects spell effects based on its degree of refinement. I doubt that I have to tell you that I got the purest stuff I could get my hands on. The mirrorloom¡¯s flexibility over the nano-segment cable is what allows the whip to move like it does. At the same time, the spell-reflective effect forces the element powering the cable to only be forced outward, which increases the intensity.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± Demierra spoke up, confusion plain on her face. ¡°molecular threads? nano-segment cable? Isn¡¯t that all smaller than normal eyes can see?¡±


    I vigorously nodded. ¡°Without question, it¡¯s that small. I had to request an advance from the master to afford a tool capable of spinning the materials that thin. I also had to get a loan from Kharmor to get goggles capable of seeing that small. The mono-molecular spooler cost a shiny copper, to say the least, and weaving the whole thing together was a total nightmare until I figured out how to alter the spooler to do it for me. I¡¯ve been working on these for weeks now, and I¡¯ve spent plenty of sleepless nights working on them. But this cable is so thin that it can cut like a razor if used right.¡± I turned to Nel. ¡°If you can get good enough with these, you could wrap someone with them and restrain them or totally cut them in half if you have the angle right and enough strength.¡±


    Nennel looked at me in total shock. ¡°Iver, why did you make these for me?¡±


    I gave her a confused look as I explained. ¡°You were upset by the elemental infusion blade that I made for Ferris. I promised you I¡¯d make something on par with that.¡± My face lit up with excitement again. ¡°Which reminds me, you can change the element that the whips are infused with. It can use elements like Fire, or water, as wel as any of the compound elements. You can use Evulsion Kinetics, Voltreonic Current, Scorriomagmic Slag, Devorrick Acid, and Trapp Tar with relative safety. I wouldn¡¯t recommend using Zero Oil myst crystals in it, because the substance renders them totally useless. I would also advice against using Earth, its related elements like metal or crystal, or Static Kenetics because they would cause the cable to become rigid and brittle.¡±


    ¡°Screw the Sanctum Guard, I want a pair of those.¡± Demierra said.


    I shot the Dracose an annoyed look. ¡°Only if you have three mythril worth of clat.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡±


    ¡°You heard me. Those things were a total nightmare to make and weren¡¯t cheap. I was lucky that I had stocked up on the needed materials at the Academy Foundry before I left. Besides, your spell focus is a pair of special gauntlets, right? I would have to make them big enough and from a material that can stretch around the things. Or, I would have to modify your gauntlets, which would be an even bigger pain. I would also have to work with you to craft them so you could still use them as a channel for your spells. Thinking about it, it would cost more like five mythril with all that work, and it would take weeks of working with you to get them complete.¡±


    ¡°Are you bleeding me for coin?¡± Demierra growled in a threat.


    I raised my hands in a warding-off gesture and started verbally back-peddling in panic. ¡°No, no, no. I¡¯m not in the business of bleeding anyone for Deckra. Well, unless they cause me trouble.¡±


    ¡°You mean like putting you in an arm lock and accusing you of poisoning the party?¡± Demierra accused.


    ¡°What?! NO! Don¡¯t get me wrong. It hurts that you made those claims.¡± I started, and the Fury growled even deeper. ¡°I get why you would think I did that with the evidence given.¡± I forced the words out at a panicked pace. ¡°And you also don¡¯t know me from a fiend. So I get it.¡±


    I lowered my hands and spoke in a forced calm tone. ¡°I promise to everyone in this group that if you need or want something built, I will do my best to get it done and charge you fairly.¡±


    Demierra turned her head away with a snorting scoff. ¡°This is so stupid. I want to cut people in half.¡± She said with a pouting expression.


    ¡°Dem, couldn¡¯t you just rip people in half?¡± Zynna asked. ¡°You¡¯re a Dezzar Dracose and a Fury. Your strength has to be borderline barbaric.¡±

 PITM Chapter 18

    Most Hive-cities have an Undercity. Layer upon layer of subfloors that span down into the depths of the planet. Some Undercities can reach miles down, while others are no deeper than thirteen or fourteen floors. These subterranean artificial ecosystems were initially started for defensive purposes. There was a period not so long ago when weapons of mass destruction were a constant threat and occasionally were used to decimate entire cities. Nuclear bombs were only the tip of the iceberg. Genetically engineered super-viruses were released into some cities. Other cities were scoured from Anogwin with disintegrator bombs or genetically modified monsters.


    Because of the robust economy and large population in hive-cities, these massive underground structures were built to protect as many people as possible. In each of these Undercities, facilities were built to allow for food and resource production enough to keep everything running for years, if not decades.


    After I gave Nennel her gifts, she immediately put on and activated her illusion pin. For the next four days, she trained with the Lasher Gloves from dawn to dusk. The whole while, she wore the illusion pin, and she never left the house alone or without the PSG on her person and active. I kept a careful eye on my sister while she went about her life. On the surface, Nennel had a drive to improve her combat skills, but I knew her better than I knew anyone else in the house, even Ferris. I might have had all the social skills of a mutated two-legged and blind honey badger, but I knew Nel well enough to know that she was hiding pain and fear. Scavenger bandits had pulled her apart for fun. Both Nel and I doubted she was just picked up off the streets for no reason. Someone had set them on her, and we wanted to know who and why.


    I spent my days, when I had the time, helping Nel or Kharmor with their combat training. But I spent more time studying the Undercity and what to expect. The Undercity was an entire ecosystem of its own, with its own kinds of people, cultures, and threats. The sprawling Undercity was a maze comprised of thousands upon thousands of rusting and crumbling spaces, both titanic and tight. Beneath Grimvale were miles of interconnected layers. Each floor was laced with hundreds of tunnels and shafts that linked rooms and floors.


    If the fact that the Undercity was a maze wasn¡¯t bad enough, it was brimming with dangers. Entire populations of monsters had evolved to live in the environment. Gangs so horrible that they were forced to flee the surface, made territories they guarded with illegal automated weapons and even more illegal spell traps. Cannibal gangs roamed the floors to feed on each other and anyone stupid or desperate enough to enter.


    But the worst threat had to be the Bellicose Species, which had made homes beneath the surface. Many people considered the Bellicose Species to be the true opposite of the Sophic Species. Where the term sophic meant wise, bellicose meant aggressive. The Sophic Species were Humans, Elves, Dwarves, and the other species that made up stable and civil society. The Bellicose Species were made up of violent and bloodthirsty creatures like Gnolls, Kassivar, Scorpior, Arachnytes, and others. They were just as capable of complex thought as any among the Sophic Species, but they killed, ate, or enslaved anyone they could overpower.


    I made sure to get the location of the informant from Gig and spent days plotting. I mapped out the shortest route, researched the local hazards along the path, and prepared the gear I would need. For my route, I had to choose between the shortest or safest. The shortest route would take me through a known territory of cannibals. The safest route would take me almost a week to get where I needed to go, and the term ¡°safe¡± was relative to the other options. I studied each route, and after two days, I decided on my path. It would take two days to travel, but it would take me through two hostile territories and at least one environmental hazard.


    When Nennel caught wind of my plans, she was determined to join me.


    ¡°I¡¯m joining you on this quest, and you can¡¯t stop me.¡± Nennel proclaimed. She stood in the center of the living room after learning of my plan from Ferris. I had mentioned to him what I was researching without thinking. I had been looking through maps on my therra. The comment was off-handed and without thought while I had been studying. Ferris had stepped into the living room with a package in his hands while I was reading. I had mentioned that I was studying the Undercity in search of someone to help Nel. He told Nennel only minutes later, and she made her declaration immediately after hearing what I was doing.


    ¡°What?!¡± I said in shock as I minimized my research windows on my therra. ¡°No! Nel, it¡¯s too dangerous. You were in shambles barely two weeks ago. I can¡¯t let you throw yourself into danger when you barely know your own new body.¡±


    ¡°Shut your mouth Ives¡¯. Those trog bastards picked me apart like crows on a corpse, and I intend to pay them back.¡±


    I looked Nennel in the eyes. ¡°Nel, even with the gear I gave you, you''re not ready to deal with the threats under the city.¡±


    ¡°And you are?¡± She accused.


    I broke eye contact to look needlessly at the coffee table. ¡°I¡¯m better prepared than you, sis. I¡¯d rather you not take the gamble. Let me take this chance.¡±


    ¡°Take the chance, my mechanical ass.¡± Nennel announced with heat. ¡°You can¡¯t handle this quest alone. And I plan to learn why I was a target for those scumbags.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t allow i-¡± I started, but Ferris stepped into the room with a look on his face like he was ready to kill.


    ¡°Don¡¯t say no, Ive¡¯s. We both will be joining you.¡±


    I was about to reply when I noticed something. Attached to Ferris¡¯s right ear was a new earring with a purple glowing gem in an ornate fitting of silver and bronze dangling from a silver three-link chain. I looked at the glowing shard for a long moment, noticing it swirling with shadows.


    ¡°Uh, Ferris¡­ What is that?¡± I asked, pointing at the gem.


    The Elf only answered with, ¡°Just an earring.¡±


    ¡°I, uh, okay.¡± I stammered.


    Nennel jumped on my choice of words. ¡°So, you¡¯ll let us join.¡± It was more a statement than a question.


    ¡°What?! No! This is going to be far too dangerous. I refuse to let you two risk your lives on a gamble that may turn up nothing.¡±


    It was at this point in the conversation that Master Navor stepped into the room with, of all things, a children¡¯s juice box in her hand. She walked past Ferris as she sucked the box dry in a single pull. Nennel, Ferris, and I watched the Master as she stepped into the center of the room, her eyes locked on me. She crushed the juice box in her hand and tossed it over her shoulder without looking. The trash landed in the wastebasket in the corner of the room. When she spoke, her tone brooked no argument. ¡°You¡¯ll let them come with you.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡± I exclaimed. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because you¡¯re gonna need backup, kid. You should never enter the Undercity alone if it can at all be helped.¡±


    ¡°But Master, they aren¡¯t ready for that level of threat. Everything I¡¯ve read says that the path that I¡¯m going to take is going to be hazardous, to say the least. If something were to go wrong, I¡¯d rather I¡¯m the only one that doesn¡¯t come back.¡±


    Navor folded her arms over her chest. ¡°I¡¯d rather improve the chances of not losing a single student by making sure you don¡¯t go alone.¡±


    I was about to argue when Nennel stormed up to me, grabbed me by the ear, and yanked it down. ¡°AW aw aw aw! Nel, please let go!¡± I begged.


    ¡°I¡¯m not letting go until you agree to let us join.¡± Nennel scolded.


    ¡°Just give in, Ives¡¯.¡± Ferris said with an amused smirk. ¡°You know as well as I do that she¡¯ll take your ear off if you don¡¯t give her what she wants.¡±


    ¡°Fine, fine!¡± I admitted my defeat. The moment Nel let go of my ear, I sat back, massaging it. ¡°But It¡¯s up to the two of you to get your own supplies. My crafting projects have put me on a shoestring budget. So I won¡¯t buy your road rations, ammo, or anything else unless there is no other choice.¡±


    Ferris stepped up beside Master Navor, crossing his own arms as the Master put her hands on her hips.


    ¡°You probably should give them your mapped path.¡± The Master said before turning and leaving the room with a wave and not a single look back.


    ¡°What are we going to need?¡± Ferris asked.


    ¡°The trip should take four days to get there and back, but you should pack six days¡¯ worth of rations. You should make sure to pick up gas masks and at least one more grappling hooks with fifty feet of line, for starters. You¡¯ll definitely need acid-resistant leg guard covers that can handle a PH level of -25 or stronger. Be sure to pick up a climbing harness with quick-stop levers installed and the best armor you can get that you can remain quiet and agile in. I¡¯d also recommend at least one of you bring a few breach charges. I don¡¯t care how or where you get them as long as they work. You¡¯ll definitely need at least one firearm of some kind for each of you. Also, you need enough ammo and myst crystals to put down a small army.¡± While I spoke, I made a few gestures on my therra of flick Nennel and Ferris the map and route details. ¡°I¡¯ll need you guys to have everything prepped and ready in two days.¡±


    ¡°Got it.¡± Nennel said with a determined expression and a thumbs up.


    ¡°You can count on us.¡± Ferris said, his old wild grin on his face again. ¡°We won¡¯t let you down or hold you back.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know how much I had missed that smile. Ferris had been so cold and distant since Nennel¡¯s attack. Zynna and Kharmor informed me that while I was so engrossed in my projects and research, Ferris had been making near-daily trips to some temple or church. No one knew which faith he had found. While I desperately hoped that he had joined the safer Cassillis faith, a pantheon dedicated to the arts, I knew that was not the case. Was he following a Titan? Some raw and primal aspect of nature? While I couldn¡¯t help but wonder who or what he followed, I never could have predicted the truth.


    <hr>


    Nennel and Ferris spent the next two days gathering their supplies. While they gathered, I traded between researching what to expect in the Undercity and working on one project or another. Even when I was neck-deep in work, I always made time to train with Kharmor.


    The Half-Dwarf was not nearly who I had expected him to be. When we were both Slates, he was just another face in the breaker formation. When we first became a party, he came across as harsh and cold. Kharmor also had a terrible, neutral expression that came across as hostile, bored, and judgmental. When I got to know him, he was honestly an enjoyable companion. He had a morbid sense of dark humor that I rather enjoyed. Kharmor held himself to a brutal standard and worked like a machine on anything that was given to him. Any project I brought to him, he gave maximum effort on without a second thought. Even with his work ethic, he stopped in to check on me and remind me to eat and shower almost as often as Nennel. Kharmor also continued to show an understanding of myst crystals, which I found shockingly impressive. The Half-Dwarf also had much more of a knack for chemistry and alchemy than I did. So I put those skills to use and asked him to make me a few special cocktails for my tools.


    When the time came to leave, I made sure to finish the projects I had started for the other trainees. I gave Demierra a modified Personal Sanctum Guard that, at her request, would release an outward burst of whatever two elements she had installed. Zynna had given me a special request not long after seeing Nennel¡¯s Lasher Gloves in effect. I crafted her a pair of gloves with energy claws like Nennel¡¯s whips. Something she made very clear was that the gloves had to be able to fit any hand size. As thanks to Kharmor for his help, I handed him a special project that would really make his brain churn. I called it Project Third Stone.


    Nennel, Ferris, and I stood at the front door of the house we had called our temporary home. I was armed to the teeth with everything I could reasonably carry in the many pockets, pouches, and boxes I had on two utility belts, a bandolier, and a thigh satchel, as well as my many-pocketed travel pack.


    Nennel and Ferris both carried packs just like mine, carrying only the necessities but enough to carry us through the hell we were about to go through.


    ¡°You two ready?¡± I asked my friends in a falsely confident tone. The fear I felt was real. I hoped I had masked my dread enough not to cause worry.


    ¡°Roger that.¡± Ferris said with a smile that was only shallowly confident.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get the show on the road.¡± Nennel said.


    This was the most dangerous act I had pulled up to that point. Threats out in the world were many. When I was a street orphan, starvation was a serious threat, and I could have been killed by anyone who had more of a grudge against the Darklings than most. At the Academy, student death was a common occurrence, either in training or at the hands of a fellow student. Thallos might not have tried to kill me, but he would have had no issue with removing my limbs and dragging me off to parts unknown when I denied his offer to join his hidden and maniacal group. The closest I had come to actual death was when I was in the entry trial to join the Academy. But a zombie spider the size of an adult Human was still nothing compared to what we were about to do. On the surface, the worst parts of the city were Red Threat Zones. But most of the Undercity was a Red Threat Zone, and there were more than a few Black Threat Zones. If we stumbled into one of those areas, our chances for survival dropped into fractions of decimals. The entire Undercity was a rotting and rusting jungle filled with horrors and nightmares. But we just had to live for six days on the high end, four days if we were lucky.


    Master Navor stood in the doorway, dressed in black combat leathers, with a small satchel in one hand. ¡°I¡¯ve ordered you lot an AV cab to take you to your entry point.¡± She tossed the satchel at me, which I almost dropped, juggling it between my hands until I got a firm grip. ¡°In that bag are a few things you¡¯ll find useful, and not the least of them is an emergency beacon. If one of you gets in shape too bad to move, light that beacon, and I¡¯ll make sure help gets to you in time.¡± She pointed at me with an accusing finger. ¡°But that is only if someone is going to die and there is no way of saving them yourself. I don¡¯t need you popping the beacon if you get into a fight with a pack of kobolds or if one of you breaks an arm.¡± Her finger moved to point at the bag. ¡°In the case of a severe wound, I gave you a few healing goods to keep you all in fighting condition. But that doesn¡¯t mean any of you can get careless. I want ALL OF YOU coming back in one piece. That¡¯s an order.¡±


    I gave the Master a two-fingered salute with my right hand in answer. I had finally gotten used to the madwoman, and she wasn¡¯t nearly as terrifying as I first thought. Behind Master Navor were Kharmor and Zynna. The Half-Elf looked at me with annoyance from just inside the door. Kharmor poked his bald head out from behind the Master.


    ¡°You lunatics had better make it back. And Iver, I¡¯ve got a book I think you should take a look at when you get back.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, um, sure?¡± I said in confusion.


    Before anything else could be said, the cab landed in front of the house. We piled in, Ferris closing the door behind him, and we all buckled in.


    ¡°Oh. It¡¯s you again.¡± came the driver from up front. I looked up to find the same female Ceangar who had picked up Nennel and me and taken us to the Cydoc shop. She was large for her species, but the slightly pointed ears and large eyes were a dead giveaway. She had long brunette hair that was thick with kinks and curls. Her eyes were a shade of blue that made me think of a pond in spring with the standard Ceangar U-shaped pupils, and freckles littered her button nose and ripe cheeks. ¡°I¡¯m glad to see that your lady friend is put together this time. I hope you don¡¯t plan on yelling at me this time.¡± Her voice was thick with an Ethran accent, all hard Ys and Es and sharp Ts and long Ss.


    I blushed and looked at my feet. ¡°S-sorry.¡± I apologized. ¡°My s-sister was in bad shape then.¡±


    ¡°Sister?¡± she asked, looking between us in the rear-view mirror.


    ¡°He¡¯s adopted.¡± Nennel broke into the conversation as she leaned forward.


    The driver opened her mouth in a silent ¡®Ah¡¯ before pulling the cab into take-off. I double-checked my map on my therra to make sure we were on track. We were in the north-western sector of District 3 on the southern side of the hive-city. We needed to reach the innermost edge of District 2 to our west, right before the wall that blocked off most of the rest of the city from the central district, District 1.


    District 1 was where most mega corporations set up their headquarters. That was also where most of the billionaires and trillionaires had their luxury hover-suites. But we weren¡¯t aiming to loot some pompous High Elf¡¯s house. Right next to the barricade wall was an abandoned freight elevator shaft that dropped all the way down to subfloor fifty-four.


    While I scoured the map for anything I might¡¯ve missed, Nennel asked, ¡°So, what¡¯s your name, Miss?¡±


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    I looked up to see the driver giving Nel a bright smile through the mirror. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m no Miss. You can call me Teefa.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s lovely to meet you, Teefa.¡± Nennel chirped.


    ¡°Yeah, good meeting the lady that got Ives¡¯ and Nel to the doc¡¯s in one piece.¡± said Ferris.


    After a long moment, Nennel jabbed me in the side with an elbow. ¡°Aw!¡± I started, but when I glared at Nennel, she gestured to the Teefa with her eyes. ¡°Uh, yeah. Nice meeting you.¡± I mumbled before turning back to my examination.


    ¡°Iver.¡± Nennel scolded.


    ¡°What?!¡± I shot back with annoyance. I really wanted no distractions so I could make sure everything was going to work as smoothly as possible.


    ¡°Is it so hard for you to be polite, Horn-head?¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about? I¡¯m always polite.¡±


    ¡°Says the dude that can¡¯t keep eye contact.¡± Ferris said with an amused smirk.


    I shot him a glare. ¡°I always keep eye contact.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, no.¡± Nennel said.


    ¡°Not even most of the time.¡± Ferris said as he rested his head in his interlaced fingers against the headrest of his seat.


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    Nel gave me an annoyed look. ¡°Iver, you only ever make eye contact with someone for a few seconds before looking somewhere else. Anywhere else.¡±


    ¡°I do not!¡±


    ¡°You do.¡± Ferris agreed with her.


    I¡¯ll say that now, I know that I do this frequently without realizing it. The doctors¡¯ say it has something to do with my mental condition. But when I¡¯m acting undercover these days, I make an active effort not to do so. It¡¯s hard as all the hells, and it makes me uncomfortable. It feels like everyone is looking at my soul and judging it. But I do it regardless. At the time of this story, I had never really noticed that I had this eye contact problem.


    The three of us argued on the topic for most of the ride to our destination. Teefa looked back at us occasionally, clearly amused by our sibling bickering. After we all settled down, Nennel apologized to Teefa for our inappropriate behavior and struck up a conversation with her. As it turned out, our driver was the proud mother of two Ceangar/Elven children and was happily married to a Star Elf husband named Rievo Brighteye. I found this marriage rather strange. It was well known that Star Elves and Ceangar had an age-old rivalry. Both peoples were drawn to daring acts and dangerous stunts. The Star Elves and Ceangar regularly argued about whose people were more talented at these stunts. The fact that Teefa had married Rievo and lived peacefully was, to some degree, astounding.


    Even with the relative distance from our starting location to our destination, the trip took four hours of flight time. The hive-city was bigger than entire regions of other nations and larger than many of the nations from ages past. We had left at six in the morning, and by the time Teefa was landing the AV, we were finishing up a lunch of sandwiches and bottled drinks we had prepared before leaving. I had brought an energy drink as my beverage of choice, while Nel had black tea and Ferris had a simple soda. The other two gave me an aggravating amount of trouble about my choice of drink.


    Now, before you start slinging glass my way for having an energy drink with my meal, let me clarify. When I¡¯m not in the field I will happily enjoy a nice cup of tea or coffee, and even a soda on occasion. What I¡¯m referring to as energy drinks are performance-enhancement drinks tailored for Adventurers prepping for combat. Power Juice, as it is known, is laced with plenty of stimulants, supplements, and boosters.


    We disembarked from the Aerial Vehicle after thanking Teefa for her help getting there. We stood in what was once a courtyard for a medical academy. The surrounding buildings were long since abandoned. Many of the surrounding windows were broken and boarded up. Graffiti covered the brick walls, and the doors were chained shut. The courtyard we stood in was once covered in bright bio-engineered foliage. But what remained was little more than the rotting skeletons of trees and bushes, standing in the brown-gray dust that once was grass. The fact that this place, at one time, had any kind of plants said a lot about just how wealthy proprietors had been before the fall of the institute.


    Set into the center of the courtyard was a large metal platform. It looked to be about ten feet by fifteen feet with a seven-inch-high lip. Set into the floor near the perimeter of the platform was a flat glass case housing the controls of the freight elevator.


    With a simple gesture, I told the other two to follow me as I approached the control panel. About to enjoy what was coming next, I knelt down and wiped the dust from the glass plate that separated me from the simple controls. I flexed the fingers of my gauntleted right hand before rearing it back in a fist and thrusting it through the glass pane. With a few sharp motions, I cleared the rest of the glass cover and swept aside the shards. The act of breaking the glass was satisfying and scratched an itch in my brain.


    ¡°Let¡¯s give this a test.¡± I said as I pressed the button to drop the platform. The button depressed with a stiff click. Seconds later, the platform shuddered before lowering with a screech like a dying beast. I looked at the Nennel and Ferris with an excited expression until I felt a shudder in the ground and heard something heavy snap. The platform was only a foot deep into the shaft when suddenly it dropped, hard and fast. I leaned over the lip of the pit and watched the elevator platform vanish into the shadows with a fading shriek of metal on metal. We waited but never heard a crash.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like that.¡± Ferris said as he leaned over the edge for a better look. ¡°I really don¡¯t like that.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s a good thing that we tested it before riding.¡± I lifted my right hand, flexed my fingers, and tested the functionality of my Squid Hook, opening and closing the device and then extending and retracting the anchor spikes. ¡°Better ready up our grappling hooks.¡±


    ¡°Wait, what?¡± Ferris asked with a high-pitched voice.


    Nennel pulled her grappling hook from her bag and prepped the rein-synth cord. She pulled out the cord bundle, unwound it, and started tying it to her hook.


    For those of you that aren¡¯t militia junkies that know the gear and lifestyle of military personnel, let me explain rein-synth cord. The name is short for Reinforced-Synthetic Fiber Woven Cord. The material is durable as hell, flexible, reliable, and light. This is the stuff used in parachutes, and it comes in a wide range of thicknesses.


    The thickness of the rein-synth cord Nennel and Ferris had picked up was only slightly larger than standard hemp rope to allow for easy grip. Nennel had her hook and cord tied in a matter of seconds, but Ferris just stood in place, looking nervously at the hole.


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter, Fer¡¯?¡± I asked. ¡°We are on a bit of a clock to get where we need to be.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing.¡± Ferris¡¯s words came out in a rush as he unshouldered his own pack and started prepping his hook and cord. I watched Ferris for a few seconds and noticed him repeatedly glance over at the hole with a worried look. It was when I saw him triple-knot this cord to his hook that I spoke up.


    ¡°Ferris, are you scared of heights?¡± I asked with an amused smirk.


    ¡°What!? No!¡± Ferris vigorously denied it, waving his hands defensively while still holding his cord and hook. ¡°I have no problem with heights in the least. I¡¯m fine. I¡¯m totally fine.¡±


    Nennel walked past the two of us while testing her knot. ¡°Come on, Fer¡¯. You should¡¯ve told Iver about this a while ago. There¡¯s no point in hiding it now.¡±


    ¡°Hiding what?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Ferris is scared of deep, dark holes.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I asked again, this time in a tone that was a mix of shock and amusement.


    ¡°Oh, come on, Nel. Did you have to make it sound so stupid?¡± Ferris said to Nennel before turning back to me. ¡°And no making fun of me for this, Ives¡¯. No hole jokes. Not a single joke about holes. I don¡¯t care how witty it is or if it¡¯s used in a sexual and funny way.¡± That last demand was saying a lot about how badly Ferris didn¡¯t like this. He loved dirty jokes. In my recounting, I¡¯ve cut out almost all of his dirty jokes because some people might find them offensive, and they don¡¯t really matter to the story. But Ferris cracked at least two or three crude jokes a day.


    ¡°Okay, okay.¡± I acquiesced, doing my best to hide a smirk and failing. ¡°But where did this fear come from? Is it a phobia?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t give me that, Iver.¡± Ferris scolded. ¡°Phobias are crippling irrational fears. This is not irrational in the slightest. We never heard that platform hit the bottom. So that means if I fall, I¡¯m dropping into a pit of total darkness full of hungry monsters that want to eat my bones.¡±


    ¡°I get the discomfort with this hole in particular, but it sounds like this is a regular issue for you.¡±


    Ferris gave a disgruntled sigh before answering. ¡°When I was seventeen, a group of older Elven kids used magic to dig a pit and hide it. They tricked me into falling in. When I hit the bottom, I broke an ankle, and the kids covered the opening with a big metal sheet. I was left there, in the dark, crying and calling for help for hours before I was found.¡±


    I looked at Ferris for a long moment. He was fidgeting and refused to look at me. The denial of eye contact was a bit ironic after the amount of crap he and Nel gave me about my own eye contact issue.


    I walked up to my nervous friend and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. ¡°I have no room to judge you, Fer¡¯. I have a serious fear of horses, and I don¡¯t even have a reason for it other than they just weird me out.¡±


    Ferris snorted before glancing at me. ¡°Horses. Really?¡±


    I looked away and nervously scratched my neck with my free hand. ¡°Yup. It¡¯s a total phobia. Those hooves. Their long faces. Even just how big they are and how they move. Horses cause me some serious issues.¡±


    ¡°Now that¡¯s just weird.¡± Ferris said with his own amused smirk. I gave him a sideways look and a grin that was a mix of guilty, embarrassed, and kind.


    I turned to face him again and put my other hand on his opposite shoulder before saying, ¡°Take as long as you need to get yourself mentally ready. And remember, I made sure you both picked up climbing harnesses with quick-stop levers installed. I¡¯m going to head down first and make sure the way is clear. I¡¯ll keep an eye on you as you come down and be ready to catch you if you drop. You heard Navor¡¯s order. She wants everyone coming back, and I¡¯m not about to lose you to a hole in the ground.¡±


    After I made sure Ferris was okay with my instructions, I walked up to the pit and launched my Squid Hook at the wall opposite me. The device shot forward and anchored with the sound of spikes punching through the stone. I gave the cable a few tugs to test the hold before jumping down into the darkness. As I dropped, I swung across the space to land against the same wall my hook was anchored to. I braced myself with my feet and slowly started walking my way down the wall until I reached the first opening.


    I was wearing my Pacer Shoes, so I used their own anchoring feature to hold me to the wall, and I leaned back to hang upside down as I checked out the first subfloor. While the darkness would have been thick for almost anyone else, I was lucky. Thanks to my Darkling blood, I had an astoundingly good dark vision. I could see about eighty feet in any direction, and the space stretched past that point to some unseen distance. The room was massive, filled with decaying construction equipment left abandoned for some unknown reason. It must¡¯ve been some kind of equipment storage room. The floor of the room was covered in dust and debris that ranged from nuts and bots to scraps of wire, sheets of metal, and chunks of concrete the size of my head. I also noticed combat damage to the floor and ceiling. Burn marks, melted divots, bullet holes, and blast marks all marked the floor, ceiling, and a good portion of the support columns I could see. But the most worrying damage that I noticed were the claw marks. Gashes were found on all concrete surfaces. These gouges were lined up in patterns of five fingers and a thumb. The claw marks also looked to have been carved inches deep into each surface wherever I found them.


    I waited and watched for a long five minutes to make sure nothing was lurking in the space. I didn¡¯t hear or see anything that made me think we were in danger. The only thing that moved was a rather fat rat that waddled into my sight.


    I released the gravity anchors on my shoes, flipped, and landed on the floor, using my Squid Hook cable as a stabilizer. I pulled up my messaging app on my therra and sent the other two a quick message.


    ¡®All clear on sub-floor one. Come on down.¡¯


    Without another word, Nennel anchored her hook to the wall of the shaft opposite where my hook was still mounted. Her and Ferris¡¯s ¡°hooks¡± were actually tractor gravity anchors. The devices functioned on the same formulaic concept as my Pacer Shoes¡¯ anchor grip feature. Each device had engraved runes and bindrune formulas on a flat face, which could be mounted to any solid surface once triggered. Around the central disk were extra adjustable mount points that could add extra weight capacity or be used to adhere to a non-flat surface. These gravity anchors could be turned on or off with a single button on the back of the device or remotely with a small wireless device.


    Nennel repelled down in her harness with grace and ease, barely even slowing as she dropped to land on the floor across the shaft from me. As she deactivated her gravity anchor, I noticed that she had mounted her remote to her harness with a latch and clip. Clever thought.


    While she reeled in her cord and hook, I detached my own hook and reeled it in. I then launched the hook again and mounted it to the wall of the shaft above and across from me. After she landed, Nennel clicked on a high-powered flashlight mounted to the shoulder of her harness.


    With my rudimentary safety cable in place, I messaged Ferris. ¡®Your turn, Fer¡¯. I¡¯ve attached my hook to the wall below you. If you fall, just grab onto it.¡¯


    ¡°That is a terrible safety net.¡± Ferris proclaimed as he mounted his gravity anchor to the same spot I had mounted my hook. As he ever so slowly descended, I could hear Ferris grumbling about climbing down a pit to the Hells. I rolled my eyes, and Nennel suppressed a giggle. Things moved smoothly, if at a snail¡¯s pace, until we all heard the crack. Ferris froze eight feet into the pit, and we all looked up. My nervous friend was fourteen feet from the floor Nel, and I stood at, and he wasn¡¯t budging an inch, clinging to the line like he was going to die.


    Ferris had mounted his gravity anchor to the exact same spot my Squid Hook had latched onto the stone. Because of that, the stone in that very spot was too damaged to hold Ferris. Three of the four mount points on his gravity anchor were hanging in the air, still gripping rubble.


    ¡°Ferris, don¡¯t move!¡± Nennel shouted up. ¡°We¡¯ll come get you. Just hold on!¡±


    ¡°Ferris!¡± I shouted. ¡°Drop!¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Nennel asked in confusion.


    ¡°WHAT?!¡± Ferris shouted in a panic. ¡°Did you just kiss Kassidan on the lips? You¡¯re schizo mad if you think I¡¯m letting go.¡±


    ¡°Just trust me. When I give the signal, detach from your cord and stretch your arms and legs in each direction.¡± I turned to Nel and pointed to a wall of the shaft perpendicular to my cable and just below our floor. ¡°Mount your hook there and walk back as far as you can while holding your rope taut. Maybe lever it with a pillar. Be ready to hold some serious weight.¡±


    ¡°What are you planning?¡± Nennel asked.


    I flashed her a nervous grin. ¡°Something that¡¯s probably very stupid. Now get moving! I need to make my own prep.¡±


    Nennel gave me a worried look but did as I had instructed while I used my mental command system to shift the function of my Pacer Shoes. When Nel had made it eight feet back, I called up to Ferris. ¡°Ready yourself to drop when I give the signal.¡±


    ¡°Nuhu! No way in the Hells I¡¯m drop-¡± Before he could finish his refusal, the last contact point of his anchor gave way. Ferris screamed as he dropped. That is, he screamed until he landed the cable of my hook, gut first, and had the wind knocked out of him. He tried to grasp for the cable, but he slipped, bounced off Nennel¡¯s cord, and kept falling.


    I cursed and dove into the shaft head first, right arm at my side, cable to my hook unreeling as I dropped. I triggered the kinetic burst in my shoes to launch myself downward even faster. As the wind rushed past my ears, I regretted my choice and resisted the immense urge to panic. Panicking wouldn¡¯t help Ferris and could get me killed along with him. What I did do, as I shot down, was mentally reciting probably the most useless mantra. Frag this shit! Don¡¯t die! Don¡¯t die! Don¡¯t Die!


    I caught up to Ferris in only a few seconds and wrapped the fingers of my left hand into the back of his climbing harness the moment it was within reach. Then I pushed myself past Ferris with a few smaller kinetic bursts before flipping, pointing my feet down to release a single massive burst of force to slow our drop. I reduced our descent speed enough that I could trigger my cables reel to tighten and start pulling up. But even with the reduced speed, the sudden stop was jarring enough that I almost lost my grip on Ferris. I wrapped my legs around him and his pack, just under his shoulders, and held him that way by squeezing my legs together and interlocking my ankles.


    We hung there, swaying around the shaft in a non-existent breeze. I looked around to find that we were between subfloors, with nothing but concrete, steel supports, and steel elevator rails around us. I counted our position between floors as a minor blessing. Ferris¡¯s scream was definitely heard down the shaft, several floors at least. If we were hanging in one of the floor openings and something came looking for us¡­ Well, let¡¯s just say that I had no desire to see what it felt like to be fishbait. Just as I had that thought, I heard something inhuman shriek a few floors below and the sound of something heavy striking a hard surface at least three floors above us. I looked up and counted the floor openings to figure out that we were between subfloors 13 and 14.


    I muttered another curse before trying to trigger my reel to retract. There was a moment of straining gears before I heard a crack in the reel and smoke starting wafting up from the device on the side of Venna. With that development, I started cursing to such a copious and colorful degree that it would have made Thallos grin.


    The thought of my uncle did not help matters, so I pushed past that. I looked down and squeezed my knees together around Ferris as I whispered, ¡°Hey, dude, Ferris. You alive?¡±


    My Elf friend let out a groan but nothing more. So I knew he was alive, but he was in no shape to climb up my cable hand over hand. I couldn¡¯t ask Nel to drop her cord either because that would put me up against a shaft wall and in easy reach of anything we passed while ascending. I had Nennel set up her hook where she did and put her in the needed position to have the cord of her hook act like a makeshift pulley joint. Her cord supported a portion of our weight to lessen the strain on the shaft wall where my hook was mounted. I had to assume that the entire shaft was in the same degraded state as at the top. If the walls were in the same state, that meant that they could easily crumble or break under enough pressure. Using my Squid Hook was already a risk, but using it while carrying Ferris only made things worse.


    I had directed Nel and acted to set this up so that when I caught Ferris and stopped our descent, I wouldn¡¯t just slam the two of us against a wall and possibly cause injury or worse. But that also meant that I couldn¡¯t use my legs to climb by scaling the wall, not that I could with Ferris wrapped in between them.


    So, the rescue was completely up to me. Ferris was in no state to help, and I needed Nennel where she was. I continued to curse with molten venom as I climbed up the mythril cable of my own hook, hand over hand. If I hadn¡¯t been through Thallos¡¯s brutal training, what I was doing would have been impossible. But Thallos made me regularly climb with large amounts of extra weight. It was also lucky that I was carrying Ferris up and not Nennel. For one, Elves were much lighter than most other species of the same size. If I had to carry Nel up this way, that would have meant I was climbing with an extra two-hundred-some-odd pounds, and I wasn¡¯t sure that I had the strength for that, cybernetic body enhancement or not.


    Hand over hand, fist over fist, I lifted the two of us past one floor after another with a titanic effort. My arms ached and burned, but pain was nothing new. When I reached that halfway point, things got worse. I had stopped at the lip of each floor and made sure the spaces were devoid of any face-eating horrors. It was as I peeked up into the room on subfloor 7 that I got the sense that things were about to go straight to Pandemonium.


    The room was much smaller than the majority of the other rooms I had checked and nowhere near as large as the room on subfloor 1. From what I could see, it was a common space at an intersection of paths lined with personal living quarters. The space reeked of rotting meat and stale, dried blood. What I could see of the area was something out of a horror holo-vid. Steel doors to most of the personal quarters were ripped wide open or torn off completely. Blood smears painted the walls and floor like some mad painter had tried to capture the essence of trauma in images using blood as their medium. Off to my right, in a corner, was a child¡¯s plastic toy trike, turned on its side, missing a rear wheel and splattered with old blood.


    My mind was flooded with horrible images of children being slaughtered and eaten, and my body shuddered in response. I tried to push the mental images aside, but they vanished when I noticed something. All that blood, damaged doors, scraps of clothing interspersed across the floor, but no bodies. Not even bones were anywhere to be seen. That meant that something nasty had nested a den in this area.


    I redoubled my climbing efforts and tried to pass that floor as fast as possible. Then Ferris coughed. Not even a full second after the cough ended, an ear-piercing shriek echoed down a hall to my left. That shriek was answered by dozens more of the same sound from every direction.

 PITM Chapter 19

    The terms Undead and Restless Dead are often used interchangeably, but there is a difference. Undead is a term that encompasses all forms of creatures and people that no longer have Life Myst naturally stored in their bodies. This term covers Blightlings as well as Restless Dead. Restless Dead are undead that have no ability for complex thought. Skeletons, zombies, and ghouls are only a few of the undead that are fueled by three base instincts. Finding areas with dense ambient Death Myst to nest in, protecting that territory, and feeding. This last driving instinct is the strongest and what makes the Restless Dead so dangerous. Skeletons don''t eat, but they have a desire to kill living creatures they come across while remaining docile around other undead. Zombies are more durable than skeletons and have a drive to feed. While zombies are slow and dimwitted, they come in a variety of types that can have special abilities or altered habits. Ghouls are likely the worst of most common forms of Restless Dead. They are faster than most living sapient species, smart enough for simple tool use, and they hunt in packs.


    Ghouls. I hated ghouls. While I hated all types of undead, I had a special kind of hate for ghouls. I had done plenty of study on the creatures just in case I encountered a pack of them. They were vicious predators that could outmaneuver many adventurers by using pack tactics. They were also stronger than most living things of the same size and well-known to roam outside of their known territory to hunt. Ghoul incursions often overrun and wiped out settlements that left their gates open at night.


    As I heard the beasts closing in, a useless fact popped into my head. A pack of ghouls was known as a shroud. Before even the first ghoul entered my line of sight, I made my move. I held onto the cable with just my left hand and reached over to that arm with my gauntleted right hand. Quickly but carefully, I dragged the claws of Venna across my left forearm, just enough to draw blood but not cause damage to the muscle or tendons. I didn¡¯t take my eyes off the surrounding space, watching for even the slightest movement at the edge of my sight.


    I didn¡¯t need to be so scrutinizing. From the hall in front of me, a ghoul charged out of a room six doors away from me. It struck the wall across from the doorway with all four limbs, pushing off to lung down the hall. In seconds, the creature was already lunging at my face with claws outstretched.


    I got a good look at the hideous thing. Limbs just slightly too long for its body with oversized hands and feet. An emaciated-looking frame so thin I could count its ribs and vertebrae from six feet away. Its dry and cracked skin was a blue-gray color with thick black veins. The face of the creature was the greatest horror of the whole package. The skin around its jaw and mouth split wide open and peeled back as the once normal person grew a short and broad snout of bone filled with massive fangs. Its ears were large and somewhat bat-like, with a serrated outer edge not unlike my own ears, if at a scale much larger. The eyes were solid black gems that conveyed only one thing. Hunger. A deep and all-consuming ravenous hunger that drove every waking moment.


    Reflexively, I tightened my grip on Ferris as I let go of my cable for a fraction of a second. I dropped three feet before gripping the rope again, but I almost couldn¡¯t stop my drop. When I felt warm blood running down my arm, I knew that was my cue to make my move. I drew on ten Vells of Morphic Myst and supercharged my arm muscles by reinforcing the muscle tissue and increasing oxygen efficiency. The blood running down my arm evaporated into glowing purple light as my body suddenly became light as a feather. I didn¡¯t hesitate. As soon as the spell took full effect, I started climbing at a rate impossible to anyone not using magic or cybernetic augmentations. I shot up the cable, but when I heard something below that I didn¡¯t like, I looked back. Dozens of ghouls were climbing up the shaft like massive insects. They clung to the walls, and a few were even climbing my cable. Those who climbed the walls sank their claws into the walls as easily as knives through cardboard.


    ¡°Shit!¡± I cursed.


    I keep a pace faster than the ghouls, if only just barely. But when I reached the end of my cable, things would change. I couldn¡¯t bring these things to Nennel, and I had to get Ferris to safety before I could do anything to get myself safely away.


    As I reached subfloor 4, I shouted up to Nel without breaking pace. ¡°Nel! Drop your cable and get ready to catch!¡±


    I didn¡¯t hear a response, but her anchor dropped, causing me to fall toward the side of the shaft. My left shoulder and knee struck the wall, but I didn¡¯t stop until I reached subfloor 2. I threw Ferris onto that floor and jumped up right behind him. Without even fully finding my feet on that floor, I gripped Ferris by the harness and hurtled him up to subfloor 1. His rag-doll form limply flew up to the next floor to land right in front of where Nennel should have been.


    Before Ferris had even landed on the floor above, I triggered the release of my hook and shot out a secorus gas disk just across the shaft at a steep upward angle. I had the timer on the disk set to a one-second delay. The two-inch diameter disk hadn¡¯t even crossed the space of the shaft before it began ejecting the highly conductive and obfuscating gas. Secorus gas was heavier than air, meaning it would sink down the shaft, but not at a fast rate. I made sure to angle my shot just right so that the disk would strike a wall of the shaft between floors and hopefully bounce upward at least once. If I was lucky, the disk would ricochet at least twice, but that would have been more than enough.


    I started wrapping the hook¡¯s cable around my shoulder as I moved around the pit. I used my multitasking skills to pull up the maps of the floor I was on and Nel¡¯s floor. But I didn¡¯t stop there. While wrapping my cable, eyeing both maps and potting two separate courses, I shouted up to Nel. ¡°Listen up, Nel! Don¡¯t respond! I¡¯m gonna lead these freaks away while you get Ferris to safety! I¡¯ll send you a map with a potted course! You''re looking for a stairway that links these two floors. Keep quiet, keep quick, and keep your eyes peeled!¡±


    When several ghouls responded to my shout with shrieks, I knew that my time was almost up. My cable wasn¡¯t even close to being halfway wound around my shoulder, so I circled around the pit to the opposite side from where my cable was rising. I steadily walked backward, looking over my shoulder every few seconds to make sure I wouldn¡¯t trip or get ambushed. The clattering of my hook sliding and bouncing against the wall and the hiss of metal pulling along stone would act as a lure. My plan was to stick a Shock Bite in the back of the first ghoul to climb into the space as it searched in the wrong direction for me.


    Shock Bites and secorus gas had quickly become a staple trick of mine for dealing with groups of hostiles. I was working on some other crowd-control tactics and tools, but most were still in the trial phase. I was trying to think up a backup plan, just in case, when I saw a shape rise from the cloud-filled shaft. Immediately, I stopped winding my cable and took aim with Venna. My arms stung and ached with every small motion. The Morphic Myst was just wearing off, and I was suffering for it. My arm swayed left and right, unable to keep stable, and that proved to be part of my undoing.


    The other part of that undoing was that the first ghoul to reach my floor crawled up on my side of the shaft and was looking right at me. I didn¡¯t have time to line up my shot. It was all up to chance at that point, and that chance turned to near impossibility as it howled and rushed at me. Right behind the first foul creature came three, then six more, and they only kept coming.


    In a desperate panic, I fired my one readied Shock Bite blindly, hoping to land a hit on one of them. But the electrified bolt struck a support column beside the pit the creatures boiled up from and shattered like a cheap toy. My fast-rate improvised planning fell to pieces, and I was only left with one option. Run.


    So I turned on my heel and sprinted into the darkness, yet again, inwardly cursing at my situation with vitriol. I sought around desperately for a quick escape route. Seeking egress by the shortest route, I barely paid attention to my surroundings. What I was looking for was a door or stairway to anywhere but where I was at that time.


    Only looking back at the situation later did I realize I had been in some kind of greenhouse. The space was designed with low ceilings and glass walls to meet the specific needs of different plants. Moldering soil covered the ground in varying thicknesses, from a thin coat to heaping mounds. Planters as long as a grown Human was tall were toppled over and thrown about everywhere I looked. While all the greenhouse light fixtures were busted and long since dead, many were barely hanging to the ceiling or were completely ripped out.


    I vaulted over fallen racks of planters, ducked under hanging light fixtures, weaving from one clear path to the next as soon as any barricades came into sight. Pass from one greenroom to the next in a totally random pattern, just trying to make distance between myself and my pursuers.


    But my trailing cable made my efforts to avoid the ghoulsl much more difficult. Even with my hook closed, it still banged around, drawing attention, caught on corners, and hung me up time and time again. I was still trailing almost eighteen feet of cable. There was no time to stop and pull in the rest, so I would need to ditch as much of the cable as I could. So, as I ran, I dropped all the cable I had wrapped around my shoulder the next time the hook got caught and kept going. That would stop that rattling tail from leading right back to me and give me another thirty feet to run with. If I started unwinding what cable was still spooled in my reel, I could double that.


    I ran another few paces, cut a sharp left into another green room, and dropped to the ground behind another fallen planter rack. I attempted to quiet my breathing while carefully listening for a hint of the location of my hunters. One thing ghouls weren¡¯t when chasing prey was stealthy. I could hear at least a dozen of the Restless Dead. They shrieked, howled, and snarled as they threw obstacles around in their search.


    While I had done plenty of ¡°study¡± into ghouls, admittedly, the majority was from holo-vid movies and shows, which weren¡¯t a great reference for hard facts. Action holo-vids made ghouls seem like they had better than average dark vision but were mindless and stupid. While horror holo-vids made ghouls seem deviously clever with preternatural senses. On the lowest end, the dark vision might have stretched no more than twenty feet out. In the total worst-case situation, they could see out as far as three-hundred feet. If the latter was the case, there was no way I could get out of their vision range without getting caught. The glass walls of the space were a serious problem for me in that regard. But while the space stuck me with a disadvantage, it also was somewhat lucky. One thing that was a certain fact was that ghouls¡¯ strongest sense was smell, and the green rooms all stunk of rancid mulch and fertilizer. So there was no way they could find me by smell alone while I was in this space.


    I kept low to the ground as I peeked around the corner of my cover to see if I could spot creatures. Most of them were too far out for me to spot through the darkness, but I caught movement in two locations at the edge of my vision. That meant those two had to be about eighty feet out. While that was a healthy distance from my current position, I couldn¡¯t chance standing up if they had better dark vision than me. But I also couldn¡¯t stay where I was, or they¡¯d find me sooner or later, and I did not like my odds against twelve or more ghouls.


    My best option was something that I was going to hate myself for. I pulled up the leg of my pants and slipped free a knife. Ferris didn¡¯t get the only infusion blade that I had made. But where his was a dagger intended for both combat and utility, my infusion knife was smaller, intended for only for utility. I already had a Fire Myst Crystal slotted into the hilt of the blade, which was what I needed. Before I activated the tool, I double-checked the location of the nearest ghouls and made sure to keep the blade hidden. With an effort of will, the blade of the knife quickly grew red hot. I spun a wheel gauge at the back of the blade to crank up the power output for what I needed. After a slow breath, I reversed my grip on the knife in my left hand and started cutting away the grappling hook apparatus from Venna. Not the cable of the device, but the whole thing, reel, launcher, and all. First came the familiar smell of hot metal as the knife started melting away at the weld points. As I sawed away at the metal as fast as I could, the smell intensified, and the sounds from several of the ghouls stopped, replaced by snuffling. I cursed internally and redoubled my efforts.


    Not long after I had made it a quarter of the way through the welds, the gauntlet grew from uncomfortably warm to actually burning my skin inside. I hated the pain of burns more than any other pain I had experienced, but I bit down on my lip and kept going. When the smell of burning flesh started, I heard one of the nearby ghouls howl, and I knew I was in trouble again.


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    With the blade still lodged between the grappling hook apparatus and the gauntlet, I shut off the power and let it sit there while I reached into my utility belt. ¡®Well, I guess it¡¯s test the tool now or get eaten alive by ravening beasts.¡¯ I thought to myself as I pulled free an experimental gadget of metal and glass.


    The device was only five inches long, made of a tube of ridged metal with a button on one end and a tapering cone holding four nozzles at the other end. Running the length of the tube was a small window of shatter-resistant glass revealing a fluid the foul green of pond scum. I called this nifty little toy of chaos a Gas Cap-shell.


    I depressed the button for a five-count to set a five-second delay. While I held down the button, I peeked over the edge of my cover to find my target location. I lobbed the device overhand through the open doorway into the green room I had left not too long ago. That was the same room where my hook got caught and where it was still stuck. The Gas Cap-shell struck a shelving unit and resounded with a loud clang before it rattled to the floor.


    I heard movement from the ghouls stop for several heartbeats before one of the nearer ones gave a loud chirp that was quickly echoed by the others. Then came the sound of most, if not all, of the ghouls rushing toward the sound. Several of them arrived just in time for the cartridge to release the revolting fluid into a thick and pungent gas. The ghouls caught in the initial release of the gas howled and shrieked in discomfort before fleeing. The others caught one whiff of the concoction and backed off without a second thought.


    This was a nonlethal test of my Gas Cap-shell design. The fluid I filled the shell with was an absolutely nightmarish perfume. The mixture crafted by Kharmor included smells from skunk, stink bug, corpse flower, organic waste from dangerous monsters, and other similar things. The goal of the cocktail was to be disgusting and deter animals from coming near. As nauseating as the smell was, a rather unpleasant side effect was that the gas clung to skin and clothes for days after the contact.


    I was debating calling the substance The Perfume for an ironic name, but at that moment, I had bigger worries. I wasn¡¯t lucky enough for them to leave the space completely. The wretched creatures only started looking for me elsewhere, and if they noticed me, I doubted a stink cloud would deter them from pursuit.


    I could hear some of the ghouls making a wide circle around the tainted room, but they were still drawing near. With the rush of near-uncontrolled panic, I turned back on my infusion knife and set to carving off the grappling hook again. By the time I was done, I could feel that a large portion of the skin of my forearm was melted to the inside of my gauntlet, but that was a problem for later. With the grappling device detached, I set it down quietly and crawled as close to the location of the hook as I could without dealing with the stink. When I sat next to the door between green rooms, I tried to wiggle the hook free using the cable. I was going to need it for the next desperate plan.


    Of course, I wasn¡¯t that lucky. The only way I could loosen the hook was to unlock it by hand. The day just kept getting better and better, didn¡¯t it? So I mentally readied myself for scent torture, took a deep breath, and held it before crawling in as fast as I could. The moment I entered the room, I had a mallet of stench slam into my face with enough force to almost send me reeling. I entered the space on my hands and knees, but I almost immediately fell to my elbow as my eyes burned like I had washed them out with bleach. My skin pricked with pins and needles, but the worst was my nose. My sinuses were in such a state of torture I had a powerful urge to rip the entire body system out of my face with my nails.


    I told myself the faster I did what I had to, the faster I could get out of the tainted space. So I dragged myself back to hands and knees and shuffled deeper in, my motions jerky and uncoordinated with the sensory overload. When I reached my hook, I grew desperate to get out of there as soon as possible. I gripped the nine-inch-long device and left the foul room immediately. In the process of leaving the stink cloud, I almost vomited twice, only resisting through a massive effort of will. The moment I entered the conjoining green room, I gasped for air. The sound of that action almost spelled my doom. When the ragged breath left and refilled my lungs, all the ghouls stopped as one.


    I held my empty lungs and clung the hook to my chest as I made my way back to my original hiding spot. The area was deathly quiet. A silence as still as the grave the place would be for me if I slipped up even once more. I desperately wished I had some way to keep an eye on the locations of the ghouls without exposing myself. After that gasp, I knew the ghouls would be closing in. I had to act fast but quietly and carefully as well.


    With the infusion knife cooled off, I replaced it in its sheath at my boot. Next, I removed the brake and reel control systems on the grappling hook reel and launcher before pocketing it. After that, I pulled up the map of my floor to find my exit. Several seconds later, I found what I wanted. If I moved directly to my right for several more rooms, I would find a storage space. Past that storage space was a hall that would branch off in several directions. If I took the first left and the next right after that, I would find a staircase leading to the floors above and below me. I took a moment to mark the exact location on the map of subfloor 1 to tell Nennel where to meet me before flicking the map to Nel.


    One stroke of luck I was immensely thrilled for was that I still had service on my therra. I wasn¡¯t sure how deep, but our node would lose all network access if we went too much deeper into the Undercity. We would need to adjust our route mapping before we went too far.


    With that done, I made my way toward the storage space. I moved as quickly as I dared but stopped at every open space to check for threats. Things went according to plan as far as reaching the storage space. There was only one entry from the greenhouse into the storage space. The issue was that the wall that door was installed in was wholly made from glass. But I still set about preparing the next phase of the plan I code-named Bat Shit Crazy.


    I moved to one corner of the green room and locked my squid hook around the leg of a still-standing shelving unit. Next, I wove my mythril cable throughout the entire space. I laced it through every planter, shelf, stand, and any other solid object I could find. I finished my trap with the final touch of creating an abstract web between the two upright shelves on either side of the door I had passed through. For a final bit of spite, I pulled out another Perfume Gas Cap-shell. I stripped the timer and set the device for a dead man switch held down by a shelf linked to the network of cable.


    With my hindering trap complete, I half-stood and crept across the storage room. I thought I was home free until I heard something. If it had been the howl of a ghoul, that would have been one thing. But the noise I heard was an almost sub-auditory groan that could have come from no living or undead being. And the sound was coming from inside the storage space from a few yards to my left. I slowly turned to face the source of the sound, afraid it was some kind of structural failure.


    Honestly, I think I would have preferred the floor collapsing. What I found instead was a slowly rising mound of mulch and fertilizer. When that rising mound sprouted arms and legs of the substance, I took several steps back. It was an elemental. To be precise, it was a garden elemental.


    For those of you who aren¡¯t knowledgeable of advanced magical theory and multi-realm interaction, elemental creatures are formed from the elements of nature and given basic sentience through myst saturation. Fire and ice elementals are common enough in regions with thick ambient levels of the myst that formed said elemental. There are also death, chaos, storm, and wood elementals, and the list continues.


    As cute as the name garden elemental sounds, they were notorious pests in select regions. They could absorb any fertilizer and mulch they could find and rot most plants to add to their mass. But this elemental was a bit more than a pest, standing almost ten feet tall. The fact that this elemental could manifest a humanoid form meant that it was powerful.


    ¡°Oh, you have got to be joking.¡± I audibly cursed. That act drew the attention of the ghouls. The Restless Dead howled yet again before sprinting for me from several locations.


    I looked from the elemental to the ghouls in a panic. The moment I looked away from the massive creature in front of me, it swung a gigantic club of an arm at me. The limb caught me in the chest and launched me across the room. I landed within arm¡¯s reach of the entry into the hall.


    I staggered to my feet just in time to hear my trap trigger. Looking back toward the greenhouse, I saw that all the ghouls had rushed into the trapped space at about the same time. The ghouls had not only gotten tangled in my cable and tripped my stink trap, but also pulled down every single item I had laced the cable through. Shelves, planters, and pots covered the space in total mess and disarray. But even entangled in my cable and each other¡¯s limbs, and with objects piled atop them, they still pushed forward.


    My eyes went wide, and I started backing down the hall. Then, the elemental lost its humanoid form and rushed at the ghouls. I thought that I had hit a serious stroke of luck. The mass of mulch, compost, and manure surged like a wave, shattering all the glass in the wall and enveloping the ghouls.


    I knew my luck was only getting worse when the seething mass of ghouls, glass, and gross rushed towards me.


    I turned and ran down the hall, screaming, ¡°WHY CAN¡¯T I CATCH A BREAK!¡±


    I knew only a fraction of a second later there was no outrunning that wave. But if I was swept up by it, I could be slashed to pieces, devoured by ghouls, and/or suffocated in what I think would be one of the worst ways to go. Even if I managed to survive getting caught up in the nightmare wave, the wounds I would get while in it would be packed with material ripe to cause infection. I didn¡¯t think we had the supplies to spare to clean me up enough to prevent me from dying of gangrene.


    So I did the only thing I really could. I used my claws again to draw blood and Morphic Myst to supercharge my sprint. The gashes along my upper arm bled freely, enough so that I worried I might have caused severe damage. But that worry could be dealt with when I wasn¡¯t being chased.


    I had to do some magic math while sprinting and trying to stay calm, which wasn¡¯t easy, to say the least. My Mystwell had a max capacity of thirty-six Vells, and I had twenty-eight Vells left. My body could only reasonably hand eight Vells of Morphic Myst at a time if I didn¡¯t want more negative backlash later. But I had already caused some serious taxation by enhancing my arms not too long before that moment. I guesstimated that I could reasonably use six Vells of Morphic Myst if I exclusively targeted my legs. Much more than that, and I could risk severe myst poisoning. And any more in my arms could cause permanent damage.


    I sent up a prayer to the Nameless Goddess and triggered the spell when there was less than two feet between the oncoming wave of death and my rear foot. My legs grew light as air, and the muscles within felt like they coursed with living lightning. I pulled ahead of the elemental, but my turn was coming up quickly, and my enhancement was not designed for on-a-coin turns. I dared to slow down just enough to make the turn and angled myself toward the opposite wall from my turn. In a feat of dexterity that had me proud for a brief moment, I leaped up and planted both shoes against the wall simultaneously. My feet had only just made contact, and my body aligned with the hall when I triggered a massive kinetic burst from my Pacer Shoes. I shot down the hall at a speed that matched a car''s for a few seconds. The issue started when I attempted to keep up the pace with my legs after losing momentum.


    I¡¯ll say it. I was a total idiot. Rather than running at what might have felt like Mach two, my legs, even enhanced, couldn¡¯t keep the rate of speed. I fell headfirst into the floor, and my legs lifted over my head. The best way to describe my situation was I had become a living, over-sized tumbleweed. I cartwheeled down the hall until I struck the wall at the turn, shoulder first. I felt more than heard the pop as the joint dislocated. My brain was pretty jarred from the sudden stop, but stopping was the last thing I wanted. I forced myself back to my feet at a near-panicked rate. I planted one foot against the wall opposite the turn the hall took. I faced the new direction and muttered, ¡°Take two.¡± to myself before triggering a smaller burst of kinetic force from the one shoe against the wall.


    The controlled burst start was definitely an improvement over the last attempt. My new issue was maintaining the speed boost with repeated timed bursts from the shoe I was pushing off with as I ran. Triggering the burst at the right time was difficult, and the inability to keep a regular rhythm only worsened things. I must¡¯ve looked like a suicidal maniac with a desire to die in the stupidest-looking manner possible.


    I hadn¡¯t even gotten my timing down when I needed to figure out how to stop because I saw another wall approaching at top speed. I almost attempted digging in my heels to stop, but that would only lead to another face plant that would likely result in broken teeth. First, I attempted to slow my speed by reducing my pace, but the wall kept coming at a speed I knew would be painful. Next, I moved on to Plan B. I aimed Venna dead ahead and started triggering small kinetic blasts from the kinetic energy focus set into the hand. I did slow to a degree, but I still struck the wall fast enough to break my nose and crack at least two ribs.


    With that hit, my brain was definitely concussed, but that, along with my nose, ribs, shoulder, and burned arm, was a problem to deal with once I was safe. With my eyes swimming and brain foggy, I looked down the hall whence I had come and saw that the elemental and all it was carrying was only just making the turn. I had given myself a solid forty-yard head start. But that was not the time to admire what progress I had made. I ran down the hall as it turned to my left and took the next right after that at a pace just fast enough to make sure I could make the turns without injury.


    The next thing I knew, I was staring at a stairway. Nennel and Ferris sat on the step leading to subfloor 1, looking at me with worry and panic.


    ¡°What is that all over you?¡± Nel asked at the same time as Ferris asked, ¡°Dude. What the hell happened to you?¡±


    I wheezed out a rushed response. ¡°No time. Head down. Being chased. Get off at subfloor 5.¡±

 PITM Chapter 20

    As an extension of the four Core Myst Elements of Earth, Fire, Air, and Water, there are Compound Elements. Compound Elements result from applying the trait of one element to another element to produce something completely new. There are six commonly used Compound Elements.


    Compound Element Examples:


    Lightning results from applying the mobility of Air to the element of Fire.


    Kinetic results from applying the solidity of Earth to the element of Air.


    Acid results from applying the devouring aspect of Fire to the element of Water.


    Nennel and Ferris both gave me a confused look, which turned to revolt with wrinkled noses.


    ¡°What in the name of the Gods is the awful smell?¡± Nennel asked.


    ¡°Did you not hear me?!¡± I shouted.


    Before either of them could respond, there came a sound like rolling thunder behind me. Nennel and Ferris looked past me and toward the origin of that sound. ¡°DON¡¯T JUST STAND THERE! MOVE!¡± I commanded.


    This time, I acted without waiting for a response. I rushed forward, grabbed both of my friends by the front of their harnesses, and yanked them with me down the stairs as fast as I could. I did my best not to run full-tilt because of my new ANFEN cybernetic installments. But the two trailing behind me still struggled to keep their feet under them as I practically sprinted down the stairs, skipping three steps at a time. As soon as I reached subfloor 4, I heard the elemental strike the wall right next to the stairs from where we had just fled.


    Every part of my body hurt. My arms and legs ached and throbbed. Every breath brought on stabbing pain from my damaged ribs. My dislocated shoulder screamed in protest as it was pulled by Ferris¡¯s weight while he struggled to keep up. My broken nose was the least intense pain, but it still pounded and burned, and I could taste blood on my lips. Despite all that misery, I kept pushing, kept going.


    I kicked down the door leading from the stairway and rushed through. I could feel the enhancement in my legs waning, but I could not stop. If I stopped, we were all dead. I checked my map again as I hurried down the hall, desperately searching for a way out. My eyes flitted over the three-dimensional image, seeking a hint of anything I could use to get us out of this danger. Six paces down the hall, I found what I was looking for.


    Strangely enough, we were near an environmental hazard I had planned to encounter. I could use it to my advantage. I slowed down as the desired turn came up and took a short right, kicking down another door with the last of my enhanced strength. The three of us came to a stop at the foot of a catwalk that reached thirty feet across to another door. While the catwalk looked unstable at best, that was only part of the problem. Beneath the catwalk bridge was a lake of caustic liquid. The awful, thick green, yellow, and gray substance gave off a glow that could mean nothing good. Each of the colors swirled with each other without mixing, giving a sense of several living creatures interacting with each other. The thick and large bubbles that grew and burst like breathing cists did not help that sense. The whole fetid pool emanated a truly repulsive stench that anyone could tell was just as toxic as the pools below.


    ¡°What the hell is the place?¡± asked Nennel with a look of revulsion. ¡°This place stinks worse than you do, Iver.¡± As my sister made her comment, I thrust my dislocated shoulder against the wall behind us and pulled my arm to relocate the joint.


    ¡°I¡¯ll explain later.¡± I growled because of the pain from the shoulder joint. ¡°Nel, hand over your grav-hook.¡± As I took the device from Nennel, I continued to throw out instructions at a rapid-fire pace. ¡°Both of you, put on your gas masks and your chem-pants.¡± I continued to speak while I loosely tied the end of the rope to the railing. ¡°While you do that, I¡¯m gonna cross and anchor the hook. After that, I need one of you to tie off the rope attached to the grav-hook to as stable a spot as you can find. Not where I just tied it. This is to keep it within reach of you two while I cross.¡± The instructions continued even as I pulled my gas mask from the bag and mounted it to my face. ¡°The rope needs to be as taut as possible, and both the knot and the anchor point need to hold the weight of both of you. But we need to be lightning quick.¡±


    As I moved to stand on one side of our platform, away from the other two, I could hear the elemental flowing down the stairs like a tide. This caused panic to rise like a tide all its own that threatened to drag me down. I resisted that threat as best I could while I tried to punch out the right mental math to pull off yet another daringly stupid stunt.


    ¡°Wait, what do you mean chem-pants?¡± Ferris asked, his brain clearly still not working at full capacity.


    ¡°I mean the damned acid-resistant leg guard covers, Rot-brain.¡± I snapped at him before turning back to my rushed work. To pull off the math in time, I was going to need to take out a loan. I carved my metal claws down my shoulder and tricep. I dug deep, drawing a snarl from me just as quickly as the blood welled and rolled down in a steady flow. It was a lot of life fluid, but I could only hope that it would be enough for what I needed. I drew on ten Vells and dumped all of it into as high a tier of mind enhancement using Distortion Myst and Morphic as I could manage. That meant I gave myself a Tier 5 Mind Enhancement, the highest possible tier for someone like me, but it would only last for one minute. I was really going to regret that action later, but then was not the time for thinking that far ahead.


    With my cognitive processing kicked into a preternatural gear, time seemed to slow down. Time became so sluggish I could only perceive Nennel and Ferris moving when I actively paid attention to them for what seemed like several seconds. With this effect active, I turned back to my calculations, triggering a function of my therra that had become a boon in the recent days. A three-dimensional measurement hologram appeared in my vision after what seemed like a long moment but must¡¯ve been near-instant. I quickly measured out the distance from my location to the nearest space across the bridge that looked reasonably safe. Next, I measured the height of the ceiling from where I stood. Then, I measured the distance to each wall on either side of me. After that, I checked the remaining Vells left in the myst crystals I had installed in my Pacer Shoes. After all of this, I changed measurement systems to check trajectory and velocity with the resources I had on hand.


    With all the variables I needed plugged into my formula, I realized I only had enough myst left in my shoes for one solid jump. That was one part of this issue. Another negative factor was that the juice I had wasn¡¯t enough for a low jump that would cover the total distance. The ceiling was also too low for me to correct this distance-to-velocity issue by jumping in a high arc. Without my grappling hook, things only got more complicated.


    I reduced my cognition to increase the rate at which I perceived time. When the world seemed to move at a quarter speed, I watched my bleeding shoulder until there was enough fresh blood that I knew I could take the next step. My Mystwell had only recovered a few Vells, so my current capacity felt like sixteen. I drew on all of the available blood to channel another ten Vells of Morphic and Distortion Myst into my body, mostly focused in my legs. I knew that this would likely cause severe damage to my leg muscles, but I had no other choice.


    With the grav-hook in one hand, I bent down into a sprinter¡¯s stance. I rushed forward toward a less-than-stable guard rail and lunged, carefully placing both of my feet on the rail. The body enhancement let my physical body operate almost as fast as my mind was processing. With both feet balanced on the rail, I felt it beginning to bend, giving in under my weight in slow motion. I squatted as low as I could while keeping my balance and thrust myself into the air over the toxic pool. The jump had pushed me three feet into the air and ten feet forward toward the wall on my right before I started my descent toward the glowing lake. The moment I felt my drop in altitude, I triggered the kinetic burst from my shoes, burning through the last of the myst in the crystals. After a terrifying moment of slowly dropping, the ability triggered. My legs were in the planned position of my left leg outstretched below and behind and below me, and my right leg was bent with my knee thrust out ahead of me. I shot forward as planned, but my foot placement had altered my trajectory in a manner I hadn¡¯t predicted. While I was approaching the wall at top speed, I was veering slightly to the left, away from the wall. I cranked my mind enhancement back up to top gear to give me enough time to think out the situation.


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    If my estimation was right, I would still reach the wall, but at a point lower than desired. I would need to correct, and with my shoes fresh out of juice, I would have to pull that off myself. I already had plans for the rest of the myst in my Mystwell. That meant I needed to think up a solution without magic. And the solution needed to be decided with enough time before problems got worse for me to make that correction.


    I could try to make the adjustment by kicking off with my legs, angling up higher. But without a solid grip on the surface, I was more likely to just slip off. If I still had my grappling hook, it wouldn¡¯t have been a problem, but I also wouldn¡¯t have needed to pull off this madness in the first place. I ran through every option I could think of before the concrete wall was within arm¡¯s reach. When I got a closer look at the wall, I got an idea. The mad ideas just kept rolling out of my brain, but the very source of all this trouble inspired this one.


    If Ferris¡¯s hook hadn¡¯t lost grip, he wouldn¡¯t have fallen. If Ferris hadn¡¯t fallen, I wouldn¡¯t have needed to catch him. Because of how I caught him, he made enough nose to draw the ghouls, and so on the chain of events went, but it all started with a bad wall.


    The encroaching wall was riddled with obviously weak spots. That was more than likely because of the caustic fumes from the lake below. I adjusted my body to land with my back, palms, and both foot soles against the wall. I made sure my feet were on a weak spot that was visibly crumbling. When my feet made contact, but my back hadn¡¯t, I drew on two Vells, using the still seeping blood from my shoulder. I aligned one Vell with Earth and applied the solidity trait of the element to the second Vell that I aligned with Water. The result was a batch of magical adhesives commonly called Trapp Tar, a Compound Core Element. I conjured the small amount of Trapp Tar on the sole of my left foot. That would give me enough grip to adjust my flight angle.


    Once my back touched the wall, I kicked up and off, using the tar to give my foot the grip I needed to angle my leap at a more upward angle. Sure enough, the weakened wall segment only held for just long enough to grant me my desired result. And as I had hoped, the moment my feet pushed free of the wall, the contact point with the tar tore free with almost no effort. My supercharged legs pushed me up another five feet and forward another eight feet. As soon as I reached the apex of my arc, I drew on my remaining myst, six Vells in total. I mentally slammed three Earth Vells into three Air Vells to produce kinetic energy. Seventy-five foot-pounds of force thrust me forward another twenty feet before my descent started. When I knew that my math was right on the money, I was elated. The speed from my last burst and leap barely gave me enough clearance to shoot over the far guardrail. I made it over the clearance with less than six inches of clearance, but I didn¡¯t care. I hit the metal platform and shoulder rolled right into a wall with a painful slam. Hitting the wall was jarring enough to make me lose focus on my dual self-enchantment.


    My eyes rolled in my skull in what felt like totally separate directions and different speeds, but I shook it off to climb to my feet. Without a second of hesitation, I anchored the grave hook on the wall beside the exit at a point I thought could hold the weight. I looked back to find that Ferris already had his chem-pants on and started to make his way across the catwalk. Thankfully, I didn¡¯t need to tell him to keep a firm grip on the rope in case the catwalk collapsed. But to my horror, Nennel was still stepping into her chem-pants. She must¡¯ve been the one to tie down the rope, which resulted in a delay in her preparations. But I could hear the elemental rolling down the hall faster than Nel could dress and get to a safe distance on the catwalk.


    ¡°NEL!¡± I shouted at the top of my lungs. ¡°DROP AND RUN!¡±


    It was a true testament to just how close we were as friends that she knew what I meant and did as told without a second thought. Nennel left behind her supply bag and everything that wasn¡¯t on her person to bolt down the bridge. Ferris heard the command and likely also heard the elemental coming and did the same. It really was a display of the Elf¡¯s mental determination that he let go of the rope and sprinted even faster than our Borg friend. But neither of them were fast enough. Ferris was ten feet away from safety, and Nennel was still twenty feet out when the Elemental flowed through the door.


    I had come armed with more than just Venna. At that moment, the critical tool was the snuffer elemental pistol strapped to my right hip, opposite my kinetic pistol. I drew my snuffer with practiced speed and took my aim, but not at the elemental. With a weapon that small and simple, any element I had slotted would have done almost no damage to the mass of rot, waste, ghouls, and glass. But because I had a potent Fire Myst crystal slotted, I could target something else. I lined up my shot and shouted one word. ¡°ROPE!¡±


    Nennel and Ferris instantly knew what I meant and lunged to grab onto the safety line we had installed. I waited a few precious seconds. This was partly to make sure the Nennel and Ferris had a solid grip and could make a bit more progress, but even more so, it was to get the elemental into the perfect spot.


    When the elemental was almost completely on the bridge, I fired a bolt of concentrated Fire Myst at one of the support joints of the catwalk across the way. Once again, I had to thank Thallos begrudgingly for my training. The shot struck the mounting bolt and melted through it and the weld. The hanging path tilted sharply to the right and groaned for a long moment. Nel and Ferris stopped their progress with the jarring tilt and clung onto the lifeline. And just as I had hoped, the sheer weight of the elemental was enough to break the other bolt mount. The bridge gave a shriek of protest before breaking off at the far end.


    The elemental, unaware of my plot and unable to hold on to anything, fell into the caustic lake below with a massive splash of thick slime. I felt a fleeting moment of pride at my cobbled-together plan working out so well. That pride vanished when I saw a part of the outcome I hadn¡¯t predicted. A ghoul. A lone ghoul had escaped from the elemental before it fell. The ghoul clung onto the safety line Nennel, and Ferris hung from. The foul creature was holding on by only a single clawed hand, appearing disoriented for a few seconds as it inspected its surroundings.


    ¡°Shimmy, you bastards! Get moving!¡± I shouted to my friends. While Nennel and Ferris franticly swung hand over hand across the rope, my shout also drew the attention of the ghoul. The creature let out a shriek before it swung up to grip the rope with both hands and feet. The foul beast did as they always do and impersonated crawling like an insect hunting prey.


    I cursed as I tried to draw my aim on the ghoul, but I was inhibited. One issue was that the ghoul was crawling at a speed that made leading the target difficult. The other and more hazardous issue was that myst poisoning was setting in. My body felt like I was both burning up and freezing cold; my vision had difficulty maintaining focus, and my limbs quaked.


    When the ghoul was almost within reach of Nennel, I panicked and fired. I was trying to melt the ghoul¡¯s head into a smoking stump, but my luck was worse. Far worse. The bolt of fire lanced right through the rope behind the ghoul. Rein-synth cord was not fireproof and definitely not against magical fire. What the rein-synth cord was designed to do was rapidly extinguish any part that was burning using the melted fiber and seal off the end in a plastic-like coating to prevent further burning.


    The rope fell, and all three holding tight to it screamed in panic. I screwed up, and I screwed up big. I needed to save my friends. I couldn¡¯t let Nennel and Ferris die. I would not be the reason they died. I would do what it took. I was too weak to pull the rope up, but I might be able to do one thing.


    I dropped the sidearm and stepped up to the edge. ¡°Ferris, climb. Nel, heads up.¡±


    I flexed the fingers in my gauntlet and tested my grip even as Nennel looked up at me and shouted, ¡°What?!¡± clearly unsure what I meant. I would have answered her if I hadn¡¯t already dropped off the edge.


    My body¡¯s quaking had only intensified, and my vision could no longer focus at all. I knew my grip was weak, but I still did my best to aim the claws down at the ghoul. As I plummeted down head first, I gave a silent apology to my only two friends. The two of them had put up with a lot of trouble because of me. They would have to put up with a serious scolding from Master Navor, but at least they wouldn¡¯t have to put up with me anymore.


    My final act must¡¯ve been blessed by some deity because my gauntleted hand connected with the ghoul¡¯s face, and I clenched with all the strength I could summon. My claws gouged scarlet furrows across the creature¡¯s face, two fingers catching in its exposed sinus cavities. Between that and my dropping weight, the creature lost its grip and fell into the toxic slime that was only a mere four feet below it.


    Mentally, I readied myself for a terrible last few moments, reassured by the thought that I did something actually useful at the end. But instead of experiencing my body being dissolved, I was startled out of my introspective moment by a sudden jerking stop, my head only two feet from the toxic slime. I looked up at my caught foot to find a metal hand in a vise grip around my ankle.


    I looked past Nennel to see Ferris climbing over the edge as he shouted, ¡°Hold on, guys! I¡¯ll get you up!¡±


    While Ferris was shouting down to us, I could hear Nennel venomously cursing at me. ¡°You suicidal jackass. I swear, once we are safe, I¡¯m going to feed you your own sweaty socks. I¡¯m going to beat the ever-living crap out of you with the first non-lethal item I can find. I don¡¯t care if it¡¯s a mutant fish-puppy or lizard-ferret thing. I¡¯m going to use it to slap you so hard, your father will feel it in the here-after.¡±


    I wore a tired smile at Nennel¡¯s comments until I caught the smell of the pool below and a burning feeling on my cheek. I reached my bare left hand up to my mask as my head started spinning. My fears were verified. Some of the slime splashed up by the ghoul¡¯s fall had splattered on my face and mask and was eating whatever it touched.


    Moments before I lost consciousness from either the myst poisoning or the toxic fumes, I felt me and Nennel beginning to ascend at a steady fluid rate. My final thought before passing out was a puzzled reflection on Ferris''s ability to hoist us up so rapidly and seamlessly. It almost felt like he had started a winch.

 PITM Chapter 21

    The term ¡®Class¡¯, while originating in the adventurer field, has been expanded to regular use in many fields of work. Mages of any class can find work in many fields that don¡¯t involve combat. Individuals with martial classes often find work in law enforcement or security careers. Additionally, the list of classes has been greatly expanded over the ages. Many classes, such as the Arsenal martial class and Mechanist mage class, are among the more recent additions. There is also the third general class type called Hybrids. Hybrid Classes use a combination of martial skills and magical abilities to become a truly lethal threat. While a Hybrid will never be as skilled in either field as a martial or a mage, they seamlessly blend the two to devastating effect.


    While I was unconscious, I dreamt. The details are unclear to me, but I remember it wasn¡¯t pleasant. Blood, darkness, screams, flashing fangs and claws, and worst of all, a deep hunger that could not be sated. I couldn¡¯t tell you if I was on the receiving end of the terror or if I was the one causing it. As I started floating back up into the real world, I heard something. As I fully came back to the world of the living, I recognized the sound as a feminine voice humming the tune to a lullaby. I knew the lullaby as The King¡¯s Ninth Cat. It¡¯s a simple nursery song about a king who lost all nine lives of eight pet cats to tragedy and how he assigned his royal guard to his ninth cat. It was a strange story that I never really understood.


    Right before I opened my eyes, I realized that my head was propped up on something hard and rough. When I opened my eyes, I found myself staring up at Nennel, holding my head in her lap as she hummed the tune. While Nel quietly hummed, she held a damp rag against my brow.


    I shot up into the sitting position in a panic, remembering what had occurred before I lost consciousness. As I rose with elastic speed, I looked around, checking for both Ferris and any threats. We were in a small office space that was left mostly untouched other than the standard wear of time and a thick coating of dust. Nennel had her back propped against the rear wall opposite the door. The door was closed and blocked with a thick office desk, an old computer terminal still attached to the face. To my left was a bookshelf that held what were once books but were now moldering piles of pulp. Against the wall to my right was a table piled high with nude magazines made from a plastic material. Ferris''s and my supply packs lay on the floor in front of the table. Ferris was sitting between that table and the door, lounging in an office chair that must¡¯ve been older than any of us. The sharp-toothed Elf flipped through a magazine and absentmindedly played with a toothpick.


    The room, while devoid of claw marks, signs of nesting, or murder, was still thick with the scent of the moldering books and the carpet of dust. My jarring motion sent up a thick cloud of dust from the surrounding floor. My violent movement caused a wave of nausea to climb up my throat. But when I started coughing from the dust, that nausea developed into gagging. On hands and knees, I threw myself into the corner farthest from the other two and readied to wretch up my guts. The only outcome was a severe case of dry-heaving. While I heaved and shuddered from the reflex, Nennel came over and started rubbing my back in small, gentle circles.


    ¡°Easy there Ives¡¯. You were in a bad state when we brought you in here. You were banged all to hell and bleeding pretty bad.¡± Nennel commented in a soothing tone.


    Ferris spoke up from his seat in a less soothing voice, ¡°Yeah. Couple all that with a minor case of myst poisoning, chemical burns, and likely damaged lungs from inhaling those fumes. You looked like you¡¯d ran through hell in the nude and wound up getting shat out by a dragon with digestive problems.¡±


    I took steadying breaths while Nennel chewed out Ferris. ¡°Come on, Fer. Don¡¯t be an ass.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me, Nel, but who was the one that had to strip him out of his nasty clothes and give him a sponge bath while you patched him up? That¡¯s right. Me. I got to see more of Iver than I ever planned on witnessing.¡±


    ¡°Oh, quit your bitching, Elf-boy. I haven¡¯t given you any trouble for what you¡¯ve been reading. Aren¡¯t naked girls supposed to act like mind bleach for you Y chromosome apes?¡±


    ¡°Wait.¡± I wheezed out as I turned away from the corner. ¡°You guys had to strip me?¡±


    Ferris looked up from his magazine to make eye contact with me. ¡°Damn right we did. While you looked like a disaster that crawled out of an apocalypse horror flick, your clothes were pretty much rags that smelled like a sewage station.¡±


    I looked down at myself to find that I was wearing a clean pair of green cargo pants and a plain black T-shirt, but nothing else.


    I felt heat rise in my cheeks at the thought. Those two were not the first people my age I wanted to see me stripped bare. ¡°I-uh. Sorry. Sorry, you had to see that.¡±


    ¡°See what?¡± Ferris asked. ¡°You mean your dangley bits? While I wasn¡¯t a fan of that, I had more issue with the scars.¡±


    My eyes went wide as I closed in on myself in shame.


    ¡°S-sorry.¡± I repeated.


    Nennel stepped in front of me, where I sat huddled on the floor and pressed a metal fist gently against the top of my head. ¡°Don¡¯t stress it, Ives¡¯. You¡¯re not the first guy I¡¯ve seen naked. I¡¯ve got a brother, after all. And if I¡¯m lucky in romance, you won¡¯t be the last. I don¡¯t care about that¡­ But your scars¡­¡±


    I pressed my face into my knees as I muttered, ¡°I know they¡¯re ugly and gross.¡±


    After a long moment of silence, I looked up to see the other two glaring at me, and I retreated back into my knees.


    ¡°Iver Maverick. You stupid moron.¡± Nennel scolded. ¡°We aren¡¯t grossed out by them. What we are is angry about them.¡±


    If I could¡¯ve curled up smaller, I would have. ¡°I know. I screw up a lot. I cause problems. The scars are just a sign of how bad at life I am.¡±


    I heard a magazine drop and a chair shifting before heavy, storming steps marched up to me. A narrow fist sharply worked its way past my face to grip the collar of my shirt, and it yanked me to my feet with vicious force. My feet held none of my weight, dangling limply like a pair of vestigial noodles.


    The next thing I knew, I was panicking and staring into a raging pair of eyes with jade green irises and amethyst sclera. ¡°Don¡¯t you say that. Don¡¯t you fucking say that about yourself.¡± Ferris snarled between clenched triangular teeth. ¡°You got those scars and those thoughts from your sociopathic, sadistic, lunatic uncle. You, are not a screwup. You, do not cause problems. I can count three times since we got to the city that you¡¯ve saved my life, and one of those times was only a few hours ago. I¡¯ve seen you piece Nennel back together after rescuing her from those Cy-Skav monsters. I will NOT let you talk shit about yourself after you risked your life, I don¡¯t know how many times, to get us all to safety.¡±


    My panic rose with Ferris¡¯s hostile tone. While part of me was aware of what he was saying, another part was already arguing each comment, and yet another part was spiraling into instability. I couldn¡¯t catch my breath. My chest was tight, and my heart pounded a machinegun staccato rhythm. My chest stung with each inhale and heartbeat, and my head swam as I couldn¡¯t stop the tears from coming.


    A mechanical female hand rested on Ferris¡¯s arm as Nennel stepped up. With gentle pressure, she made Ferris release me. I fell to the floor like a pile of dirty laundry. Laying on my side on the floor, I curled into the fetal position and quietly sobbed.


    ¡°Ferris,¡± Nennel muttered to the Elf. ¡°We don¡¯t know what happened to him when we were separated. You saw the state he was in. I would love to blame all of that damage on the ghouls. But you saw those wounds. All of the gashes match his claws. You also saw the condition of his legs. He must¡¯ve ruptured dozens of blood vessels and torn plenty of muscle. Between those two, the bruises that I think he caused by accident, and the myst poisoning, which only he could have caused¡­ I think he pushed himself to breaking. Honestly, I think he pushed himself far past the breaking point.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re saying we just let him beat himself mentally into a lump of more trauma?¡± Ferris demanded. ¡°We both know that he¡¯s not as worthless as he thinks he is. You¡¯ve heard him shit-talk himself as much as I have. I¡¯m tired of it. That guy,¡± I could almost hear him pointing at me. ¡°is a madman. He is a lunatic saint who pulls off the impossible time and again. Then he turns around and beats himself up for any slight mistake. We can¡¯t let him keep this masochistic act up.¡±


    ¡°Ferris, do you really think that snapping at him and demanding he feel better will help at all?¡± Nennel gently chided.


    ¡°You heard what Thrasher said, Nel. The Mystagogue has heard him crying in his room a dozen times while he was at the manor. Both Thrasher and Navor told us to keep an eye on him and cut off any self-abuse as soon as it starts.¡±


    ¡°I think I have an idea of what happened.¡± Nennel said before there was another long moment of silence. The next thing I knew, Nennel was squatting next to me, resting a hand on my shoulder. ¡°Iver, does your medication contain myst?¡±


    I gave a slight nod without looking up.


    ¡°Does it feel like your medication is working right now?¡±


    I took in a deep, shuddering breath and held it as I did my best to look for the signs of whether my medication working or not. In answer, I gave a shake of the head before falling back into sobs.


    ¡°Then that¡¯s what¡¯s going on. Give me a second to find your medication.¡± Nennel said as she stood and moved away.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Ferris asked, sounding much calmer than before.


    I could hear Nennel rummaging through my bag as she explained. ¡°Iver¡¯s medication makes sure that he has a constant amount of tailored Resonance and Life Myst in his system while the medication is active, to help keep him stable. Because of that, he¡¯ll reach myst poisoning quicker than if he didn¡¯t have the medication. When your body suffers from myst poisoning, it tries to dump all the myst affecting your body. His body trying to expel the myst is why his veins were glowing, but that also means that his body was pushing out the stabilizing Resonance Myst. My best guess is that tailored myst casts as a catalyst to make sure the other components have the needed effects. So, no catalyst in his system means no anti-crazy effects. Either that or maybe his body is also trying to push out every part of the medication because of how much damage he had.¡±


    ¡°I guess that makes sense. Before he was medicated, he was a bit unhinged if things didn¡¯t go as planned.¡± Ferris commented.


    ¡°Crap.¡± Nennel curse.


    ¡°What?¡± Ferris asked. ¡°Did he not pack his meds?¡±


    ¡°No, he did. But they¡¯re behind a biometric lock.¡± Nennel was beside me again, only seconds later. ¡°Iver, I¡¯m going to borrow your hand so I can get your meds. Okay?¡±


    After I gave a single nod, I let go of my legs with my right hand. Nennel carefully took my hand and pressed my thumb against the scanner of the box. I heard the familiar beep and click of the box opening. I recognized the sound of Nennel checking the contents of the box before slotting a new vial into the hypo-jector and attaching a fresh needle tip.


    ¡°Damn, Nel. You have experience with this kind of thing?¡± Ferris asked in an impressed tone.


    ¡°Kinda. My little sister was diagnosed Type 1 Diabetic when she was still really little. Everyone in the house had to go through a course that taught all of the mechanics to keep her blood sugar under control. My parents were out of the house a lot. And after my brother left to join the military, I was in charge of counting Serra¡¯s carbs and managing her insulin doses until she was old enough to manage on her own. This seems relatively similar, and I don¡¯t have to worry about a wrong dosage because it¡¯s marked on the vials. I just don¡¯t know where to inject.¡± Nennel put a hand on my shoulder again as she asked, ¡°Where do I need to poke you, Iver?¡±


    Unable to form cohesive words, I simply shifted my top shoulder toward Nennel, and she got the message. She rolled up my sleeve and stuck me in the upper arm with the exposed needle. A squeak of discomfort slipped from my lips at the prick, followed by a hiss as I felt the fluid enter my body. Once she gave me the full dose, Nennel stepped back and set to putting the supplies away as she told Ferris to give me some time to let the medication take effect.


    It only took a few minutes for the medication to start correcting my brain chemistry and calming me down to a more stable state. While my sobs quieted and my breathing slowed, I still found my thoughts weighed down with dark emotions. I lay there on the floor, gathering myself. With the torrent of negative emotions quelled, my thoughts were clearer and less tinged with negativity. I had a firmer grip on who I was. Mostly, I just felt shame at the breakdown in front of Nel and Ferris. I knew I shouldn¡¯t have felt so stupid about it. They had witnessed me unmedicated for the majority of the year before. But somehow, knowing that my reactions and thoughts were brought on because my mind was broken made it embarrassing.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    I¡¯m going to take a second here to say something to anyone reading this who has a mental condition. Having something wrong with your brain chemistry or psyche DOES NOT MAKE YOU BROKEN! My perspective of my anxiety-meat being damaged goods was caused by years of trauma and abuse. And, yes, I refer to the brain of any sapient species as anxiety-meat.


    As I sit here now with Tave, I need to remind you that it¡¯s perfectly okay for someone to need medication and/or therapy to remain functional. We no longer live in an age where mental conditions are blamed on evil spirits. We are also well past the era when having a condition got you strapped to a table and zapped till you were ¡°fixed¡±. I¡¯m willing to bet a fair amount of clat that even some of your heroes and idles need mental help. Hells, if you¡¯re reading this, then you likely are at least partly a fan of a least one of my many monikers. Even Heroes and augmented super troopers need help after the shit they¡¯ve seen. So stop being stupid and feel better about yourself.


    When I finally pulled out of my ball on the floor, Nennel was reading a book, and Ferris was still flipping through nude mags. ¡°Feel better?¡± Nennel asked without looking up.


    ¡°I, uh, yeah. Sorry about that.¡± I apologize as I rubbed the back of my head in embarrassment.


    Something light slapped against my face, causing me to flinch. ¡°Stop apologizing, horn-head.¡± Ferris rebuked. ¡°We all have problems. And if you think that we¡¯re going to have an issue with helping you with yours, I swear I¡¯ll keep throwing nude mags at you till I get it through your head.¡±


    I only barely stopped from apologizing again. But when I looked down at the magazine he had thrown at me, I decided to start slinging glass his way. ¡°So, Fer, I didn¡¯t realize you were into muscle mommies.¡± I said with a smirk.


    ¡°What?!¡± Ferris yelped. ¡°No, I¡¯m not!¡±


    I picked up the magazine in front of me to display the cover. The cover displayed a Gredgore Orc woman in a very tiny black bikini, striking a sultry pose. Her green skin glistened with oil, and her tied-back ponytail was caught in mid-swing, reaching down to her hips. Behind the woman was a plain red background, and printed above her head in bold black block font was the title. ¡°Seductive Sturdy Gals: Miss Muscle Madam Edition.¡± As I read out the title, my smirk warped into a completely mirthful grin as I tried to hold back a snicker and failed. I watched a furious blush rise in Ferris¡¯s cheeks, and the snicker broke out into chuckling.


    ¡°Don¡¯t give him shit, Iver.¡± came Nennel from behind her book in a distracted voice. ¡°He¡¯s been flipping through those magazines for a few hours, and there¡¯s a wide range of genres.¡±


    Ferris let out a relieved sigh at Nennel¡¯s defense. But then she continued.


    ¡°If you want to give him shit, it should be over the she-male magazine he picked up without realizing while you were unconscious.¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡± Ferris snapped at Nennel. ¡°I didn¡¯t know!¡±


    My chuckling flew into uncontrolled cackling as I fell back on the floor. Ferris then spent the next three minutes throwing magazines at me until I could finally stop laughing. I sat up, breathing hard and wiping tears from my eyes. ¡°Okay, have you guys eaten yet?¡±


    ¡°Nope.¡± Nennel said


    ¡°We were waiting for you, trog-face.¡± Ferris said with a pout.


    I crawled to my feet and stepped over to my bag to sort through my supplies while I continued. ¡°I¡¯m guessing we didn¡¯t manage to salvage Nel¡¯s pack.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± she said in a dejected tone.


    ¡°We also lost most of the rope attached to Nel¡¯s hook.¡± Ferris commented as he pushed himself from his seat to join me, going through his own bag. I pulled out two REMs and tossed one to Nennel, who caught the meal pack in one hand even as she set down her book. I turned back to my bag to pull free a pair of drinks.


    ¡°The rope¡¯s not a big deal. I¡¯ve got a spare coil.¡± I said as I walked over to Nel a can of strawberry juice. I lowered myself down to sit beside her. ¡°By the way, Nel, is that my book?¡± I asked, pointing to the hardcover book beside her with my bottle of water.


    ¡°Yep.¡± Nel said with a smirk as she cracked her drink to take a sip. ¡°I lost all three of the books I had in my pack. I found this bad boy,¡± she tapped the book with her free hand. ¡°In your pack when I was looking for your clothes and that bag of healing supplies Navor gave us.¡±


    I flashed Nel my own smirk while I was about to open my Ready to Eat Meal. Then Ferris spoke up. ¡°Damn it! I didn¡¯t pack any meals with actual meat.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I asked. ¡°You get the veggie supreme pack?¡±


    ¡°No. I accidentally bought the vegan synth meat meal pack. Frag it all, I was in such a hurry. All I read was meat meal pack.¡±


    I rolled my eyes before tossing him the meal pack I had. ¡°Trade, twit-wind.¡±


    Ferris caught the back and examined it, reading the type out loud. ¡°Deluxe Three-Meat Stew Pack. Hell yeah. I can get behind this.¡±


    As we ate, we chatted. Ferris harped on me to explain how I wound up so beat to the nine hells. So I gave him a rundown, starting with his fall, explaining the ghoul chase, stink bomb, and elemental encounter. When I told the two of them the complete details of what the elemental was made from and carrying while chasing, they both made expressions of mixed revulsion and horror. After that, Nennel and I talked about the book she took from my pack. It was a historical fiction about a disowned Elven prince who was forced to become a warlord to save his people from an invading army. Nennel was fascinated with the story, but Ferris was extremely uncomfortable with the plot because its theme struck too close to home for him.


    Ferris was a Quint. A half-breed between two different types of Elves. He was the child of a High Elf noblewoman and a Wild Elf war chief who raped her. Ferris was treated worse than scum by his mother and any Elf that crossed his path. This is because of his half-breed nature. Elves, as a people, have a hyper-fixation with lineage and bloodline purity. Half-Elves are disliked, but Quints are despised as abominations.


    So we hopped around safer topics for a bit while we ate. After we wrapped up our meal, I slipped on a pair of socks and my cleaned Pacer Shoes and pulled out my armor set from my pack. I strapped on thigh and shin plates and arm guards made from titanium and painted with a light-absorbing black paint. I covered my torso with a plate-flex vest with the same paint job. As I armored up, Nel and Ferris did the same with similar armor pieces.


    When we were all ready to depart, Venna on my arm, a sidearm at either hip and my pack on my back. I picked up the trash from our meal while Nel and Ferris moved the desk that blockaded the door. Once the entry was cleared, Nel listened with her ear to the door before slowly opening it and peering out. When the coast was clear, we moved out in a closed formation. First, I backtracked to the room with the toxic lake, with some guidance from the other two.


    The moment I stepped into the room, I knew something was off. The platform on our side that I stepped onto, the one with the bridge barely holding on to it, was covered in bones. Bones that were not there when I had first landed on that platform from my jump stunt.


    ¡°Um, guys¡­ How did these bones get here?¡± I asked with worry and confusion in my voice.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Ferris asked in a very unconvincing manner.


    ¡°Weren¡¯t they always here?¡± Nennel asked with confusion, just as honest as my own.


    ¡°Yeah, no.¡± I stated, looking directly at Ferris, expecting an answer.


    ¡°They were here when you and I were pulled up by Ferris.¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± I trailed off as I cupped my chin between my thumb and forefinger while I thought about those moments before I passed out. ¡°Speaking of, how did you manage to pull us both up so easily? Don¡¯t get me wrong. I know you¡¯re fit, but Nel¡¯s body is solid steel, and while I may be easily a featherweight, it would still have made the action even more challenging.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean easily? I had a serious struggle dragging the two of you up. Besides, Iver,¡± Ferris put a strong emphasis on my name. ¡°You were the one who took a suicidal swan-dive into that pool of who-knows-what.¡±


    I stepped up to the edge and threw our trash off. We needed to dispose of any traceable evidence because we were near cannibal territory. ¡°Oh, I know very well what it is. And there¡¯s a reason I didn¡¯t mention it before.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Ferris asked.


    ¡°Iver¡­ What the hell is that dreck?¡± Nel demanded.


    I turned away from the edge and led the other two out of the room with a carefully toned, ¡°Let¡¯s leave before I tell you. The fumes are hazardous.¡±


    As soon as we were a safe distance from the pool, I turned and explained in a low voice. ¡°You two saw those pipes coming down from the ceiling?¡± They both nodded. ¡°Those pipes are illegally connected to factories on the surface. Factories with rather dangerous waste byproducts.¡±


    ¡°What kind of waste?¡± Nennel asked in an accusing tone.


    I broke eye contact with both of them and veered my eyes to the wall at my left as I nervously explained. ¡°Oh, you know. Caustic acids, poisonous fluids, and¡­ maybe some radioactive substances.¡±


    ¡°WHAT!?¡± Nennel exclaimed.


    I cringed at the word before hissing, ¡°Keep it down, Nel. I¡¯d rather not get noticed by the locals.¡±


    Nennel lowered her own voice but spoke in a hiss that was much more venomous than my own. ¡°You¡¯re telling me that you suicide-dived into a pool of the worst possible stuff to save me from a ghoul.¡± It was more of an accusation than a question. ¡°Iver Maverick. I swear to the gods above and below that if you ever try anything that suicidal again, I will break every bone in your arm as well as your nose after I make sure that you are safe.¡±


    I felt the blood drain from my face as my eyes almost bulged out of their sockets at the threat. I honestly didn¡¯t put it past my unofficially adopted sister to hold up to her threat to teach me a very painful lesson. ¡°Sorry!¡± I forced out in a rush in a desperate hope to calm her before she snapped me like a twig.


    ¡°Iver,¡± Ferris probed tentatively. ¡°What did you mean by locals?¡±


    I lunged at the chance to change the subject. ¡°Only that we are near the territory of a gang of cannibals.¡±


    When neither of them responded, I dared a glance at the two to find both of them staring at me. This time, it was their eyes that bulged. I focused on each of them in turn with a questioning brow raised. ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Did you just say cannibals?¡± Ferris demanded in a strained whisper. I could see the panic on his face. He was clearly too scared to raise his voice.


    ¡°Yeah?¡± I answered with a confused note.


    ¡°How are you not scared?¡± He accused as much as asked.


    ¡°Because I know how to avoid them.¡± I said simply.


    ¡°I¡­ what?¡± He asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s not like it''s a big deal.¡± Nennel said.


    ¡°Not a big deal?¡± Ferris snapped. He turned to Nennel. ¡°I get you not being scared. You''re like ninety percent tin, with oil for blood.¡± Nennel looked offended at the comment, but Ferris turned to me without pause to send an accusation my way. ¡°And you, Ives¡¯. You''re some stark-raving mad dude who seems totally immune to pain because you put up with your sadist uncle for almost an entire year. Plus, you clearly have so little fear of death you literally jumped off a bridge to save Nel. You were totally willing to die from being melted and poisoned without a second thought. So, yeah, you¡¯re schizo.¡±


    I massaged my brow at my friend¡¯s rant. ¡°Ferris. Buddy. Pal. Calm your heat, and let me explain.¡± I forced myself to lock eyes with him and speak with systematic hand gestures. ¡°First, I¡¯ve done hours of research on notes from adventurers who have delved down here and checked every local hazard on our path. Two, the Cannibal gangs are pretty primitive. They don¡¯t use any ranged weapons and have no casters, according to the notes. If we keep quiet and an eye out for traps, we should be fine. Three, I set our plotted route around the outer edge of their territory. So our likelihood of danger is as low as I could make it while keeping travel time to a minimum.¡±


    ¡°I... uh¡­ okay. That does make me feel better.¡±


    I checked the map on my therra and led the other two through several halls and down two floors. I was beyond thankful that both Nel and Ferris had trained in stealth work. We passed through several rooms that showed evidence of dangerous creature presence without issue. We also bypassed a half dozen traps set by the local cannibals without incident.


    After only a few hours, we made it just outside the room that I had marked on my map as the location of our target informant. We stood inside a small room, only spanning eight feet by twelve feet, filled with not one, not two, but seven traps. I counted no less than six tripwire lasers attached to everything from a dart trap installed in the wall, to what I could only figure was a complex slag sprayer. Among the many traps, I spotted an entire patch of ground covered in lightning mines, set to release a lethal voltage to any nearby creature.


    Across the trap-laden room was a door. A massive door of reinforced steel that reached up to the ten-foot ceiling and spanned almost as far across. The door looked to be several inches thick and set into a frame that was just as sturdy. Installed into the center of the door was an optical scanner lens, long and thin, with a dull blue glow.


    I turned to Nennel on my right. ¡°Think you can manage disabling the laser sights?¡±She gave a single nod before setting to work. Then I turned to Ferris. ¡°Can you handle those mines?¡± Ferris looked nervously at the traps before audibly gulping and giving a single nod. ¡°Fer, if you don¡¯t think you can handle it, that¡¯s not a problem.¡±


    ¡°No, no. I should be able to handle it. I¡¯m just a little nervous.¡± He said with obviously feigned courage.


    ¡°Ferris,¡± I said gently. ¡°All you need to do with these things is crack open the cover to the control panel without triggering the motion sensor. Just don¡¯t move your hand directly over it. The panel is on the side. Pop it carefully and flip the switch from armed to disarmed.¡±


    ¡°Got it.¡± Ferris said nervously.


    While those two went to work, I set about checking for additional triggers in any open spaces that the others might step into. Sure enough, while Nennel shut down three tripwire lasers and Ferris disarmed four mines, I spotted two other traps that would have killed them. One was a laser sensor set into the ceiling that would have sprayed something likely lethal down on whoever tripped it. That required me to stand on Ferris¡¯s shoulders to sever a hidden wire. The second was a trap that was triggered by a caster¡¯s aura. From what I could tell, it would¡¯ve released a wave of negative polarity Chaos Myst that would¡¯ve triggered all the other traps at once.


    That would¡¯ve caused a massive kill zone that no one could¡¯ve survived without knowing it was there and having a teleportation ability. After about thirty minutes of work and careful communication between the three of us, we cleared a safe path to the door.


    I stepped up to the door and inspected it with a scrutinizing eye. Beside the door was a holographic keypad with a complete numeric and alphabetical layout, in addition to an eye and hand biometric scanner. I looked over the perimeter of each device for seams I could use. While looking the surface over with a meticulous eye, a voice came from the door.


    ¡°Well, well, well. Looks like you¡¯re not monsters, and I¡¯d like to think you¡¯re not here to eat me. What do you want?¡± The voice was silky smooth and held on odd inflection. The speaker was clearly male, but his voice was strange. There was a hum to it that wasn¡¯t like anything I had heard before.


    I answered in as clear and strong a voice as I could manage despite having been startled by the strange voice. ¡°We are here for information. I want to make a deal.¡± Even I could hear the nerves in my voice and I hated every word I spoke.


    ¡°Well, let¡¯s see what you have to offer,¡± the voice replied. ¡°But be warned. I will have turrets trained on you as soon as you enter.¡±


    ¡°Got it.¡± was all I managed to say without choking with nervousness.


    Next came the sound of an air-lock seal breaking as the door swung open. As the three of us stepped back to the door spreading wide open, the first thing I noticed was nothing like I expected. First, I saw a humanoid head with four eyes displaying pitch black sclera and ghost-gray irises. The next thing I noticed was a humanoid torso with four arms, closely followed by the most startling feature of an arachnid abdomen behind it all.

 PITM Chapter 22

    Hackers in Anogwin have a unique social structure. There are four types of hackers named after the suits in a deck of playing cards. Ethical hackers are called Hearts, while illegal hackers are called Spades. Mercenary hackers that may or may not be legally certified are called Diamonds. Lastly, hacker activists (often simply called hacktivists), and terrorists are called Clubs. A unified group of hackers is called a Deck and are labeled either Black or Red, depending on what they specialize in. Black decks specialize in offensive actions both in cyberspace and the physical world, while red decks specialize in defensive actions. A hacker¡¯s rank in the deck is based on their skill, ability, and knowledge, ranking from 2 to 10. Circuit class mages, the most dangerous among hackers, are ranked from Jack to Ace. Anyone in a deck that is labeled as a Joker has been identified as a possible turncoat.


    If I had known what the informant¡¯s species was, I likely would never have entered the Undercity. It was an Arachnyte. The least disturbing feature of the creature was its slender and long head with lengthy silver dreadlocks tied back in a high-set tail. Its eyes, all four of them, were almost like an Elf¡¯s, with colored sclera and irises. Black sclera around pale gray irises seated with slit pupils. The innermost pair of eyes were so large that I felt uncomfortable under the weight of its scrutinizing gaze on me. The outer pair of eyes were even smaller than Ceangar¡¯s. Its bottom jaw was split in half and displayed a visible row of needle-point teeth set with almost a whole inch between each tooth. Its brown skin was a color and tone that could be easily found in Humans, Elves, Ceangar, and Dwarves. The skin color was fine, the eyes were unnerving, and its jaw made me uncomfortable. None of those were my biggest issue. I was even fine with its four arms and its six-fingered hands. My problem was with the rust-colored spider abdomen and eight massive spider legs that his humanoid torso was attached to.


    I guess the creature was a ¡®he¡¯ from its voice and features. But he was a member of the Bellicose Species. An entity with intelligence on par with any Sophic Species, but any species from among the Bellicose were well known to be man-eaters.


    The Arachnyte was behind an armored counter equipped with a thick pane of iron-glass that reached to the ceiling. He stood in profile with his head facing me. Set in front of him was something that I found strange. A top-tier premium computer setup, complete with ten screens of various sizes, set into the wall in a haphazard pattern. Mounted to the ceiling on either side of the Arachnyte¡¯s entrenched position were a pair of turrets. Each turret was a dual-barrel auto-targeting, high-caliber model I recognized as the Thunder-Crusher HC-32 model. Just one of those guns would have turned me into a grease smear with just one bullet that would give any janitor nightmares.


    I slowly stepped deeper into the room with both hands raised in a sign of non-aggression. The eight-foot by eight-foot space looked to be an air-sealed meeting room. The room gave the Arachnyte maximum protection and intruders had no safe space to hide if they got hostile. Each wall to either side of me was armed with several types of traps, and I felt pressure plates depress under my shoes with each step. The traps were clearly disabled. But, if I did anything that the Arachnyte perceived as hostile, I would be trapped in a kill-box room. I was certain that the door I had just passed through was completely automated and could seal airtight before I could even reach it.


    Ferris and Nennel both followed my example as they stepped up right behind me. ¡°We¡¯re here because we heard you¡¯re one of the best info brokers in the city.¡±


    ¡°Who says that I¡¯m the best?¡± the Arachnyte asked with a smooth voice while he raised a pale brow in question.


    I lowered my hands and shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s just the word I picked up off the streets. A couple of kids mentioned you could get the info we need.¡±


    ¡°You trust the word of a few kids enough to drag yourself through cannibal territory to talk to a man-eater like me?¡±


    Even as the Arachnyte asked his question, I inspected the space he stood in, even as I broke down his word choice and analyzed it.


    Okay, the term ¡®analyzed¡¯ may be a dramatic exaggeration. While the term may hold closer to the truth later in my life, at this point in my story, I was simply overthinking his words. Given my lack of social skills, I was prone to overanalyzing any word choice from any stranger. Systematically breaking down each sentence spoken and identifying what I thought to be keywords was useful from time to time. But just as often, I found myself in even deeper trouble. But I did get lucky from time to time.


    The Arachnyte¡¯s word choice was interesting. First, he put me on the defensive by implying that I was stupid enough to trust children. He also implied that the effort it took to get down to him was immense and draining by using the word ¡®dragged¡¯. He then mentioned the local cannibals as a passive threat with the desire to intimidate. That attempt to intimidate was doubled down when he referred to himself as a man-eater. The choice of using the ¡®man-eater¡¯ term also must¡¯ve been intended to subtly state that he was just as much a physical threat to use as his automated weapons. But those words could be used against him.


    ¡°I don¡¯t just trust the word of a few kids. I¡¯ve done my research. There are more than a few pits in the LSN that talk about you.¡± I flashed the hacker a knowing smile even as I continued. ¡°And we didn¡¯t drag ourselves all the way here. I plotted out every step of the route down here. I am even skilled enough to have escaped a shroud of ghouls by getting them eaten by an elemental.¡± That comment wasn¡¯t technically correct, but I might as well have made the whole thing sound intentional.


    The hacker¡¯s look turned deeply skeptical as he said, ¡°Yeah, I saw the whole thing, kid. I¡¯m not falling for that weak web.¡± I kept my face very carefully blank as I tried to quickly think of a way to salvage things. ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong, hellspawn. Your whole stumbling trip down here was hysterical.¡± He gave me an amused smirk as he rubbed two fingers and a thumb of this upper left hand together in a common sign of value. ¡°Quality entertainment. You are so totally insane that you tried one suicidal trick after another and kept on rolling. So, for those few minutes of laughs you brought me, I¡¯ll listen to your request.¡±


    I had just gotten unbelievably lucky. But since I didn¡¯t need to convince the Arachnyte to listen to my request, I could move on to the next step. Bartering. I had read from several sources on the LSN that the hacker, Skitter, had one key weakness that many net junkies fell trap to. I had brought such bribery. And if I needed any proof of this creature¡¯s weakness, the trash that I could easily spy within his space was more than enough.


    I dropped my pack to the floor at my feet and pulled my trade currency to the top without revealing it as I explained our needs. ¡°We¡¯re looking to join the Razor Wings gang to gain some important information and beat a hasty escape. I might also have some extra payments for you if you can give more info or answer a few spare questions.¡±


    Skitter gave a snort as he folded his two lower arms over his hominid abdomen, cupped his narrow jaw in one hand, and laxly gestured to me with his remaining hand. ¡°It sounds to me like you''re already assuming that you have something I want. I hope, for your sake, that you have bricks of gold in that bag of yours.¡±


    This time, it was my turn to give him a smirk, and mine was flavored with diabolical spice. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that I¡¯m not carrying a Mintonian ton of gold. But I do just so happen to have a few particular energy drinks.¡±


    I watched as the hacker¡¯s face morphed from skeptical amusement to nervous interest. ¡°Energy drink? If you think you can buy me with a cheap beverage, you¡¯re dead wro-¡± He started, but I interrupted.


    ¡°It¡¯s only a simple mind-targeted Resonance Myst-infused energy drink that might only be brewed in limited batches and sold for almost a whole gold piece for a pack of six.¡±


    I knew I had Skitter on the hook when I watched his four eyes go wide with disbelief. ¡°You can¡¯t mean¡­¡± Skitter trailed off.


    ¡°I do happen to be a connoisseur of beverages with amounts of caffeine and B vitamins that could kill a pachyderm with only a few cans worth. Some might consider these types of drinks unhealthy. But, when you need a pick-me-up after a long day of work, these are practically liquid gold.¡± I pulled out a single sixteen-ounce can to display as if it were a rare vintage of Elven wine. A scarlet and black can patterned as if rivulets of blood were overflowing from the container. The brand¡¯s logo was a combination of an Elven eye pigment pattern and a Gnome¡¯s pupil. A black sclera around a golden iris containing a triangular pupil.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°Black-Gold Eye Brewery. I may have picked up a few cans of the Titan¡¯s Blood batch, brewed just last year. And¡­¡± I pulled you a second can. This one had a golden base color with a deep green lower half designed to look like it was full of some toxic brew with black bubbles holding skulls. ¡°I¡¯ve also picked up a few from the Necro-Dragon¡¯s Venom batch.¡±


    ¡°What!¡± Ferris complained. ¡°Why, in the name of the Dead One, didn¡¯t you share those with us earlier? I definitely could¡¯ve used one of those when we ate.¡±


    I shot Ferris an aggravated look. ¡°First, I¡¯d rather you not get hooked on these things. They cost a kidney just to get a single pack. Second, they were only intended for our host.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean addicted?¡± Ferris asked.


    ¡°He¡¯s saying that those are brink-breakers. Brain booster brink-breakers, to be precise. Energy drinks laced with Resonance Myst to enhance mental output to an insane level. They¡¯re insanely controlled by the government because people can get hooked on them and croak if they have too much.¡± Skitter explained.


    ¡°Oh.¡± was all Ferris said as he processed what the hacker said.


    ¡°Those are extremely limited edition batches from an insanely good corp that is known to pump out only the best kind of stuff.¡± the hacker continued. ¡°Alright. You¡¯ve got me. What do you want to know?¡±


    I slip the first can toward the hacker as I said ¡°Let¡¯s start with all of the info we need to join the Razor Wing gang. We¡¯re talkin¡¯ locations, uniforms, rites, rituals, trials, vows, anything and everything.¡±


    ¡°By the gods. You don¡¯t don¡¯t pull any punches, do you.¡± The hacker mocked. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll get your info. But it will cost both of those drinks.¡±


    ¡°Deal.¡± I said as I slid the second drink forward. I had a total of eight cans, but I couldn¡¯t spend them needlessly.


    ¡°Exulten!¡± Skitter shouted. The term was shortened from ¡®exultation¡¯ and often used like ¡®Awesome!¡¯ or ¡®Cool!¡¯. Without another word, he turned to his computer station, brushed aside a pair of brink-breaker energy drink cans, and began typing with a fervor. The guy was clearly a very hooked addict. But I was going to bleed that edge for every drop I could get. I honestly wasn¡¯t surprised that the hacker seemed disturbed. He came across as completely caco-maniacal. Little did I know just how much I was going to rely on that man in the days and years to come.


    After a few minutes, he gave a final, dramatic press of a key. Seconds later, I got a notification on my therra that I had just been sent a message attached with a file. ¡°I just sent you everything you¡¯ll need to join the scum-bag gang. And if you give me another two cans, I can give you two pieces of bonus info.¡±


    ¡°Deal.¡± I repeated as I picked up the first two drinks and walked them over to the counter between Skitter and myself. I took another trip with another two cans.


    After I set down the second two cans, Skitter explained. ¡°So, for starters, somehow, someone gave that gang a formula for something new that went sideways. That formula was for an experimental performance-enhancing drug known as Zyzivane.¡±


    ¡°Zyzivane?¡± I asked


    ¡°Yeah. Some diamond hacker decks noticed the formula and claimed that the Evea-Life mega-corp was the creator and was collecting all instances of the formula before wiping every byte of data on any device that even touched the formula. But a few club hacker decks were saying that it belonged to Vartex Corporation. After that, dozens of decks of all types started making claims that blamed any corporation with an office in Grimvale. So no one knows the truth but the corpo-rats playing the game. ¡± He held up a hand, displaying two fingers as he continued. ¡°Bonus data part two. As it turns out, that formula the gangers got was rigged to be poisoned by design. That means that someone gave them the goods with the intent to screw the gang. So it looks like you¡¯re not the only one out to give the Razor Wings a big and thick one up the back door.¡±


    I remembered Gig and his brothers mentioning something about the Razor Wings selling a new drug that caused more than a few deaths. That was good info, but the name Vartex sounded familiar. ¡°Vartex?¡± I muttered to myself while I laxly covered my mouth with a hand while I thought, trying to remember where I had heard it before.


    ¡°Oh, that one, I¡¯ll give you for free.¡± The hacker said. ¡°Vartex is a local mega-corp that specializes in electronics and cybernetics. Word on the spider net says that they have been schizo aggro against smaller-time companies in the same field.¡±


    That was enough to trigger the memory. The dead thief I found in the electronics store with the scrambled brain. ¡°Ject me out a jet with no chute.¡± I cursed to myself. With a sharp snapping motion of two fingers, I looked up at the hacker. ¡°I¡¯ve got another can in it for you if you can dig into that corp¡¯s locked data. I found one of their guys dead while he was in the middle of stealing a list of customer information. I want to know what the hell is going on.¡±


    The hacker went back to work on his computer even as he continued to talk. ¡°I can tell you exactly what the guy was doing. A common mega-corp tactic is to steal customer info, scrub the baby opponent¡¯s server data, and offer the customers a killer deal to steal their business. Give me a sec to do some digging. What can you tell me about the graver?¡±


    I gave a rapid-fire explanation of details as if reading off a bullet-point sheet. ¡°Moon Elf, male, light blue skin, pink hair shaved on the sides and long on top, tied back in a braid, deep purple eyes, close cut goatee. He was wearing a skintight black jumpsuit with light armor plating over vital areas. I found the graver in the Crossline Electronics Repair shop not too long ago.¡±


    ¡°Outfit tells me that the guy was likely a dark-cover ops agent. That means that he¡¯ll be listed in their profiles under the ¡®Specialized Janitorial¡¯ job folder¡­¡± Skitter¡¯s fingers flew over the keys with a fluid but manic grace. ¡°Jeez, their surface IC is total dreck. I cracked it in three min¡¯ flat and am already going through their base folder list. And there it is. Give me a sec while I check for your cadaver.¡± A few minutes of weighty silence held the room in a vice-grip, only filled with the machinegun click-clack of the hacker¡¯s keyboard.


    ¡°HA!¡± Skitter shouted in victory. ¡°Got your guy. Graver¡¯s name is Trassin Glowsone. Sure enough, the guy has level seven top-secret security clearance and is marked as dead by external trauma.¡±


    ¡°External trauma?¡± Ferris asked.


    ¡°Yep. It¡¯s cropo code for killed by assassination from an unknown party. This is also a code that informs the regulators to label the death an accident in official documents. But digging deeper and cracking through another few layers of IC, I found his last mission. Graver was tasked with breaking into that babe-corp¡¯s files and jacking their customer list as a surface cover.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean ¡®surface cover¡¯?¡± This time, Nennel was the one to ask.


    ¡°Give me a sec.¡± Skitter said distractedly as he went back to working his keyboard. After another few minutes, the Arachnyte propped all four hands against his desk as he said, ¡°Woh, woh, woh, what now?!¡±. He spoke in total shock before jumping back to his keyboard with enough intensity and force that I thought he was going to break the device.


    ¡°What? WHAT!?¡± I demanded.


    ¡°Your guy was linked to Operation Missing Sock.¡± he replied in a rough whisper.


    ¡°I-What?¡± I was more than a little confused.


    ¡°It¡¯s a big deal. Like, a really big deal. Enormous really. If I can pull this off, I¡¯m going to need three cans for this shit. I¡¯m cracking IC so thick you could sink a battle cruiser on it. I would¡¯ve charged like eight cans for this. But this is a big enough deal that if I can get what I want, I¡¯ll be an LSN legend.¡±


    ¡°Okay. When you get a chance, I want ALL of the details.¡± I said with serious weight.


    ¡°Done.¡± was all Skitter said in agreement before dropping into silence for what seemed like an eternity.


    When he finished, Skitter pushed his keyboard away with one hand, massaged his eyes with one hand, and his temples with the other two hands. When he spoke next, he sounded as if he had run several miles with no stops. ¡°So here¡¯s the deal. Two years back, a new black club hacker hit the scene with a massive data splash. The dude went by Net-Weaver-Spider, and he dropped a massive amount of classified data into the local LSN. For one, he released the Zyzivane formula, but that got snapped up by someone, and all net data of it got scrubbed. The other bit that the big NWS dropped was incomplete data on a cybernetics project that would be a global game changer. The ability to use cybernetics to turn a mundane into a full-blown Mage.¡±


    Skitter looked up as my jaw dropped at that news. Nations and corporations had been trying to find a way to allow mundane civilians to turn into Mages for generations. Everyone wanted to be a Mage, and if what the hacker said was true, millions of people could pay clat through the nose to have a dream come true.


    The hacker gave me a deep nod of confirmation before continuing. ¡°After the Zyzivane formula got snatched and scrubbed, he kept copies of the formula and the cybernetic data and kept posting it periodically in spaces on the net that seemed totally random. Dozens of local companies picked up that data, but then suddenly, the postings stopped. NWS made one final post mentioning that he took it all from an unnamed megacorp but that a recovery operation was set in place called Operation Missing Sock. After that last post, it was in the news that the terrorist Net-Weaver-Spider was dead.¡±


    ¡±I¡¯m not going to lie.¡± I said. ¡°I am really confused right now.¡±


    The hacker rubbed at his mouth with one hand as he said in a quiet voice. ¡°You and me both, kid. I have absolutely no clue what you¡¯ve gotten yourself into. But if you don¡¯t watch yourself, you¡¯re going to have a corp cannon aimed right up your ass.¡±

 PITM Chapter 23

    Creatures on Anogwin are ranked based on how dangerous they are. The CTRS, or Creature Threat Rating System, scales from 1 to 10. An example of a 1 on the scale would be a rat infestation. While technically, a pack of rabid rats could kill someone, it is very unlikely and requires only minor skill to handle. While a CTRS 10 would be a dragon attack. Any creature rated CTRS 10 often requires a Hero in conjunction with a group of at least three parties of Adamantine Master ranked Adventurers.


    By the time Nel, Ferris, and I were on our way back to the surface, I had traded all the drinks I had brought as payment. I had traded seven cans for seven pieces of information, even if a couple of those tidbits were free and a couple cost more than one can. With my last can, I purchased a safe route back to the surface. Skitter also gave me his contact information and the address for his personal teleporter. He also gave me his legal name, Vennowa Veddawer. Veddawer promised me a special discount for info in exchange for a few brink-breaker drinks.


    We couldn¡¯t take the same path back that we had taken down. Even if the bridge I had dropped was still intact, we had only one hook and rope between the three of us. While that one handicap wasn¡¯t enough to force us to turn back, the fact that the path was likely swarming with ghouls was more than enough of a deterrent. The path that we were given was shorter than the one we had taken down, but in exchange, it was also much more dangerous.


    I led the way down a hall as we drew near a stairway that had been marked on our map as the path to take up. The long hall we passed through reached eighteen feet from one side to the other, twenty feet high, and stretched on for hundreds of feet. A massive double door broke each wall every fifty feet. Each of these pairs of doors stood as high as the twenty-foot ceiling and was made of thick steel with several proportionally large bolt-locks running down the break between the two doors. Upon closer inspection, those bolt-locks, each as thick around as my wrist, with the bolts installed in the walls of the door frame. The square rod bolts traded which wall the bolts started from in an A, A, B, B, A, A pattern. Looking even deeper into the security, these bolts were designed to pass through both doors and lock into the opposite wall. These barricade measures were paired with a three-factor lock system. A biometric hand scanner, key-card reader, and a pin pad were all installed on the on the right-hand side of each doorway.


    These doors and the size of the hall were standard for a mass-production industrial forge site. That estimation was verified by peeking in through a few open doorways. What was concerning was that several of these doors were torn off their hinges. I had grown accustomed to broken and damaged doors in the Undercity. But doors of that scale in the state they were in. Doors ripped from industrial hinges, bent in half, and/or displaying horrifying claw marks. Some gouges in the metal were deep enough that I could almost fit myself inside some of the larger gashes. Each set of claw marks displayed two thick parallel gouges with a third offset, likely meaning whatever did that damage had a thumb.


    I was worried, really worried. But Nennel and Ferris looked to be in a state of abject terror. To keep them safe and put the two at ease, even if only by the slightest bit, I checked every open door down the hall. After a thorough inspection of each room, I would quietly wave to them to proceed forward with me. Things were going perfectly fine until I checked the last door on the right side.


    The first warning sign was a low and slow rhythmic vibration that I felt through the floor only a foot from the doorway. It only took me a second to recognize the rhythm as the deep breathing of something large in a deep sleep. I peeked around the corner of the destroyed door. Inside the room filled with former assembly line equipment, in the farthest corner, I saw horror. A slimy serpentine body covered in pale translucent skin with bulbous black veins. The body wrapped around itself several times. I caught sight of more than two limbs, each with extra joints. Even with those few details, I knew what it was, and I was shot through with a terror unlike anything I had ever felt before. If that thing caught even a whiff of us, we were all going to die in very short order and in the most horrifying way possible.


    When I turned back to Nennel and Ferris, they read the terror on my face, and each took a step back on reflex. I hurried over to them with steps light enough that I could¡¯ve passed through the wilderness without making a sound. ¡°We need to move, but we must be completely silent. The thing I saw in there. I know it. It has insane hearing with echo-location, a sensitive tremor sense, and an advanced myst sense. The nightmare is currently sleeping, so we have a chance. I¡¯m pretty sure I got unbelievably lucky that it didn¡¯t notice me with my Affinity Ratio. But that thing actively seeks Death and Umbra Myst. I would be the tastiest morsel that thing has seen in a long time, given that I¡¯m a total anomaly freak with Myst Affinities.


    For those of you who don¡¯t remember my Affinity Ratio from the last story, I¡¯ll give you a brief recap. You might have already picked up on the fact that I have a big fat zero in all Positive Elements, but most of my Negative Elements are disturbingly potent. Going down the list, my Affinity Scores are as follows. Earth: 10, Fire: 26, Wind: 16, Water: 10, Fate: 0, Chaos: 8, Synthesis: 0, Ruin: 26, Life Myst: 0, Death Myst: 28, Lumina: 0, Umbra: 30, Stasis: 0, Morphic: 26, Resonance: 0, Distortion: 24.


    You should also keep in mind the scoring system for affinities. A score of 0 in any affinity should not be possible, and I have four of them. Also, remember that scores cap out at 30. Any score above 15 is uncommon, any score above 20 is rare, any score above 25 is exceptionally rare, and a score of 30 is almost unheard of.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to need you to skirt the opposite wall, quick and quiet, while I cobble together a diversion.¡± I whispered to each of them with only an inch between us. But I could still hear the horror shift in its sleep, though that might have only been my paranoid imagination.


    I saw the question in the eyes of both of my friends, but I silenced them with a sharp motion of my hand before typing out a further explanation to send to them via therra message. ¡®Don¡¯t worry about me. I¡¯m going to release a myst smoke screen. But I need the two of you to have a head start. As much of a head start as you can manage without drawing attention.¡¯


    The two gave me nervous looks but did as I instructed after I gave a hand signal. Nennel and Ferris kept close to the opposite wall and moved, making as little sound as they could. While they moved, I pulled free another Gas Cap-Shell and depressed the button for only a second. I tossed the device five feet into the room the creature dwelled in. The device hadn¡¯t even touched the ground when the device released a cloud of aerosolized Chaos Myst. The silver cloud of magic wasn¡¯t toxic or had any actively dangerous effect by itself. What it would normally do was alter the probability in a localized area. That batch of Chaos Myst I had polarized to cause horrible luck for anyone that stepped inside the cloud. But that was not the goal. If I wanted to affect the creature, I would have had to throw it much harder and set a longer delay.


    Where I had thrown the Cap-Shell, the gas wouldn¡¯t affect me or the creature. But it would obscure Nennel¡¯s, Ferris¡¯s, and my Myst emanations through the cloud. After the other two passed to what I thought to be a safe distance, I waited for another thirty seconds. Once I was sure that the creature would not wake, I moved to catch up.


    Nel and Ferris both waited beside the stairway up to the next floor. But that ¡®stairway¡¯ was actually a ramp wide enough for a tank to drive through. The path climbed at a forty-degree angle and reached up into the darkness beyond what I could see. I gave one last look over my shoulder before leading the way up the ramp to the next floor. I climbed the ramp and kept an eagle eye out for anything that could warn of danger. When I reached the top of the ramp, I double-checked my map to see where we needed to go next. The map said that we would need to take a left turn in the next hundred feet, but there was a red-marked door that blocked the route. Veddawer explained the door marked on the map was sealed before the Undercity was abandoned as a whole. The door hadn¡¯t been opened in almost six hundred years. But the hacker had provided me with a code I could use to crack the door.


    I lead Nennel and Ferris down the tank drive path, the space becoming more and more disarrayed. Rubble, dust, and cracks became more frequent the deeper we passed. When we came to the door, I gave it a close inspection. The nine-foot-tall, three-foot-wide gate was made of two halves that locked in an asymmetric pattern. Beside the door was a keypad, long since devoid of electrical current. But I could still use it.


    With my thallerite multi-tool, I popped off the panel after pulling a few screws. With the wires exposed, I snipped four of the cables and then reached into my bag to pull free a small yellow box. I took two ends of the power line and hooked them up to a Pocket Power Generator, or PPG, but didn¡¯t activate the device. The PPG was a small device that could take any of several types of current transfer wire and push the electric juice through from a small myst crystal shard installed in the center of the device. I slotted one of the wire ends into the appropriate socket before moving on to the other two wires. The two remaining wires were used to convert and transfer data from the keypad to the door to grant or deny access. I technically only needed one wire for that, but there was an issue that Veddawer informed me of. Like many of the doors in the Undercity, this one was sealed by forcing it into a locked position and cutting off the emergency release system.


    The second wire I needed to work with was the far right one. That one I plugged into the PPG in another slot, but I needed to balance the power output. The emergency release system only required 3 volts running at 2 amps. The main door power, on the other hand, required 22 volts and 15 amps. If the emergency system received too much power, it would register as an attempt to break in and would trigger the local alarms. That was very much something we did not want. To correct this problem, I dialed down the volt and amp output for the emergency system to the standard levels. The primary system was still not receiving current, but I had one more thing I needed to do before pushing current through it. I pulled out a small pocket computer. The device was too small and too simple to honestly be called a cyber-deck, but it would do the trick. A cyber-deck was a personal, portable, high-performance computer worn on the wrist. Cyber-decks were also the origin behind the hacker deck organization-type name.


    The Code Puncher 86-95XM pocket computer was a device used by modern-day security lock specialists. Correspondingly, these types of devices were a standard tool for more criminally elicit career fields. The Code Puncher was designed and programmed to read the standard format of a key-code-based security system and mimic it to act as an extension of the system as an integrated node. With the middle two wires plugged into my Code Puncher, I keyed in the code that the hacker gave me and triggered the PPG an instant before I injected the code.


    The lights of the door flickered to life for a few moments, and the door began to open. But the gate only opened a few inches before shuddering to a halt in time with a loud pop from my PPG. I checked my device to find that the power crystal had cracked under the draw of the door, and the condition points inside the case were cooked. I would not get any more use out of the little guy, and I gave a mournful sigh at the tragic loss.


    I put my busted PPG away and peered through the crack of the door. My range of vision was narrow, but I saw nothing that would want to eat my face. With a few jerks, I tested the gears of the door. Given the resistance to moving and the grinding sound that came from the frame when I pushed, the gears were jammed with something. The jam was likely rubble or loose wires.


    I waved Nennel over. ¡°Give me a hand. We need to yank this open.¡± I pointed to Ferris. ¡°I need you to keep an eye out for trouble.¡± Nennel stepped up beside me and took a grip on the door while Ferris gave me a single resolute nod. I took my grip on the door and pulled right as Nel pulled left. I went so far as to prop a foot against the door frame and shove with all my weight. In the end, it was Nennel who proved the hero in that encounter. Her half of the door first gave a low groan of protest before releasing with a shriek of metal on metal.


    Nennel staggered back with a look of pride, but my focus was on the path we had come down. We could not afford to have that nightmare coming after us. If those doors on the floor below proved useless against it, I doubted that a few concrete walls would do much to save our hides if it came looking.


    I was so focused on that path that I was blind to the one we had just opened. I heard rubble crunch under a shoe, and I turned to find Ferris doing the impossible. He took the toothpick he had been toying with since I woke up and twirled it around two fingers before gripping it like a javelin. One second, the Elf was holding a splinter; the next, he was holding a four-foot spear of something that was not wood or metal. The material was ivory white with a grain pattern I recognized but could not place at that moment.


    Ferris reared back, lifting his front foot off the ground before using it to step forward and launch the spear past me and through the door. I followed the weapon¡¯s path to find it sprouting from the chest of a Human man. I didn¡¯t get a good look at the stranger, but the bowed back, layers of grime, war paint, and thick muscle told me enough. Cannibals.


    That had me scared. The presence of that single cannibal meant that there were more nearby and likely that we were about to enter cannibal territory. The man let out a howl of pain and rage before ripping out the spear from his chest, blood welling up from the wound to gush down his chest. He, it, the stranger cannibal, gripped the weapon and swung it like a club as he charged Ferris.


    As the beast of a Human rushed past me, I took two actions in synch. I hooked his leading foot with one leg and gripped his face with Venna, shoving back and down. As I forcefully adjusted his trajectory, I also used my claws to full effect, carving furrows down his face.


    The attacker¡¯s war cry turned into shrieks of agony as he clutched his face and rolled back and forth on the floor. I turned to Ferris. ¡°We are having a talk later. But right now, run.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Run where?!¡± Nennel snapped.


    I pointed through the door we had just opened. When the roar of something hungry rang up from the floor below, I headed the charge. I ran, only slowing when I needed to take a turn. As we slipped from one hall into another, I called out behind me. ¡°Don¡¯t stop running! No matter what! I don¡¯t care if both your legs are broken. You¡¯d much rather I leave you with cannibals than THAT THING!¡±


    ¡°What thing?! What¡¯s so bad that we¡¯re running headfirst into cannibal territory?!¡± Nennel shouted at me.


    Before I could respond, a group of hunting calls came up from one of the halls we passed. As I was making my next turn, I spotted a pack of man-eaters entering the hall we were leaving. I wasn¡¯t sure if that was a curse or a blessing. Either way, we would find out soon enough.


    ¡°Stigmaguant!¡± I shouted back in answer.


    ¡°A what?!¡± Ferris asked between huffs of air.


    ¡°Oh, you know. Nine feet tall, twelve feet long, six arms, big claws, big stinger, bigger teeth. And lots of teeth.¡±


    ¡°I really don¡¯t like the sound of that!¡± Ferris complained.


    ¡°Oh, it gets worse.¡± I continued. ¡°It¡¯s a soul eater. If that thing catches you, your immortal soul gets snuffed like feeding a dog a biscuit.¡±


    ¡°I am not okay with this! I am really not okay with this!¡± Ferris was starting to sound frantic.


    ¡°Quit your whining and pump those legs, Elf-boy.¡± Nennel snapped at Ferris.


    I turned another corner and spied a light through the far door. At that same time, the hunting calls of the cannibals behind us started turning to screams of terror. I slowed my pace as I pulled another device from my belt. ¡°I need both of you to grab ahold of my bag and hold tight.¡±


    They both did as I had instructed, even as they both asked why in their own ways. I answered with a simple, ¡°Things are about to go dark.¡±


    The words hadn¡¯t even completely left my lips when we passed into a large room that was clearly the cannibals¡¯ camp. The room was massive, with a high ceiling and several support pillars. Set around the room were huts and tents made from anything the locals could scrounge up. I only caught a few glimpses, but I was sure that I saw some hides pinned up that were not from monsters or animals. The place was populated with all kinds of species from among both the Sophic and Bellicose Species. Men, women, and children were all in open sight, and suddenly, I felt like the monster for what I was about to bring down on these people.


    It didn¡¯t take long for several of the adults to grab weapons and rush us. But we had momentum and surprise on our side. By the time any of them got close, we were already almost to the exit across the room. I pulled the pin and slapped the button of the grenade in my hand before dropping it behind us. The moment the grenade hit the ground, it exploded into a cloud of magical darkness.


    The veil of shadow covered the three of us as we pushed on through the next doorway. I could see just fine through the cloud of shadows, and while that was confusing, that was a query for another time. I put even more effort into my striding gait, but not so much that I left the other two behind. As much as the cybernetic enhancements had been a boon, I couldn¡¯t use them without losing Ferris and Nel and getting them killed.


    I pushed my friends to their physical limits. I made sure they still held onto my bag as we fled, but I never moved faster than they could handle. While they had to be running on endorphins and adrenalin, it couldn¡¯t last forever. Blindly, I grasped at the bottom of my bag for a pouch that I had set to hang there. When my fingers wrapped around the pouch that Navor had given us, I ripped it free without hesitation. With brutal force, I yanked open the bag and shoved my hand in. Nennel and Ferris had used a large portion of the healing supplies after I had royally screwed up in the acid bridge room. The bag still held a pack of eight Hemo-pills and the emergency beacon. It was the latter that I wanted. I pulled free the rod and moved the pouch to my teeth as I started the trigger process.


    Beacons like what I held in my hands were more than a simple signal device. They could be used as a teleportation anchor for instant reinforcement or escape if a caster that could track them was close enough. These beacons were also one-use-only tools. Because of how valuable the devices were, a series of simple security measures were put in place to prevent accidental activation.


    As I ran, I twisted the two halves and wrenched them apart to pull the light to the surface. Next, I rotated the top half twice as far in the opposite direction before shoving it down. The light now displayed at the top of the rod and started blinking a bright blue. Despite the pain in my eyes from the flashing emergency light, I still slapped the trigger button at the bottom. The base of the rod was shaped as a spike to allow it to be planted in the ground for the final trigger step. But the trigger had enough give to be triggered with a hard tap if it could not be planted.


    Looking ahead, I spied a ramp to what I knew had to be the surface. At the foot of the ramp, we approached a massive freight elevator. But I had no time to activate it, let alone see if it was functional.


    With my teeth clutching that bag that only held Hemo-pills, I locked the fingers of my left hand around the beacon even. Even as I gripped the safety device, I clawed my face with my gauntleted right hand, drawing enough blood for what I had planned next.


    I drew on the blood seeping from my face and converted it into as much Morphic Myst as I could. My Mystwell was currently full with a capacity of thirty-six Vells. With the blood I had just drawn, I could cast half of my Mystwell, eighteen Vells, as a Tier 3 body enhancement that would last for three minutes. I honestly wasn¡¯t sure if my body could handle a Tier 3 body enhancement for that long, but I would rather take that gamble and fail than let Nel and Ferris get their souls devoured.


    I came to a total stop just before the ramp. Nel and Ferris, both shocked by the sudden action, moved past me. But before they could move more than one step ahead of me, I bent over and shouldered the two. Before we had met up with the Arachnyte hacker, I had swapped the power crystals of my Pacer Shoes in case of just such a desperate situation. The angle of the ramp up wasn¡¯t impossible to climb without aid. In fact, it could only slightly slow down any Sophic Species, requiring them to use their hands to balance and push forward. But I would take every edge I could, even if it was by the slimmest of margins.


    Even as Ferris and Nennel complained about the mistreatment, I kicked off the floor with a forward-facing kinetic blast. I leaped forward ten feet to climb five feet up the ramp. This next part was what would be difficult. To maximize my climb, I need to alternate between triggering grip-hold with one shoe and using the other shoe to burst farther. The trajectory of the leaps could also be an issue since I would only use one shoe at a time. I was not looking forward to multi-factor mental gymnastics under life-or-death stakes.


    With my left shoe gripping, I pushed myself up as far as my leg would extend before releasing the grip. As soon as I released the grip of my left shoe, I traded focus to my right shoe. My right leg was pulled as close to my chest as I could manage without testing my flexibility. That was to minimize my flight veering. I triggered the burst in my right shoe for only a second before aiming that same foot to contact the ramp. As soon as I felt all of the ball of my foot touch the floor, I triggered grip-hold and pushed farther by another leg length. As my right shoe made contact, I already had my left knee to my chest and was readying a burst from that shoe.


    And so it went, climbing the sixty-degree ramp, only slightly moving left or right with each burst leap. I had made my fourth leap when I heard the cries of the cannibals behind us. The cries were only growing louder. I didn¡¯t know if the ferals were chasing me, fleeing the stigmaguant, following me in hopes of escape, or what. But I wasn¡¯t about to let that pack of man-eaters catch up.


    I redoubled my rate and passed another two floors in only moments. Soon enough, I spotted the door to the surface and shortened my leaps. I made sure that we reached the gate and not at literal break-neck speeds. I dropped Nennel and Ferris on their feet before unshouldering my pack and desperately searching for something critical to our escape.


    ¡°What are you looking for?¡± Ferris asked in obvious panic. His eyes were locked down the ramp, where I noticed shadows moving.


    ¡°Breach charge. Both of you, I need cover fire. Shoot anything that moves. And when I say ¡®out¡¯, slide down the ramp to a safe distance. I¡¯m setting the timer to four seconds. Get clear or get chummed.¡± I explain in a tone I tried to keep level. Inside, I was in a frantic panic. I wanted, needed, to get away from that creature as fast as we could manage.


    When I found the rectangular charge, I shoved the emergency beacon into Nennel¡¯s free hand even as she started cracking off shots. I pulled the explosive from my bag with both hands, dimly aware of Ferris conjuring and firing volleys of what could only have been bone shards.


    Frantically, I stripped off the plastic coating over the adhesive, fumbling twice before getting a firm finger-hold. After yanking off the plastic, I slammed the device against the metal gate doors with enough force to sound off an audible ¡®gong¡¯. With five button presses, I armed the device and set the timer to four seconds. I threw myself into a roll down the ramp as I shouted, ¡°OUT!¡±. The other two followed my example. We flew free of the danger zone just in time, striking the ground as the thunder of an explosion went off behind us. The boom was deafening, and my ears rang with a whining tone, but that did not have my focus. The shadows below had taken shape. I guessed four dozen cannibals were climbing toward us. Some of them shouted in what sounded like cries for blood, while others screamed in terror.


    I pulled my kinetic pistol free and cracked off rounds at the nearest shapes as I shouted, ¡°Get your asses out now!¡±


    While I kept my eyes locked on the figures below, I saw in my peripherals the other two fall back. I gave them five seconds to get out before I turned to do the same myself. Before I turned to flee, I saw a shadow, much larger than the others, shifting at the base of the ramp, and it could only have been one thing. I gave another audible curse before making my escape. One of the others had grabbed the bag, so that was one less thing to worry about.


    I pulled through the five-foot wide hole to find the Nennel and Ferris heaving for breath, not six feet away. ¡°What are you two doing?!¡± I demanded as I pointed past them. ¡°Get out of here!¡±


    Nennel, with my bag in one hand, wordlessly pointed to the sky. I followed her finger to see a dot growing larger with every passing moment. After a few seconds, I recognized the dot and an AV cab.


    ¡°Our emergency evac, IS A CAB!?¡± I shouted in disbelief and rage. Navor really expected some random cab driver to get us out of trouble? I was going to have some serious words with her if I lived through the situation.


    Neither of the other two responded to my distress, instead running toward the vehicle and waving their arms in a panicked signal.


    Nennel, Ferris, and I moved to get as much distance away from the breached gate, then to get closer to some trog cab driver that might get us killed. My face was still bleeding freely, and only during my fleeing did I realize that I had carved right through my cheek, and I could taste blood on my tongue. I was dimly aware of a strange tingling in my wound, Mystwell, and hands, but I thought little of it but as a symptom of blood loss.


    Cannibals burst from the hole I had torn open like a swarm of insects desperately fleeing. Each wave that passed through the hole was momentarily blinded by the light of the surface before making a mad scramble to get away. None of the ferals even noticed me, Nennel, or Ferris. Many even fled right past us.


    Then came the thunder and screech of impending doom. First came the ¡®Boom. Boom¡¯ of something slamming against the gate with immense force. After three thunderous slams, each warping the gate just a little more, came the claws. First, three long talons punched through the metal with a sound like a volley of gunshots. Then came another set of claws, then another, and another. Each set of claws moved at their own pace. They all carved through the metal. The gate howled in protest with each gash, but nothing stopped the horror from coming for us. After enough damage was done, the gate ruptured to give way to something out of a monster¡¯s nightmares.


    six hands grasped the exterior of the rupture, each lower set smaller than the last. Every hand displayed two fingers and a thumb, brandishing claws large enough to cut me in half. Then came its head. An eyeless thing with a four-section jaw lined with a seemingly random pattern of needle teeth. Even the smallest tooth from that maw I could¡¯ve used as a dagger. Its neck was just as thick as its skull, giving it a worm-like appearance. The slimy skin was transparent, showing the muscles and veins engorged with black fluid. I witnessed every flex and shift of muscle it made beneath that skin as it slithered forth. As the stigmaguant entered the light of the city, I saw just how large it was. The creature stood almost sixteen feet tall and stretched almost twenty-four feet back with a worm-like lower body. Its arms each had two elbows, giving the already monstrous thing a sense of a totally alien being.


    Even as I watched, the stigmaguant reached down and picked up a random nearby cannibal and brought the hapless victim to its maw. Its four jaw joints closed around the upper half of the poor man, his body convulsing as the teeth dug in. Then things got worse. I witnessed the creature¡¯s neck flex and rotate left and right. That thing had more than just one set of teeth. Running down their throat were several rows of razor-sharp triangular teeth that would rotate to grind up prey for easy digestion.


    Only after watching that brutal display did I realize I had been just standing there, watching the scene. I looked over my shoulder to see the AV cab touching down and opening its doors, and I started back peddling in that direction. At that point, any transport was better than trying to outrun that thing. The cab was twenty feet away, and both Nennel and Ferris were already climbing inside.


    I rotated on the ball of one foot and threw myself into a mad dash for the vehicle. I had made it to within fifteen feet of the cab when something felt wrong, very wrong. A glance over my shoulder explained why. The stigmaguant was staring at me. If something with no eyes could stare. The moment I locked eyes with the creature¡¯s face, it rushed me. Crawling on all six arms, it came at me with horrifying, preternatural speed.


    I still had my body enhancement active, and that was the only reason I jumped over a claw swiping for me. But even with the enhancement, the cup of its hand caught my trailing foot, and I was sent into a forward tumble. I was frantic. I was desperate. I was in a total panic. The first thread my soul felt that I could use as a tool, I mentally gripped with frenzy and yanked.


    In the tumble, I felt a pull on my wound, not unlike suction. I came to a stop on my back, facing the stigmaguant, and with a scarlet blade in my hand, pointing at the creature. I was so confused by the strange weapon that I focused on it instead of the monster, and that was a mistake. My focus was brought back to the creature when it lunged at me with open jaws. I stared in horror at the pit of flesh lined with what seemed like hundreds of thousands of teeth.


    I won¡¯t lie. I was frozen. I would love to say that I pulled some daring and desperate gamble that got me through to victory. But I had never faced down something so large, so horrifying, or so lethal. A stigmaguant was ranked as a CTRS 9 and tagged with the general label ¡®Extermination required if encountered¡¯. That creature was no joke and was a lethal threat to even Elite Tier adventurers.


    So what saved me? Ferris. Ferris, that sneaky, hiding his abilities, trog bastard. The stigmaguant was a hand¡¯s breath away from my feet when phantom gray-green threads rose from the ground and ensnared the beast. The creature was brought to a jarring halt, slamming into the ground.


    ¡°Move your ass, Horn-head!¡± Ferris shouted, and I took that as my cue to leave. I threw myself into the cab, not caring where or how I landed. How I landed was shoulder-checking Ferris in the chest and bouncing my head off Nennel¡¯s steel thigh.


    I felt the Areal Vehicle take off even as I righted myself. When I finally fitted myself into a seat, I looked into the driver''s seat to find a surprisingly familiar face.


    ¡°Hold on to your balls, kid.¡± Said Teefa with a mad grin as she shot the cab through the air. ¡°We¡¯ve got regs inbound, and I¡¯ll bet good clat that we¡¯ll have a tail.¡±

 PITM Chapter 24

    Reaper is a Theurgic Hybrid Adventurer Class. They worship or follow the teachings of a death god, or the Eternal of Death, the Dead One. Their primary goal is to maintain the balance between life and death, slaying any Restless Dead they encounter and paying respect to any Blightlings they meet. Reapers can conjure weapons of pure bone, manipulate the soul of an enemy to cripple or harm them or grant life essence to a friend to heal them from grievous wounds. In truly dire times, a Reaper can even draw upon the willing spirits of the dead to raise skeletal allies for a short period.


    As the AV cab started to pick up speed, I stared at the Ceangar. Teefa had dropped the Ethran accent she spoke with when she had first dropped us off. ¡°Teefa, do you have a business deal with Miss. Navor? Is that why you''re always to one to get us?¡±


    ¡°You could say that. I¡¯m a member of the Aegis Order. A Clockwork Eye Mastlok, to be precise.¡±


    Clockwork Eye Mastloks were members of both the Sect of the Sightless Eye and the Sect of the Burning Hand. I had done some in-depth research into the various types of Mastloks. Clockwork Eye Mastloks were an absolute terror when it came to out-of-combat work. Clockwork Eyes regularly built listening devices and hidden cameras while in the field and devised traps that could look like anything.


    ¡°Wait, what?!¡± I partially cried with a squeak in my voice. ¡°You¡¯re a member of The Order?¡± I asked in a quieter but still panicked tone.


    ¡°Quit your squawking and hold on tight. We¡¯ve already got a tail.¡± Teefa snapped at me. Before I could sit down, she jerked the wheel hard to the left and shoved it as far forwards as it would go. This sent the AV veering hard to the left and straight down into a plummeting nosedive. At the speed we were going, I was driven into the back seats hard enough to knock the wind from my lungs.


    Looking to either side, I found Nennel and Ferris already buckled into their seat but didn¡¯t look much better than I felt. I braised one foot on either front seat and pushed myself into the center seat as I reached for the safety belt. I had only pulled the strap halfway across my body when Teefa altered our trajectory again. We pulled out of the nosedive to fly just above the aerial vehicle traffic lanes, zipping down the street flanked by sixty-foot tall roofs and builds that climbed even higher. I clicked shut my safety belt before looking through the rear cab window.


    I scanned the distance behind us and spotted three AVs coming in from a higher altitude with Regulator emergency lights flashing. In a panic, I flung open my bag and dug through it, looking for anything useful. I had prepared for close-quarters underground combat, not vehicle combat, let alone high-speed aerial combat.


    While I dug through my bag, I asked, ¡°Teefa, did you rig this thing with any defensive measures?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got a few toys, but they won¡¯t work unless they get closer. And I¡¯d rather not let them get that close if I can help it. Also, please don¡¯t bleed in my cab. I hate getting out bloodstains.¡±


    ¡°Got it¡­¡± I started as a comment toward her initial answer. Then I realized the rest of what she said and asked ¡°Wait, what?¡± Only then did I remember the carved furrows in my face.


    ¡°Here, hold still.¡± Ferris said as he leaned in, having one hand over my wounds while he held a black and silver coin in his other hand. The coin dissolved into motes of gray-green light, and his hand glowed with the same light. I felt my wounds seal shut. The sensation of healing magic was like having thousands of angry ants crawling beneath your skin. I did my best to ignore the itching, tingling, and burning feeling of the process.


    As soon as Ferris lowered his hand, I went back to digging through my bag while I spoke to the Elf. ¡°Alright, Fer¡¯. I need details. Now. Give me the most information in the fewest sentences. I need to know if you have anything we can work with.


    Ferris angled closer toward me as he explained. ¡°I¡¯m a Reaper. Picked up the class two days after Nennel was almost scrapped. I¡¯ve been stopping by the Temple of The Dead One almost daily for training and study. I¡¯m only Mythril Novitiate rank now.¡±


    I stopped my digging to slowly turn my head to Ferris. Nennel leaned forward to stare at him past me. ¡°Reaper.¡± I said, dumbfounded.


    ¡°Mythril? Already?¡± Nennel asked, just as shocked as I was.


    ¡°Uh¡­Yeah?¡± was all Ferris said.


    I shook my head free of the astonishment. I could freak out about the revelation later. I went back to my bag while I asked Ferris, ¡°So I take it that your earring is your focus?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Good. What abilities have you trained in?¡±


    ¡°I can form small bone weapons, launch a group of small bone shards, release a banshee cry, pull someone back from dying, and fuse someone¡¯s skeleton if I can touch them.¡± Ferris listed off. He looked embarrassed for some reason, but I didn¡¯t care.


    ¡°Fuse someone¡¯s skeleton?!¡± Nel said in horror.


    I ignored my sister and pressed on to my next question. ¡°What are those coins?¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Ferris broke free of his embarrassment. ¡°The temple¡¯s High Reaper gave them to me after he heard I was going into the Undercity. Each one holds a single use of a Reaper ability that I don¡¯t have access to yet.¡±


    The cab made a hard to the right, forcing the three of us to lean to the left. Teefa then put us into another nose dive for a few seconds, dodging other AVs as we plummeted. The cab pulled up just before hitting the ground traffic and took another hard turn down an alley.


    ¡±So that was how you stopped the stigmaguant?¡± I asked, unphased by the vehicle acrobatics. While those stunts were truly impressive, we needed to focus to see what we could do.


    ¡°Yeah. That was Soul Snare. Before that, I used one to conjure a bone weapon as if I were an Elite-ranked Reaper. The one I just used on you was Soul Chalice.¡±


    ¡°Do you have anything that we can use right now?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure. I only have a few left, and only one of them is an offensive ability. I requested mostly support and defensive ability coins.¡± Ferris reached into his pocket and pulled out four coins made from silver and black metal. Upon closer inspection, each of them had a weighing scale holding a skull and a heart on one side and some symbol on the other side, denoting the ability. I didn¡¯t recognize a single symbol. ¡°I have one each for Soul Suppress, Bone Thorn Rupture, Proliferate Life, and Crypt Cradle.¡±


    The cab took another sharp turn before starting a gradual climb while still traveling at a dangerous speed.


    ¡°Give me a rundown for each.¡±


    ¡°Well, Soul Suppress puts a spiritual weight on a target for a short period. Unless they can break free, they have a harder time landing hits. Bone Thorn Rupture does just what the name says. I pick one target within fifty feet, and their skeleton sprouts thorns like a rose. It¡¯s only a guess, but I¡¯m pretty sure it hurts like drake teeth and normally causes a spell caster concentrating on a spell to lose their focus. But while the thorns deal some serious damage, they break down almost immediately.¡±


    ¡°Good to know. What about Proliferate Life and Crypt Cradle?¡±


    ¡°Proliferate Life is an insanely powerful multi-target healing ability. It can affect up to five people at once if they are within fifteen feet of me. It also grants anyone healed a short-term physical enhancement. The enhancement isn¡¯t anything like you were just using, but it¡¯s still useful. And Crypt Cradle is my pocket ace. It summons a ghostly mausoleum-like thing. It¡¯s only about fifteen feet big, and anything can pass through the walls. But anyone within the space that I identify as a friend is granted a pretty nice healing effect as long as you stay inside. And anyone I identify as an enemy in the space has to put up with a necrosis effect.¡±


    ¡°Wow.¡± I muttered. My brows climbed as Ferris explained the last two abilities. But then I went back to digging through my bag while I thought of some way I could use those abilities.


    ¡°Frag it, Fer¡¯! You¡¯re a support powerhouse.¡± Nel said with a proud grin on her face. I glanced sideways at Ferris to find my friend blushing.


    As I picked up two small devices from the bottom of my bag, I got an idea. Without looking up from my bag, I asked Ferris one simple question. ¡°Fer¡¯, you need to see the target for them to be affected by the thorn one, right?


    ¡°Yeah. Why?¡±


    I felt a devious grin grow on my face as my plan solidified. With fast fingers, I released my safety belt to lean forward to talk to Teefa. ¡°I¡¯m going to need you to drop our speed gradually.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡± The Ceangar snapped. Her U-shaped pupils narrowed as she glared at me. ¡°No. I am not taking orders from a kid. Terra needs me to get you all out of this and not get into more danger.¡±


    So I told her my plan. When I was done, she eyed me sideways. ¡°And you¡¯re sure that¡¯ll work?¡±


    I pointed my eyes up as I thought about the odds. ¡°I¡¯ll give it a¡­ 60/40 chance in our favor.¡± As I said the odds, I tipped my hand back and forth is a ¡®so-so¡¯ gesture.


    Teefa took in a long breath through closed teeth. ¡°Well, it¡¯s better than anything I¡¯ve got. So sure.¡±


    ¡°Awesome. If you could crack the doors, I¡¯ll get to work.¡± With those words, I dropped back into my seat and set to work. I was about to jerry-rig not one but three dangerous tricks on the fly, and I had less than five minutes to make it all happen.


    With quick instructions from our driver, I moved one of the floor mats beneath Nennel and myself. I cracked a hidden panel with a just-as-hidden trigger, then unlocked a tank of pressurized smoke and pulled it free. I figured Teefa would have a smoke screen deployment system installed, given her role in the Order. Next, I took two spare shirts from my bag. I blocked the release vent as far back as I could. With practiced motions, I ejected my Secorus Gas disk storage device and thumbed out each of the two-inch-wide disks. After the disks were free, I handed them over to Nennel and told her to turn all the timer dials as far to the left as they would go. While she did that, I pulled from my bag a squeeze tube of rapid-dry rubber sealant and gave the thorough coating around the shirts I had clogging the smoke release path. As soon as I finished that task, a minute and a half had passed, so I doubled my pace as I loaded the armed disks right in front of the blockage. Even as I loaded the last disk, I was already reaching for the smoke tank to install it. Once I locked the hidden panel into place, I ran a bead of sealant around the perimeter of the panel to ensure it was airtight.


    Next, I double-checked how many Gas Cap-Shells I had left and of what elements. Frantically, I taped an Oleum Gas Cap-Shell and a Umbra Gas Cap-Shell to a Fire Gas Cap-Shell. The Oleum Gas and Umbra Cap-shells were marked with a very bright X on their trigger buttons, so I knew they were the ones I wanted. I sealed off the left and right gas nozzles on the Fire Cap-shell with the same sealant tube I had already used. With that slap-shod combo done, I hand it to Ferris, along with a classic flint lighter. I instructed him what to do before setting to work on the past crafting nightmare project.


    Trying not to panic, I asked Teefa to turn up the speed a bit to slow our pursuers¡¯ encroachment. I was going to need more time to finish this gambit. I wrench the Red Brazier free from the underside of my bag. The flat box bright red box was big enough to provide a standard-size campfire when activated. But I was about to do something very stupid. I thumbed open the six latches that locked the ignition source to the power supply. After I pulled off the top portion of the Red Brazier, I yanked out the powering fire crystal cluster before I forced the top four panels of the Brazier to slide open. I set the cluster-sized crystal in the center of the burner, followed by throwing every single Fire Myst Crystal I had. After thirty seconds, I had a combination of twenty-five fire crystals. The large majority of the crystals were fragment or shard-sized, with the only exception being three cluster-sized. But the size of a crystal didn¡¯t show just how much power it held.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    With all the crystals nestled into the top of the Red Brazier, I sealed it back up and mounted the last breach charge to the bottom of the device. I handed the murder brick to Nennel and told her to be careful.


    I said, ¡°Start phase one.¡±, as I took the lighter and murder stick from Ferris. With nervous steps, I stepped up to the open door on the left. I grasped the door frame with a terrified grip as I turned to Teefa. ¡°Please keep the ride stable. I really don¡¯t want to fall to my death.¡±


    ¡°Can do.¡± Teefa responded.


    I took a slow breath before even more slowly climbing out of the AV to stand on the trunk. I used my Pacer Shoes grip function to keep stable. With knees bent to resist the wind, I checked the distance to our pursuing Regulators. The lead AV was about fifteen feet from the cab.


    ¡°This is a Regulator law-enforcement squad. We demand you land and submit for questioning and arrest. If you continue to resist, we will use lethal force.¡± Came a male voice through a speaker system. The voice was calm but clearly tinged with anger and a note of hostility.


    I bit my cheek as I activated the dimensional measurements program on my therra and ran through the formula I needed. I was dimly aware of the Regulator on the speaker barking commands for me to enter the vehicle, followed by threats. But I ignored the demands to ensure that my gamble was as likely to work as possible. With the lighter clenched in my right hand, I forced myself to relax that index finger to draw a line of blood across the back of my neck. I couldn¡¯t show that I was a Myst-Blooded because that would only make me even more identifiable. I had no doubt that they already had pictures of me because I was the only visible passenger of the cab. I would need to take steps moving forward to reduce just how identifiable I was. Without question, I knew that after I took my planned actions, whether they worked or not, I was going to shoot to the top of their wanted lists.


    I had never really used any Chaos Myst because, honestly, the element scared me. The ability to alter probability and chance with raw magic. If I screwed up guiding and polarizing the element, the worst case could come true. I tried to keep a tight grip on my paranoia, but Thallos fed it, and Chaos Myst was an element that could make nightmares come true. Being hit by a falling meteor. The ground under me gave way to drop me hundreds of feet down. A stray bullet catching me in the chest or head. Even in that situation I was in, the thought of the cab crashing or a Regulator AV having a malfunction and shooting me with a round large enough to make my organs mist could technically happen. But I needed a bit of luck to help me get the job done, and I had to take that chance if it meant that Nennel and Ferris could get to safety. I knew that the more Chaos Myst used, the greater the swing of controlling chance, but the results could always be something other than intended. I also needed to keep in mind the backswing effects of using the element.


    Let me give those of you not familiar with myst cost a quick rundown to explain that gamble I was taking. Each element has a cost beyond just the vells of myst used to cast a spell. Fire Myst takes a small portion of your body heat, Earth Myst takes a small amount of the minerals in your blood, and so on. While I could ignore those costs for any other elements because I was paying a literal blood toll, Chaos Myst was different. The cost of using Chaos came after the initial casting and the effects of whatever luck-altering spell you used. It¡¯s cost was your luck. After you alter chance to better your odds or worsen someone else''s, your luck would swing towards the negative in an amount proportional to how much you altered chance. So if you used Chaos to win a hand of cards or make someone trip, then after you might stub your toe or trip yourself. I¡¯m sure you can imagine what would happen if you used enough of this element to win the lottery. How would you feel about a frozen turkey falling from a plane passing overhead to crush your chest cavity?


    The cut I drew was deep enough to get me enough blood to make some slight changes to chance, and I could only hope that it would be enough. I felt the blood on the back of my neck vanish, and I moved to the next step. Following the result of my calculations, I set the delay on the Umbra and Secorus Gas Cap-Shells for the needed time before I triggered the Fire Cap-Shell while in my hand. With two streams of red myst jetting from the shell, I brought up my lighter and ignited the dangerously flammable and unstable gas. The moment the flame got within even a few inches of the jets, flames burst into existence with an intense heat.


    I forced myself to hold on to my device until I felt the thing pull with enough force to fly to where I needed it. The lashing flames ruined my shirt and got my chest a bit burned before I released it, but that was a problem for later. The so-called ¡®murder stick¡¯ didn¡¯t need to hit any of the AVs behind us. It just had to get within range to release the actual trap. The trap was three-fold. Simultaneously, the Oleum Gas and darkness would release into a thick cloud that would span the width of the path we flew down. Both Cap-Shells were marked with those red Xs because I had made them extra potent, and I didn¡¯t want to use them when Nennel and Ferris were in the area of effect.


    The Umbra Cap-shell would release a cloud of shadow and darkness so thick it would blind the Regulators. That should cause them to panic. Because that Cap-Shell was extra potent, the darkness would reach even farther and block most forms of magic vision.


    The Oleum Gas was a threat in its own right. While it would obscure vision with a gray-green-brown vapor, it was corrosive. Oleum Gas is a magical substance. Standard Oleum Gas was a danger, dissolving organic material that was exposed to it for too long. But just like Devorrick Acid, the strength of the element could be tailored by the caster for various uses. The gas was often used to clean stone and metal surfaces, remove hard water stains, and even flush out waste disposal systems. It was also standard knowledge that the element could be weaponized if the intensity was boosted. And by the gods above and below did I boost the ever-living hells out of the gas in the small canister. I had doubled with Kharmor to twin-cast the element with extra Fire Myst. We had to perform the process slowly because the gas compression chamber Kharmor and I had splurged on to convert gases into a liquid form was only a foot tall and half as wide. But we packed in an amount of gas into that little gadget to cover almost thirty feet and eat through most materials caught in it.


    A twinned trail of black and gray-green gas flowed behind my slab-shod device, leading straight toward the center vehicle behind us. I knew my calculations were perfectly on the coins when the flames passed through the nozzles to cause the Cap-Shell of Fire Myst to detonate with enough force to release a clap of sound like a gunshot.


    That explosion broke the other two Cap-Shells, releasing all of that gas in a single massive wave. I could hear the confused shouts from the Regulators, even from where I stood on the back of the cab. I couldn¡¯t help but let out a cackle that sounded more than a little Kassidan touched. Maybe the Titan of Madness had touched my brain, given the things I had just crafted and was using on law enforcement without heed for the fallout.


    I called out to Teefa and Ferris to ready phase two only a few moments before the Regulators cleared the cloud. The armored vehicles looked better than I had hoped they would turn out, but the goal was met. The armor plating on the VAs was partly corroded, the paint was almost completely gone, and pockmarks were visible on every metal surface. That was good. The fact that the AVs to my left and the center had damage as if they had collided with each other was also a pleasant bonus. But the critical detail was the blackout glass coating was mostly gone. The chemical coating made the windshields one way to prevent targets from seeing what was going on inside and to prevent remote-reaction targeted-casting spells.


    ¡°Trigger cloud shock!¡± I shouted to Teefa. I had come up with the title on impulse as a signal for our driver to know what to do. I also thought it sounded cool at the time, which was a personal bonus.


    By that point, my Secorus disks had definitely triggered, and all of that conductive gas was confined in an air-tight pipe, building pressure. If my plot worked out, it would burst the seal made by my shirt and rush out in a cone wave.


    There was a loud pop from the rear of the cab, and suddenly, a wave of gas rushed out. I had to time my next trick perfectly and act fast. Secorus Gas was heavier than air and would drop after it lost its momentum. Just as I had hoped, the Regulators picked up the pace once they realized the cab wasn¡¯t turning. My understanding of sapient thought trains and logic was sketchy at best, but I hoped that the Regs would think that we were gambling on losing them in the smokescreen and assume that we were out of tricks. The Reg AVs on the left and right sides closed the distance, their engines designed with more power than almost any civilian vehicle. They had only gotten to within ten feet of us when the next trick released.


    If I had planned right, they would attempt to push through, thinking it was just another smokescreen. Before they could learn their mistake, I released all of my Shock Bites into the cloud. I knew my puny spike weapons wouldn¡¯t even scratch their armor, but that wasn¡¯t the plan. In mid-flight, all four spikes expanded, spreading into four-limbed blossoms with arcing voltage. The moment the Shock Bites touched that conductive cloud, lightning ran wild through the thick fog.


    The goal of this phase was two-fold: taking one path, the other, or both. The Regulators should panic at the sight of the arcing electricity and either fall back or push harder to leave the cloud. That was Path A, and falling back or closing in would work for me. The less likely Path B was a hope that between the acid cloud and the high voltage, it would short out a system in at least one of the AVs. As it turned out, both possibilities of Path A were the result. The AV on my left side, the side Ferris was on, had closed the distance and looked to be arming the vehicle¡¯s forward weapons. The AV on my right had fallen back a bit.


    ¡°Ferris! Spikey bits!¡± I shouted to my Elven friend. That call sign was far less cool sounding, but he got the message. The Quint leaned out his door, holding the interior of the cab with one hand and pointing a coin at the pursuing Regs with his other hand. Ferris flicked the coin into the air, and while it completely missed the AV, that wasn¡¯t the goal. The spell coin vanished in a puff of magic, and I could hear the driver scream in bloody agony as the AV veered off course and crashed. I only caught a glimpse of the result of the spell, but that fraction of a second would haunt me for months to come. That Regulator AV went into a tailspin before slamming against a building, at which point I lost sight of it.


    When I turned to the VA on the right that had fallen back, upon closer inspection, my Path B plan of shorting out the vehicle turned out to be partly successful. The AV was limping along, one of its four propulsion devices on the underside, and one of its rear jet thrusters looked to be totally out of commission. Unfortunately, the disabled propulsion was on the right, and the disabled thruster was on the left. So, the AV kept a stable, if shakey, balance.


    ¡°Nel! Hand me phase 3!¡±


    Nennel¡¯s hands reached out of the cab, holding my murder box. With a firm grip and very careful footing, I took the box, already hating myself for what came next. I used my therra to gauge the distance from me to each of the Reg AVs, each of their speeds, my speed, and the weight of my device. Carefully, I stowed the box under one arm before I deactivated the grip function of my left Pacer shoe. The moment I released the effect, I half spun from the loss of stability. I cursed with all the colors of a master¡¯s paint pallet as I corrected my stance and angle.


    The center AV was only gaining ground while the other was falling farther behind. With the angle plotted, I armed the timer on the breach charge on the bottom of the Red Brazier with a countdown delay to include my launch method. My plan was to blast the lead Reg AV out of the sky and outrun the other. Things did not go according to plan.


    I set the top of my left shoe against the trunk door of the cab and adjusted my angle. With my right hand inside my shoe, I used my left hand to brace the box against the bottom of my shoe. I tried not to think of the meat slurry I would turn into that would rain down on everyone below if I had planned wrong.


    Obviously, since I am telling the story, I didn¡¯t get turned into extra chunky soup. But the result wasn¡¯t much better. I triggered the shoe on my hand to release a kinetic burst at just the right angle for the detonation to take out the thrusters on the lead AV. As the bright red box flew through the air, the impossible happened.


    A chain ending in a dagger flew from the driver window of the lead AV and knocked the murder box off course. The box spun off to explode between the trailing AV and the neighboring building.


    Before I give you the result of that disaster, let me explain something. For those of you who don¡¯t understand how Myst Crystals work, I¡¯ll make this simple. The size of the crystal means crap-all for everything but what it fits into. A bigger crystal does not hold more Vells than a smaller one. When it comes to the power of a crystal, only two things matter: potency and quality. I do my best to only purchase higher-quality crystals so the myst bleed off is minimal, but what I had just done totally ignored the concept of Myst Loss Rate. What mattered here was the potency of the crystals, and I always got crystals of moderate potency or higher. For the Undercity excursion, I had only brought crystals of greater or grand potency. I needed to make sure that I had the most available energy to keep things powered or make the biggest booms. And by Ravnerra¡¯s bosom, that was the biggest boom. That was forty-eight Vells for each of the weaker crystals and eighty on the high end. With one Vell of Fire producing the equivalents of a match flame, and thirty crystals in total¡­ I¡¯ll let the readers do that horrifying math.


    That little box exploded twelve feet from the trailing AV. The detonation threw that vehicle not only off course but into the far buildings across the way with enough force to embed the hood into the wall. The AV was completely scorched black, smoking, and slightly melted. The building in the area of the detonation was not nearly as lucky. I had screwed up. I had screwed up big time.


    The walls of buildings closest to the blast were melted slag; metal, synthcrete, and all. I could hear the screams of panic and terror from the buildings until the cab took a hard turn down another street. I was trying to process what I had just done. My math had been off. Way off. Before the horror could sink in, I was shocked back to the present when four serpentine blurs rushed toward me. I couldn¡¯t have reacted in time to dodge those attacks, but I was lucky, by only the loosest definition of the word ¡®lucky¡¯.


    There was the sound of tearing metal; a sound just like when the stigmaguant had emerged. My first thought was just how much I hated that noise. The sound of tearing metal wasn¡¯t just uncomfortable. It was a warning of something truly terrible about to happen. That thought hadn¡¯t even been fully processed when I was almost thrown from the cab.


    Whatever attack had just hit our AV was putting it into a spiraling decent I knew was going to end in a crash. Just like the first Regulator AV we dropped, we were sent into a tailspin. As I lost the shoe on my hand, I knew I was about to get into a brawl with only one shoe. Then, my already terrible day got worse when I saw my bag fly out of one of the open doors. Fighting with one shoe, a ruined shirt, no more gadgets, no myst crystals, and likely against an immensely powerful enemy.


    I couldn¡¯t help but wonder if that little bit of Chaos Myst had just screwed me over on a scale that would make Gods and Titans laugh.

 PITM Chapter 25

    Among the rarest and most dangerous Martial Adventurer classes is the Arsenal. The Arsenal class is a very uncommon sight because of the corporation that produces the devices make this class what it is, sells these devices sparingly, and regulates their sales carefully. Another factor that makes Arsenals uncommon is the fact that the installation operation of the devices that grant the class its abilities only has a 20% survival rate.


    Yeah, that day just kept on getting worse. Cannibals, nightmarish soul-devouring monsters, an AV chase, and now we were crashing. With only one shoe providing a grip on the car, I felt more like a rag-doll with one leg glued to a brick being thrown around inside a jet turbine than anything else. I pulled myself into the fetal position to reduce my flapping about. That didn¡¯t stop the foot in my remaining shoe from getting dislocated at the ankle. I gave a silent snarl at the sudden pop, followed by a burning lance of pain through the joint. Without a stable joint to anchor on, I had to release the grip function on my shoe or have my foot torn completely off.


    Thanks to the tailspin that I was being dragged through, I had no idea just how far from the ground I was when I let go. Because of that same jarring tailspin, my spatial awareness was totally shot in the foot. Pun intended. I was thrown from the crashing Aerial Vehicle and sent into my own plummeting tumble. Head over feet, ass over hammer, I flipped through the air, only catching glimpses of the street rushing up to meet me.


    I splayed out my arms and legs to create wind-drag to stabilize my fall and slow it, even if by only the barest margin. I watched the street below racing up. forty feet, thirty-five feet, thirty feet, twenty-five feet. The moment I estimated my altitude to be fifteen feet, I aimed my remaining shoe straight down, paying no heed to the dislocated foot held within. I moved my shoe to be as close to parallel with the center of my body as my leg and rubber foot would allow. I aimed and fired a kinetic burst. The act sent me into another spin, but one not as chaotic as before, and I was falling at a slower rate. I angled my body and threw in enough torque to aim my gauntleted right hand directly below me when I was just five feet from impact. I didn¡¯t have time to mentally calculate the output of my next action, so I had to wing it.


    With my fist aimed down, I fired a kinetic burst using half of the vells in the installed Myst crystal. While my fall momentum was almost totally dispersed, my gauntlet sent me into a backspin before I landed. I struck the ground in the worst possible way. Dislocated ankle first. I made impact on the damaged limb, drawing a shout of agony that almost immediately was cut short as the wind was knocked out of me when the rest of my body hit the ground. Pain was nothing new. Most pain I could handle. Dislocations, stabs, slashes, fractured bones, burns, it all was manageable because I had experienced it all before. But I could tell from the feeling that I had shattered every bone in my foot and torn most of the tendons and muscle in the as well.


    As the pain faded to an intense throbbing, I pushed the sensation out of my mind and inspected my surroundings. It looked like I had landed in the middle of a war zone. From what I could understand of my surroundings, the AV cab had struck several walls of nearby buildings, littering the street with rubble. A fire hydrant across the street from me was gushing water into the air. Several nearby vehicles appeared to have been damaged from the debris from the crash. Several of these maimed vehicles were leaking fuel. Just from my glance, I saw a few small pools of liquid Fire Myst, Water Myst, and even the gray Kinetic Myst. I also noticed that there wasn¡¯t a single living thing in the area that I could see. But none of that was what I was searching for.


    I spotted the crashed cab that held my friends. The AV was half buried in a ground-floor cafe not far from where I had landed. Nennel stepped from the rear door of the Aerial Vehicle, looking disoriented. Ferris crawled from the same door to fall onto the rubble, where he vomited. I started crawling toward the two, hoping that they had some way to either get us out of the situation or heal my busted foot. I had halved the distance to Nennel and Ferris when a Regulator AV landed forty feet from my destination. Desperately, I picked up my pace as I saw the vehicle touch down.


    ¡°Holy shit! Iver!¡± Nennel shouted in distress when she noticed me. My sister rushed over to help me to my feet, but the moment my bad foot took even the slightest weight, I howled in pain. ¡°Iver, what¡¯s wrong!?¡± Nennel was clearly in a panic.


    ¡°Think foot¡¯s ruined.¡± I growled. ¡°Do we have any healing left?¡±


    ¡°Kinda.¡± Nennel started. ¡°But we don¡¯t have anything that could patch up your foot. Navor only gave us a single rapid diagnosis device, which we used to check your state after the bridge thing. But the RDD was one use only.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose Ferris has taken anatomy classes?¡± I asked, half as a joke, half in desperate hope.


    ¡°Yeah¡­ no.¡± Ferris said as he sat up and rested his back against the side of the cab.


    ¡°Could you maybe use Resonance Myst to scan my foot and get a diagnosis?¡± I asked, with little faith in any positive response.


    ¡°That is also a hard negative.¡± Ferris replied.


    Let me give you some explanation if you¡¯ve never had magical healing done. In order to perform magical healing, it requires the subject to be conscious, and for the healer to know exactly what the extent of the damage is. If both factors are not met, there is a disturbingly high chance of the healing subject developing cancer from the healing. Yes, incorrectly used Life Myst can birth cancer in a target.


    ¡°Got it. So, I¡¯m a cripple for this fight.¡± I snarled.


    ¡°Is it really that bad?¡± Nel asked with worry.


    ¡°Yeah, and it¡¯s about to get far worse.¡± Growled as I pointed toward the Regulator AV.


    Two figures stepped from the damaged armored vehicle. One was a woman. She was dressed from head to toe in form-fitting advanced plate armor. Every surface of her body that wasn¡¯t a joint was covered in thick plates of black metal. Rising from the top of her chest was an angled plate of some clear material that was seated to guard her neck from most of three directions. She wore a single-edge saber on her left hip and some kind of holstered sidearm on the other side. Given the slender frame of the female, I guessed she was some breed of Elf. Moving forward, I¡¯ll refer to her as Regga to keep things short and clear. But she wasn¡¯t the problem.


    Exiting from the other side of the armored AV was a male Ceangar dressed in similar armor to his female counterpart. I already knew not to judge a Ceangar based on their stature. A standard Ceangar, while only standing at a height similar to that of a Human child, could match most Humans, strength for strength, with ease. They also had faster reflexes than most Humans or Elves. That was already going to cause me trouble, given my crippled state. But the male Ceangar had several chains floating around him, shifting in vaguely serpentine motions. Eight chains, each mounted with a dagger-sized spike, and I knew they all were mounted to his back. He was an Arsenal.


    Arsenals were a unique class of Adventurer that normally required a corporate sponsor. Arsenals are true nightmares on the battlefield. With a single thought, they can command any or all of the chains under their control to lash out in a brutal attack with a range longer than any melee weapon. Their chains had a standard reach of fifteen feet, and that could be extended depending on if the chains were modified. Those chains were attached to a unique device mounted to the Arsenal¡¯s spine known as a Chandress Device.The biggest limitation of the Chandress Chains was that it took more than a little experience to operate smoothly, and if the device was damaged, it could cause serious brain damage to the user.


    When I saw that the Arsenal that I was about to face only had eight unmodified chains, I wasn¡¯t sure if I was blessed or cursed. Upside: all of his most dangerous weapons had the same reach. Unlikely upside: Maybe he had just jumped straight to eight chains without training. But I doubted that, given how naturally each of the artificial limbs moved. And I would have to solve this lethal puzzle with a lame foot.


    ¡°I am Regulator Kellden.¡± The Ceangar¡¯s voice boomed across the space as he calmly walked in our direction. ¡°I would arrest you. Given that you fled the scene of a possible act of terrorism as well as fleeing pursuing Regulators, I would normally collect you and put you in max-lock security and drop the tome of law on you with full force.¡± As Kellden spoke, I could hear his voice shifting from stern and professional to something hostile and angry. ¡°But attacked myself and all other Regulators that were trailing you. You actively tried to kill us. You damaged our AVs and destroyed several buildings. Injuring and possibly killing dozens of citizens.¡± By this point, the Arsenal had stepped within twenty feet of us and stopped there. ¡°But your worst transgression,¡± he snarled, ¡°was injuring my sister. I don¡¯t know what spell you cast on her. But Visha is bleeding from dozens of puncture wounds, and her organs are damaged. And for that, I will butcher each and every one of you.¡±


    He must¡¯ve been talking about the pilot Ferris had cast Bone Thorns on. I didn¡¯t have time to regret my plan. This Reg was about to kill everyone from the cab, innocent or not. I turned to Ferris. ¡°FERRIS!¡± I shouted. ¡°BONE LOCK!¡±


    ¡°Oh, you have got to be joking.¡± Ferris said as he pulled free a coin and flicked it toward the Reg. Just as in every instance before, the coin vanished in a puff of magic. Suddenly, the Arsenal, Kellden, went stone stiff. I could see and practically hear the Regulator straining against the effects of the spell. Without stopping for a second, the moment I saw the coin in Ferris¡¯s hand, I released my Vekenna sword from my gauntlet, expanded it, and shoved it toward Nennel.


    ¡°Cut it.¡± was all I said.


    Nennel took the blade, but looked confused. ¡°Cut what?¡± She asked.


    I jabbed a finger toward my bad foot. ¡°Cut it off!¡± I snapped.


    ¡°What?!¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t have time to argue. Cut the rending foot off, or I¡¯ll do it myself. And that will take time we don¡¯t have.¡±


    ¡°Are you insane?!¡± Nennel shouted.


    ¡°Shut up and do it!¡± I shouted at my sister.


    Nennel gripped the blade in two quaking hands as she slowly lowered it to my ankle. The edge of the blade rested against my joint before she dropped the blade, sobbing, ¡°I can¡¯t! I can¡¯t do it!¡±


    ¡°Blackened blade and broken bone.¡± I cursed to myself as I picked up my weapon. I rested the edge against the joint, just as Nel had.


    Then I heard a snap like breaking bone, followed by a muffled scream. I looked over to find that Kellden had broken the bone lock on his right hand and fingers. The cry was muffled by his locked jaw. His chains writhed around him like raging serpents, lashing out for each of us, but with five-foot clearance, we were safe for the moment. That would change the moment he could start walking again. It was when I saw the Arsenal wrap chains around his body that I knew what he was doing and panicked.


    ¡°Ferris!¡± I snapped. ¡°How long can you hold him?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I can hold him much longer.¡± Ferris said through gritted teeth as he focused on the spell. ¡°This would be going better if I had a higher rank.¡±


    ¡°Just hold on as long as you can. I¡¯m about to do something so stupid it might be lethal.¡± I said before I turned back to my leg. ¡°Nameless Goddess, please give me a hand.¡± I prayed just before I started sawing at my ankle. I screamed. Oh, by the gods, did I scream. I can¡¯t tell you how much it hurt. My vision faded in and out of darkness as I carved away at my foot like a starving man carving a slab of meat. Things would have gone faster and smoother if I had a serrated blade, but I was out of luck. I howled and snarled like a trapped beast chewing off his own leg. But I did it. Blood was everywhere, and my vision was swimming. But that was no time for me to faint. I drew on the growing blood pool under me, a nice, big scarlet puddle, to cast the first of several spells.


    Something that many non-spellcasters don¡¯t know is that the element that creates force shields is actually kinetic energy. Just instead of projecting a force of solid air in a direction, it is held in place to create what is essentially ¡®hard air¡¯.


    Phase one: Form a phantom foot from shaped and condensed Kinetic Myst. I left the false limb hollow to accumulate blood. But I made it air-tight against my fresh stump to prevent me from bleeding out. I climbed to my feet, my pants a sopping bloody mess. My magical prosthetic was stable and vacuum sealed but didn¡¯t bend, so I would have to make do with a peg foot. By this point, Kellden had broken one foot and one leg free. So, I mentally assembled the next spell formula as fast as I could.


    As I drew blood and pulled it into several hovering balls in front of me, Nennel had dragged Teefa free from the AV cab wreckage. The driver was mostly conscious and clutching the emergency beacon that had guided her to our location when we were fleeing from the stigmagaunt. ¡°This is a problem.¡± Teefa said before breaking into a string of coughs and spraying a few speckles of blood. ¡°It¡¯ll bring more Regs to us. But I called back up.¡± She wheezed out before she went slack. Nennel had to pick her up in both arms and carry her to a safe spot just out of sight from the battlefield.


    Phase two: ¡°Ferris. Keep lady occupied.¡± I snarled, still in serious pain. As Ferris sprinted around Kellden, giving the Arsenal a wide berth to avoid his chains, I cast my next spell. The undulating balls of blood in front of me burst into crimson flames and conjoined to form a single sheet of fire. I threw the scorching sheet at the Ceangar, and it draped over him into a clinging layer of scalding heat.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    As Kellden attempted to bat out the flames with his sole free hand, I moved to gain some distance. By the time I had made it fifteen feet, the Arsenal had broken his remaining limbs free and was ignoring the ruby flames to storm toward me. I reached for one sidearm, then the other, only to find that both were missing. I cursed again as I tried to think of something I could do.


    Ferris was locked in an intense dual with Regga. My Elven friend was armed with an elemental sidearm equipped with fire and a dagger of bone. Even as I watched, Regga had Ferris on the back foot, using the length of her saber to full advantage. Ferris brought up his mystech sidearm to take a shot, only for the blade of his opponent to circle around his arm and flick the firearm from his grip with grace. In answer, Ferris held his hand in the same position and faced his palm toward the Regulator. A shower of bone shards flew from his open palm to pepper the Reg with enough force to send her two steps backwards. The last thing I saw of that fight before I looked away was Ferris making a dive for his wayward sidearm.


    I turned toward Kellden to find that he was not only no longer burning, but also almost within fifteen feet of me. He hid the reach of his chains by keeping the eight spikes attached to the steel vipers hovering around his shoulders. But I had a precise sense of spatial awareness, so I knew exactly just how much reach those weapons had. That meant I had a good idea of what he would do. Before I entered the range of his Chandress Chains, I rushed forward. It was clear that me moving in closer was the last thing he expected, as his posture reflected stunned surprise for a brief moment.


    I took advantage of that surprise and aimed my gauntlet at the Arsenal and triggered only a slight kinetic blast. I was reserving the remainder of the power in Venna for emergency actions, but I could still use it sparingly. The burst of force was enough to knock him off balance. I snatched my opening and kicked off with my right foot to thrust my blade into his shoulder. But I failed to remember that the foot I was kicking off with was the immutable false limb. I sprung forward only a few feet, only to fall on my face.


    I rolled on my back in time to see three spikes shooting down toward my chest. Forcefully, I threw myself into continuing my roll for a few more tumbles before crawling to my feet. I was wondering why he hadn¡¯t attacked me with his other lethal spikes until I looked at the Arsenal. A thin red cable was wrapped around three of my opponent¡¯s chains, restraining them. I followed the glowing hot cord to Nennel on the other side, using her Lasher Gloves. Even as I looked at her, Nennel was obviously struggling to keep just three chains limbs pinned.


    As I watched, one, then two, then all three of the hazardous spiked limbs she had restrained were melted through by her thermal cord. Each of the spikes fell to the ground, dead, trailing eight feet of limb chain. Nennel struck out with her other Lasher Glove tail. This wire was bright with yellow light and crackling electricity. With a whirl of her left hand on her head, the wire danced in an imitation of a flowing ribbon before she made it strike like a fierce viper toward the Arsenal.


    With one of his remaining Chandress Chains, Kellden batted the voltaic wire from its path with little more than a glance in its direction. ¡°I guess you¡¯re my first problem that needs solving.¡± The Ceangar said to Nennel before making his own attack towards her. Before Nel could react, a chained spike shot toward her, shattering her left arm at the elbow.


    ¡°No!¡± I shouted as dread set into my stomach like a molten lead weight.


    Nennel staggered back with a snarl on her face. She attempted another strike with her remaining whip, this one arcing in low from the side. Again, Kellden batted the assault aside with little effort, even as he simultaneously struck out with two more spikes to cleave her right arm off at the shoulder, metal and mechanical components thrown behind her like shrapnel.


    The molten weight in my gut grew hotter and began to spread through my body. What started as dread shifted into defiant rage. I charged toward the Arsenal, the blade in my left hand and claws on my right at the ready. The Regulator spared me a sideways glance before hurtling one of his chained spikes my way. I deflected the initial attack with the flat of my Vekenna and latched my clawed grip onto the chain as the spike diverted. With as much strength as I could muster, I yanked on the metal limb in an attempt to pull Kellden off balance. He took a single step in my direction, but nothing more.


    Kellden¡¯s response was to send another spike at me. But when I moved to deflect the attack, it slipped around my block and punched into my shoulder like a shard of burning ice. The spike struck with enough force to knock me off my feet, and pushed me to the ground and pin me there. ¡°You stay there, puppy. I¡¯ll deal with you after I¡¯m done with your little songbird.¡± Even as the Arsenal spoke, he launched two more spikes at Nennel.


    Nel attempted to lunge to the side in an effort to dodge. One of the spikes struck her in the right knee and tore the leg below that point clean off. I screamed wordlessly as I struggled against the force pinning me down. With every muscle in my body, I shoved and yanked, desperate to break free. I could not let Nennel die. I would not let her die.


    The remaining four Chandress Chains of Kellden¡¯s that weren¡¯t occupied holding me against the ground reared back for a synchronized strike, baring down on my sister. My screaming reached a new pitch as I lost my mind. But before I could break free or Kellden could attack, there was a blur from the sky and an impact hard enough to send up a plume of dust and release a rumble through the ground beneath me. The pressure restraining me vanished, and the spike and chain retracted into the obscuring cloud like the tail of some massive beast of metal.


    I clambered to my remaining real foot, and the temporary prosthetic formed a shaped kinetic energy shield. My mind was a thoughtless mass of rage and panic. Fight or flight was one thing, but in this state, I was reduced to basic instincts with a single goal: to protect my sister by killing any threat I found. Even crippled and driven half-mad with fear and frenzy, I was a serious hazard to anyone in the near area. I knew this. But there was something more than this base drive to defend. Bloodlust. Pure, distilled, and concentrated bloodlust possessed me like a demon from the far realms.


    Only looking back at those moments later, with a stable mind, I realized that I experienced this deep, dark hunger in my chest. That feeling thrummed through my veins like a harmonic song I felt more than heard. Through this thrumming, I could feel my blood. Not just what was under my skin or leaking from my wounds. I could sense every drop of my life fluid inside and outside of my body like it was an extension of myself, like a limb. With pinpoint precision, I knew the location of each droplet of my scarlet blood on any surface within thirty feet of me. I even knew the exact location of the spike that had punctured my shoulder.


    Flashes of green light burst inside the cloud of dust, with sounds like muted cracks of gunshots. Ignoring the strange display, I drove the claws of my gauntlet into the still-bleeding wound in my left shoulder. I sunk them in deep and wrenched them free to spawn a gout of scarlet across the blade held in my left hand. In that state, I did something I never would have done if I had been sane. I wouldn¡¯t use Death Myst under almost any circumstances. I just didn¡¯t. It was a power with the near-exclusive purpose of killing and harming living creatures. I drew on that murderous force of nature and infused Fire Myst with it. The conjured element of altered fire, known as Rot Fire, ignited, covering both my Vekenna and my blood-soaked claws. I pulled thirty Vells worth of blood. Then, that primal, insane me took things even farther into the realm of what I thought was impossible.


    I mentally tugged on the fresh blood seeping from my wounds. It felt not unlike how I would pull my fingers into a fist. The blood dripping down my body lifted from me, not leaving a trace behind. Ribbons of liquid crimson flowed up to wrap around my Vekenna to lengthen the edge. The blade normally reached three feet in length, but the razor-sharp crimson edge extended that reach by another foot.


    I stormed forward toward the cloud with flashing lights and the sounds of combat. My feet pounded the ground, growing from stomping to running, then to sprinting over the distance of ten feet. Then I was inside, enveloped by the dust cloud. With my teeth bared, I hunted for the short but lethal opponent. The first thing I saw was a shape too large to be Kellden. The figure, larger than me, resolved into Demierra. Green and black flames wreathed her draconian fists. Even as I recognized her as not a threat, she punched a chained spike out of the air as it flew at her face.


    ¡°About time, horn head. Make yourself useful.¡±


    I wordlessly growled at her as I rushed past, toward where the spike had retracted. Within moments, I spotted who I was looking for. Kellden came into my view as he lashed out at me with one of his spikes. I shifted to the side slightly. The attack that was meant to take my left arm off only grazed my skin, drawing a new line of blood. He threw out another spike toward my other arm, and I repeated my dodge. As he withdrew that spike, I grabbed hold of the chain again, but this time, I let it pull me with it. I flew toward the Arsenal with my blade aimed at his face.


    Kellden turned sideways to avoid the stab from my weapon and used the chain I gripped to throw me to the side. I hit the ground on the balls of my feet and slid backward as Demierra lunged forward with a volatile, eldritch fist thrusting towards the Regulator¡¯s chest. The Arsenal lept back, out of the reach of the strike, and launched two spikes at her before he even touched the cracked street.


    I charged in again while Demierra stepped inside the attack, the twin blades flying past her as she closed the distance. The paired chains that zipped by the Dracose arced back and wrapped around her, locking her arms at her sides as they lifted her off her feet.


    I wildly lashed out at the Ceangar with my necrotic claws, only for him to sidestep the reaching slash and drive a lunging knee into my abdomen. The air in my lungs was thrust out of my mouth with a spray of spit. I wasn¡¯t about to give in. Instead of staggering back, I leaned forward and drove my right elbow into the crook of his neck and shoulder. When he stumbled backward, I lashed out with a push kick, using my false foot. My shaped shield foot contacted his chest, and as I pushed, I drew on the last Vells in my Mystwell and released a kinetic blast.


    The Ceangar was sent flying out of the dust plume, which Demierra had caused with her landing. I stormed forward, following my prey as he slid across the concrete street. When I stepped from the settling cloud of dust and dirt, I was dimly aware that Demierra was still bound but lying on the rubble strewn ground.


    Kellden crawled back to his feet, coughing. His armored chest piece had been totally shattered, meaning that my Dracose counterpart had struck him there a few times before my burst kick. I had a new soft point to aim for. But I could feel that I was losing the function of my left arm the more time that passed. I would have to make this quick.


    ¡°You just won¡¯t wait your turn, puppy.¡± Kellden coughed as he retracted the two chain limbs that had been restraining Demierra. ¡°I¡¯m going to have to carve you and that lizard up like deli meat.¡± Kellden lifted himself into the air by using three of his five remaining chain limbs as legs like some chain-spider creature.


    I picked up my pace as I closed in on the Ceangar. As I charged in, he lashed out with his two free chained spikes, but I spun and lunged to one side, then the other. My motions were not enough to completely avoid damage, but the slashes I collected felt good. Each gash brought me a rush of pleasure and a sense of power, and I fed on it.


    I hadn¡¯t closed the distance when a pair of javelins of fire struck the Arsenal in the side, knocking him off balance for a moment. I traced the flame attack back to Demierra, who had also thrown another pair of the same flame javelins at the other Regulator.


    ¡°Ferris! Move your Elf ass and get your girly friend to safety.¡± the Dracose commanded. ¡°Horn head and me will handle these two.¡°


    Ferris moved to follow the instructions, totally abandoning his fight. Later, he would tell me that he was barely holding on against his opponent. The female Regulator aimed her sidearm at Ferris¡¯s back only to have to jump away when Demierra lept into the air to land like a bomb where the Elf woman had just been standing.


    Kellden used his chain legs to move closer to his partner and attack Demierra. But I was in hot pursuit of the Ceangar. I was not about to let him go when I was so close to putting my fist through his exposed chest. And oh, how I wanted to feel his blood in those final fatal moments.


    The thrumming in my veins rose into a hum, and my head began to throb at the brow like the skin there was splitting. The only reason I noticed the blood running down my face was because I could sense it like a new limb, and I planned on putting that new limb to good use.


    Kellden shot one spike toward me and another at my Dracose ally while staying aloft with his other three chains. I came to a stop and flicked two fingers of my gauntleted hand in an upward motion, and the blood soaking my pants leeched out and formed a hard shield for just long enough to deflect the spike. After that, it fell into a puddle at my feet that I walked over. As my phantom foot stepped into the pool, I drew it up to form an outer shell of blood around the false limb.


    I will admit that I would have looked impressively terrifying, covered in blood, wielding a metal claw and a sword alight with purple flames, and a totally insane grin on my face. Demierra and Ferris, who both saw me in that state, said I would¡¯ve looked like a nightmare if I hadn¡¯t been hobbling along like a gimp with a bum leg. They say I just looked like a lunatic cripple wearing one red rubber boot who walked out of a blood storm.


    With the same two fingers, I flicked them toward Regga, who was attacking Demierra every time she turned to face Kellden. Blood from my shoulder wound shot forward in a single bullet. The projectile struck Regga in the helmet, not causing any damage but distracting her.


    While the female Regulator was focused on me, Demierra let out a war cry. Trails of lightning started at her white, silver, and gold gauntlets and rushed to engulf her body. This cowl of electricity sped up her actions to an unnatural pace. She threw a roundhouse kick at Regga with blurring speed. The strike hit the Elf in the head, sending her tumbling. In the same motion, Demierra used the momentum of the blow to spin around and both conjure and throw another javelin of fire even as she lept backward to avoid a strike from the Arsenal. This flame javelin struck Kellden in the hip and detonated with enough force to launch his hanging form off-kilter. He hit the ground not far from his partner.


    When I saw the Ceangar land on his back, I took that as my moment to finish him. I sprinted forward as fast as I could with the phantom foot. I heard a female voice I didn¡¯t recognize scream a shrill ¡°NO!¡± as I closed the distance.


    When I was within five feet of my prey, I sprang like a predatory cat at crippled prey. The tip of my Vekenna pointed down, and aimed to punch through Kellden¡¯s exposed chest. I was almost on top of him when something intercepted my attack. That something was the body of Regga. She blocked the path of my finishing attack with her own form. My blade sunk deep into her chest, passing through the already damaged armor and deep into the ribcage. The moment the weapon made contact with the Regulator, decay crept across her armor and undoubtedly the flesh beneath.


    Even as I watched, the metal of Regga¡¯s chest piece rusted and broke down to expose rotting flesh below. The Rot Flames climbed her body, but I didn¡¯t care. I was in a state of rage, and she had stopped me. With a bestial snarl, I dug the claws of my right hand into her neck and tore her throat from her neck. I threw the lump of decaying flesh away absent-mindedly.


    Someone was screaming. It was a scream that echoed feelings from my past. Torture. Emotional anguish. Bitter hate. Being so brutally wronged by fate that vengeance was demanded.


    I threw Regga¡¯s dying form aside. Then something wasn¡¯t right. My entire right arm felt wrong. From the shoulder down, I felt nothing but a pain unlike anything I had known before. No sensation except pain. But I was wrong. I did recognize the sensation dimly. It was the same as my missing foot.


    I looked down to find my right arm was no longer there. Looking past my gushing stump, I found my arm on the ground. Just laying there like a dead fish. I stared dumbly at the detached limb.


    ¡°You killed her, you putrid hell-spawn!¡± The Ceangar at my feet snarled. ¡°I¡¯ll rip you apart!¡±


    I was in total shock. Only with enough presence of mind to use the eight Vells, I had somehow gained to cauterize my stump. My action was purely mechanical. I had no emotion. The rage was gone. The hate was absent. I was vaguely aware that I needed to stop the bleeding.


    It was then that the spell hold I had on my phantom foot broke. My balance vanished along with the false limb, and I fell. The last few things I saw before losing consciousness made no sense at the time. Demierra stomped her reptilian-clawed foot onto the Arsenal¡¯s head, and he went limp but still breathing. When my eyes touched the smoggy sky above, I saw a fleet of AVs closing in from a distance with flashing emergency lights.

 PITM Chapter 26

    Cybernetics are a common sight across Anogwin. Many people lose limbs and body parts in dangerous events. Attacks from monsters, bandits or gangs, natural or magical disasters, and work accidents are only a few examples. The loss of a body part leads to the need for a cybernetic in order to keep functioning. But cybernetics have a cost. Every cybernetic draws on the user¡¯s Mystwell. For a mundane (non-caster) the cost means very little. But for any kind of casters and many other types of Adventurers, this cost can be almost as crippling as the missing limb.


    I should have gotten used to darkness by this point. I would say that I felt at home in the shadowed void because of the darkness in my soul or something edgy like that, but no. This was long before my spark of hope was quashed, and I became a moody, brooding edge lord. At this point in my career, I was getting really tired of coming out of unconsciousness to total darkness. It only put me in a worse mood when I came back to reality in a state of full-body aching.


    Every inch of me was in some degree of pain. I also felt sick. Like something nasty had been pushed into my body to fester just under the skin. But something more was wrong. While I could feel what must¡¯ve been a blanket over me, reaching up to my neck, I couldn¡¯t feel the soft surface on my right foot and arm. First came confusion at the lack of sensation in the limbs. Then I remembered what happened, and I shot into a sitting position with a shout of panic.


    With a quick inspection, I found myself in my room in the safe house. The lights were off, but I could see everything without issue. My room was a total mess. The crafting bench was littered with parts and scraps in such disarray that I would never leave behind. Clothes and blood-stained rags littered the floor. A ruffled pillow and plate covered in crumbs sat on my writing desk, and a wrinkled blanket sat was draped over the skewed chair beside it.


    I looked down at where my right arm had once been to find a large metal cap on my shoulder with nothing below it. In a panic, I threw off the blanket to find that I was totally nude, and a metal cap was mounted to where my right ankle had once been.


    I heard someone shout, ¡°I think he¡¯s awake!¡± followed by the sound of several sets of thundering feet. Before the door opened or the light switch was thrown, I was already crying. Navor threw the door open with a slam and forced the light switch to the on position with enough force to shatter the face plate. The Master rushed over to me with a worried expression. Ferris followed closely behind her to stand beside my bed as well. Following Ferris, Kharmor hurried into the room to stand next to my workbench. Demierra, Zynna, and Ozwald peered in through the doorway but did not enter.


    ¡°How do you feel, kid?¡± Master Navor asked as she sat on the side of the bed and inspected my shoulder plate.


    Suddenly, I was aware that I was naked in front of three women, and I hurriedly covered my man-bits with a blush. But I kept crying. ¡°My¡­arm. My foot. Their¡­gone.¡± I sobbed.


    ¡°I know. I know.¡± Navor cooed in sympathy. ¡°What do you remember?¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± I started, pausing to think before everything came rushing out. ¡°We went in. Things went wrong. Ghouls. Elemental. Attacked. The hacker¡­ was an Arachnyte. Then¡­ Cannibals. And a nightmare. The creature chased us. Then¡­ Regs. Regulators chased us. We crashed and¡­¡± I started sobbing again, holding my face in my remaining hand. I tried to catch the tears, but one hand wasn¡¯t enough.


    I wasn¡¯t whole. More broken than ever. Before, it was only my mind. I could hold the shards of my mind together with medication and diligence. But no medication could solve missing limbs. I had lost who I was. Broken. That word echoed in my mind, louder than ever. ¡®Broken. Broken. Broken. Broken. Broken. Broken.¡¯ That single word consumed my mind. I fell into the mental void until Master Navor spoke again.


    ¡°Do you remember what happened next?¡±


    I was shocked back into reality by her words, only to struggle to dredge up the memories. ¡°I¡­ cut it off. My foot. Oh gods!¡± I screamed. ¡°I cut off my own foot!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Iver.¡± Navor calmed me, stroking my hair. ¡°You made the choice so you could fight. Right?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ Nel saved me. She saved me from That Bastard!¡± I snarled the last two words and spat them out like bitter poison. ¡°She saved me, only to get hurt.¡± Then, I truly remembered that moment. ¡°Is Nel okay?!¡± I demanded in panic.


    ¡°Shh.¡± Navor cooed. ¡°She¡¯s alive. But she hasn¡¯t woken up yet. We need to find a doctor that can put her together. Do you remember what happened after that?¡±


    Knowing that Nennel was still breathing calmed me from the burst of panic, but I still wasn¡¯t okay. ¡°I¡­ I remember¡­ Rage. Terror. Dread. Hate. And blood. So much blood.¡±


    ¡°Details, Iver. I¡¯m sorry for making you go through it all again just after waking up. But I need to know exactly what happened. Ferris only told us so much, and we need to know as much as you can remember.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ Could feel the blood. I could feel like¡­ like a limb.¡± At the word ¡®limb¡¯ I lost it again, breaking into body-wracking sobs. At some point, while I cried, Ozwald and Zynna left. But Ferris, Kharmor, and even Demierra stayed. After a few minutes of crying, Master Navor brought me back to the present. ¡°Iver. What do you remember about the blood and¡­after?¡±


    ¡°I... It¡¯s hazy. Foggy. But I remember. Controlling the blood. It was me, but¡­ more. I used it. Wrapped it around my weapons and myself. Armor. Weapon. It was everything then¡­ and more. I had blood. I wanted blood. I wanted his blood. But¡­ someone got in the way. She¡­ got in the way.¡± Moments flashed through my mind.


    A female Regulator. Her fighting Ferris. Her fighting Demierra. Her jumping in the way of my attack. Then¡­


    ¡°I killed her. Oh gods! I murdered her!¡± I howled like some mad dog.


    ¡°I killed. I killed. I killed. I killed.¡± I repeated as I relived the memory again and again.


    I was shocked out of that hellish pool by a vicious slap from Navor. My head was thrown to the side, and my cheek burned with the pain.


    ¡°Stop it.¡± Navor whispered in chide. ¡°Yes, Iver. You killed someone. But you killed more than just her.¡±


    My gaze that had been locked on the blankets over my lap snapped up to lock onto my Master.


    ¡°Yes, Iver. During that chase. When you were trying to get away, you killed two Regulators and sixteen bystanders.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I denied.


    ¡°Yes, Iver. When you set off whatever bomb you made while you were running, you killed several people. The building ruined by the blast was a work office. That blast burned up ten people, and it caused injuries that led to the death of another six people. And that¡¯s not including the other eight Regulators and twenty civilians killed by the stigmaguant.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I didn¡¯t mean to-¡± I started, but Navor cut me off.


    ¡°Everyone, leave.¡± Master Navor snapped to the rest of the room. She turned back to me once everyone else left the room but me and her.


    ¡°You might not have meant to, kid. But you did. How many times do I have to tell you that your choices and actions have repercussions? You led a monster out into a populated area and threw an explosive into a populated street. And that¡¯s not including the poisonous gas you let out that hospitalized dozens of people.¡±


    I raised my hand to clutch my hair, only to find something hard in the way. I fingered my way around the blockade without a second thought and started yanking on my hair as I curled into a ball.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to. I didn¡¯t mean to. I didn¡¯t mean to. I recited in a desperate hope to undo the damage I caused. When I knew nothing changed, I shifted my morbid mantra to something I felt true deep down in my heart. ¡°I should die. I should die. I should die. I should die.¡±


    Suddenly, there was a force on my head from my brow, yanking me up to look at Navor. This time, she didn¡¯t slap me. She punched me with a solid cross hook that connected with my jaw. I welcomed the pain of the blow because it had a grounding sense, bringing me back to the reality I had been mentally fleeing. After the punch, Navor let go of what must¡¯ve been my horn and slapped me, then backhanded me and slapped me again.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you ever say that. People die, Iver. It¡¯s just the way of the brutal world. You joined the Order, so you had to kill at some point. Was your first hands-on kill a tragedy? Yes. But you can¡¯t let that define you. Find something, a goal to push towards. What do you want, Iver?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I want¡­¡± I shuttered as I grasped for anything I could call a goal. I clutched on the first thought that came to mind, and iron laced through my stuttering voice when I spoke next. ¡°I want¡­ I want Thallos dead.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Navor snapped at me. ¡°If your final goal is murder, then your path forward will be full of nothing but blood and more bodies. That is not the way of the Order. What do you want to achieve or become that will better both you and the world around you?¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know.¡± I muttered, lost in my own mind. Tears still streamed down my face as I desperately tried to think. What did I want beyond killing Thallos? Was I more than that goal? Could I be more than a murderer?


    I thought about who I was. What defined me? What was I beyond my drive for revenge? What was my final goal, whether I killed my uncle or not? I didn¡¯t know, and Master Navor must¡¯ve read that on my face.


    ¡°Iver, you are more than what Thallos did to you. You are even more than your mistakes.¡± She cupped my cheek in her hand and gently guided me to look at her again. ¡°What makes you, you? You''re a brilliant inventor, a skilled fighter, a clever leader, and a kind soul. First, don¡¯t ever let that last one die. Kindness is a rare thing this world needs more of. But what could you reach for that would include at least one of those other traits?¡±


    While my face was angled toward the Master, my gaze fell downward, staring at nothing in particular. I asked myself that question again and again. I thought hard about what I could become that didn¡¯t revolve around blood, death, and hate. Navor shocked me out of my endless loop of thoughts with a simple question that gave me the answer I needed. ¡°Do you want to be a Hero?¡± Her words were kind and warm even as she looked at me with a grandmotherly smile.


    Every kid wanted to be a Hero. Someone who stepped in at the darkest hour to save the day. A person who did the impossible and gave everyone around them hope. Could a Darkling become a Hero? I had never heard of a Darkling Hero, but there had been hundreds over the ages, and many more that were forgotten. Becoming a Hero was a childish dream. I wasn¡¯t some eight-year-old thumb sucker clinging to his blanket. I did my best not to think about Sasha, my own safety blanket that I still used in secret. The goal was something so infantile, only slightly more realistic than becoming a Super Hero. Heroes were almost always chosen by a God and foretold by fate. There was no way that I was foretold by anything, given my total lack of Fate Myst Affinity. But could I still become a Hero? Could I save the day and give that hope that so many in this world so desperately needed?


    I closed my eyes and answered with a single nod.


    ¡°Iver, I have no doubt that if you push as hard as you can and make careful choices, you can become a Hero. But I have a simple question that can be put in a few different perspectives.¡±


    I opened my teary eyes to look at Navor¡¯s stern face. ¡°Look, kid. I know things are hard. I know that you would eat a bullet just to escape this shame. But are you so jaded that you can¡¯t see? Your story lives in that suffering and strife that life puts you through. Make this goal the purpose to live and breathe for. You want to be a Hero, right?¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°If you want to be a voice for the voiceless, you¡¯re going to need to scream to show that pain. If you want to give hope to the hopeless, you¡¯re going to have to suffer in the darkest places no one will go. Will you turn your own light out? Or will you shine like dawn to guide others? Will you fall apart? Or will you fall into the place where you can do the most good? Will you break down? Or will you break the chains you think you have weighing you down?¡±


    With each question she asked, I found my answer inside. With each shadow of doubt, I lit an ember of determination in my chest. I could do better. I could reach higher. I kept telling myself this even as Navor continued.


    ¡°Look, Iver. I know that you¡¯re standing on a ledge. You¡¯ve made mistakes, and you don¡¯t think you can move on. I¡¯ve been there. But you never know what could have been, what you would have been if you had just held on. You are more than this crap that you¡¯re enduring. You are more than your mistakes. More than your fears and doubts. All this pain is that Hero forming deep inside you. So, Iver, will you write that story?¡±


    Navor must¡¯ve seen the fire in my eyes because she gave me a bright smile before patting me on the head and leaving the room with a simple ¡°I have faith in you, kid. When things get rough and times look dark, just keep these words in mind: When ashes fall, Heroes rise.¡±


    After the Master left, Ferris slipped into the room to stand beside my bed, looking awkward.


    ¡°How are you feeling?¡± he asked, refusing to make eye contact.


    I flashed my friend a sad but morbid smile as I said, ¡°Like I¡¯m in pieces. I guess I know what an action figure feels like in the hands of a six-year-old.¡±


    ¡°Hey, dude. I wanted to say thanks.¡± Ferris sounded uncomfortable.


    ¡°For what? Making my best impression of deli meat?¡±


    He snorted at my joke. ¡°Na. I wanted to thank you for saving my bacon when I fell down that shaft¡­ And for stopping that elemental from eating me¡­ And from getting cabobed by that schizo Regulator. Look, I think you get the point.¡±


    I gave a light chuckle. ¡°It¡¯s what friends are for.¡± Then, a question came to mind. ¡°Hey, Fer¡¯. After I took that swan dive off the bridge to save Nel, and you pulled us to safety, how did you pull that off? Nel weighs like two hundred pounds. And I weigh almost one hundred on the light end. But that¡¯s not including the gear that I was carrying or the fact that you were probably physically exhausted.¡±


    Ferris rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. ¡°Well, you remember those spell coins? I had one to conjure a few skeletons for a few moments. I burned it on hauling you two to safety.¡±


    ¡°Wow.¡± I said, impressed. ¡°Speaking of Nel. How long has she been out?¡±


    Ferris finally made eye contact, looking serious. ¡°Ives¡¯, you¡¯ve been out for four days. And Nel still hasn¡¯t come to. She¡¯s breathing and blinking her eyes. But she¡¯s just¡­ not there.¡±


    ¡°Is she getting fed?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Zynna and Kharmor take turns feeding her broth, swapping out her fluids, and cleaning the waste.¡±


    I gave a sad but relieved sigh. At least Nennel was alive and being taken care of. I would have to look deeper into her state. But first, I needed to deal with myself. ¡°Why is my room a disaster?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Ferris started, looking nervous again. ¡°Things were looking pretty bad for a while. You were bleeding a lot when you came in, and we couldn¡¯t take you to a hospital because, ya know, terrorist.¡± he winced at the last word before hurrying to continue. ¡°You weren¡¯t taking well to the healing magic, even after scans and careful myst alterations. The Life Myst kept causing some kind of infection that we had to clean out over and over. We had to use fire to reseal the wounds before capping them off.¡± Ferris pointed to my desk. ¡°That was all Kharmor. He threw together the covers that are on you now. We needed to cap off the joints to keep them protected, so¡­ yeah.¡±


    I gave a heavy sigh. ¡°Yeah. I get it. I¡¯m guessing you were keeping an eye on me?¡± I pointed to the desk topped with the pillow and dirty plate.


    ¡°I took turns with Kharmor. The plate is his.¡±


    ¡°Kharmor?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Actually, he wants to talk to you about something. I¡¯ll step out and tell him he can talk.¡± Ferris hurried from the room, clearly upset by my state.


    While I waited for the Half-Dwarf to enter, I looked down at my lack of a dominant arm. The only way I could¡¯ve been more crippled was if I had lost both arms. In the state I was in, I was useless. I couldn¡¯t fight, couldn¡¯t craft, I couldn¡¯t even walk.


    My bald Dwarven friend stepped into the room with a book held to his chest. It was then that I realized that Kharmor really was a friend.


    ¡°Hey there, buddy.¡± He said with a nervous note.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine Khar¡¯¡­ mostly. I can¡¯t say that I¡¯m in one piece. But I¡¯m fit enough to talk. What do you have there?¡± I pointed to the leather-bound book he held.


    ¡°Oh! It¡¯s the book I mentioned before you left. But I guess it¡¯s more pertinent than ever at this point.¡±


    ¡°Pertinent?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Uh, yeah. It¡¯s a work published by a CyDoc, Mallorick, and Mystgenist here in the city. He¡¯s an Elf named Lind Dragh. I don¡¯t know anything about his past, but this book covers a combination of advanced cybernetic theory and unique philosophies and ideology around cybernetics and body augmentation and how they are an improvement on the person, not a replacement.¡±


    ¡°I, uh, wow.¡± I stammered in shock. ¡°That sounds seriously interesting. I¡¯m going to need to dig into it. Do you have any idea where he lives or works?¡± Despite the shock I felt, I was quite curious. I was always hungry for new information to improve my crafting skills, and cybernetics was an extremely critical topic at the moment. And if the Lind guy lived in Grimvale, I would have to visit him to dig deeper.


    ¡°I can¡¯t say that I do. I¡¯ve only touched the book, but it seemed like something you would be interested in. And with this whole¡­¡± He nodded toward my missing arm. ¡°Ya know, missing parts thing. I thought it was even more important. I already have a simple replacement foot put together for you. It¡¯s not top-tier quality, but it should be enough to get you around the house. I¡¯m also offering my crafting services. If I can make a new arm for you, if you''re willing to guide me through the process, I¡¯ll gladly help.¡±


    I chuckled and gave Kharmor a sad smile. ¡°I might take you up on that. I would definitely like that foot to be installed as soon as possible. Is it cybernetic or prosthetic?¡±


    ¡°Prosthetic.¡±


    ¡°Got it. Well, hand me the book. I want to dig into it. By the way, is there any way I can get some food?¡±


    ¡°Oh! Yeah. Dinner in bed can be done.¡± He said with a burst of energy at the change of topic. ¡°On the menu for tonight is whole-baked duck with herbs and a side of baked potato and greens.¡±


    ¡°Wow. That sounds fancy.¡± I commented.


    ¡°Honestly, the only fancy part is the duck. Navor told Zynna to splurge since you were awake.¡±


    I gave an amused huff as I took the book from Khar before he left. I checked the time to find it was three in the afternoon. Without any preamble, I cracked open my new book.


    The embossed title on the brown leather cover read ¡®A New Age of Change: Leaving the Old Phantoms of the Machines in the Past¡¯. The title was a bit wordy, but when I started reading, I became totally consumed. Lind was some kind of abstract genius. He provided examples of how to enhance standard cybernetics throughout the book and that was only the tip of the mass. He explained his concept of bio-synthetic mechanisms used to emulate standard limb function but with alterations to grant massive improvements. An arm that could function without a standard drain on the Mystwell that could still grant super strength was only the simplest example of his ideas. These ideas were astounding, and his philosophies were life-altering.


    ¡®To lose a part of one¡¯s body is to lose a fraction of one¡¯s self. This is a part of yourself that will never be regained unless you have immense resources. But rather than spend a fortune growing a part of yourself that will never feel correct, why not improve? If an arm is lost, you have lost a shard of yourself, body, mind, and soul. But to take a new part, a better part, to replace what is missing, you can become more than you once were. You could be a better worker or warrior. You could ascend above those with bodies only of flesh.¡¯ This was only a single section of what I read, and it had a feeling of unshakable truth that gave me a sense that I could still be myself even after this damage, but better.


    I had always been a fast reader, but this book was more gripping than any fiction I could ever find on the shelf. I devoured page after page. In total honesty, I was desperate for distraction. I wanted to do anything that would let me not actively think about my incomplete body. The fact that this outlet was also productive in more than one way made it my crutch. I was so engrossed in the book that I not only missed someone knocking on my door, but I was totally unaware of someone leaving my dinner on the side of my bed. I only stopped to devour an entire duck and every scrap of food down to the last spot of grease on the plate. After eating, I returned to the book and kept reading through the night.


    My drive to read was more than just catharsis in the form of intriguing theory and philosophy. I not only needed to get myself a new arm of as high quality as I could find, but I also had the driving goal to get Nel into a condition better than she had ever been before. I wanted to build her a body so powerful and advanced that she could hold her own in a fight like the one that ruined her. I refused to let my sister remain frail and traumatized. I would fix her.

 PITM Chapter 27

    There are dozens, if not hundreds, of different roles in the field of magic study and technology advancement. Among the most well-known and renowned fields of work are the Malloricks. Malloricks are essentially myst engineers and inventors. These men and women not only study and design enchantments but also are the foremost specialists in the advancement of mystech in all forms. Malloricks have a reputation for being what many would call insane.


    Another well-known field of magical study that carries with it a degree of fame is that of the Mystgentist. These scientists study the uses of magic in all forms. Mystgenists dig deep into the laws and reactions of pure magical power and how different elements interact with each other in various ways.


    I¡¯m embarrassed to say that I failed to realize the drastic change to my body other than the amputations until I had hobbled my way into the bathroom. It was six in the morning, and I had been up all night reading. I hopped my way into the bathroom linked to my bedroom for some simple business only a living creature could do. I hobbled into the tight space, wearing nothing but a pair of underwear, ready to drop onto the toilet, only turning on the light to make sure I didn¡¯t accidentally trip over the shower curtain. The bulb in the room flashed into life with a brush of my fingers against the control plate, and I almost passed by the mirror without a second glance, but I noticed something strange.


    I locked eyes with my reflection before my sight tracked up to the reflection of my brow. I stared at the change. I was dumbstruck for several long moments as I tried to figure out what in the nine hells was going on with my face. My horns, before that point, had been small. The little, pointed nubs just under my hairline had always been a painful reminder of my tainted blood. What I saw just above my eyes were not simple little nubs. Each horn had gone through an infernal growth spurt that made my jaw drop in shock.


    Before, my horns were an inch in diameter and an inch and a half tall with a slight curve. The standard look from any devil in a piece of art you would find from the late Age of Hungry Iron until midway through the Age of Steel¡¯s Grasp. The kind of art that depicted devils seducing maidens and devouring children.


    The twin nightmares that burst from my brow were far worse. The diameter of each horn had at least doubled in width. These new horns curved back, parallel with the slope of my skull, before rising up in sharp tips near the rear of my dome. Standard demon horns would have been shocking enough, but this was a degree above and beyond. These horrifying protrusions from my skull were tiered. Each tier of bone was slightly smaller than the one below it, and each of them curved up into a barb at the front or top.


    I had seen Darklings with horns similar to this before in visual media. Many Darkling villains had almost comically large sets of horns as if they were to display just how evil the Darklings were. While my horns weren¡¯t so large as to drag my head down, these horns were horrible. I looked like I was going to eat someone''s child and steal their money to spend on something evil. I stared at my reflection for a solid few moments before screaming. ¡°What the Fuck!!¡±


    Stumbling, I fell backward through the doorway to hit the floor while I gripped one of the new growths and pulled on it. Desperately, I yanked on that horn like they both were parasites draining my very soul. I refused to accept those things as part of who I was. I did not want to be a villain in the eyes of everyone I passed on the street. If the world hated me even more, I didn¡¯t know what I would do. I couldn¡¯t be treated even worse because of these things.


    I screamed like a madman as I wrenched and yanked on the growth. The next thing I knew, a pair of hands were pinning my sole arm to the ground, restraining me. When I started kicking, my legs were pinned by much larger hands. Brutally, I screamed like someone being tortured. I thrashed and writhed as if I had just had a molten metal rod pressed against my skin.


    The next thing I knew, there was a pair of hands on my cheeks, and an alien calming energy was being driven into my consciousness like a railroad spike. I struggled for a few more seconds even as I heard a familiar woman¡¯s voice whispering to me, ¡°Hush. Hush. It¡¯s alright. Everything is okay. You¡¯re okay.¡±


    As my struggles died, I opened my eyes to find Master Navor pressing her brow against my horns, just above my own brow. When I looked up, I found Zynna holding my hand. When I looked down, I found Demierra pinning my legs.


    ¡°Horns.¡± was all I managed to get out before I broke down into body-wracking sobs, just like the night before.


    ¡°I know. I know.¡± Navor murmured to me as she raised her face from mine. ¡°We don¡¯t know why it happened. But I didn¡¯t want to scare you anymore. I was hoping to talk with you about it when you were in a better place.¡±


    ¡°Better?!¡± I snapped. ¡°I lost an arm and a foot, and now my horns have octupled in size! What in the nine hells happened to me!?¡± I demanded.


    I heard Ferris¡¯s voice from the doorway to my room. ¡°I saw it happen.¡± He sounded scared. ¡°They just¡­grew. Popped out of your head so fast the skin split when you went into that rage. I don¡¯t know what happened.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I asked, but even I could hear the begging in my voice.


    ¡°Like I said, we don¡¯t know.¡± Navor answered. ¡°Something¡¯s not right with your body.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡± I asked again, panic seeping into my tone.


    ¡°Calm down, kid. Let¡¯s get your medication in your system before we talk about this.¡± Navor said as she helped me to my feet¡­ well¡­ to my foot. I gratefully accepted the help back to my bed. With nervous hands, I pulled my safe box of medication from just beneath my bed. As I pushed open the box and prepped my dose, I was fighting back a panic about what Navor had just said. She had said that something was wrong with my body. I knew that she wasn''t talking about my recent subtractions, so what was this additional error in my base-code?


    I pushed those thoughts from my head and focused on getting myself back to a stable state. I had gone for five straight days without medication, and I knew that I was a bit looney. Was that why I had lost my mind the day before and just then? If I had been dosed, would I have just cursed about the mistakes and moved on? No. I had killed people and lost literal parts of myself in that fight. That would¡¯ve messed up anyone¡­ Right? I honestly could not be sure what the correct reactions to the events of the previous days. So I just had to focus on getting back to a stable brain.


    I sat down on my bed with a gentle ease of pressure, then double-checked my readied dose, primed the hypo-jector needle, and injected myself in the side of my neck, just above what remained of my right shoulder. A rush of burning heat accompanied the injection, but I contributed it to the then-present state of my body.


    Navor crossed her arms and gave a single nod of her head in approval before she began to explain. ¡°We had some serious issues using Life Myst on your body to keep stable enoug-¡± Navor didn¡¯t get to finish. By the time she had said three words, the fire at my injection site morphed into a literal sensation of having injected acid into my veins. By the time she had said the words ¡°Life Myst¡± my head was spinning, and my heartbeat was irregular. That would¡¯ve been the point where I would¡¯ve notified Navor that something was very wrong, but I had collapsed from my bed to the floor, where I thrashed, clawing at my neck with my remaining hand as I wordlessly started screaming like something was eating its way out of my body.


    I doubt that I need to tell you that my awareness of what was going on both within and outside my body was a mystery, so I will explain this scene from a different camera angle, if you will.


    Iver thrashed on the floor with his remaining limbs and screamed like a beast being murdered. The area around the injection site on his neck was a horrifying green and purple-black, the puncture mark weeping puss.


    ¡°Damn it!¡± Terra Navor cursed. Ferris, pin his legs! Zynna, control his hand!¡± She pointed to both of the students before pointing to their position to restrain their idiot teammate. ¡°Demierra, sit on his chest, but don¡¯t crush him.¡±


    The three students flew into action, pinning Iver to the floor while Terra moved to examine the injection site. During idiot Iver¡¯s thrashing, the injection site had ruptured, burst open into an inch-wide, ragged hole gushing puss.


    ¡°Ferris, do you know what magical components are in his meds?¡±


    ¡°I-uh..¡±


    ¡°Out with it, boy.¡±


    Ferris took a look at Iver¡¯s condition before explaining what he could. ¡°Don¡¯t know the details on the herbs or chemicals. But there is a heavy dose of Life Myst and Resonance Myst.¡±


    ¡°Fuck my goose with a mallet. This is going to get ugly.¡± Terra said more to herself than anyone in the room.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for this kid,¡± Terra apologized to the Darkling on the floor. ¡°But this is going to get much, much worse before it gets better.¡± she then turned to Demierra. ¡°Get your belt between his teeth before he bites off his tongue.¡± While the Dracose ripped her belt from her paints without a second thought, the Master pressed her hands to either side of the pestilent wound. Threads of black, purple, vermillion, and magenta energy rose from her hands to wave in the air.


    The instant that Demierra shoved her belt into Iver¡¯s mouth, Terra directed the threads of myst into a complex weaving before they dove into the festering wound where they did brutal but critical work.


    Iver¡¯s back arched, bowing in a primal drive to escape the pain. That was within expectations. What wasn¡¯t within those expectations was when Iver¡¯s strength lifted Dermierra¡¯s weight off the floor from sheer strength.


    ¡°Demeirra, sedate him!¡± Terra commanded as she struggled to focus on saving the idiot¡¯s life. The Dracose gave a sharp-toothed grin, saying ¡°Gladly.¡± before punching Iver once in the head hard enough to bounce his skull off the floor more than onces. But that swift strike was enough to put out the lights of the thrashing Darkling.


    As Terra worked, the puss running from Iver¡¯s wound shifted form milky yellow to a much thinner clear liquid. That liquid was pushed from the wound at a steady rate, as if being pumped from his body. Black threads crept outward from the edges of the wound. But strangely, the wound started to contract and narrow based on the amount of Umbra Myst she injected into her spell. It was as if the wound was automatically attempting to heal, but failing. That was not a function of what her on-the-fly spell crafting had designed.


    On a hunch, Terra added threads of violet Death Myst to her spell. That normally lethal element seemed to be the key element that allowed Iver to quickly stabilize. In short order after that, Iver was set back into his bed, where he would be babysat- I mean monitored, until he awoke.


    Stepping back into my perspective, I was waking up from what I could only call poisoning of an order of magnitude above anything Thallos had done to me. That experience with my new condition was only the start of my very complicated relationship with myst elements.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    When I came back to consciousness, I found myself feeling physically sick, having moderate chest pains in time with my heartbeat, and feeling distinctly violated. I also found myself covered in a mysterious dry crust of something yellow that stank.


    I found Navor sitting at my work desk. Of all things, the Master was playing a desk sport with the spare nuts and bolts on my table from when Kharmor threw together my joint-caps. She had set up field goals across the table using pairs of bolts and was flicking nuts of various sizes through the goals.


    I gave a polite cough to notify my master and was gratified with the sight of her quickly sweeping an arm across the table to knock over her goals and scramble her field before turning to me like nothing had happened.


    ¡°I, um¡­ What happened? Was I poisoned?¡± I asked.


    Navor stood only to take a seat on the edge of my bed before she explained. ¡°In a manner of speaking, yeah.¡±


    I grit my teeth at the thought of Ozwald breaking into my medication chest and intentionally tainting what I needed to function correctly. ¡°I¡¯m going to kill him.¡± I growled.


    ¡°You¡¯re not killing anyone, kid. Noone tried to kill you with your own meds. It was a rough wakeup call to something new you¡¯re going to have to either deal with more make peace with.¡±


    ¡°Something I¡¯ll need to deal with?¡±


    Navor locked eyes with me. ¡°Iver. Life Myst doesnt work on you. The magic almost killed you, twice now, because of some unheard-of reaction.¡±


    ¡°Like cancer?!¡± I truly started to panic.


    ¡°No, no. You don¡¯t have cancer. Have you ever had an adverse reaction to Life Myst before?¡± Navor asked.


    ¡°What? No. What does that have to do with my horns? Oh, Gods! Are my horns cancer?!¡±


    ¡°Iver! Shut up, you twit and listen.¡± Navor snapped at me. ¡°Ferris told me that your horns changed in the middle of the fight and that something strange happened with your skin. When Demierra got you here, I tried to heal you. But your body treated the Life Myst like it was poison. It happened again when you dosed with your medication, but it was¡­ worse.¡±


    ¡°Worse? Wait. I have an allergy or something to Life Myst? and Worse how?¡± My mind was racing.


    In response, Navor pulled up a hollow mirror screen displaying my face and neck. ¡°Check your neck.¡± was all Navor said. When I turned and exposed my neck, I found a new scar at the crux between my neck and maimed shoulder, but not like any other scar I had collected before.


    It was a perfectly circular piece of raised scar tissue, but the skin around the scar displayed what at first glance appeared to be a black tattoo. A black ring of black vein-like tendrils around pale scarring that looked something like a black sun and pale moon in some deranged form of an eclipse.


    ¡°When you were brought in after the fight,¡± Navor started. ¡°I threw out a simple healing spell to seal the bleeding joints. That caused the tissue in those spots to rapidly rot. When you dosed, it seems that the Life Myst started acting as a rapid-necrotizing poison following the veins on the shortest route to your heart. Once was a strange occurrence, but twice is a pattern.¡±


    ¡°Then how am I not dead?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯m not entirely sure. When your limbs were the problem, Ferris tried to stop the necrosis with Death Myst of all things. He said something about a controlled burn to stop a blaze. His logic was wrong in any other situation, and by all accounts, he should¡¯ve killed you. But the Death Myst patched your stumps, like what I had intended with the healing spell. That was strange enough, but gave me enough of a hint to save you when the dosing went wrong.¡±


    ¡°So you used Death Myst to¡­ heal me from the poison?¡±


    Navor gave an indignant snort. ¡°If only it had been that simple. Ferris¡¯s flook was enough of a hint that negative elements didn¡¯t have nearly as disastrous an effect on you as others. But I had to assume that the Resonance Myst in your med was also a problem, and that¡¯s not including who-knows-what magic herbs that could¡¯ve been causing trouble. I had to pull the poison out root and stem. You¡¯re damn saint lucky that I specialize in negative elements because that operation was¡­ trouble.


    ¡°Trouble?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Damn skippy, kid. First I had to use Umbra Myst to weaken the impact of the substance on your body, which already shouldn¡¯t be an option for this kind of operation. I had to forcefully infuse the poison with Morphic Myst to override its material base to convert it into a saline solution so it wouldn¡¯t be toxic. I also had to forcefully reverse your blood flow using Distortion Myst to push the former poison before it changed back into its natural state. That heartbeat Distortion crap  was a total gamble, because that could¡¯ve killed you as much as the poison. Oh, and lets not forget that I also had to track down all traces of Life Myst and Resonance Myst in your body near the injection site and kill it using precision Ruin Myst. After all that I managed to seal your wound with Death Myst somehow. I do gotta say that forcing Death Myst through a Life Myst Spell Frame was a serious pain.¡±


    My head was spinning with that explanation. Any one of those elements she had used could have easily spelled my death. Limbs chopped off, new horns, then a Life Myst allergy that almost got me killed with my own medication only to be saved by five of six Negative Elements, each of which should¡¯ve killed me.


    My head was spinning again but for a whole other reason than poisoning this time. My life had gone through so many drastic changes in the past three years, and what felt like three dozen new developments just landed over the course of what felt like only a day or two.


    ¡°What in Pandemonium happened to me?¡± I muttered, trying to cling to my calm. ¡°What is happening to me?!¡±


    ¡°Kid, listen to what I¡¯m saying.¡± Navor began sternly. ¡°You need to find a specialist. Probably a few specialists. This must¡¯ve been caused by magic. So you¡¯re going to want to find a Mystgenist. One that specializes in Darklings or Negative Myst types. Preferably both.¡±


    ¡°Where in the nine hells am I supposed to find someone like that? Especially in the state I¡¯m in?¡±


    Navor stood up. ¡°I¡¯ll do some digging. You need to focus on getting back to fighting shape.¡±


    It was at that point the door to my room, that had been open crack pushed just a bit wider open to reveal Kharmor and Ferris standing just on the other side.


    ¡°Actually¡­¡± Kharmor spoke up as he stepped into the room alongside Ferris. ¡°Iver, you remember that book I gave you?¡±


    ¡°A new Age of Change? I, uh, Yeah.¡± Those words sounded confused, even to my own ears. ¡°I-I was reading it all night. Why?¡±


    ¡°Have you gotten to his section on splicing?¡±


    ¡°No. Again, why?¡± I asked, clearly confused at what my Half-Dwarf friend was getting at.


    ¡°Well, in that section, Lind reveals that he is not only an accomplished CyDoc and Mallorick but also a Mystgenist. He¡¯s done centuries of study into the concept and applications of genetic splicing and discussed the ethics. He goes over the ideas and theory behind changing someone¡¯s body to display physical changes, like growing scales on a Human or giving one breed of Elf traits from another breed. That was a big reason why I gave you the book after you told me about that genetic puzzle you¡¯ve got going on.¡±


    A voice spoke up from behind my two friends. ¡°Move it, rot brains, before I ject you out the room.¡± Khar and Ferris turned back before stepping into the room to let Zynna through.


    ¡°I was just coming to take my baby-sitting shift , but what¡¯s this I hear about a genetic puzzle?¡± Zynna asked.


    With a grunt of effort, I pulled myself  to the edge of my bed as I explained. ¡°I show traits from all breeds of Darkling. And I never knew my bio parents, so I neither know why I am this way nor what I should be. But while those answers would be great, first, what is this guck all over me? You said that you had to eject the poison from me so that means this is¡­¡±


    ¡°Yep.¡± Zynna said with a mix of disgust an amusement. ¡°Puss. Lots and lots of dried puss.¡±


    I gave a look of revolution and horror at the news. ¡°You just put me in my bed, covered in puss. You didn¡¯t even bother to hose me down like a cheap car?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ No.¡± Ferris said in embarrassment.


    ¡°Hey, I¡¯ve done my quota of spunge bathing this lunatic.¡± Kharmor said in defense as he raise his hands in a ¡®hands off¡¯ gesture.


    ¡°So your telling me, that your going to leave this fifty-percent of a man to clean his sheets freshly after almost dying not once but at least two or three times?¡±


    Zynna scoffed, folded her arms, and clicked her tongue as she took a defiant stance. ¡°More like fifty percent of what might be called a boy. You don¡¯t have enough body or hair to be a man. And if you think I¡¯m playing nanny and doing your laundry, you¡¯re diluted.¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡± I groused. ¡°I¡¯ll deal with that problem later. But first, what this Lind guy have to do with my current situation?¡±


    As Kharmor continued his explination, he became more animated, clearly feeling like he had an idea that would work. ¡°I was just getting there. A fair chunk of that section discusses the ethics of splicing and mutating an infant before it is born. Which I think might pertain to you. But it also talks about how you can alter someone¡¯s myst affinities to change a Mage from one class to another. He reviews the side effects of altering their Affinity Ratio. That¡¯s the big thing I think will help with this predicament. Some of the side effects that are fairly common in people who have had this procedure done suffer from both physical and personality changes. Between his astounding understanding of genetics and how myst can permanently alter the body, I think you should talk with him about this. You were already planning on seeing him about cybernetics because he lives in the city, right?¡±


    ¡°I, uh, yeah.¡± I answered, stunned by how I could get answers to dozens of questions I had about myself from someone I was quickly growing to idolize.


    ¡°That settles it.¡± Navor stated. She pointed to me. ¡°When you are fit enough in mind and body, I want you to go see this Lind person. I will also flip the bill for some basic cybernetics for you. I just need the costs.¡± She pointed to Kharmor. ¡°I want you to help him to get to this CyDoc-Mystgenist person.¡±


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡± He answered.


    ¡°Screw it.¡± I said as I tried to stand. ¡°I need answers.¡± I turned to Kharmor. ¡°Is the prosthetic foot you mentioned ready?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Want me to install it right now?¡±


    ¡°After a quick shower, but yes.¡± I resolutely confirmed.


    ¡°And Iver.¡± Navor started to regain my attention. ¡°No more of that medication. Got it?¡±


    I-I¡­Yeah.¡± I reluctantly answered.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what?¡± Navor said in passive threat.


    ¡°I mean, yes ma¡¯am.¡± I hurried to correct.


    I¡¯ll skip over the mounting process of attaching the false limb. But after about an hour''s worth of fitting and adjusting, I was as ready to walk the streets as I could be. After I had a moderately functional foot, I looked up where I would find this Lind guy¡¯s shop. After I found the destination, I called Teefa to pick us up. While I waited for our ride, I read Lind¡¯s book. The book was a momentary crutch for me, knowing that I could never use my medication again. I really did not want to think about what that meant for my future. So I escaped into A New Age of Change.


    During the ride, I continued to read and only barely gave poor Teefa the most basic interaction I could spare. I was dimly aware that the Ceangar order agent gave me her condolences about my missing limbs and her failure to get us to safety. She rambled on for a solid several minutes about the events and her role in them. But Kharmor, who rode with me, politely explained that I was studying the concepts of advanced cybernetics I wanted installed after that trip. After that, Teefa kept quiet, which I was immensely grateful for. I¡¯m sure anyone who has tried to read a book while on public transport can relate to my situation.


    I will not lie. What that book held within its pages held me so tight that I might as well have been the very ink on those pages. Molecular cybernetic muscle fibers bound together as a single entity. Rapid synaptic echo response, allowing for the limbs to act as naturally as an actual organic limb. Those were only two of the concepts that I read over the course of that trip that I was hooked on like a starving fish at the end of a reel. I dug so deep into that book that I might as well have been a fevered mole burrowing so deep into the earth that I found the molten core of Anogwin.


    Lind¡¯s shop wasn¡¯t far from my home base, only eight blocks from the house. I hobbled from the AV without even looking up from my book, Kharmor guiding me along the way as my nose remained buried in the book so deep I could smell the ink like a drug.


    I was vaguely aware of Kharmor helping me through a door into some kind of shop. My Dwarven friend let go of my arm as a smooth male voice spoke up.


    ¡°Can I help you, young men?¡±


    Kharmor spoke on my behalf. ¡°My friend here wants to speak with the shop owner about getting some new limbs.¡±


    I silently gave a nod of agreement as I turned the page to start on a section about the limitations of the mortal mind regarding cybernetics because of the synaptic response rate. I had only gotten two paragraphs in when I heard the same smooth male voice speak. ¡°Ah. I see I have a fan of my work. How are you liking my theories?¡±


    My head snapped up to find the speaker after I registered what he had just said. What I found was a true shock. An Elf unlike anything I had ever even heard of. The Elven man who stood behind the service counter was what I would call an obvious High Elf. His ears were impressively long, reaching six and a half inches from lobe to tip. That meant he could only have been a pure-blood High Elf. His long hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail and was so white that even High Elf nobles would have to step down to grant him the highest position. That hair was so white it almost seemed to glow even in the dim light of the shop. But unlike any Elf I had ever known, this man¡¯s skin was the deepest, darkest black. His pristine skin wasn¡¯t the black of anyone I had ever seen. This wasn¡¯t the dark brown bordering on black that could be found in any species with bare skin. This black was so deep I would have thought that this man was cut and shaped from the night sky and stripped of every star. I quickly found those missing stars when he smiled at me in amusement.

 PITM Chapter 28

    Where Albinism is the near-total absence of pigment in a creature¡¯s skin, hair, and/or eyes, Melanism is an over-saturation of melanin, causing a creature¡¯s skin, hair, and/or eyes to appear coal black. Melansim among High Elves is a cultural stigma that borders on taboo. While Melanism is rare among High Elves, most High Elf parents that conceive a child with the condition will have it killed.


    This midnight-nightmare-skinned Elf was sharply dressed in an open chest vest of deep purple with silver detail under a lab coat stained in a range of fluids of all colors. Below that sharp vest and mad scientist¡¯s coat, he wore a crisp pair of black slacks and a pair of black leather dress shoes that were just as sharp as his vest. I might have been the only person to notice that his pants and shoes bore the marks of chemical stains so dark that they almost blended in with the fabric, but I recognized those off-reflective sheens that only a craftsman collected while hard at work.


    When I drew my eyes back up to his face I found a kind and knowing smile painted on a remarkably handsome face. Set within that face were eyes just as stunning as his skin. Irises that I could only explain and vibrant amethyst crystals set into sclera red so deep they could¡¯ve been blood garnets. Those eyes seemed to hold a deep intelligence paired with a sad kindness that spoke to untold years of poor treatment paired with a desire to make the world a better place.


    ¡°I¡­uh.¡± I stammered.


    ¡°Iver.¡± Kharmor snapped at me in a harsh whisper.


    ¡°Yeah!¡± I started. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sir. But, are you Mr. Lind Dragh?¡±


    The Elf gentleman flashed me a wide, amused smile as he set a hand on the counter in front of him. ¡°Please, just call me Lind. So, I need to ask, what do you think of my novel?¡±


    ¡°I¡­uh¡­ It¡¯s good.¡±


    ¡°Good?¡± Lind asked with a knowing smirk.


    ¡°Good?¡± Kharmor accused.


    ¡°Sorry!¡± I blurted as I snapped into a rail-rod straight pose. ¡°I think your work is amazing Mr. Lind.¡±


    Lind leaned forward, propping his chin in his hand as he continued to give me a knowing grin. ¡°Really? What do you think is so amazing?¡±


    I might not have had the sharpest social skills, but I knew when someone was testing me. ¡°Well¡­um¡­ I don¡¯t know where to start. Your philosophy on cybernetic adaptation is¡­ well... life-changing. I¡¯ve been scared of getting any form of drastic cybernetic work done because I¡¯ve been terrified of losing who I am. But your concept of self-improvement through mechanical augmentation is revolutionary.¡±


    ¡°Is that it?¡± Lind teased. Looking back at it now, he must¡¯ve known that I was a fanboy because of this teasing.


    ¡°No, no, no. I really want to know more about this bio-synthetic cybernetic theory.¡± As I continued into an impassioned rant, I wildly gestured with my lone hand, the book still in my grip. ¡°The thought of using nano-fiber mechanical muscle threads to replicate organic muscle movement is astounding. Oh! And your idea of a direct link to severed nerve lines with micro-electric receptors to reduce the energy taxation on the cybernetic is incredible. That alone should reduce the Resonance Myst energy draw of the limb by at least eighty percent, if not more. But, that would have to be adjusted if modifications are added to the new limb beyond the standard function of the organic mechanical component. I mean, I¡¯m sure many people who would have this kind of operation done would want some form of mechanical alteration made of the replacement limb. Thruster heels for a foot, integrated sidearm in a forearm, that kind of thing would have a strong modifying variable on the added limb. Or an A-symmetric limb replacement would also have additional variables. A new arm with three times the muscle capacity of the original limb would have to be adjusted for, obviously.¡±


    ¡°Iver!¡± Kharmor hissed at me. ¡°Shut up. You¡¯re gushing.¡±


    ¡°Oh! Sorry.¡± I bashfully mumbled before shutting my mouth out of embarrassment and locking my eyes on the floor.


    ¡°He¡¯s fine. I¡¯m honestly surprised that someone as young as you can understand my theory and philosophy so clearly. Your name is Iver?¡±


    I have an energetic nod without looking up. ¡°Yes, sir. Iver Maverick.¡±


    ¡°Well, young Master Maverick. How about you follow me to the back room, and we can discuss what you need?¡± As Lind spoke, he turned away and made his way toward a door at the rear of the room, waving for me to follow.


    ¡°Want me to come with you?¡± Kharmor asked nervously.


    ¡°I¡­ I think I¡¯ll be fine.¡± I gave Kharmor a parting wave, book still in-hand. as I hobbled to follow Lind as fast as I could.


    It was only then that I took note of the room. The front room was a perfectly square space with display cases on each and every wall showing a wide range of cybernetics. At the standard waist level of each wall was an angled table that displayed the details of each limb displayed.


    I followed Lind through a door into the back room, and I nearly fainted from what I saw. The so-called ¡®backroom¡¯ spanned eighty feet in every direction. A single work table spanned the entire perimeter of the entire room, complete with component drawers, tool racks, and more, so much, much more. Spaced throughout the room were crafting stations for everything, and I mean everything. Woodwork, metalwork, electrical work, circuit board design stations, a Full Body Scanning Apparatus station, a Bio-Integration And Genetic Breakdown station, I even spotted a nano-fundament crafting station.


    The room I had just entered was a dream come true. If I had unfettered access to everything in that room, I could¡¯ve made anything I could¡¯ve imagined and I would push my imagination to the limit just to test what that room held. I wanted to work in that space so badly I was almost drooling.


    ¡°Come in, come in.¡± Lind invited me with a grand wave of his hand. ¡°I am more than happy to provide my services to someone who understands my work.¡±


    I staggered farther into the room, ogling the space like it was a prize of a thousand platinum. My reaction would likely have been the same for any other boy my age if he had StarLyght super model wearing almost nothing flirting with him. But anyone reading this needs to keep in mind that I was not a standard teenage boy. At that point in my life, I would have chosen that room over marriage with anyone, even a StarLyght Model.


    When I finally looked back to Lind, I found the Elf wearing a broad and joyful grin. ¡°Honestly, I  can¡¯t say how happy I am to find someone as dedicated to the craft as I am. So take a seat,¡± He gestured with a sweep of his hand toward an operating chair. ¡°And let¡¯s talk about what you need.¡±


    As I stumbled forward, struggling to keep my balance with my false foot as I spoke. ¡°Well, I need a bit more help from you than just cybernetics.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Lind asked. ¡°What do you need?¡±


    So, I told him the abbreviated version of my story. I explained how I never knew my parents, but I have traits of each Darkling breed. I cut out most of the details about how I lost my limbs, but I mentioned the strange recent issue with Life Myst.


    ¡°Well, your situation does sound quite curious. Let¡¯s take a few scans from my FSA and continue talking so I can get a bit more perspective.¡± As Lind spoke, he took a seat on a wheeled stool while he operated a computer terminal.


    So I crawled onto the examination table and let the half-moon scanner run up and down my body, as I talked about my skin pattern, eye color, pupil shape, and so on. I might have gone into more detail than was strictly necessary, but Lind didn¡¯t seem to have any issue with what I explained.


    ¡°Well, Iver, have you heard of the concept of Gene Babies?¡± Lind asked.


    ¡°Gene Babies?¡± I echoed in question.


    ¡°Well, the concept has plenty of names. The Changed, The Altered, Change Borne, Altered Kin, Shift Kin, and so on.¡± Lind listed off each of these terms like he was reading from a grocery list.


    ¡°No.¡± I answered.


    I looked over to my doctor to find him typing away at his keyboard with a rapidfire rhythm as he continued. ¡°Well, actually, it¡¯s pretty interesting. It¡¯s covered in the book you have, and I would love your perspective on it, given your situation.¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    ¡°What?¡±


    Lind gave an amused snort before asking, ¡°Are you aware of the concept of genetic splicing?¡±


    ¡°Uh, yeah. It¡¯s when someone has their genetic makeup infused with gene code from an animal. Right?¡±


    ¡°Put simply, yes. The ethics of splicing has been a hot debate for a while now. The big question is are you still you if you become part animal?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t know.¡± I answered honestly.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry.¡± Lind said. ¡°Most people have the same stance as you. There are signs that splicing causes alterations to the subject¡¯s personality and mentality. But standard splicing is legal because it is the choice of the individual. But what about splicing a fetus while they are developing in the womb?


    ¡°That can¡¯t be okay.¡± I stated.


    ¡°That is what many people say. Because that fetus can¡¯t decide for itself if it wants the change, anything after the process is generally considered a product of gene-hybrid nature. Well, Gene Babies, or whatever you want to call them, are the product of that process. And I think you are one of those results.¡±


    I sat up with a start to stare at the Elf. ¡°You¡¯re saying I¡¯m a Splice Baby?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ Yes. But from these gene markers, it seems more complicated than that.¡±


    I fell back into my seat, covering my eyes with my forearm. ¡°By the Fragments, I¡¯m a monster.¡±


    There was a long moment of silence before Lind spoke again. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t call you a monster. But you are definitely an anomaly.¡±


    ¡°Anomaly.¡± I echoed with a bladed tone of spite directed at myself.


    ¡°Yes.¡± Lind replied as if he had not noticed my tone. ¡°It¡¯s not necessarily a bad thing. It¡¯s just that¡­¡± Lind trailed off as I watched him lean in closer to his computer screen, scrutinizing the readings he had gathered from the FSA.


    ¡°It¡¯s just that what?¡± I asked, my voice showing my panic.


    ¡°Well, it''s that I don¡¯t see any errors in your gene code. So whoever put you together was definitely an expert.¡±


    ¡°Put my together!?¡± At that point, I truly started to panic. I did not want to be some DNA cocktail monster.


    ¡°Calm down, Iver. From what I¡¯m reading, you are¡­ well¡­ perfect.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I asked, my voice clearly reflecting my obvious denial of the statement. How in Pandemonium could I be perfect? I had more mental problems than I even wanted to think of shaking a stick at. I made mistakes so terrible that I had gotten people killed. Even just physically, my body was flawed, not just because of the missing limbs, but also that hashwork of scars that covered my skin from the chest down.


    ¡°Look, boy. From these readings, your genetic makeup has been tailored down to the last cell. Honestly, these readings are astounding. Whoever put you together was beyond a master of genetics. I¡¯m seeing gene markers for not only all four Darkling breeds but something else¡ªpossibly more than one something. Your horns are new, right?¡±


    I subconsciously reached up to touch one of my horns as I answered with a nervous, ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°That makes sense. The readings from your horns are registering as almost completely new cell structures. But I¡¯m not understanding a large piece of this. Your horns should not have developed as quickly as the readings are showing. Did something happen?¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­ Yeah¡­ Kinda.¡± So, I explained the situation that led up to my severed limbs as best as I could remember while cutting out any details about the Regulators.


    ¡°Ah, so that¡¯s how you lost your arm and foot.¡± Lind said as he wheeled his stool over to me. He continued speaking as he closely and systematically examined the stumps of my severed limbs, my skin at several points of my body, my eyes, and my horns. ¡°You mentioned that you entered a strange mental state and that things got, and to use your words, ¡®weird¡¯. I don¡¯t suppose that you¡¯re a Hecatomb?¡±


    ¡°A what?¡± I asked.


    ¡°A Hecatomb. It¡¯s a very rare type of Mage that uses their blood as their spell focus and have a dangerous degree of control over blood in their near vicinity.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I asked in confusion. ¡°I¡¯ve always been told that I¡¯m a Myst-Blooded. Is that the same thing?¡±


    With my question, Lind sat back and looked at me for a long moment without saying anything before finally asking, ¡°You¡¯re a member of the Hermetic Order of The Aegis, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    I forced myself up, propped by my elbow. ¡°You know The Order?¡±


    ¡°Of course I do.¡± Lind said with a dismissive wave of his hand. ¡°I was part of The Order for a while. I left the organization because of¡­ philosophical differences.¡±


    ¡°What kind of differences?¡± I wearily asked.


    ¡°Their whole mission is to save as many lives as possible, regardless of the price. Personally, I think that throwing any life away is too high of a price. Every life has immense value and near-infinite potential. I left the Order so I could make a difference my own way. I started my own company and am making my own way through the world to improve things.¡±


    ¡°How did you know I was a member of The Order of the Aegis?¡±


    ¡°Earlier, you cursed using the phrase ¡®by the Fragments¡¯. That was clue number one. Then you said that you know your classification as Myst-Blooded. That is a very outdated term only used by the oldest and most secretive organizations.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± I asked. ¡°You called me a Hecatomb. Is that the modern term?¡±


    Lind wobbled his head from side to side in a ¡®kinda yes, kinda no¡¯ fashion. ¡°Just like the Shiftborne term, your Mage class has a lot of term titles because of how rare your kind is. I¡¯ve heard your kind called Bloodletters, Gore Hunters, Morbidity Mages, Crimson Avengers, and even Hemomancers. Honestly, what you call yourself in either of these topics in entirely up to you. But I ask because your genetic code¡­ It seems tailor-made for your Mage class.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Well, let¡¯s start with that state you entered in the middle of the fight. That is an ability exclusive to your class called Blood Rage. Did anything else involving blood happen?¡±


    ¡°Uh, yeah. Thinking about it, I somehow controlled my own blood. I used it as a shield and as a weapon.¡±


    Lind nodded at my words. ¡°That would be the ability, Total Blood Control. Both of those abilities require relatively high skill to work smoothly. And it sounds like you tapped into both at a subconscious level. And I¡¯m guessing that the horns changed in the middle of the fight. Am I right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I think so.¡± I said as I touched one of my horns with the tips of my fingers again.


    ¡°That explains a bit of it.¡± Lind said as he wheeled back to his computer terminal to review the readings.


    ¡°Explains what?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Well, this is going to be hard to explain without getting excessively technical.¡± Lind started. He read from his screen for a few more moments before wheeling back over to me, slapping his hands against his thighs. ¡°So, let''s start with the fact that you¡¯re a Gene Baby. Whoever made you, and I do mean made, puzzled your genes together from several sources and modified them to fit together cleanly and almost seamlessly. A simple analogy for your gene structure is like a zipper.¡¯


    ¡°A zipper?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Lind started making hand motions to help him elaborate as he explained. If either side of a zipper is genetic code from one source each, then your maker found a way to add that zipper centerpiece to mesh the different genes together so cleanly that I¡¯m not sure exactly what all makes you up right now. If what my readings say is correct, you do have a mother, because a single egg was used to develop you. That much is clear. But as far as your father is concerned¡­ I think that you have at least three fathers from several species and likely another mother.¡±


    ¡°Several fathers?!¡± I exclaimed. ¡°So I¡¯m not just a Darkling with Human or Elf genetics?¡±


    ¡°Correct.¡± Lind stated calmly.


    My jaw dropped as I tried to process this information. I didn¡¯t have just one father. I had multiple fathers. What did that mean?


    ¡°Wait. What about the second mother thing? And how do I have traits from all the Darkling breeds?¡±


    Lind took a long breath through closed teeth before slowly letting out the air. He was clearly thinking, ¡°I think those questions have the same answer.¡±


    I stared with a slack jaw and half-closed eyes at the midnight-skinned Elf as I tried to figure out what he was trying to say. Before I could construct the question I was trying to puzzle together, Lind continued.


    ¡°So, without getting too deep into details that I doubt will make any sense to you, let me make this simple. You do have a second mother. This person somehow has very potent genes from some kind of devil, some kind of demon, some kind of drude, and some kind of oni. I don¡¯t know how any of that is possible. And to add to this, there are additional gene markers from something that I have never seen before. It¡¯s not genetics from any Sophic Species, Bellicose Species, monster, or animal I have ever seen. Because of the gene markers from that parent, your body is periodically going to excessively rapid changes. Your new horns are only one part of that. Your body¡¯s reaction to Life Myst to heal you is another.¡±


    ¡°What? How does the failed healing thing work into all of this?¡±


    Lind leaned forward and locked eyes with me. ¡°I saw your affinity ratio. Having flat zeros in all Lumina Elements should not be possible. At least not for anything that is living or not from another plane of existence. But you are this way. You are a living creature, native to Anogwin, and you are this way.¡± Lind threw himself to wheel backwards, spinning as he went. ¡°You are an anomaly of the rarest kind. And you are astoundingly clever for your age.¡±


    ¡°Clever?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yes!¡± Lind shot to his feet hard enough to send his stool spinning away as he stretched his arms wide. ¡°Iver, I know Humans three times your age that don¡¯t comprehend what is in my book. Hells, I know CyDocs and Mystgenists who don¡¯t understand what I wrote in those pages. My boy, you might very well be a genius unmatched by anyone of your age and even generations older.¡±


    I stared at Lind for a long few moments with skeptical eyes before I threw my legs over the edge of the table to hang near the floor. ¡°I¡¯m sorry Mr.Lind. But I¡¯m not a genius. I might have a streak of cleverness, but I¡¯m stupid. Anyone could craft anything I¡¯ve made if they needed to make it. Maybe I¡¯m better with my hands than most, but I¡¯m no genius. I couldn¡¯t split an atom if I was given all the tools of the megacorps and years¡¯ worth of work.¡±


    Lind scoffed at me with a dismissive wave of his hand. ¡°I know master scientists that couldn¡¯t split an atom with decades of work. That example holds about as much solidity as a sieve full of water. But I have an offer for you.¡±


    ¡°An offer?¡± I asked.

 PITM Chapter 29

    The term Hecatomb is an ancient, antiquated term that originally defined a mass sacrifice in the name of one or more beings of terrifying power. These terrible acts that could wipe out entire cities in a single night were almost always done to appease some dark power. A lich, a demon lord, a devil king, or even dark Gods or malevolent Titans are only a few of the beings that have attempted hecatombs or offered one for a great favor. The term Hecatomb shifted to an alternate name for a Myst-Blooded after one truly vile individual performed a hecatomb to become an immortal of truly terrifying power. This act was performed in the early Age of Hungry Iron, killing an entire nation. That individual had their identity stricken from all records, only known as the Malevolent Hecatomb of Scarlet Midnight.


    Lind and I discussed his offer for almost two hours. His offer was astounding. He would craft me basic but high-quality cybernetics so I could get back to daily function. On top of that, he would help me design and craft replacement limbs that were not cutting edge, but experimental, bleeding edge technology. What did he ask in exchange? Even that was a bonus for me. He wanted me to act as a paid live-in assistant and student in my downtime. He even offered me transport not just around the city but to and from the academy. But he was firm on the requirement that I keep his identity and appearance quiet around any full Order members out of fear of bad blood.


    We continued to talk as Lind fitted me with the temporary limbs. I lay on a reclined operating table on my stomach, my shoulder joint, back and chest numbed, while Lind worked. He had recommended that I take full sedation because his work was going to be gruesome. I blatantly refused because I wanted to learn as much about the process as I could. I regretted that choice.


    I could feel a dull tugging and pushing sensation on my back, and I did not like thinking about what he was doing. So, I held a discussion with Lind because I was brimming with questions.


    ¡°How do you know so much about Myst-Bloo-? Sorry. Hecatombs?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Simple.¡± Lind said as I felt a harder tug than normal. ¡°Studying your class¡¯s magic system was the natural choice for me to understand the fundamentals of magic seamlessly integrating with a living body.¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t you¡¯ve just studied in-depth body-based Resonance Myst mechanics? That is the magic used along with Lumina Myst to enhance and boost a body¡¯s function.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a part of the whole. And your type of magic is a very large piece of the puzzle of my study. Resonance Myst study is an excellent starting point for understanding how myst can augment a body and act as a simple extension of it. But Hecatombs¡¯ blood control and using blood as a spell focus can be added to that.¡±


    ¡°So, could you help me train in my class?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯ve only learned basic spell theory, and I¡¯ve put it to good use. But I¡¯ve had no training in any abilities.¡±


    Let me give a quick explanation for those of you without an Adventurer class. All classes have unique tricks, techniques, and/or equipment known as abilities. This is actually the origin of how the term because regularly used in the gaming community. An example of this that you may have picked up on earlier in the story was when Demierra was fighting alongside me against the Regulators. She had used the two variations of the Flame Javelin ability. She also used the Volt Step Cowl ability. Abilities function differently from standard magic, but we can get into that at a later time.


    ¡°I could if you think you need it.¡± Lind said in a lax tone.


    I reflexively tried to sit up in excitement. But Lind rested a hand on the back of my head to stop me. His hand had no pushing strength or weight, but it was as immovable as if I was trying to push a building. ¡°Don¡¯t, move.¡± he said sternly.


    ¡°Sorry.¡± I bashfully muttered, aware that if he hadn¡¯t stopped me from moving, something could have gone horribly wrong.


    ¡°I¡¯m in the middle of pinning your muscle so I can mount it to the new limb after I¡¯m done severing the bone.¡± Lind said offhandedly as he went back to work.


    ¡°Sever¡­bone?¡±


    ¡°Iver, boy, don¡¯t be a buffoon. If you want a new arm, you¡¯re going to need to have your shoulder blade, clavicle, and such removed and replaced. I can¡¯t just meld bone and metal if you want anything to perform right. But back to the topic at hand. I¡¯m guessing you want my help training.¡±


    ¡°Y-yes.¡± I stammered. ¡°You¡¯ve mentioned things like Blood Rage and Total Blood Control, but I have no idea what any of it means.¡±


    I heard Lind take a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh just before I heard something heavy land in the metal pan on the tool table beside us. I looked over and experienced a stomach flip. My eyes locked onto the operating pan, which I was vaguely aware was called an emesis basin, where I found a shoulder blade¡ªmy shoulder blade¡ªmy scapula.


    ¡°To start, let me make this clear. Those abilities you used shouldn¡¯t be accessible until an Elite Adventurer rank at the earliest. Blood Rage and Total Blood Control are very dangerous abilities, and if it gets out that you can use them without the required rank, you could find yourself in a heap of legal trouble. To be fair, the fact that you innately tapped into those abilities says a large amount about your aptitude. But six of one and half a dozen of another, we will need to tailor things accordingly.¡±


    ¡°I, uh.¡± my mind was totally blank at the sight of my removed bone.


    ¡°Focus, kid.¡± Lind scolded. ¡°You were the one that wanted to stay awake.¡±


    I refocused on the Elf. ¡°Yeah. Sorry.¡±


    ¡°Do you think that you could replicate the abilities in a stable state of mind?¡±


    ¡°I- I honestly couldn¡¯t say.¡±


    Lind gave a single nod. ¡°Then we will start with the fundamentals. To start with, the more powerful you grow, the less blood you will need to cast spells and use abilities. You can also use the blood of other people and creatures for your abilities but not for your spells. You will need to keep this in mind.¡±


    ¡°Got it.¡± I affirmed.


    ¡°That is the basic theory behind your class. Now, a simple ability I think you should be able to use is called Blood Weapon. Put simply, you draw on blood to create a simple weapon. It could be a dagger, a club, or anything along those parameters, as long as it is a simple, one-handed melee weapon. After you gain enough skill, you should be able to increase the solidity of the weapon, form something more complicated, or form two weapons at once.¡±


    I was still thinking about how I could use the Blood Weapon trick when Lind went into the spell theory of the ability, and I quickly set my therra to take recorded notes on everything he said. The principles were simple enough. The BindRunes were simple. Body, Blood, Lock, Hold, Trigger, and a melee weapon shape such as Blade, Lance, or Blunt. Lind went into the mechanical methods beyond the BindRunes, and I was reasonably sure that I could use the whole lesson as a springboard into something more advanced.


    After that ability theory was covered, I asked for more, and without hesitation, Lind dived straight into the abilities of the Sanguin Spear and Scarlet Strike. I focused on the studies with all I had, to ignore the knowledge that Lind was removing my acromion bone, or what was left of it. He had to flay the stump of my shoulder and more to get to the bones he needed to remove.


    When Lind knew I could see what he was doing, he took a break from ability studies to explain what he was doing. As he systematically removed skin and tissue, he applied a temporary coagulant and pinned any arteries and large veins shut to stop me from bleeding out. The Quik-Klot substance was critical to any cybernetic work to keep the subject alive. The powder was also used on severe battlefield wounds to keep the individual alive long enough to get to a doctor or healer.


    It became much harder to focus when he started operating on my collarbone. With a scalpel so near my neck, carving me up like a holiday ham, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a deep terror of a slip of the hand that would end all that I was. Lind seemed to notice this, so he changed topics back to Hecatomb abilities. He explained the concept and formula for much more advanced abilities in an effort to keep me distracted. He explained Blood Rage and Total Blood Control. Lind told me not to expect total understanding until I was much more experienced. But he did tell me to think and theorize on the mechanics of the abilities for as long as I could while he worked.


    Blood Rage was an advanced ability that dulled pain and could have one of two effects. Either I could thicken my blood and harden my body to reduce damage. Or I could thin my blood and suffer extra blood loss but gain a large amount of fuel for my abilities and spells. If I could figure out how to use this ability, I could use it to devastating effect.


    Hemo Spike was a purely offensive ability. I could turn any blood within range into an instant but momentary weapon. That was another ability that I could use as a game-changer if I played it right.


    I took continuous deep breaths as I systematically thought through each of the advanced abilities. I sorted out the BindRune formulas, the myst and blood required for each, the repercussions, and the drawbacks. When I asked about the Total Blood Control ability, Lind said I should totally avoid attempting it until I was a much higher rank.


    By the time I was done thinking through every possible variable of the two advanced abilities, I had totally missed Lind installing the bound synth-fibers to my severed muscles and mounting the joint apparatus on my shoulder. The synth-fibers were shockingly advanced for what he called basic.


    As he mounted the actual arm to my shoulder, my nerves were shocked with a burst of sensation. My missing arm, which had been numb to my senses aside from a dull throbbing, burst with enough tactile feeling to overload my mind for a few seconds. My world went white, and my limbs all tensed, including my new arm, as if a massive current of electricity was run through my body.


    When I regained my senses, Lind was pinning me to the floor with both hands. Despite the fact that I had been face down on the table for the entire operation, aside from some adjusting when he was working on my collarbone, I had somehow ended up on the floor beside the table, lying on my stomach.


    Lind flipped me over onto my back, and what I found was a controlled disaster. Blood covered everything within an eight-foot radius around the table I was originally lying on. Anything made from wood or glass was splintered or shattered. Anything made of metal was either scattered, shattered, or dented.


    When I looked down at my shirtless body, I found a nightmare. Cuts ranging in size from something that might have been caused by paper to what could¡¯ve been mistaken for dagger slashes covered every inch of skin, openly bleeding. My pants were shredded and blood-stained. My chest and remaining arm were slashed at every large vein and seeping blood.


    ¡°What- what happened?¡± My tone was a mix of pleading, shock, and panic.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°Honestly, kid, I¡¯m not sure.¡± Lind said as he looked around the room. Even his clothes were slashed and stained in blood, but his skin beneath seemed unharmed. But given the near-devastation beside me, his state was a just-as-near miracle. Given the state of the metal item near me, Lind should¡¯ve been carved up like a pack of Servotex beasts had mauled him.


    ¡°This must have something to do with your volatile reaction to Life Myst.¡± Lind said as he stroked his chin like nothing dangerous had occurred. ¡°I used a Life Myst-based cream to heal your surgical wounds. The act was an automatic reflex. I didn¡¯t even think about your condition.¡±


    ¡°Wha- What do you mean?¡± I demanded.


    Lind locked eyes with me. ¡°Iver, I think because of your strange genetic makeup, your body has a very strong reaction when myst is used on you. You mentioned that Life Myst had never caused you any problems before. Am I correct?¡±


    ¡°Well, Y-yes.¡± I stuttered. ¡°But I may have neglected to mention a life-threatening reaction to Life Myst medicine not long ago.¡±


    ¡°A life-threatening reaction?¡± I could hear the anger in his tone. ¡°Elaborate. Now.¡±


    It was then that I panicked and gushed out a convoluted explanation of the medication mishap. My explanation made little sense to even myself, but Lind seemed to follow along with no issue.


    ¡°Well, I think that those unknown genes in your system are the source of all of these strange results. I think your body is evolving.¡±


    ¡°Evolving?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yes.¡± Lind answered simply. ¡°But given the reactions thus far, I can¡¯t say that they are all good. I think after the adverse physical and physiological trauma you suffered, your body will now react¡­ violently to any Positive Elements.¡±


    ¡°Violently, how?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Well, I just tried to use Life Myst on you. That had a rather¡­ Adverse reaction. You mentioned that when your friends tried to heal you with the same element, it caused some kind of poisoning, correct?


    ¡°Y-yes. And then the medication thing.¡± I numbly answered.


    ¡°Did Fate Myst have any effect on you?¡±


    ¡°No. Or at least, that¡¯s what two of my instructors said.¡± I answered.


    ¡°What about Lumina Myst?¡± Lind asked.


    ¡°They just told me it wouldn¡¯t have any effect.¡±


    ¡°Well, I would not attempt or accept any spells or abilities that have any Positive Elements intended to alter someone¡¯s body or mind.¡±


    I gave a silent nod, feeling numb to the idea that almost half of the elements that made up the world were toxic to me. I couldn¡¯t help but feel isolated. Fate, Synthesis, Stasis, Life, Lumina, and Resonance Myst¡­ they all were likely toxic to me. I had already been having a hard time dealing with the fact that I was someone who only wanted to create and help with magic but couldn¡¯t. How could I create anything to help others when the only magic I had access to was Negative? Dark, hateful, dangerous, hostile elements. Chaos Myst changed chance and only caused problems for most. Ruin Myst was only good for living up to the name by destroying anything it came into contact with. Death Myst only killed or toyed with souls. Umbra Myst was only used to curse and hurt. Distortion Myst was more dangerous than not if used wrongly on anyone or anything. The only one that wasn¡¯t outright evil at a glance as Morphic Myst, but that drastically mutated things for a limited time, which could be just as dangerous as any of the other Negative Elements, if not more so. Now, I was told that any element that could help others was toxic to me. I was a danger. A danger to myself. And given what had just happened while under the knife, I was a serious danger to others.


    I had already killed someone in a fit of berserk rage and carved off my own foot. Was I a threat? Was I unstable? I already needed medication to maintain some form of stable mindset, and that medication was now lethal to me. I was already worried that I was crazy for needing medication. But I couldn¡¯t take my meds. Was I doomed to be a monster? Not the ghoul kind of monster, but the sophic kind. Would I become a serial killer? Would I lose control of myself? Lose my morality? What would happen if that darkness devoured me whole?


    I gritted my teeth and threw those thoughts aside. I needed to focus. After a short period of thinking, I locked eyes with Lind, who had been patiently waiting for me.


    ¡°I want you to sever my remaining foot.¡± I said in a voice hardened with forged steel.


    ¡°What?!¡± Lind exclaimed.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sir. But you heard me. I want you to cut off my foot. And don¡¯t use any clotting agent or anesthetic.¡±


    ¡°Iver, have you lost your mind?¡± Lind snapped.


    My stoic mask fell off as I gave him a nervous and half-delirious look. ¡°I can¡¯t definitively say no. And I do have worries.¡± I hardened my resolve and put my stoic face back on. ¡°But, I think I need to go through this. No crutches. No unneeded help. If you won¡¯t take the foot, then I will do it myself. Give me a bone saw.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Lind pressed. ¡°No. No. No.¡± He repeated, waving his hands in firm and total denial. ¡°Half of me wants to drop you in a padded room with a shrink. In part because you¡¯re expecting me to cleave off your remaining foot, then clean up your mess and give you a new foot.¡±


    ¡°People see Cy-Doc every day to have a limb replaced. This isn¡¯t any different. If it¡¯s the pay, then you can tack on another few years to my servitude contract.¡±


    Lind massaged his brow in exasperation. ¡°First, please don¡¯t call it a servitude contract. Second, the pay isn¡¯t the issue. It''s the no-sedative bit. That goes against the medical doctoral Vow of Aid: harm none who seek aid.¡±


    ¡°Even if I¡¯m asking for it? If it sweetens the pot, think about this: you¡¯ll save those drugs for someone who might really need it. You could also think about how much money you¡¯ll save on the gas you won¡¯t use on me.¡±


    ¡°And you are aware that I can¡¯t use Life Myst to mend you, correct? You did just go through your second poisoning with the element in the same day. I¡¯d rather not actually kill you, even if you are that stupid. You are a remarkable specimen and seem very talented.¡± Lind said. I could hear in his tone that I was turning to my side.


    ¡°Navor did mention that Death Myst seemed to mend me. I have no idea what that could mean. But it sounds promising.¡±


    ¡°Fine, fine. I¡¯m not your father and can¡¯t tell you no. Especially after what you¡¯ve been through. And if you didn¡¯t learn the lesson the first time, I¡¯m not one to stop education through experience. But if I think you¡¯re about to die, I am taking steps to prevent that outcome. I will not let you die on my watch.¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡± I stated.


    ¡°Can I ask why you want this?¡±


    ¡°This project, if you will, has several goals.¡± I held up a single finger. ¡°First goal: I need to be able to adapt to that degree of pain. While I did manage to partially function after cutting off my own foot in the heat of battle, that was an act born of madness and desperation. Maybe I¡¯m still mad, but once is an experience, twice is an occurrence. If I can experience that pain in a safe environment where I know that I likely won¡¯t die, then I should be able to mostly function if something similar happens while I¡¯m in danger.¡±


    I raised a second finger. ¡°Second goal: I want to attempt to use the free-flowing blood to cast one of the simpler abilities you taught me. This ties into the first goal because I want to see if I can force myself to maintain the mental formula for a simple spell while in severe pain. Even if I fail, which I expect I will, I¡¯ll have a better grip on what I need to do when I truly need to push past pain to cast something.¡±


    I raised a third finger. ¡°Third goal: I have plans for foot cybernetics designs. But I need a patched pair for my scheme to work. I think you are going to like what I¡¯m plotting.¡±


    Lind squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose as if he were fighting off a particularly bad headache. ¡°First off, Iver, you¡¯re mad. You are totally insane. Kissed Kassidan on the lips and led his parade, kind of mad. I¡¯ll give you this, kid. You have a color of courage that I have never before witnessed.¡±


    ¡°Thank you?¡± I said with obvious confusion as I cocked my head to the side.


    Lind walked over to his stool, lying on its side, and sat it up before easing himself into the damaged seat. ¡°Next,¡± he continued as he moved the hand, pinching the bridge of his nose to start massaging his brow. ¡°Why? Why, for the sake of all that is good and just in this world, would you even think of an idea this insane? Don¡¯t get me wrong. I heard your reasoning for this choice. I can even understand your logic to some degree. But there is a monumental difference between someone wanting to replace their remaining foot to have a matched set and what you are asking for. What in the realms is driving you to do something something I might honestly call schizo?¡±


    I chewed on my cheek and stared off into the distance as I thought about how to word my answer. This choice seemed natural in my mind. I thought my logic was sound. But the source of my drive to do it was complicated. It was more than just wanting to have more tools to use. It was also more than just a desire to improve my physical state. Those did play a factor in the choice, and so did the philosophical perspective Lind¡¯s book showed me. But my motives ran deeper than that.


    When I had my answer, I looked at Lind and spoke in a voice full of determination. ¡°Because I have people I need to protect. My sister was almost killed because I could not function after I lost my foot. I will use every single tool I have to save those in need. I don¡¯t care about the cost. If I have to spill my own blood, that¡¯s coppers in the bucket. If I need to sever a leg or arm, so be it. If I need to become an Augged Lunatic, I don¡¯t care. My goal, as juvenile as it sounds, is to become a Hero. I will save as many lives as I can. To use your own words, every life has immense value and near-infinite potential. I¡¯ve made mistakes, and I need to balance those scales. I plan on spending the rest of my days paying that price.¡±


    ¡°Iver, kid, you¡¯re dacker. Completely insane. But, okay.¡± Lind said with a resigned sigh as he stepped up to his operating table. ¡°I guess we¡¯ll start with the worst part first. Do you need something to bite on?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± I resolutely said.


    ¡°Okay. Be sure that you don¡¯t bite off your tongue with this next bit. Ready yourself.¡±


    Lind pulled his own leather belt free from his pants and handed it over to me before he turned and picked up an electric bone saw. I folded the belt in half and bit down on it before giving Lind a nod, signaling that I was ready. The man wore a worried look but said nothing, even as he pressed the blade against my ankle.


    The screaming started almost instantly when he carved into my leg with firm and steady pressure on the saw.


    My voice had barely recovered from my screaming when I had severed my other foot, and I could feel my vocal cords straining and fraying under the pressure of my pain. I shrieked and howled like a soul tortured in the depths of hell as I felt the blade severing tendons and ripping muscle. Blood flowed from the expanding wound in ever-growing gushes. Before I knew it, at the foot of the table, my wound had birthed a pool of blood spanning three feet across.


    Kharmor burst through the door to the room, looking like he was ready to kill someone. When he saw what Lind was doing, his face warped with fury, and he rushed forward. I raised a quaking hand and gave my friend the signal to stop, paired with a snarled ¡°NO!¡±


    I can¡¯t explain how it worked, but just like in the fight, I could feel my blood like an extension of my body. But this time, the blood felt distant. The sensation was less intense than when I was fighting the Arsenal Regulator.


    I moved my quaking hand to reach for the blood at my feet with claw-like fingers. With all the effort I could muster, I pushed myself to manifest and hold the BindRune formula to shape the blood into a simple knife. The effort of simply holding the mental image of the formula felt like trying to shape dry sand. The blood at my feet quivered, and some of it started to rise from the floor. An undulating blob of crimson pulled free from the pool and rose a few inches before I lost the mental grip. The blob collapsed and fell back into the pool.


    I flexed my jaw and hand before trying again. The blob raised again and started to mold into the vaguest of shapes that might be compared to a butter knife. I was about to attempt to harden the shape when I felt my leg suddenly grow lighter. My eyes rolled into the back of my skull as I gasped for breath through a gaping mouth, the belt having fallen by the wayside. I knew that I was totally footless, but I somehow could still feel the missing limb, and by the Fragments, did it hurt. While the cutting had stopped, the not-foot felt like it was both freezing cold and blistering hot.


    Suddenly, I felt a slapping pressure on the stump of my ankle, and I let out another shriek of pure agony. When I managed to pull my eyes forward to look down at my fresh wound, I found Lind padding quick-clot onto the stump. These motions visibly looked both gentle and hurried as he worked to stop the bleeding. It was at the sight of my freshly severed foot lying on the floor, still held by a shoe, that I fainted.


    <hr>


    When I came back to the land of the living, I had a fresh pair of feet and a new arm already installed. Lind also replaced the ANFEN node since it was damaged by the limb severing. He off-handedly mentioned something about how he integrated and spiced the systems but didn¡¯t elaborate.


    Lind allowed me a short period to adapt to my new limbs, helping me walk around the room, climb stairs, and do other simple actions. After an hour and a half, I could mostly function with simple tasks, and he called me an AV cab to take me home. But he sent me with a mountain of homework. On top of the obvious task of fully adapting to my new limbs, I had to study a massive digital file of Lind¡¯s notes on next-gen cybernetic theory and practices. I was told that after I had a firm understanding of the premise, I was to plan my new long-term cybernetics. Lind told me to hold nothing back when drawing up these new designs, given that I was going to frequently be in combat. After I had those designs finished, I was to start studying a notebook Lind gave me with notes on Hecatomb magic and spell practice. On top of that, I still needed to craft new equipment and study the info that Skitter gave me on the Razor Wings.


    It looked like I had my work cut out for me.

 PITM Chapter 30

    Dive bars aren¡¯t what you might think. In the previous age, they were small, privately owned bars well known for microbrew beers and greasy foods. But, once cyberspace became something more than data on the screen, the term dive bar took on a new meaning. Full-diving is when you plug your consciousness into cyberspace through a RAT Tail. Dive bars in the Age of Divine Knowledge are still privately owned bars with beers and greasy food, but they also have full-dive stations.


    Let¡¯s skip ahead three months. Over the course of those few months, I had been tirelessly busy. I had designed the best possible cybernetics I could conceive and built them with Lind¡¯s guidance and help. My understanding of technology had grown by leaps and bounds under the man¡¯s tutelage. The Elf was truly an unparalleled genius in his field of study. I worked under Lind in his shop for at least a few hours three days a week.


    Over the course of those three months, I had crafted and refined several gadgets and pieces of equipment. I had learned several lessons and had several more ideas after everything that occurred in the Undercity and thereafter. I had even incorporated several of the features from my now-lost tactical gauntlet into my new arm.


    I spent many of my days studying magic or training with Ferris, Kharmor, and even Demierra when I wasn''t working under Lind or on my own projects. The Dracose had warmed up to me, if only just enough to actively seek out beating my face in with her spell-focus gauntlets. The technical name for a Fury¡¯s spell-focus gauntlets was the Hands of Fury¡¯s Wrath, but everyone just shortens it to Fury Fists.


    In those three months, one of the first things I did after I got comfortable with my new arm was put Nennel back together. My sister wasn¡¯t the same after that fight. Nel avoided everyone, including Ferris and I. She spent all day sitting in her bed reading one book or another. She barely even ate and almost never spoke. When she did speak to me, it was to snap because I was pushing her to do something healthy.


    If I was worried, then Ferris was disturbed. Obviously, he wanted to help Nennel somehow but was scared of her wrath. He was almost always distracted and spent much of his time at his temple. Ferris had delved headfirst into his newfound faith as an escape.


    I had also paid Skitter with some quality assorted goods to keep me informed on anything he thought could be related to either the Razor Wing gang or the Vartex corporation. That investment was well worth the price. In the past three months, there had been more suspicious deaths of Vartex agents tied to Operation Missing Sock. Two Crop-rats had died from Lethal Synaptic Feedback. One of them died in her apartment, and the other was at a dive bar when he was killed at his full-dive station. Another Crop-rat was shot in the street by a masked Human. And still, two more Vartex employees had simply vanished.


    The hacker also sent me some disturbing information about the Razor Wing gang. They not only kept peddling the poisoned Zyzivane, but there were rumors they had begun kidnapping people off the street to test tweaked variants of the drug. I checked with Bit, Byte, and Gig and they confirmed that the same rumors had been passing through the slums.


    I should also mention that my home life had taken a drastic turn with the removal of my medication. I might have had a few manic episodes each week that had me looking like some Mad Mystgenist making a Prometheus Monster. The Mad Mystgenist comparison only gained a foothold when I screamed, ¡°ITS ALIVE!¡± every time I finished building a piece of gear while in a manic episode. However, everyone else in the house said that I was difficult to handle. I honestly didn¡¯t notice anything strange, but everyone had made at least a few comments about me flying into rages at failed projects, breaking down sobbing over what they called ¡°nothing¡±, and what they said were daily manic fits. I¡¯ll admit to throwing failed projects at a trashcan with¡­ we¡¯ll call it fervor. I also may have broken down into tears because of particularly emotional moments in books, games, and holo-vid movies and shows. I also may have taken to random cleaning campaigns that took me into people¡¯s rooms without permission. But at the time, every action felt justified.


    <hr>


    Where I pick the story back up, I was studying the notes on the gang for the ten-dozenth time. That day, I was going to take action against the Razor Wings. That night was the gang¡¯s initiation trial. I had started down this journey to help Nennel. But she had been in a reclusive state ever since she woke up after the scrapping. I would have to act with or without Nennel. In the previous days, I had set up backup plans and contingencies with Ferris and Kharmor and reviewed everything with Navor. I hadn¡¯t asked Demierra, Zynna, or Ozwald to take part in this operation, in part because this had become a personal project, in part because I didn¡¯t know just how much I could trust them (Ozwald especially), and partly because I didn¡¯t want to risk any more lives than was strictly necessary.


    I closed the window on my therra with a flick of my hand and stood from my desk to leave the room. With a spontaneous thought, I redirected my route to the bathroom. I scrutinized my appearance in the mirror, leaning in close.


    I wore a ratty pair of jeans with threadbare patches and a black T-shirt displaying a distorted smiley face caught mid-motion as it swallowed colorful pills. I also wore the latest version of my Pacer Shoes, which had some strategic machine grease stains. Over the T-shirt, I wore a scuffed leather jacket with a hole in the left elbow. At my waist, I wore a utility belt with a large pouch at the small of my back.


    My eyes met my face and locked onto my horns. I still hadn¡¯t gotten used to their look, even if I had adapted to the additional weight and new balance. I gave one horn a disdainful flick before getting back to the inspection. With a quick shrug, I sloughed off the jacket to fall to the floor behind me.


    I looked down at my new right arm contemplatively. The limb appeared seamless and formed from dark metal. It flexed and shifted like an organic arm and had the same degree of tactile sensitivity as my original limb. But with a simple thought, it could change shape.


    I willed my arm to change into tactical mode. Within seconds, the densely compacted nano-material expanded. Claws grew from my fingertips, and layered plates developed up and down the limb in an intimidating design. I reached into the large pouch at my back and pulled out a component. I pressed a long, flat, rectangular device against the back of my cybernetic hand. The material of the hand shifted to integrate the device. As soon as my hand subsumed the box, spikes extended from my knuckles. With a flex of my hand, the spikes extended out further. With a slight gesture of my fingers, those spikes bloomed to reveal the true function of my Shock Bites. Two more small hand motions and the bites closed and retracted back to the smaller extension length. The Shock Bites were one thing I had not changed, but only one of few.


    I systematically pulled out each component device that I had designed to function with my arm and set them in a neat line along the bathroom counter. Two different shoulder pieces with mounted iron-glass vials, an arm-mounted Squid Hook 2.0, an arm-mounted launcher system, a collapsed tech shield, a compact myst-fuel welder, a chem/gas projector, my new Mimic Facade module, and a mental command control module. Each piece was carefully designed to integrate with my new arm. While I had yet to give my new arm an edgy name, I called the pieces of equipment LokLinks. Each LokLink was built to function and activate with simple mental commands. Some, like the shield, only had commands like ¡®expand¡¯ and ¡®retract¡¯. Other LokLinks, like the chem/gas projector, had standard settings to allow for simple commands like ¡®activate¡¯ but could have additional variables inputted to alter the results.


    Methodically, I mounted and integrated piece after piece. The collapsed tech shield took up most of my forearm. Next, I mounted the extraction pauldron and triggered the empty vials to slide into the device and lock closed. Following that integration, I attached the mental control module in the outer side of my upper arm, the small box sinking into the limb completely. Next, I mounted my new Squid Hook 2.0 to the outside edge of my forearm. Lastly, I attached my new compact Mimic Facade module onto the back of my hand, only mounting to the surface.


    Quickly, I packed away everything else that I did not attach back into my hip pouch. I stepped from the bathroom and left my room, only stopping to pick up my new mask. I stepped into the common area to find Kharmor, Ferris, and Nel standing around a side-by-side pair of folding tables covered in a crisply organized layout of gear. They all turned to look at me, each of them with an expression just as intense and hard as the one I wore.


    I marched forward to stand in front of Nennel. ¡°I¡¯m happy to see that you¡¯re up and moving, Nel. But are you ready for this?¡±


    In answer, she picked up a pistol and slammed a magazine into place. ¡°I¡¯ll do what it takes to get answers.¡±


    ¡°Even if it takes spilling blood?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ll spill as much blood as necessary. I¡¯ll spill gallons, if that¡¯s what it takes to know they won¡¯t hurt anyone else.¡±


    ¡°What changed Nennel? Just yesterday, you hid from the world and escaped into books.¡±


    Nennel looked me in the eye without saying a word for a long moment. She turned away to set down the sidearm on the table before turning back to me. ¡°It was Ferris and Master Navor. He told me this morning what you were going to do and said that I should join. I may have snapped at him¡­ Okay, screamed at him¡­ and threw a book or two in his face¡­ Okay, I might¡¯ve thrown several books at his face. The Master heard the screaming and talked me down. Then she put things in perspective.¡±


    ¡°The whole ¡®when ashes fall, Heroes rise¡¯ thing?¡±


    ¡°Yep. We had a long talk, and she told me I couldn¡¯t just live in fear. She convinced me I had to face the fear and fight. You know, for such a crude woman, she can be shockingly poetic and eloquent when she wants to be.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s honestly kinda scary that a woman who seems to spend half of her time drinking whiskey and reading trashy romance novels can be that well-spoken.¡± I said before stepping past her to the table. ¡°How did everything turn out Khar¡¯?¡± I asked as I eyed over the array of tools and weapons.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°Yeah. Most of it was it was pretty simple. I was happy to put my mechanical and alchemical skills to the test. I filled all the Gas Cap-Shells with what you asked. With your help, I whipped up special ammo for Fer¡¯, Nel, and myself. I also managed to coble together a few spare pieces that I thought might of use. But that sword¡­ Iver, you¡¯re insane. That design was some serious mad mystgenist work.¡±


    I wore a manic smile as I picked what I was hoping to be my new main melee weapon. It was a single-handed sword, stretching almost four feet. I designed the weapon''s shape to be completely unique from tip to pommel. The hilt was wrapped in a variation of rein-synth fabric to wick moisture and ended with a spike-tipped pommel. The guard had four limbs, two horizontal like a classic guard, and two angled to shape a V around the base of the blade. That blade was segmented into eight arrow-tip-shaped parts with a single seam down the blade''s center. The actual tip of the blade was a much larger arrow-tip shape with sharper angles. I based the design of the weapon on the form and function of the serpent sword weapon type, but this was much more complex. I called this strange-looking weapon the Devil¡¯s Tail.


    I turned the blade from front to back three times as I inspected each part of Devil¡¯s Tail. ¡°You¡¯re welcome to call me mad if you want, but Lind has taught me so much that my perspective of mystech design was turned on its head, burned down, and built back up with new fundamentals.¡± I gathered the sheath designed for my new weapon, mounted it to my belt, and sealed Devil¡¯s Tail inside. ¡°The work looks good, though. I¡¯m glad the pieces I gave you worked out. And thanks for all the help these past few weeks. I¡¯ve had a lot of projects I felt had to be done by today. You¡¯ve been a massive help, Khar.¡±


    Kharmor put an affirming hand on my shoulder before picking up an infusion dagger he had made with my designs. The Half-Dwarf picked up the blade by the tip and flicked it into the air to tumble end over end. He snatched the dagger out of the air by the hilt with deft ease. ¡°It¡¯s not a big deal, bud. You were willing to share your designs without a second thought. You could¡¯ve sold any one of them for a weighty purse. Besides,¡± He sheathed the blade in his hand at his hip. ¡°It was good practice.¡±


    We loaded up with everything we thought we would need while still keeping it easily hidden. To help hide as much of our gear as possible, I made Ferris and Kharmor their own lesser Mimic Facades, just like the one I had made Nennel after she was first attacked. Just like Nennel, I also made them dual-element Personal Sanctum Guards.


    Everyone who was coming with me and even I wore compact armor under what looked like standard street clothes. After everyone prepped and holstered their weapons, I double-checked everyone¡¯s armor. Ferris double-checked my armor after I was done with everyone else¡¯s. When we were all ready, we activated the Mimic Facades.


    Nennel turned into a normal-looking girl with brown hair, dressed in jeans and a navy blue T-shirt with an abstract purple design. Ferris looked as he always did with black pants and a moss-colored tank-top marked with a black skull. Kharmor looked like Kharmor but dressed in brown cargo pants and a black shirt with a blue bear''s face.


    We climbed the stairs, one after another, with dedicated steps. We marched through the house, only splitting apart when we came to the kitchen''s entry. I stepped into the dining space with Nennel behind me while the others passed through the front door. Waiting in the kitchen was everyone not coming with me on this quest.


    Navor sat at the table across from Demierra. The master was sipping at a glass of whiskey while reading a trashy romance novel. The Dracose Fury was digging into not one but three plates of food. Ozwald sat beside Demierra, toying around with his therra through simple hand gestures. Zynna stood at the stove, cooking a pot of what smelled like spicy curry.


    Navor set down her book and glass on the table to look at both me and Nennel in turn. ¡°You ready for what you¡¯re about to do?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I spoke in a hard tone.


    ¡°Yes, Ma¡¯am.¡± Nennel said simultaneously, with a voice almost as hard as my own, but I could hear a note of fear in her words.


    Navor stood and walked out with us, lighting a cigarette as soon as she was clear of the front door. She took a long draw before letting out a thin jet of smoke between pursed lips. ¡°Don¡¯t forget, regardless of what happens, even if you don¡¯t get the info you want, you need to come back as whole as possible. No more chopping of body parts.¡± She locked eyes with me. ¡°Am I heard?¡± Her tone was stern.


    ¡°Yes, Ma¡¯am.¡± I answered, embarrassed, as I rubbed the back of my head and looked at the ground.


    ¡°Good. Also, remember, when ashes fall¡­¡± Navor started, trailing off for me to finish the line.


    ¡°Heroes rise. I know, Ma¡¯am. I won¡¯t hesitate.¡±


    ¡°And?¡± Navor pressed.


    I dropped my head in shame and closed my eyes. ¡°And I will think my actions through before causing another disaster.¡±


    ¡°Good. You¡¯re already labeled as a terrorist, and we don¡¯t need any more heat coming down on anyone in the party for being seen with you. Now, put on that illusion thing of yours. We don¡¯t want anyone recognizing you.¡±


    Without another word, I mounted my new mask and triggered my mimic facade. Within seconds, I was no longer a Darkling with a strange skin pattern. I appeared as a Star Elf. My skin was lavender. My eyes had silver irises and pale green sclera. My hair was short and spiky, with a color matching my sclera. The clothes on my person still appeared the same, aside from my utility belt, which looked like a standard belt.


    While my physical appearance had completely changed, I still wore a metal mask that covered the lower half of my face to act as an extra level of obfuscation. The mask was angular in design, made from an interlocked series of vertical plates with breathing holes installed at the front of the mask and along the bottom edge. These vents passed air through a filtration system to protect me from any toxic gas. I also treated the metal to be acid resistant so I would not have a repeat of my mask melting like when we were in the Under-city.


    Nennel, Ferris, and Kharmor were all waiting for me beside the street where a familiar AV cab waited. We all climbed in, and I gave one last look over my shoulder at Navor before the cab door slid shut. The Master continued to puff on her cigarette as she gave me a two-finger solute.


    <hr>


    The tension in the cab was so strong that you could have played it like a string instrument to the tune of a dirge. It did feel like if any song was going to be played during this trip, it would be a mournful melody foreshadowing our untimely demise.


    We all fidgeted in some way to control each of our own nervous energy. Ferris was reviewing his collection of spell coins he had talked his Reaper Master into making for him. Kharmor was double-checking his weapons, gear, and ammo to make sure they were all in functioning order. Nennel was nervously rubbing her cheek where her scar would be, with the side of her finger while clearly deep in worried thought. Meanwhile, I was reviewing the information on my therra node yet again.


    Kharmor was the first to break the silence. ¡°What should we expect going in?¡± he asked.


    I flicked my therra node window closed before turning to everyone in the back seat. ¡°We are going to a dive bar known as the Robins Red Roost. We are meeting a Human ganger who goes by Valletta. But we don¡¯t walk up to her as soon as we spot her. We have to order a Blood Wing cocktail from the bartender. That is the code phrase to let them know we are there for the trials. Valletta will approach us and take us to dive pods in the back room. After that is when things get difficult.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Nel asked.


    I scratched at a horn with a single finger as I explained. ¡°Well, they change the trials every time. They¡¯re always done in full-dive, setting us into simulated scenarios. But the challenges and goals always vary, while keeping the same general themes. First, we have to display complete loyalty to the gang. So no talking to Regs, no backstabbing a gang member, no giving away gang resources without both permission from a higher ranked ganger and getting paid for it in some way that would benefit the gang. Next, you need to be ruthless toward anyone outside of the gang. If they tell you to break into somewhere and steal something, you do it. If they tell you to break someone¡¯s knees, you do it. If you are ordered to kill someone, you do it without questioning. Those are the big things you need to keep in mind. In short, be a villain. Be the worst kind of bad guy you can imagine, and remember that none of it is real.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m really not going to like this.¡± Ferris said in a tired and disgusted voice.


    ¡°Are any of us going to enjoy this?¡± Kharmor asked sarcastically. ¡°Ferris may try to be a badass, but he¡¯s a total softy.¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡± Ferris complained, but Kharmor continued.


    ¡°Nennel can¡¯t stand seeing anyone in pain, even if she does have an attitude that could scare off children and the elderly.¡±


    ¡°Rude.¡± Nennel replied as she defensively folded her arms over her chest and pouted.


    I leaned forward to give the Half-Dwarf a curious look, a single brow raised. ¡°And what about me?¡±


    ¡°Ives¡¯, you¡¯re the worst of all in this situation. You act on impulse, jumping into bad situations, making them worse while trying to fix them, then proceed to beat yourself up when things are over. You are one hundred percent the kind of guy that would help an old lady cross a busy road or feed random stray animals.¡±


    I opened my mouth to deny his comment until I realized he was completely right. So I closed my mouth and shot him an annoyed look.


    ¡°Oh yeah? And what about you, mister I-know-everyone-so-well?¡± Ferris accused.


    Kharmor gave a slight shrug and said, ¡°I¡¯ll do what needs to be done. I¡¯ll feel bad about it later, but in the moment, I¡¯ll do what needs doing to get me where I need to be.¡±


    It was then that Teefa spoke up from the driver''s seat. ¡°Listen up, kids. This dreck you¡¯re about to step into is serious trouble. It might not be ¡®being chased by murderous Regulators¡¯ bad. But I learned all too good that you all are the kind of trouble magnets that I should spend as little time around as I can. That means that I¡¯m not swooping in to save your butts from a hot zone. I will only pick you up when the coast is clear.¡±


    Now, that was a kink in the plan. I was planning on Teefa pulling us from the fire if things went sideways. I would need to compensate for this development in almost all of my plans I had set in place for this mission and every mission moving forward.


    I lowered my head and rested my forearms on my knees as I replied with a dejected, ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°By the way, kid. What¡¯s with the mask? I know you¡¯re Iver. Terra informed me that you would be moving in disguise from here on. So why wear a mask when no one will recognize you in the first place?¡±


    ¡°I, uh¡­¡± I stammered before trailing off. I wanted to say, ¡®It¡¯s a disguise for my disguise¡¯, but that sounded moronic. I needed to find a response that wouldn¡¯t sound so stupid. It took a few moments, but I collected my thoughts and gave my answer. ¡°Yes, wearing an illusion would normally be enough. But the mask plays two factors. First, it is an extra layer to hiding who I am. If things go wrong, they will be looking for a Star Elf and not even know what face to look for. If my illusion fails and I¡¯m revealed, I am still somewhat disguised. Second,¡± I pointed to the vents in my mask. ¡°I installed filters into the mask to protect against poisonous gas.


    ¡°You might think that you¡¯re being clever, but if you ask you, you¡¯re only muddying the waters.¡± was all that Teefa said in response.


    The rest of the ride was made in heavy silence. An hour after we started the trip, the AV started its descent. As I felt the dropping altitude, my stomach clenched, my heart rate spiked, and breathing became difficult. I was about to step into a very dangerous situation and my greatest protection would be maintaining my cover as a fledgling ganger.

 PITM Chapter 31

    There is a rare type of people among the Sophic Species known as the Kolteraths. These are a people with very distant lineage ties to giants who have developed into their own species with its own culture. Kolteraths have breeds based on giant types, such as stone, fire, storm, and so on. Even the shortest Kolterath stands head and shoulders over Humans and Elves, and those of average height loom over Gredgore Orcs and Dezzar Dracose.


    We each disembarked from the AV to stand before Robin¡¯s Red Roost. The building was a three-story affair of worn red brick. I only saw windows on the second and third floors and took note of the steel bars I spotted installed on the interior of each. All the windows that I could see were also covered with curtains.


    The front door was a single piece of worked and heavily worn steel with a scanner installed into the upper frame. Above that door was a holographic sign depicting what would be a red robin, but its feathers were black and blue. The Robin sat in a nest of scarlet twigs, angrily flapping its wings. Looking closer, I noticed that the robin¡¯s wings appeared to have bladed feathers. A subtle yet clear sign that we were at a place that did regular business with the Razor Wings gang.


    As we all stepped up to the door, Teefa took back to the air, probably to wait somewhere safe until we gave the call for pickup. I gave three solid pounds on the door with a fist. In response, the scanner activated, emitting a horizontal beam of blue-green light that tracked up and down my body. A gruff voice came from a hidden speaker. ¡°Aren¡¯t you a little young to be here?¡±


    ¡°I, uh. I¡¯m here to order a Blood Wing cocktail.¡± I didn¡¯t bother trying to hide how nervous I was. In my mind, it made sense that an underage boy would be nervous asking to enter a ganger bar.


    There was a drawn-out moment of silence before the voice spoke again. ¡°Are all of you here for that?¡±


    ¡°Y-yeah.¡± I answered.


    There was the sound of several weighty clicks as locks were unlatched, and the door swung out to reveal a mood-lit space beyond. I led the way in, walking with care.


    The space was longer than wide by almost double and had an above-standard height ceiling to match. The room we entered was sparsely populated with only a few day drinkers who kept to themselves. The space was illuminated by a scant few old bulbs that emitted a yellowed light just bright enough for a Human to read the menu. Several rectangular tables occupied the floor with raised height to match the bar stools that were paired with each. These tables were dinged, scuffed, chipped, and stained, but were still sturdy looking. The room was filled with the powerful scents of various liquors, tobacco smoke, sweat, aged wood, and a vague hint of blood.


    The walls of the interior matched those of the exterior, worn red brick, with trophies mounted along them. One trophy was a cured hide of what had to have been the largest dire rat I had ever seen. A few trophies were Regulator Officer helmets with bullet holes or damage that made it clear the previous owner was no longer breathing. Several trophies were torn and defaced flags of the now disbanded gangs that the Razor Wings had defeated. There were other odds and ends along the walls and behind the bar, but I couldn¡¯t identify their significance at a glance.


    The aforementioned bar was an old, stained, and dinged thing that stretched most of the length of the left wall. The bar top was branded with a seemingly random series of symbols and words in various languages. What words I could read were either names or plain-and-simple vulgarity. Behind the bar were five shelves stocked with liquor of a wide variety. Beside the liquor display, hanging from the wall, was a Tetsubo of truly massive proportion.


    If you are unfamiliar with a Tetsubo, let me give you a brief rundown. It is a massive, two-handed club normally made from metal, with six flat faces and metal nodules installed down the length of each side. They are obviously brute weapons designed to be used with overwhelming physical force.


    Now, I know that a Tetsubo is normally already an enormous weapon, but the one hanging from that wall must¡¯ve been seven feet tall if it was a foot. I stared at the weapon, trying to figure out who on Anogwin would use something so massive. It was as tall as some Orcs and would¡¯ve been too heavy for even one of them to use. Thrasher may have been able to use it, but very few Orcs reached his titanic height and mass.


    ¡°Are you just going to stand there like a rock, or are you going to come here?¡± The voice that had come through the speaker spoke from behind the bar and shocked me out of my contemplation. I followed the source of the voice, and my jaw dropped as a cold sweat broke out across my brow.


    Standing behind the bar was what might be called a man. That is, if you can call someone standing eight and a half feet tall, and skin that appeared to almost be stone, a man. I mechanically walked up to the bar with quaking knees. My thoughts flew through my mind at a pace so fast I couldn¡¯t even keep track. I attempted plotting combat tactics if things led in that direction, but threw those ideas out the window. This man was someone not to be fought. I tried plotting escape routes, but Teefa wouldn¡¯t swoop in like a guardian angel, and his strides would outpace me in moments. The only thing I could do was simply not anger him.


    I stepped up to the bar and very carefully took a seat on a stool just outside of his arm¡¯s reach. ¡°You-you¡¯re a Kolterath.¡± I said dumbly.


    The massive man took a single step forward, and he was right in front of me. My stunned eyes tracked up his body. I could see his, possibly literally, rock-hard abs under his shirt. My eyes raised to pause again at his pectorals. Those chest muscles were each twice the size of my head and seemed like even they alone could kill me with little effort. His upper arms were each wider than my waist. His shoulders were so wide the man must¡¯ve had to enter rooms sideways. When my eyes reached his face, I paused again. The man¡¯s jaw was a solid slab that would put some boulders to shame. His eyes were a gray-brown that made me think of granet stone, with a gaze just as hard as that stone. His perfectly rounded pate was bald and polished to a dim shine. He wore a pair of thread-bare jeans and a skin-tight black tank top. His hands were covered in leather wraps up to his elbows.


    ¡°What is it with you knee-highs and losing it over what I am?¡± The Kolterath groused.


    ¡°I-uh.¡± I stammered before collecting myself and slipping my mask back on. ¡°Well, your kind is rare to encounter, and you do kinda tower over everyone. It¡¯s more than a little intimidating¡­ sir.¡± I added the sir to the end in an attempt to be polite, but it sounded so forced I was afraid he would be offended.


    The massive man only rolled his eyes and said, ¡°Just drop the sir crap, kid. I hate suck-ups. Just call me Stroder.¡±


    ¡°Got it, si-I mean Stroder.¡±


    ¡°Now, you said you wanted a Blood Wing cocktail. Are you sure, kid? That¡¯s a strong drink. If you aren¡¯t careful and strong, you might die. It¡¯s not meant for younglings like you all.¡± Stroder asked, worry clear in his voice.


    I bit my lip for a moment, second-guessing my plan. Could I get answers elsewhere? Did I have to worm my way into the gang? I quickly and sharply shook my head clear of those thoughts before answering with, ¡°Yes, sir. I mean Stroder. We have needs that can only be met by that drink. I don¡¯t care how strong it is. This is a thirst that can¡¯t be quenched by water.¡± I said the last line with a hard tone just to show how resolute I was.


    ¡°Well, aren¡¯t you a little poet. You noble born?¡± Stroder asked.


    ¡°What? N-no.¡± I answered.


    Before I could continue, a figure took the stool to my right. I looked over to find a Human woman. She wore a ratty black tank top with a torn edge around her mid-drift. Her pants were skin-tight black and white latex. Around her waist was a utility belt with a pair of holsters at her hips. A pair of kinetic pistols occupied those Holsters. Her feet were dressed in a pair of combat boots that looked a few sizes too large and too heavy to easily walk. Her hair was oil-black, shaved around the sides, and combed over and gelled to cover her left eye. The eye that was visible was what I could only call a molten brown. The color was bright and vivid, with a heat that felt like it would scorch me if I got too close. The most shocking part of her appearance was her exposed skin. Her natural skin color was a mocha brown, but every piece of exposed skin was covered in tattoos aside from her nose and around her eyes.


    ¡°So you want the Blood Wing cocktail? You sure? It¡¯s pretty spicy. You might just burn your throat, if you can swallow it, that is.¡±


    I turned to face the newcomer, pulling air through my teeth to display my confidence, lack of care, and? a degree of disdain. ¡°And who are you exactly?¡± I spoke with just as much disdain.


    The woman gave a snort of amusement. ¡°You got balls, kid. I¡¯m Valletta, and I¡¯m the one you want to talk to about that drink you¡¯re asking about.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re the Valletta I was told to look for.¡± I said.


    By this point, Nennel, Ferris, and Kharmor had each taken up a stool and were intently listening in. Nennel looked impatient, Ferris looked nervous, and Kharmor was eyeing the back wall intently. I did my best to make my body language convey that I was including them, but the leader of the group.


    By the Gods, did I hate being a leader. I didn¡¯t want to make choices that affected the lives of others. In all honesty, I just wanted to sit in my room and craft.


    ¡°Are these tagalongs with you?¡± Valletta asked.


    ¡°Yeah. We all try, or we all walk away.¡± I said.


    ¡°Any of you got useful skills?¡±


    I gestured to Kharmor with a thumb. ¡°Kaydem is a brute in a fight and can fix firearms easily.¡±


    I gestured to Nennel next.¡±Nevierra is insanely smart and can hold her own in a fight.¡±


    Next, I gestured to Ferris. ¡°Ferron has a few spells and some skill with a blade.¡±


    ¡°Those all sound well and good, but what about you?¡± Valletta asked.


    I lowered my gaze to the stool she sat on as I answered. ¡°I¡¯m Iven, and I can put together a few things. I¡¯ve got some spells. I might be able to hold my own in a fight if things aren¡¯t too rough.¡±


    ¡°Well, I guess we could take you. If you can pass the test, that is.¡± Valletta said with a vague wave of her hand.


    Stroder spoke up at this point. ¡°Are you kids positive? This is a life-changing choice and could close a lot of roads in the future. You really should think carefully.¡±


    We all gave some form of resolute agreement to this choice. I nodded. Nennel shrugged in dismissal. Ferris stroked his thumb under his nose with a harsh huff as if he didn¡¯t care. Kharmor was different, though.


    ¡°I do want to make this choice. But I could use something strong to ease the nerves.¡±


    Stroder eyed Kharmor for a long moment before responding. ¡°What¡¯s your poison Dwarf boy?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take two fingers of Blood Stone Whiskey, no ice.¡±


    Stroder turned to the rest of us in wordless question.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take water.¡± I answered.


    ¡°Coffee.¡± was Nennel¡¯s answer.


    ¡°Something strong¡± was Ferris¡¯s response.


    The Kolterath made each of our drinks in turn and dished them out as they finished. My water was the fastest because it came from the tap. Next, came Kharmor¡¯s, which he sipped with a subtle sense of class that I found baffling. Ferris took his drink and gave a string of harsh coughs after the first sip. By the time Nennel¡¯s coffee was served, Kharmor had sipped off half his drink. Nennel casually drank a coffee so black and thick I would call it tar, but she didn¡¯t flinch or bat an eye.


    Valletta patiently waited and watched us as we drank, not speaking once as she rested her cheek on a fist of an arm propped against the bar. Kharmor finished his drink first, setting his empty glass on the bar closer to the bartender with the grace and ease of a noble. Ferris pushed his drink aside after a few more sips. Clearly unable to handle the strength of his drink. Nennel finished her coffee last, not flinching an inch or expressing anything other than total calm the entire time. She set the cup down and stepped off her stool without saying a single word or even looking at either the Stroder or Valletta. By the time Nennel finished, I had barely touched my water. I was so nervous that my stomach was turning like a whirlpool.


    I didn¡¯t need a full bladder or enough in my stomach that I could puke it up and look like a fool. The entire time I sipped at my water, I was plotting. I thought through as many possible outcomes as I could. I calculated for Stroder or Valletta becoming hostile. That resulted in eight outcomes that I could think of, and several ended in our death. I calculated for making it to the dive-pods only to be attacked by Valletta. I thought through ten outcomes and most were positive if Stroder didn¡¯t become hostile. Beyond that, there were too many possibilities, given that I didn¡¯t know the layout of the place or their hideout, which was a failure on my part. I really should¡¯ve pulled schematics of both the bar and the hospital and planned accordingly.


    When we all finished our drinks, Valletta slipped from her stool. ¡°Alright, fresh meat. Follow me. I will warn you that this won¡¯t be easy.¡± Valletta moved to stand beside a door in the back of the room.


    I slid from my stool, my water barely touched. Stroder gave me a word of warning and very interesting information. ¡°You all should second guess this choice. They aren¡¯t good people. In fact, the only reason they picked this bar as a hangout is because their chief forced me into it. Get out while you can.¡±


    I looked at the Kolterath for a very long moment before I spoke. ¡°I have a goal that needs to be met. But if I can, I will give you an opportunity.¡± I spoke in a tone quiet enough that Valletta couldn¡¯t hear it from where she stood.


    Stroder looked at me skeptically but said nothing. I flashed the massive man a kind smile before moving with the others to approach the door in the rear.


    Nennel and the others waited for me to reach them across the room. Ferris seemed to be the only one to hear the words between me and the bartender. The Quint flashed me a sad but understanding smile, out of the sight of Valletta.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    I jogged to catch up to the others. When I reached them, Valletta opened the door and wordlessly led us to the second floor.


    The second floor, much like the first, was a single large room, filled with more than two dozen dive-pods lined against a side wall. Cables from each pod were linked to a box with the dimensions of a breaker box that was inset into the wall. That box was a server junction box. The purpose of the device lived up to the name. That box ensured that any linked devices were connected to a specific server. It might have LSN access, but that was not likely, given the purpose of these containers. If these pods did have LSN access, it would be behind enough safeguards to make a hacker want to cry.


    ¡°Each of you pick one to hop into. As soon as all of you are in, I¡¯ll start the trial.¡± Valletta said with an expansive wave to the pods in the room. Everyone in my group looked at each other, checking for confirmation. When we all gave an affirming nod, we each moved to a pod.


    I chose the pod furthest from the door so that if anything went wrong, I could give the others a chance to escape. As I stepped into my chosen pod, I sent a text message to Teefa, telling her our location and to be ready to collect everyone, with or without me. I didn¡¯t wait for a response as I activated the pod.


    I laid down and relaxed as much as I could on the soft padding of the container. I will admit that I didn¡¯t relax much, but it was enough for the Full-Dive to take effect.


    As I laid back and the pod sealed shut, I focused on my breathing before I experienced being shoved into cyber reality. The world behind my closed eyes went totally white. There was a sensation of falling from a tremendous height. I came to a sudden stop, standing upright in the field of white as my senses caught up to my mind. The white field instantly became occupied with a systematic grid of blue lines that reached out into the distance farther than I could see. This false reality became enveloped with darkness that encroached from the corners of my vision. That darkness was endlessly deep and seemed to stretch on for eternity. Yet, somehow, that gave me a sense of calm. Not long after the black void consumed the unnerving white void, I felt myself falling again. I dropped into an empty concrete box.


    I inspected the enclosed space for any clue as to what I needed to do for the trial. There had to be a way out or some hint toward the goal I needed to attain. Only a few moments into inspecting the walls, something strange occurred.


    A plain wooden chair popped into existence with no special effects. The chair simply appeared, occupied by a humanoid being made of solid blue static. This entity had no facial features, just a blank slate. It wore no clothes and had a generically androgynous frame and build that could¡¯ve been Human or Elf. Its arms were crossed over its chest, and one leg was crossed over the other.


    ¡°Well, Iver, aren¡¯t you a special piece on this game board.¡± Its voice was clearly male, but I couldn¡¯t identify any other aspects of the voice beyond that. The sound of the voice modulated in strange ways that I could not explain.


    I turned to face the strange entity. ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± I asked in confusion.


    The entity turned its face to me. ¡°No need to be sorry. You truly are a curious piece on this board. You can call me Weaver.¡±


    ¡°Weaver? As in Net Weaver? Like the dead hacker?¡± I asked, totally perplexed by this whole scenario. Was this the test? What was the point of it?


    The entity gave a light chuckle that clipped for a fraction of a second as if it had a glitch. Weaver moved on to explaining as if he hadn¡¯t noticed the strange occurrence. It waved away the question as if it didn¡¯t matter. It was with that simple motion that I noticed a complex series of black marks on its right hand. ¡°I may have once been that man you have heard of. But I have evolved since then. The Star Elf, Tantess Vennor died. I-he died doing the right thing. I am a completely digital being who exists to change the playing field of the world.¡±


    ¡°The playing field?¡±


    It felt like Weaver was giving me a weighty look with a cocked head. ¡°Why do so few understand it? I know I was blind to it when I was living. So many are blind to the fact. There is so much more at play than anyone can see.¡± Its tone became more aggressive as Weaver pressed that marked fist onto where its face should be. ¡°I had to die. I had to lose everything to see the truth.¡±


    I was terrified by its tone, but I still asked, ¡°What truth?¡±


    It-he lowered his hand and relaxed it as he pulled a leg up close to rest a foot on his seat. ¡°Well, Maverick, we have a bit to talk about. I¡¯ve yet to find an opponent who can truly challenge me. And I hope that you can be that opponent.¡±


    ¡°Opponent?¡±


    He gave a snort. ¡°After I died, I had reality put into perspective. A man of great wisdom told me that life and reality are simply a game. The most complex game that could be perceived.¡±


    ¡°A¡­ Game?¡± I echoed.


    ¡°Of course. This is a game played by Gods, Immortals, and Kings. Every living being is a piece on that board. The rules of this game are ever-changing. Wars and peace talks, famines and grand harvests are but a single part. This is a game where the choice of a single man could change everything. Vartex, upto this point, has failed to be an opponent of any value. But I think that you, Iver, have potential.¡±


    I stared at Weaver in total confusion. This thing, this being, was talking to me like I knew what he was talking about. If this was a test set down by the gang, I had to question the sanity of the entire group. After a few seconds of me staring at Weaver in clear confusion, he slapped the palm of his hand against his head.


    ¡°How impolite of me. You need to know what all is happening if I want you to be any kind of worthwhile player.¡± Weaver stood up, clasped his hand behind his back, and started circling the room. As he paced, the walls behind him formed images as he passed. ¡°Let¡¯s start with the fact that I¡¯m a Circuit. That is a very special class of Mage who can inject their consciousness into a digital system and manipulate it, unlike any hacker you could possibly imagine. We are completely helpless outside of cyberspace unless there is some device with network access that we can connect to. While we are totally useless out in the wilds of the Anogwin, within city limits, we are some of the most dangerous people to cross. Corporations hire as many Circuits as they can find as tools. We craft the strongest cyber defenses, find the most elusive of data on the net, and can find our way into any system given enough time. I was-am the most skilled Circuit in this hive-city. I worked for Vartex to pay bills. You see, my mother was terribly wounded when she was caught in the middle of a gang war. She was trapped inside a hospital just to stay breathing, and I was the one who needed to pay her bills because my sister was out causing trouble.¡± The walls behind Weaver systematically showed images. First was a stick figure in a t-shirt floating among dozens of 1s and 0s with a box in its arm with a cable linking it to what could only have been an old-age computer. Then, a stick figure with a frown laying atop what must¡¯ve been a bed with medical machines around them. Another stick figure with a ponytail displaying arched brows and a crooked smile sat at another old-age computer.


    ¡°Well, one day, Vartex told me to do something rather nasty. When I said no, they said that they would pull the plug on my mother.¡± The wall showed the figure in the bed with Xs for eyes, and the machines were all blank. ¡°So I found a wise man who told me what to do.¡± This time, the wall displayed the t-shirt stick figure standing in front of another figure with no mouth and hollow eyes, holding a pawn chess piece in one hand and what looked to be a page with writing in the other hand.


    ¡°So I moved my mother and set up cyber security around her. Then, I left the company with security codes and met up with my sister. You see, she had joined an activist group of hackers, hacktivists if you will, who had been acting against corporations who had been doing wrong. That group was known as Freestand. My little sister was happy to have me, and I made an offer. We could break into Vartex systems in several cyber locations and would cause a bit of trouble, and I aimed to leave with some very special data.¡± The wall behind Weaver formed images of the figure in the bed locked behind several walls with 1s and 0s between each line. Then, the figure in the t-shirt meeting up with the figure with the ponytail and several others.


    ¡°So we made our move. My entire new team was made of Circuits, which I thought was a boon until it was to our great misfortune. We dived together and went to work. My sister and her gang went throughout the Vartex network to cause all kinds of trouble. Deleting data, scrambling and moving files, and snatching anything of value that could be sold to another crop for any kind of coin. But I was after the preem goods. The codes I had stolen before leaving the corp were to the closed server of a lab that had been working on some special projects. So, I snatched a formula for a new miracle drug and prototype notes on new cybernetics. While I was at it, I injected myself into an experimental automaton, and I set about using that bit of metal to demolish everything I could find in that max-security lockbox of a room.¡± As Weaver began his second cycle around the room, the images on the walls were reshaped. The next scene displayed several stick figures lying in what looked to be dive-pods with cables all running to a large box with the letter V written on it. The next image displayed the t-shirt figure laid over a simple figure made up of several segments and joints, as it was in mid-motion of breaking a stand of beakers with a row of broken computers behind it.


    ¡°But things went wrong. Vartex knew what we were doing before we had even started. They set in place and executed Operation Poisoned Honey Pot. While Freestand was in full-dive, a corporate strike team broke into where we were diving from and set a trap. Everyone in Freestand was locked into cyberspace, all safety measures were stripped, and we all suffered a replicating data injection loop.¡± Behind Weaver, the wall showed a group of black stick figures standing behind the figures in the dive pods, with one standing beside the box with a V. That last figure was holding a small rectangle with a syringe on it. ¡°Do you know what that is?¡±


    I shook my head in answer.


    Weaver gave a weighty sigh as his shoulders slumped. ¡°Think of it this way: your mind is trapped in cyberspace, all protections to keep you safe are gone, and suddenly you have raw data being pumped into your mind. That stream of raw information is being looped, and every time it loops, it gets larger and larger. Suddenly, that stream of data becomes a whitewater rapids river, then a waterfall, then a raging ocean. What do you think happens to your mind when you have that much raw information being forced into it?¡±


    ¡°It¡­cooks.¡± I deduced. ¡°Lethal Synaptic Stimulation Feedback.¡±


    Weaver poked a finger toward me with a flourish. ¡°On the money. You might really be what I¡¯m looking for, after all. So everyone in Freestand, even me, died. But because I had injected my mind into that automaton, my consciousness was trapped in cyberspace.¡± The images on the walls of the closed space pulled from their surfaces to fold into each other in the air at the center of the room. Two-dimensional became two-point-five-dimensional as flat images floated in the air. A simple stick figure floated there, bobbing gently up and down among a swirling field of 1s and 0s. Those numbers multiplied and began swirling faster and faster before coming to a sudden halt. Then, the numbers flew toward the figure and melted with it. The final result was a three-dimensional androgynous head formed from vertical black lines. The head condensed into a single ball of black before bursting, replaced by Weaver sitting in his chair again.


    ¡°So that¡¯s my backstory. Now for the key part.¡± Weaver crossed one leg over the other, propped an elbow against the arm of his chair, and rested his cheek on the fist of that arm. ¡°When I slipped out of the server and back into the greater network, I was bitter. I had lost everything. My sister was dead. I was dead. My mother would die in only a few days if her medical bills weren¡¯t paid. Vartex got away with it all and would only keep on hurting people. But that wise man who told me to collect the data from the lab found me in my little corner of the net and put things into perspective. How life is a game of the grandest scale, and how I could be a player in that game. I pit myself against Vartex in this game. But the company has failed to be anything close to a skilled player. So they are my target, and I want you to be my opponent.¡±


    Things had gotten so derailed from my original plan that I had no idea what I could do. I had been kidnapped by a spirit trapped in cyberspace. A spirit who wanted me to play some global-scale game with him/it. This thing had once been a master hacker who had been killed by Vartex, and was out for some strange kind of revenge. The phantom didn¡¯t seem to be hostile toward me, so it might be possible to get more information from it. I had an idea of what was going on, but I wanted clarification.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but can I ask some questions?¡± I asked.


    Weaver gave me a ¡®you¡¯re welcome to¡¯ gesture with one hand. So I pinched my chin between my thumb and forefinger in thought as I started pacing back and forth in front of the spirit. ¡°So you stole top secret information from Vartex, but they killed you. Are you talking about the Zyzivane formula and the experimental cybernetics data that could make artificial Mages?¡±


    ¡°Well, aren¡¯t you clever, my little game piece. Yes, that would be the data that I snatched.¡±


    ¡°And you sent it out to the net. What was the point of that?¡± I asked.


    I could feel his smirk as he answered. ¡°There are several answers to that one. I could say that it was because I wanted to damage the corporation. I could say that it was to help the common people. I could also say that I was told to do so or that it was a tool.¡±


    ¡°Woh, hold up.¡± I said. ¡°Who told you to release the data?¡±


    ¡°Well, the wise man, of course. Mr.Durge is a man who knows what needs doing. The sir explained how to put the data to good use in this game.¡±


    ¡°Who is this Mr.Durge? And how was the data put to good use?¡± I asked.


    ¡°He¡¯s a player like you or I. But he¡¯s been at this game much longer. He was the one who explained that I needed to stop letting the corp use me like a piece on the board. The strange man said that I should steal the data to make the most impact. Mr.Durge set me to the goal of passing on the Zyzivane formula to the right people, so it could be improved. He mentioned that I could also put the formula to good use elsewhere. So I pulled a few strings and got a modified formula into the hands of the Razor Wings.¡±


    ¡°What do the Razor Wings have to do with anything?¡±


    ¡°Well, they are game pieces, of course. I¡¯ve put them to work, and they will take the fall when all is said and done. They have hurt plenty of people, not just my mother. And what are pawns for if not to be used and sacrificed to progress the game?¡±


    ¡°They hurt your mother?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yes.¡± I could hear the hate in his voice. ¡°They are the reason that my mother needs constant medical care. But they¡¯ve hurt plenty of others. They¡¯ve hurt people who you know as well. So, I set plans in motion that could bring about their fall, even as I use them to complete my goals. I hired them to remove some of the Vartex members who had killed me from the board.¡±


    ¡°And you killed others. Am I right? You caused other Vartex agents to suffer Lethal Synaptic Stimulation Feedback, just like what they did to you.¡± I accused.


    ¡°Well, of course.¡± Weaver said as he held up his hands in a gesture that conveyed that it was obvious. ¡°I¡¯ve always had a taste for the ironic.¡± He pointed a finger at me as he continued. ¡°And that is where you come into this game of layers. I want to see if you can pit wits against me in my game of revenge on this first layer of the game. I will make moves to remove six more pieces from Vartex¡¯s board. While I¡¯m moving pieces on this grand board, you are on the ground trying to stop me. Your pieces are obviously your little friends and anything or anyone else you can put to good use in any way you can. I saw you cut off your foot during that fight with the Regulators, so I know you¡¯ve got the dedication. I saw you throw together those traps from scraps during the AV chase before the fight, so I know that you¡¯re clever enough to keep up with me. But you''re still new to this game, so I will give you a few extra bits of help. Six hints to be specific.¡±


    Weaver raised a hand toward me with a single raised finger. ¡°First, I will falsify the results of the test you were supposed to take during this dive. You will be able to join the gang and get some answers.¡± He raised a second finger. ¡°Next, I will give you some hints to this game of revenge.¡±


    Weaver lowered his original raised hand and lifted his other hand, raising one finger per hint he gave. ¡°One. While you are in with the gang, ask where they got their Zyzivane formula and back track it. Two. Ask the Razor Wing boss about their newest list of hits. I¡¯d be careful how I bring that up if I were you. She is far from simple-minded. Three. Look into the comm records from G3ar Gh0zt on the Copper-For-Your-Thoughts forums. I will tell you now that it was my screen name on that site, but I think you¡¯ll find the conversation rather interesting. Four. Look into those around you who have been hurt by the Razor Wings. Five. I recommend that you look at a list of the Vartex agents who are taking part in Operation Missing Sock. Six. Investigate a scientist known as Dr.Vanderbar.¡±


    As Weaver wrapped up his list of six hints, he had extended all five fingers of his left hand and had grown an extra, which abruptly vanished as soon as he lowered that hand. But he raised his other hand, still raised with two fingers extended. ¡°That is six pieces of advice. One for each of my next targets. I think that¡¯s fair. So I¡¯ve given a favor, and a bundle of hints. Are there any other handicaps you feel you need?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose that I could ask you to simply not kill people?¡± I asked. ¡°You know that murder is not something a moral person does.¡±


    Weaver rested both hands on his lap and leaned forward with his elbows pointing outward. ¡°This coming from a fledgling murderer. One should not criticize someone for an act that they themselves have committed. Besides, whoever said that I was a good person? I was a paid assault hacker for a mega-corp that had me scorching brains long before I traded sides. You can¡¯t be so naive, my fledgling player. This is a dark and cruel world. Murder is a daily occurrence, no matter where you go. You should know this better than many your age, given what your Order does. The good of the many outweighs the good of the few. Isn¡¯t that right?¡±


    ¡°How do you know about the Order?¡± I asked in shock.


    Weaver scoffed in annoyance. ¡°I¡¯m a being of pure data. I can go anywhere in the network that I please. I know all about your Order of the Aegis and its goals. I also know The Company and who is running that band of extreme go-getters.¡±


    I had been doing my best not to make eye contact with the phantom until he mentioned The Company. My head snapped back to lock the being with an intent stare. ¡°What do you know about that group?¡± I demanded.


    ¡°Well, aren¡¯t you over-eager for some data crumbs. I¡¯ll tell you what, if you can beat me in this game, I will tell you everything I know about The Company and what they are doing. That should be a nice incentive for you to win this game of ours.¡±


    ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll play this game, and I¡¯ll beat you. But I want one more thing from you before I get started.¡±


    ¡°And what would that be, Player?¡±


    ¡°I want you to promise me that you won¡¯t hurt anyone in my party.¡±


    ¡°I can agree to that. But I can¡¯t make any promises about the actions of my pieces. They will act as they so desire, regardless of what I say.¡±


    ¡°Fine. Now, before you let me out of this space, what was the trial that I was supposed to go through when I dived? I need to keep my story straight?¡±

 PITM Chapter 32

    There are three ranges of classifications that apply to each type of ammunition. First, is Legal Class. These classes scale as follows: Quartz or commercial, Pearl or controlled, Opal or restricted, Obsidian or banned, and the ever-rare and dreaded Brimstone class, which being caught with a single round of this class will result in the death penalty.


    The next classification is size or caliber. These are Feather, which is light, small, and cheap depending on the type of ammo; Coin, which are medium-sized rounds that can cause a bit more damage but cost more and are heavier; and Brick rounds, which are the largest class of ammo that isn¡¯t designed for artillery or vehicle-mounted heavy weapons.


    The last classification type is based on the type of damage that the rounds deal. Point rounds pierce enemies. Razor rounds slash enemies. Pound rounds bludgeon a target. Myst Core rounds have a myst crystal core to deal elemental damage, Mage rounds are enchanted by a Mage or magical craftsmen to have spell effects. Lastly are Null rounds, which are crafted from Scaiben Crystal, which nullifies all magic it comes in contact with.


    I pulled myself from the dive-pod and rested my back against its side as I waited for my senses to unscramble. That had been my first time in full dive and I had no idea just how disorienting it was entering and leaving the cyber-scape.


    ¡°Well, that was¡­ unpleasant.¡± I said in a grumble as I stood up and shook my head to straighten out my thoughts.


    ¡°You¡¯re telling me.¡± Ferris wheezed from where he sat on the floor on his hands and knees.


    Valletta stepped up into the center of the room as she said, ¡°Well, welcome to the crew, Fresh Meat. Get your legs under ya and follow me.¡± She turned and strolled to the door as she gave a blind wave for us to follow. ¡°I¡¯m takin¡¯ all ya¡¯ll to the hideout to meet the gang. Get ready for a bronco of a ride when we get there.¡±


    Eventually, we all gathered ourselves and followed that tatted-up ganger girl. Kharmor and Nennel seemed to be totally unaffected by the dive and had to help Ferris and me move until we were both stable enough to walk on our own. We followed Valletta out of the bar and to a beat-up old black van with mismatched rims, tinted windows, and a sticker of a busty Elf girl in a bikini on the rear window. Valletta pulled herself into the driver''s seat as the rest of us piled into the back of the vehicle.


    During the drive, we discussed our trials. I won¡¯t go over the entire conversation, but I¡¯ll give you the cliff notes. Ferris had to rob a corner store and avoid Regulators chasing him. He pulled it off but had to wound one Regulator severely.


    Nennel had to follow and observe a girl to see if she was going to leak gang information to Regulators. When she did, Nennel had to attack the girl and the Regulators. Nel injured all of them badly enough that they would¡¯ve needed hospitalization soon after, or they would die.


    Kharmor had to track down a former gang member and torture then execute them and display the corpse as a warning. He did the job and seemed to be the least troubled of the group despite having the most morbid job out of all of us. I found just how unmoved Kharmor was by the task to be unnerving.


    I verbally told the others about the trial I was supposed to have while I sent text messages to the group explaining what actually happened without digging too deep. I talked about how I had to hunt down and kill a shopkeeper who refused to pay protection money to the gang and was going to act as an informant to a party of Adventurers who were hired to stamp out crime in the local area.


    I expressed unease and remorse for what I had to do, but also did my best to inject dedication into my tone. As the others read my messages, I watched as their expressions shifted from confusion to full concern. The verbal conversation died after we each explained our experiences, but we continued to converse through text. I did my best to answer their questions and straighten out what I had learned.


    Ferris and Kharmor were fascinated with the cyber phantom. Ferris kept comparing Weaver to characters in stories, shows, and games in a similar state. Kharmor was intrigued by what should have been an impossible state to exist in. Khar¡¯ was looking at it all as an experiment that defied reality. Nennel, on the other hand, was shocked by the fact that we were working against what should have been a myth.


    There were always stories of souls getting trapped in the network and haunting cursed websites or second-hand devices. But everything we had been taught, not only at the academy, but even in grade school, said that it was impossible for a soul to get trapped in cyberspace. A person¡¯s soul is permanently linked to their body. When someone enters full-dive, the cybernetic that allows it simply intercepts all sensations from the outer world and injects sensations from cyberspace. Along the same principle, mental commands to the body are intercepted and injected into the user¡¯s cyber body. A soul could only be extracted from the body by invasive and lethal methods. When a soul is severed from the body, it will always pass on to the afterlife unless caught and trapped inside of a Soul Shard or Soul Core. Weaver¡¯s then-present state defied laws of nature and magic alike.


    We discussed theories on how Weaver could¡¯ve become what he had, and tactics we might be able to use to interfere, trap, or even attack the cyber phantom. The drive continued for over an hour, and we plotted and schemed until Valletta spoke up.


    ¡°You all are awfully quiet. Were the tests really that bad? If it¡¯s causing ya¡¯ll that much trouble, ya might want me to drop ya off before we reach the hideout.¡±


    ¡°What? No, no.¡± I said hurriedly. ¡°We¡¯ve all seen and done some pretty dark dreck. But¡­ I¡¯ve never been a fan of hurting others.¡±


    ¡°What Iven says is true for all of us.¡± Nennel said. ¡°We¡¯ve all seen plenty of trouble, and none of us like harming anyone. But we all have fangs. Iven is probably the most gentle of any of us, but he¡¯s also got the sharpest fangs. I watched him go toe to toe with an Arsenal class Regulator and almost put the drake-eyed nog in the ground.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re kidding.¡± Valletta said in disbelief. ¡°That half-height cut ear stepped up to an Arsenal and won?¡±


    ¡°Almost won.¡± I corrected. ¡°We all got knocked around pretty bad. We also had to ject¡¯ out of that scene pretty fast after I¡­ killed his partner.¡±


    ¡°How many chains he have?¡± Valletta asked.


    ¡°Eight when we started.¡± I mumbled, embarrassed at the thought of how I had lost control during that fight.


    ¡°You¡¯ve gotta be joking, Fresh Meat. You stepped toe to toe with an Elite ranked Arsenal and walked out. No way I believe that.¡± Valletta accused.


    ¡°He¡¯s telling the truth.¡± Nennel spoke up in my defense. ¡°Ives¡¯ stepped in and saved me during that fight. The trog almost put me down.¡±


    ¡°I can back that statement.¡± Ferris interjected. ¡°I was going toe to toe with the Arsenal¡¯s partner. Iven stepped in to save me from the witch. That¡¯s when he killed her.¡±


    That last bit was a bald-faced lie, but he was selling the story. At this point, the van turned into a run-down parking lot of a decrepit hospital. ¡°Well, true or not, doesn¡¯t matter, cuz we¡¯re here. Gunna park in the back lot and walk ya¡¯ll in.¡±


    After the van parked and we all offloaded, our ganger guide led us to a back door, where she waved her BIC over the lock scanner. The lock clicked open, and the door swung wide. Valletta led us through long halls lined with abandoned hospital rooms. The halls and rooms were littered with debris ranging from trash to discarded hospital equipment like wheelchairs, bedpans, and hypo-jectors. I spotted a blood-stained scalpel half-perched on the end of an operating table in a room we passed by. The room was too dark for anyone else to spot the haunting scene, but it still made my skin crawl. Valletta led down one hall, then another, and up three flights of stairs before she stopped in front of a pair of doors with a cracked sign above labeled ¡®Critical Care Ward¡¯.


    ¡±You¡¯d best find dat iron in yer gut. Passed these doors is the gang. They¡¯re gonna give ya trouble to see how far they can push and test yer iron.¡± Said our guide as she playfully gave her chest two thumps with a fist.


    ¡°I, uh, what?¡± I asked. Valletta''s speech had become much more rough and slang-filled.


    She shot me an annoyed look. ¡°I ain¡¯t gonna keep talken like some clean-cut. That kinda talk¡¯ll only get ''em slingin¡¯ glass. If I ¡®ere ya, I¡¯d drop that straight-lace talk.


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­sorry?¡±


    Ferris stepped up beside me. ¡°I got this.¡± He turned to me. ¡°She¡¯s telling you to stop talking with your flowery and proper speech. Basically, if you don¡¯t use street slang, the gangers are going to give you grief. I¡¯m guessing you don¡¯t know street speak.¡±


    I bit my lip and gave an embarrassed shake of my head.


    ¡°Not a problem. I¡¯ll translate.¡± Ferris said with a proud grin.


    ¡°What, is young blood cut ear a high blood? He too good for us street scuffers?¡± Valletta asked in a hostile tone.


    ¡°Na. He¡¯s just a bright thought kinda guy. He was born a dust kicker, not a street scuffer. The guy¡¯s got the smart talk goin strong cuz he does plenty of bookwork.¡± Ferris answered her with an easy tongue as if he was speaking the foreign language like a native. He then turned to me and explained. ¡°She asked if you¡¯re a high-born and too good for street slang. I told her you¡¯re just an intellectual and was born in a small town and not raised in the city. I also said that you do a lot of studying, and that¡¯s why you talk weird.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t talk weird!¡± I said in an offended tone.


    Ferris shot me a knowing look. ¡°Ives¡¯, you talk like you grew up reading a dictionary instead of bedtime stories. You¡¯re lucky I was raised the way I was. Otherwise, I¡¯d think you were being a pretentious ass.¡±


    Valletta spoke up. ¡°Your friend¡¯s got it on the nose. Now, this is the last time I¡¯ll use high-class speak. You talk like you¡¯re a damned noble playing at the street life. I only talk like this because it throws the fresh meat off their game. But you, kid, are just plain weird. If you can¡¯t pull street speak, you¡¯d best keep quiet unless you really need to speak.¡±


    ¡°Welp, I¡¯m screwed.¡± I cursed.


    ¡°I got you covered, dude.¡± Ferris said with a bright grin. With that, we passed through the doors.


    Beyond those double doors was another world. The walls of the large room were stripped down to bare brick and covered with sprawling graffiti, posters, and random trophies. A mismatched series of chairs, couches, and tables were set about the room in a haphazard manner. Every surface that wasn¡¯t the floor, and even some of the floor, was littered with ashtrays, empty food wrappers, and more liquor bottles and beer cans than I wanted to count in a range of brands and types of liquors than I thought could exist. Then again, I was pretty ignorant about the topic of alcohol at this point in my life.


    The room was filled with people of every species, breed, shape, and size, but they all looked the part of gangers. From a quick glance, I noticed higher numbers of certain breeds than others per species. Most of the Orcs were the massive green-skinned Gredgore. The majority of the Elves in the room were Wild Elves or Sun Elves. Most of the Primals in the space were Rodent breeds with a smattering of Canines and Felines. Almost all of the Dracose in the room were the large Dezzar warrior breed, like Demierra. All of the Ceangar I saw in the room were Sarthorran Wild Riders with their dusky skin colors and red hair. What few Dwarves I saw were the dark-skinned and light-haired Canyon Dwarves. The Humans I noticed in the room, which took up most of the pure-bred population, didn¡¯t really have a majority of any one breed. I did see plenty of Halflings. The crossbreeds were everywhere. I guess coming from parents with two different species often resulted in arduous lives.


    As we entered the space, everyone went quiet and turned to stare at us. It was at that moment that I noticed that every single person in the room was armed. Many of the gangers were armed with more than was reasonably needed, but I had no room to judge. I did just walk in with a sword, two sidearms, an Infusion Dagger, enough ammunition to make a military squad question my motives, and a cybernetic arm with enough lethal power to put down almost anything I could encounter within the city walls short of another Stigmagaunt¡­ Or Arsenal Regulator. But only a fraction of what I carried was visible.


    A monolithic green-skinned Orc stepped up to us. The wall of muscle had shoulders four feet wide and was dressed in ratty and worn gray jeans and a black t-shirt with sleeves torn off to display arms of massive and toned muscle. Thick-linked chains were wrapped around his right arm from wrist to shoulder. Around his neck was a slightly smaller chain ornamented with empty bullet casings flanking a broken dagger. His exposed left arm was covered in scars from bullet wounds and blade slashes. His beady eyes were a pale gray that shone with what I read as a malicious light under a cliff crag of a brow. ¡°Dis dat new meat, Val?¡± He asked. ¡°Slim pickins from da count. None of da odders break da bank?¡±


    ¡°Na. These er¡¯ the only ones. But they¡¯re some prime rib.¡± Valletta replied with a smirk.


    ¡°Prime rib, eh? Dae all look twigged to me. Did dey really beat da gate?¡± The Orc asked.


    Ferris leaned over and translated for me. ¡°The big guy asked if we were the only ones to beat the challenge. Valletta said that we were the only ones and that we seem pretty skilled. He asked if we were actually any good because we look weak. Then he asked if we really did meet their standards.¡±


    I gave an annoyed sigh as Valletta continued, unphased. ¡°They broke the gate with preem mad fists. None blinked at the blood and only wheezed from popping their dive cherry. They even all say one leg with em stepped boots against an Arsenal Reg and dropped cold meat.¡±


    Ferris explained. ¡°Valletta said that we all showed serious skill and weren¡¯t phased by what we did. She said that the only trouble we had was getting out of our first dive. She then said that one of us fought with an Arsenal Regulator and killed someone.¡±


    I muttered in Ferris¡¯s ear in a harsh whisper. ¡°She makes it sound like I killed the Regulator. Is she trying to get me into trouble?¡±


    ¡°No, dude. She¡¯s trying to talk you up and make you sound tougher.¡± Ferris replied.


    The Orc eyed each of us, one by one. ¡°Da pint beard drop da Reg? He looks ta be da only one with spine. D''oe I''m likin'' da faceplate of flower-eyes over ''ere.¡±


    ¡°He asked if Khar¡¯ was the one to kill the Regulator because he was the only one with courage. Then he-¡± Ferris was cut off when the brute reached over and groped one of Nennel''s breasts with a single massive hand. I could deduce what he meant from that action alone.


    First, rage flared in my chest at the disgusting act. Then came the panic at the thought that Nennel was almost all metal. That grope would give away Nennel, and things would go very bad very quickly. Then I remembered that I had made my sis the synthetic pair of boobs. The panic subsided to worry that the texture would be noticeably off. So, to negate that possibility I acted on my wrath.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    I bared my teeth as an ember lit in my eyes. I stepped forward with no heed for what Valletta had warned. ¡°Listen here, you wall of dumb muscle. Drop that paw from my friend, or I''ll take it as a prize. I¡¯m the one that won that fight with the Reg. I might not be tall or thick, like your meaty frame, but I¡¯ve crossed blades with opponents that would make even someone as monolithic as you faint.¡± Even as I spoke, I knew to some degree just how stupid I was being. If I had kept my head down and played the weakling, I would¡¯ve had a much easier time getting the information that I needed. But there I was, unhinged in a fit of rage at a thug groping my sister and disregarding me. Part of me really wished I could have medicated before leaving for the mission. But something in my head was goading me, pushing me to get aggressive with the urge to prove myself.


    Later, I would chalk the raging tumult of emotions up to teenage boy hormones. Little did I know that something much bigger was at play until farther into my story.


    The Orc removed his hand from Nel''s chest and just stared at me in confusion for a long moment, leaning back a bit as if in shock. After his shock wore off, he put on an annoyed expression and leaned toward me as he looked me up and down while looming over like an annoyed giant. ¡°Val, ya tellin me dat dis cut ear stepped boots with dat Reg an made em breath dirt? I ain''t lettin'' dat slip ears wid me. Dis twig slaps lips like he¡¯s got a book between his ears. No way a clean cut made dat blade break. If he¡¯s prime rib, I¡¯m a cut ear.¡±


    I was starting to understand what was being said, and while I couldn¡¯t speak it fluently, I knew enough to know that this trog was talking trash. I partly turned my head back toward Ferris to speak to him without breaking eye contact with the Orc. ¡°Fer¡¯, mind translating what I had just said.¡± I requested.


    Without skipping a beat, my Quint friend stepped up beside me. ¡°Ives¡¯ here wants me to tongue-trans so you can get his bright thought kinda speak when he slings glass. He said perk your ears, muscle man, cuz ya got lead lobes. You''d best take that palm from his sis-kin or he''ll take a piece or two as a sign. He¡¯s the one to clash steel with that Reg. He ain¡¯t got feet up or a brick stack like your stake ass, but he¡¯s stepped boots with nems that¡¯d make your thonk-high ass flatline.¡±


    Without waiting for the Orc to respond, I continued. ¡°I might talk like an intellectual, but you¡¯d best remember that I¡¯ll carve you up and put you down without thinking twice if you do me wrong. I earned my right to be here, just like anyone else in this room.¡±


    Nennel stepped up and put a hand on my arm. ¡°Ives¡¯.¡± She said in a warning tone. "Don''t cause trouble. I''m not hurt, just annoyed."


    I shrugged off her hand and pressed ahead. ¡°I¡¯ll fight any two of you here and make you taste dirt if that¡¯s what it takes to prove it.¡±


    Ferris shot me a side-long glance of worry before translating. ¡°He said he might talk like a big brain, but you¡¯d best etch it in your gray that he¡¯d slice you good and not pass that thought back round if you gashed his good. He bought his spot like any all here. He said he¡¯d drop any two brandos to sniff dust if it will gleam him good.¡±


    The Orc gave a derisive snort before looking down his slab nose at me as he cracked the knuckles of one hand in the palm of his other. ¡°If dis neffer wanna scrap to gleam, he ain¡¯t gotta dance twice. I¡¯ll make em¡¯ sniff dust without huffen twice.¡±


    I glanced sidelong at Ferris. ¡°Did he just say he¡¯ll fight me alone to prove a point?¡±


    Ferris flashed me a proud smile. ¡°Sounds like you¡¯re learning. Yeah, that¡¯s what he said.¡±


    This time, I gave a derisive sniff before rolling my neck and shoulders. In wordless response, the other gangers cleared a space in the center of the room and made a makeshift ring from tables and chairs.


    My opponent turned his back to me and strolled with confidence into the space. As he walked, he spoke over his shoulder to me. ¡°I¡¯m Herk Merrowsapper. Better etch dat on yer lobes.¡±


    I followed him with a confident stride that I did not feel. I had just talked myself into trouble, and I wasn¡¯t sure if I could stand up to my boasts. Inside, I was quaking like a leaf in the wind. But I displayed none of that nervousness. Herk and I stood on either side of the center of the space, four feet from each other. I locked eyes with him and simply asked, ¡°Weapons or fists?¡±


    Herk gave me an amused smirk. ¡°I¡¯ll tread with no edges. But I¡¯ll give ya a crimp. Finger one piece for dis scrap, just no lead steel, got it.¡±


    If I understood right, he said that he would fight with no weapons, but he¡¯d allow me to use one weapon if it wasn¡¯t a firearm. I gave him a single nod in answer before removing my holsters and handing them off to Nennel, who wordlessly stepped up to take them.


    ¡°Yer usen dat poker?¡± Borger asked, pointing a sausage of a finger at Devil¡¯s Tail. I flashed him a wicked grin as I unbuckled the swords and sheath from my hip and handed it over to Nennel without breaking eye contact with the Orc.


    ¡°Ya goin widout? I don¡¯t know if yer brave er thick.¡±


    I held my grin as I said, ¡°I¡¯m still armed, but I¡¯m not starting with it in hand. I want to keep this fair after all.¡±


    His amused smirk turned to a snarl, and we both took a ready stance. I still had my Infusion Dagger tucked away in my boot. It was still accessible, but I thought that the taunt would be effective in forcing him into a mistake.


    Herk¡¯s starting stance was simple: left foot back, both legs bent, fists in a boxer position. I could tell that he was a veteran of street fights, but I could also tell that he didn¡¯t have much experience fighting someone with my kind of training. He doubtlessly relied on his size, mass, reach, and raw strength to beat anyone he encountered. I couldn¡¯t help but wonder how he would fight against someone his size or bigger, like a Bear Primal or a Kolterath like Stroder.


    The ready stance I took was one that I had learned to use against larger opponents. Because Herk¡¯s left foot was back, I mirrored him with my right foot back. My hands were open and loose, with the left forward and right close to my chest. I kept my profile slim to reduce the surface area he could target.


    Valletta, can you call match star-¡± Before I could finish my request, Herk rushed at me, throwing a forward jab. He was expecting to catch me by surprise. But I was ready. I leaned aside to my right to avoid the punch. Before he could retract his strike, I pulled his wrist toward my chest with my left hand. At the same time as snatching his forward limb, I thrust my forearm against the joint of his forward elbow and pushed against that joint with all my strength. Following that first action by a fraction of a second, I spun on my forward heel, and swiped my rear foot around in a wide arc across the floor. I used this motion, in conjunction with the actions of my hands, to throw the massive Orc off his balance and use his own mass and momentum to throw him to the ground with a quaking boom.


    He struck that ground face-first and landed hard enough to shake the floor, but I didn¡¯t stop. I closed in for a full mount, putting my feet on either side of his thick torso. But as I moved in, Herk flipped onto his back faster than I thought someone his size could manage. He lashed out with a kick to my hip. His foot struck my left hip with the force of a runaway truck. I was launched backward with massive power. I attempted to slow my skidding flight by driving the balls of my feet into the cement floor and leaning forward to counter the momentum. The act was almost completely ineffective. The small of my back struck a table hard enough to knock it over, sending me tumbling with it, but I was still in the space of the ring, so I could keep fighting.


    My horizontal fall left what would soon be an impressive bruise across my back and knocked the wind from me. The only saving grace was that I hadn¡¯t broken my spine. I had only just adapted to having an artificial arm, so I would rather not have had to learn how to live with a cybernetic spine. I did give a fleeting mental thanks to the ANFEN Navor had me installed with at the academy. It might''ve been the reason I still had one spine instead of two halves.


    I rolled onto my hands and knees and let out a coughing snarl of pain. Herk pulled himself to his feet with a grunt. As he was recentering his balance, I pulled myself into a runner¡¯s stance and kicked off with a kinetic burst from both of my new feet.


    I shot forward with blurring speed, lifting off the floor to shoot toward Herk''s face. With planned precision, I caught Herk around the neck in the crook of my arm. I hit the titan of a man with enough force to throw him off his feet yet again. But this time, I was ready. He struck the ground like thunder, and I pushed the advantage by driving a boot into his neck, the same boot that held my Infusion Dagger. As I pushed my boot down with the threat of pressure, I pulled free the dagger, triggered the infusion of Fire Myst into the edge, and held it a hair¡¯s breadth from Herk¡¯s right eye. I knew that my blade was close enough that the heat from it would be drying his eye to an uncomfortable degree.


    ¡°Kay, kay! I sub!¡± he called in a choked panic. I stepped off of the massive Orc, deactivated the dagger, and flipped it in the air before snatching it and re-sheathing it. The flip and catch was purely for dramatic effect if the sight of a masked seventeen year-old dropping a green skin twice my height didn''t drive the point home to the others in the room.


    ¡°I¡¯m no slouch, jack-twit. You can take that as fact.¡± I proclaimed as I took my weapons back from Nennel.


    I was worried that Herk would resent me for my victory, but the Orc sat up laughing. ¡°Dis cut ear has mad slaps. Dis bro lives up to tales tall and small.¡±


    ¡°Glad to hear it.¡± I said with an openly happy grin that remained hidden behind my mask, but I hoped it could be seen in my eyes. ¡°I¡¯ve got a few questions for anyone who knows anything about what¡¯s going on around here.¡±


    Ferris stepped up beside me and translated for me. ¡°The dude has grins at the gain. But the man has Qs about the happenings about.¡±


    Herk gave a hearty laugh. ¡°Da bro got big Qs about da happenings, eh? Yo! Nimblefoot! Get your toes shiften. You know da knows bout here.¡± He turned back to me. ¡°I¡¯m just a meat pounder wid lead lobs. If ya wants to know the knows, Nimblefoot has da tongue to drop those Qs of yours.¡± He gave another boisterous chuckle before strolling off to pick up a bottle of something strong to chug.


    In answer to the Orc¡¯s call, a Ceangar came rushing up from out of nowhere. The compact individual was short, even for a Ceangar of his breed. He was clearly a Sandarra Sand Sprinter, with ink-black hair, rosewood skin, and bronze eyes. The short man was dressed in tan jeans with holes in the knees and a red t-shirt emblazoned with a blue and white fox chasing an orange rabbit. His hair was greased back across most of his head with a spiked ridge up front. His chin was covered in a simple goatee with no lip hair.


    ¡°The guy got some Qs about the happenings around the gang? What¡¯s yer Qs?¡± His voice was high and almost whiny, but not to the point of annoying.


    ¡°Uh, yeah. I¡¯ve got a few¡­Qs. First, I was wondering where you guys got your Zyzivane formula?¡±


    Nimblefoot gave me a very long, suspicious look before asking, ¡°Ya mean where we gots our ZipVane from?¡±


    ¡°Uh, yeah?¡± I asked more than answered.


    Gig and his brothers had mentioned ZipVane, but I had totally forgotten that it was the street name for Zyzivane. Given the look that the Ceangar was giving me, I was terrified that I had blown my cover with a simple slip of memory.


    I panicked, hurrying to find an excuse for my word choice, when a stranger stepped in to save my bacon. A smaller-than-average gray-skinned Grytess Orc stepped in on my behalf. ¡°I think the Fresh Meat is talkin bout ZipVane. I heard that Zyzi-stuff name from a corp-rat. He does talk all classy-like. I¡¯m pretty sure that the dude¡¯s a runaway from a bad corp fam.¡±


    Nimblefoot eyed the Orc, then me. ¡°That would pull the math. He ain¡¯t the first corp-kin runner we picked up.¡± He turned to me. ¡°Ya a corp-kin, Fresh Meat?¡±


    I took the out and played along. I lowered my eyes and muttered my answer. ¡°Yeah, my fam are corp-rats. But they weren¡¯t good to me. I¡¯d rather leave that dreck behind. I want a new life away from them.¡±


    Nimblefoot waited for a few moments before giving me an understanding smile. ¡°I get leaving kin-binds behind, kid. Bad fam is bad fam, plain and easy. Yeah, we got that Zyzivane stuff. But it aint good. The corp-rat scum that passed it gave us rotted goods.¡±


    ¡°Rotted goods how?¡± I asked.


    The Ceangar was about to answer when a strong female voice called out from behind a closed door at the back of the room. ¡°Fresh Meat, join me!¡±


    At those words, the entire room flinched. The room the voice originated from was marked with a sign above the door labeled ¡®Operating Room¡¯. After everyone in the room recovered from the synched cringe, they all looked at me with an expectant stare.


    ¡°Who¡­ was.. that?¡± I asked in clear worry.


    Nimblefoot was the first to answer. ¡°That was the boss. Ya should go meet eyes with her.¡±


    I gave an audible gulp before nodding and looking at the others. Ferris and Nennel looked worried, but Kharmor looked totally unphased while still nodding in agreement.


    So, with a heavy sigh, I took leaden steps toward the door that led to the boss of the gang.


    I headed the procession through the door into a room that shocked me. The room was spotlessly clean. The walls were decorated with fine paintings over clean and painted walls the color of cream. In the center of the room was a fine oak table with a game board atop it, flanked by two overstuffed leather couches. A fine table sat in the back corner of the room, covered in classy food treats.


    From a quick inspection, I recognized caviar and fine crackers, roasted Hydra tail, Griffin wing strips, sauteed Manticor tail with baked Manticor stake, and more I couldn¡¯t identify. I only knew the ones I could identify on sight because of a cooking channel I had watched on occasion when I still lived with my father.


    Sitting in the center of the couch facing us was a Ceangar woman. She was an Irdorra Iron Runner breed, recognizable by her bronze skin, ash blond hair, and stunning silver and dark blue eyes. Her hair was worn simply, tied back in a ponytail that flowed down her back and vanished behind her only to peak out just to her right, laying along the cushion of the couch. She was dressed in clean and crisp ash-gray dress slacks over a ratty moss-green tank top that exposed a strap of her black bra. She lay there. Completely relaxed with an ankle propped atop her opposite knee and arms draped over the back of the couch.


    Laying at the head of the couch was a kinetic pistol that could only be brick caliber rounds. A single brick caliber round was large enough to not just punch a hole through my shoulder, but remove the joint entirely. And given how the room around me displayed opulence and wealth, that gun wasn¡¯t loaded with anything as simple as standard rounds. If I was lucky, they would be opal legal class. But given my luck up to this point and the obvious intelligence of the woman, I was likely dealing with Mage Killer Rounds, Bloodburn Rounds, or Stain Glass Rounds. If I were in her position, I would have all three loaded in that revolver just to cover all bases.


    I gave an audible gulp as I locked eyes with the gun. I held that stare for a few seconds longer than necessary to let her know that I noticed the weapon, was aware of it, and would keep note of it moving forward.


    The woman gave an expansive wave of her hand toward the couch across from her. ¡°Please, have a seat.¡± Her voice was thick with a Temprantissan accent, all hard and long Rs, sharp Vs, and hard Os.


    I did as instructed and moved to take a seat directly across from the boss. I needed to be very careful moving forward and not just of the gun. As the gang boss, she would have more information than anyone else I could talk to. But she not only could put enough holes in me to make me a wind chime of bone and sinew, she could also bring down the entire gang on me if I did anything wrong. Just from what I saw around the room and how she dressed, my best tactic was to remain polite but also show spine. I would need to keep a tight grip on my words and actions. That mood swing with the Orc might''ve worked out, but this woman was giving me bad vibes.


    I took my seat and eyed the game board on the table while Nennel took a seat to my right, Ferris sat on my left, and Kharmor sat beside him.


    ¡°Is this a Garden of the Gods game board?¡± I asked, both nervous and curious.


    ¡°Good eye, boy. Do you play?¡± the Ceangar asked.


    I shrugged and attempted to causally say ¡°A bit.¡± But I was pretty sure that I failed to make it look casual.


    My assumptions were proven correct when she gave an amused chuff through a grin before continuing. ¡°It¡¯s nice to meet the new meat who can speak a complete proper sentence.¡±


    I gave my best polite smile before asking, ¡°Is it really so rare?¡±


    She rolled her eyes and gave a tired sigh before saying, ¡°Sonny, Almost no one looking to join this gang wasn¡¯t a street scuffer, or if you prefer, a local, born and raised.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s legitimately saddening to hear.¡± I said. ¡°But how should I address the hostess? Would you prefer Boss, Mz.Boss, Big Lady?¡± I asked in an attempt at humor. Only after uttering it did I panic and worry that I had overstepped a boundary. But she gave a throaty laugh.


    ¡°You can simply call me Lynn. The grunts call me Mz.Lynn, Boss, and so on. But, honestly, if you can speak like a civilized sapient, then you¡¯ve earned more respect than most others.¡±


    I gave a nod of understanding, about to ask a question when Kharmor spoke up. ¡°Pardon me, Ma¡¯am, but is that an Executioner 34S?¡± He asked, pointing at the side arm beside Lynn.


    ¡°My, my, doesn¡¯t someone have an eye for the nicer things.¡± Lynn commented as she picked up the side arm and turned it back and forth. The revolver was larger than her forearm, and she still held it with such ease that I would think the weapon was weightless. Ceangar were a strong species, but even that simple act was setting off alarm bells in my head.


    ¡°This is, in fact, an Executioner 34SRD. Only one of thirty made.¡±


    ¡°Crafted in between the years 335 and 350 A.o.D.K to celebrate the end of the Servotex Renegade Years. Each piece was an updated version of the original model with a series of improvements and additions. Like the metagraphic palm identification readers in the grip. Or the mental intent trigger and trigger lock that would only fire when the designated user would desire to fire.¡± Kharmor listed off these facts with an excited energy, unlike anything I had seen from him before. I would have to keep this information in mind when Khar and I got a chance to talk honestly.


    ¡°I must admit that I am impressed with your knowledge of rare collectible firearms.¡± She turned to me. ¡°Are you as knowledgeable as your bearded friend? You may speak well, but is that all you can do other than fight?¡±


    I looked at her for a long moment as I pondered my answer, and I made sure that she knew that I was thinking it through. ¡°How about we play a game.¡± I gestured to the board on the table with a sweeping hand. ¡°I have some questions about operations that I hope you would be willing to answer while we play?¡±


    ¡°Intrieging.¡± Lynn said as she pressed a thumb to the corner of her mouth in thought. ¡°Very well. Your name is Iven, correct?¡± I gave a nod in confirmation.


    She pressed an icon on her side of the board, and it lit with a pale blue light. A hologram image appeared above the round board. Lynn spun the hologram wheel of faction choices, stopping it with a single finger, seemingly at random. ¡°Very well, Iven. I will choose the Mage Faction. How about yourself? The Hell Faction, perhaps? The Pandemonium Faction, maybe?¡±


    I noticed that subtle jab. She knew what I was. She knew that I was a Darkling. But how?

 PITM Chapter 33

    Regulators are the national law enforcement of the nation of Ventic. Regulators are members of the Ex-Tac mega-corporation. Each Regulator is strictly trained and conditioned both physically and mentally to be an unyielding force of law and order. There are sub-organizations of elite specialists. These groups almost exclusively accept members who have an Adventurer class or Mage class. Among these elite specialist groups are the FrostFire Division, the T3 (Total Termination Teams) Division, and the Stryker Division. Teams and squads from these divisions are loaded out to local corporations for the purpose of legal action relating to the organization that requires brutal force.


    I slowly turned the wheel of factions, pretending to examine each of them closely and think hard about the choice. In reality, I was snatching glances at Lynn¡¯s eyes, looking for noticeable features. When I spotted what I was looking for, I spoke up. ¡°I¡¯ll play the Fae Faction.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Lynn asked in amusement. ¡°Feeling whimsical, are we?¡±


    With her comment, I found an opening and had an idea of how to respond with a witty riposte. ¡°There is much more to the Fae, ma¡¯am, than pixies and unicorns. The Winter Fae are particularly nasty. For example, the Grimmalk is a masterful hunter with a wide range of abilities. Among that list is the rather useful ability to see through illusions. This makes them lethal to anyone or anything that seeks to hide its true self from this six-legged feline hunter.¡±


    Lynn sat back and gave me an impressive smile. I was rather proud of the natural flow from answering her question to calling her out and complimenting her, but I was done playing coy.


    I picked my first five pieces to start the game. I set down a pixie, and developed a forest on that space before ending my priming phase, and bluntly asking, ¡°Cybernetic eyes or interocular implants?¡±


    Lynn gave me a teasing frown. ¡°Done with our game so soon? If you really must know, they are interocular installments. They are harder to detect and can do just as much as a cybernetic.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re not upset because I¡¯m a Darkling or hiding who I am?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Why would I be upset?¡± She asked. ¡°I recognize you from the screens throughout the city, even with that mask. Grimvale¡¯s most wanted terrorist. The mask would¡¯ve been a smart addition if your skin pattern wasn¡¯t so identifiable. I¡¯d recommend a full face cover next time. But my point is that I understand why you would attempt to vanish from the public eye and seek out support from a group like our little gang. You really don¡¯t seem like the extremist terrorist you¡¯ve been painted as. You really don¡¯t seem like someone who would bomb buildings or attack Regulators unprovoked. How about this: while we play Garden of the Gods, we take turns asking questions. For every piece I take, you have to answer one question, and vice versa.¡±


    I asked, ¡°But what if the answers I need are to let me perform the needed tasks in the gang?¡±


    Lynn gave a noncommital shrug. ¡°Then I guess you¡¯ll need to prioritize your questions. If you don¡¯t take enough of my pieces, then you¡¯ll just have to get that information from someone else.¡±


    ¡°Then I guess I¡¯ll just have to play to win,¡± I double-tapped a finger against the center of the board to trigger the next phase of game preparation. ¡°Since I can¡¯t understand the others in the gang particularly well.¡±


    A hologram of a silver coin appeared two feet above the board and tumbled end over end. When the coin landed, it was tails side up, and my half of the board glowed with a blue light. I gave Lynn a crooked grin. ¡°Looks like I start.¡± I said as I tapped my first piece, then a space on the board at the edge closest to me. Another digital pixie sprang to life, fluttering around the designated space. I triple-tapped that same space, and a digital glade sprang to life around my pixie. I brushed my thumb against the edge of the board to signal the system that I ended my turn.


    Lynn¡¯s side lit as mine went dim. She played an apprentice unit and developed the space beside his unit with a mage tower.


    And so it went, each of us preparing for conflict by playing units, capturing and developing spaces, and moving the necessary units into position. As we traded turns and set plans in motion, my friends watched the game intently. Nennel was focusing on my moves, while Kharmor was focusing on Lynn¡¯s. Poor Ferris appeared to have no clue what was going on, but he still watched intently. The game developed at a rapid pace with the vacant lack of conversation. Tension was thick in the air.


    That tension was severed like a thread when Ferris stood and moved to get food from the table. Nennel, Kharmor, and I stared at our Elven friend in stunned shock. We then looked at each other to silently confirm our astonishment.


    ¡°You guys want anything?¡± the Quint asked over his shoulder as he picked up a plate and started piling food atop it.


    ¡°I, um.¡± I stammered.


    It was then that Lynn burst into uproarious laughter. When she had calmed down enough to speak, she said ¡°You all are honestly the most strange and fascinating fresh meat I have ever met. A Quint with absolutely no fear. A Half-Dwarf with an eye for the finer things. A Borg girl who walked into the dragon¡¯s den and is more concerned with a board game than the cyber-skavs around her. And a Darkling terrorist with a heart of gold and an educated past.¡± As she spoke, Lynn wiped tears away from her laughing fit.


    I stiffened and restrained myself from snarling at the gang boss. ¡°You recognize Nevierra then. Are you going to scrap her?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Lynn looked honestly shocked at my question. Then she looked thoughtful. ¡°How about this? If I win our game, I choose what happens to her. If you win, I will do any one thing you tell me to, if it is within my ability and does not harm myself or anyone under me.¡±


    I looked at Nennel for a long few seconds. She looked terrified, frozen in her seat like she was sitting across from some massive beast that would eat her if she moved. I turned my gaze to the game board and rubbed the side of my index finger back and forth against my mask, where my lips were covered, as I contemplated. If I hadn¡¯t met this woman, I would¡¯ve instantly thought that she would scrap Nel if I lost the game. But this Ceangar woman was intelligent and surprisingly empathetic toward my assumed situation. She might not have Nel scrapped. She might do something beneficial for my sister. This was a daring gamble. From how the game had developed up to that point, it looked like either of us could steal the victory.


    Lynn had taken a more aggressive stance to her play style than my own. But she was still making tactical moves. She had played two powerful units, seven strong units, and fourteen weak units. She was using the weak units to capture as much ground as possible without endangering her units or territory. My best guess was that when the conflict started, she would use her weak units as cannon fodder and field control.


    I had been playing defensively. While I hadn¡¯t captured as much territory as Lynn, I had fortified the majority of what I did control and had the critical spaces guarded by strong units. If I wanted to win this game, I would have to deny Lynn the field control that she was gambling on. But the Mage Faction had the most ranged units in the entire game. I would need to find a way to counter her range advantage to open the tactical path to denying her field control.


    ¡°Fine.¡± I said before turning to Nennel. As I had expected, she looked stunned, horrified, and offended. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Nev¡¯. I¡¯m not about to lose this.¡±


    ¡°Oh, and you can stop using those fake names.¡± Lynn casually said as she moved a unit. ¡°I know her name is Nennel Darrdane.¡±


    A high-pitched squeak slipped from Nel. To reassure her, I reached over and gently squeezed her hand before focusing on the game again. That set my determination in stone. I would win this game. It was during that same turn I took one of Lynn''s weak units. I had flanked one of her apprentices between a Sidh warrior and forest troll before removing her piece from play with an ambush from a grimmalk.


    Lynn gave a bow of her head in acknowledgment of my taking first blood. She then gestured with me with a sweep of her hand as she said, ¡°First question is yours.¡±


    While I should prioritize the questions that Weaver had given as hints, that would likely kill my cover. Asking questions about gang operations when my friend¡¯s life might be on the line would give a very bad impression. So, I started simple. Plus, I was honestly curious about the answer. ¡°What does the gang have against Nel?¡±


    Lynn sat back, folded one arm under her petite bosom, and scratched the length of her jaw with the thumb of her other hand. ¡°I¡¯m surprised that she hasn¡¯t told you. Her daddy-dearest was a drug runner for us for a while. But when he got in a family way, the lead lobe faked his own death to get away from us and fled with a sum of clat that was noticeable when it went missing.¡±


    ¡°And then you tracked my father down and set fire to his garage, you witch!¡± Nennel snapped at Lynn. ¡°You killed my father and did THIS,¡± she gestured to her body, ¡°To me. You ruined everything!¡±


    Lynn gave an exasperated sigh as she leaned forward. ¡°It wasn¡¯t anything personal, kid. He took coin from our pocket and fled. You weren¡¯t supposed to get hurt when we put your old man six feet under.¡±


    ¡°Then why was she attacked?¡± I asked, my tone and gaze intense with controlled anger.


    Lynn looked toward me. ¡°That¡¯s a second question, but I¡¯ll give you this one for free. We were given information on who she was, who her father was, what she looked like, and the general location of her residence in town as payment to balance some scales. I couldn¡¯t have cared less about the info, but some of the boys were chomping at the bit. They acted without my permission.¡± She sat back again. ¡°I¡¯m not one to have a kid owe me anything if the parent is the one who did the wrong. Plus, we put him six feet down, so as far as I¡¯m concerned, we¡¯re square and clear.


    Nennel remained silent as the game continued. Ferris was snacking on a plate of exotic meats and fruits while we played. Kharmor was silent and stalwart, as per the usual. Two turns later, Lynn took one of my Sidh warriors with a Sorcerer piece. ¡°My question. What actually happened that got you labeled as a terrorist?¡±


    I chewed at my lip for a second before answering with a portion of the truth. ¡°We were delving into the Undercity. We had been planning the trip for a while, and almost nothing went as planned. I was almost eaten by ghouls and a garden elemental. I almost fell into a bottomless pit, and again into a pool of acid. I lost almost all of my gear and got chased by cannibals. But the terrorist thing was because we accidentally woke a stigmagaunt and led it to the surface while trying to get away.¡±


    Lynn let out a laugh of surprise. ¡°That was you!? Boy, kid, did you screw up in a monumental fashion. And the bombing and Regulator things?¡±


    I gave her a look of amusement and teasing denial. ¡°You¡¯ll need to take another piece for that answer.¡±


    I knew that this action was a serious gamble, which I was hoping would win me the bigger gamble for Nennel. This woman scared me. On the surface she spoke well, acted polite, and played friendly. But this woman was also deviously smart, well informed, the leader of a dangerous and powerful gang, clearly had money to throw at problems, was openly armed with a weapon that would easily kill, and was playing with lives like she was trading playing cards.


    Lynn gave me a very serious look and quietly held my eye contact for several seconds before ending her turn and sitting back to watch. I very well might have just upset the bee queen in the middle of a hive of carnivore bees.


    I needed to prove to this woman that my answers were worth fighting for, while at the same time making that fight a struggle. If I could play a mind game while playing a holo board game, I might be able to split her focus enough to pull out a win.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    I moved a Treant in to capture one of her towers. The space was in the center of her territory boundary and gave me a wedge-point to push from. I doubled down on my tactic and double-reinforced that freshly spawned glade, upgrading it past forest and into a jungle. Next I discarded two of the units in my hand of ten to give me an additional two actions. I kept my initiative and breached another hole in her border on the western side of the board with a Wolf Pack by removing a Spark Squad. I knew that the Wolf Pack was a goner, but I was fine with that. It was a taunt with a sacrificial piece. For my last action, I played an Arch Fae just behind the new jungle I had spawned, which was still guarded by the treant.


    Before I ended my turn, I asked my earned question for removing the Spark Squad. ¡°So, this next question is gang business. I know your ZipVane drug is Zyzivane. I am aware that the drug¡¯s formula was released to the net but was snatched up by Evea-Life Corporation. So, where did you get the formula?¡±


    Lynn looked at me with an even harder stare than before. ¡°Where did you get that information?¡±


    I had made the deduction myself. Bit, Byte, and Gig had mentioned a new drug called ZipVane that the gang was selling and that it was killing people. Weaver told me to ask where the gang had gotten the Zyzivane formula. The math was pretty simple.


    ¡°My question firs-¡± I started. But before I could finish, I was looking down a rather large gun barrel.


    ¡°No.¡± Lynn said in a frosty tone that sent lightning up my spine. ¡°I¡¯ll answer this question now, and you¡¯ll keep answering my questions until I say otherwise.¡±


    Ferris and Kharmor both reached for weapons, but I shoved an arm in front of them to signal to them not to try anything. ¡°First, do you promise to keep to your word about the game?¡±


    ¡°That entirely depends on how you answer my questions.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± I said, quickly throwing together a story from pieces of Weaver¡¯s history, what the gangers had assumed about me.


    ¡°My father worked for Vartex. He was working on the formula of Zyzivane. I don¡¯t have all of the details, but he said that there was something wrong with the formula and that the corp was pushing to release it regardless. Well, a Vartex striker offed my father after we had moved to a small town in a hurry. I used almost all of the clat from my father to get here so I could get some bloody vengeance. Not long after I got here, I met a few kids on the street who told me about ZipVane. The name was too close to the drug¡¯s original name. I also recognized the symptoms the dead druggers had. My father had mentioned them a couple of times. So, I connected the bots and came looking for you.¡± The entire time I spoke, I kept my eyes locked with Lynns and did my best to cover up my spiked anxiety.


    The revolver remained aimed at my face for a few moments longer before Lynn lowered it and sat back, propping the ankle of her right leg on the knee of her left. ¡°You¡¯re lookin¡¯ for blood? From who? Vartex makes sense, but what about us? We¡¯re peddling your dad¡¯s drug, and we¡¯ve stacked up bodies.¡±


    I knew that the gang was kidnapping people off the street to test the drug. That meant that they were making changes to the formula. Understanding what I did of Lynn, she wouldn¡¯t be so stupid as to keep pushing a lethal drug on the streets until she knew that she had something that would turn a profit. So I would play dumb to the testing, but show that I knew she wouldn¡¯t be selling it.


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know how you got the drug¡¯s recipe, and I would like to know that. But I do know that you¡¯re definitely not moronic enough to keep trying to sell something that piles up bodies like an alcoholic piles beer cans. I would have a problem if you kept trying to push the toxic stuff. But I want to take Vartex heads, and maybe a few others, depending on where the formula you got came from.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll tell you what you¡¯re asking, and then some. I might just have an offer to perk your ears. Let¡¯s start with the answer to your question. We were contacted by a stranger who promised us a drug that could make us some serious coin. This dealer was the mysterious sort. Definitely a Human. Darker skin and pale hair. A bit taller than yourself and dressed in a top-plat quality suit with a wolf mask. The mask was silver with orange eyes. This scum sucker told us it was a new type of performance-enhancing designer drug that hadn¡¯t hit the market yet. We paid a heavy purse to get the formula and a sample batch. I handed the designs to our Street Alchemists to see if it was legitimate. They said that they hadn¡¯t seen anything like it before, but that it should be good. But my crew is made up of a bunch of idiots. The samples hit the street without any testing because someone thought it was fast and solid coin. At the same time, the Alchemists started cooking up a balk batch because they got excited to the point of imbecility for a new toy. Before I knew what had been going on, we had enough corpses to fill a graveyard.¡±


    Lynn had my sympathies for being surrounded by idiots, but she was still having terrible things done, so I needed to stay focused. ¡°Did this crop-rat give any kind of name?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. He went by Gentleman Wolf. Pretty bad name, if you ask me. Is the guy a high-class corp-rat in the kink community?¡±


    I gave an embarrassed cough at the question before bringing things back on topic. ¡°You said that you had an offer for me?¡±


    ¡°Ah! Yes.¡± She said. ¡°We¡¯ve been knocking off Vartex corp-rats on the coin of some mysterious stranger. Given how you handled Herk, I¡¯d be willing to add you to the hit teams if you''re up for it.¡±


    ¡°Uh, yeah.¡± I said in shock. My astonishment was genuine. She just offered to give the answer to another puzzle piece Weaver had handed me. He had told me to ¡®Ask the Razor Wing boss about their newest list of hits. Well, I was practically offered the keys to the proverbial kingdom. I centered my thoughts and gave Lynn a better answer. ¡°I mean, yes. Hells yes. Can you flick me the target list right now? I want to see if there¡¯s anyone I know on it.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± she said as she activated her therra. Six hand motions later, I had a new message notification on my therra. I pulled it up and scanned it. Five names and an IP address. ¡°Anyone you know?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Sadly, no. But I¡¯ll still join the teams.¡± My plan was to let the gangers find the targets and for me to act against them as subtly as I could to save the targets. I¡¯d likely get some of my Order team to help me get the targets to safety. Suddenly I had a thought. ¡°Hey, Lynn. Who¡¯s flipping the coin of these hits?¡±


    She gave an uncaring shrug before leaning forward to inspect the game board. ¡°Never met the guy in person. He goes by G3ar Gh0zt. He contacts me through the net and pays half up front and half after the job is done. He always seems to know when the deed is done, though, and he pays with a very weighty purse.¡±


    I intently watched Lynn for a brief few seconds, looking for any hint of deception. She lowered her guard rather easily. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Lynn, but¡­ You warmed up to me rather fast. Is there a reason?¡±


    She glanced up at me before looking back to the board. She stroked a thumb across her nose and gave a sharp inhale through it before answering me. ¡°Let¡¯s just say that I can empathize with bad ties to corps. I have more than enough venom in my veins for any corp-rat or Regulator. And I did hear how you dropped an Arsenal Reg, which earned you my respect. Now, how about we get back to the game? You¡¯ve put me in a rough spot, but I think I have an out.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± I said as I inspected the gameboard just as she had. The game made it four more rounds when calamity struck.


    I was just about to move my Arch Fae unit into a position that would force her to move her Alchemist unit to the east when there was a rumble through the building. My head shot up, and I looked to the door of the room. My instincts were telling me that something nasty either had just occurred or was about to occur.


    I was about to stand to move to the door when I froze at the sound of a gun hammer being cocked. I didn¡¯t dare to even move my eyes, but I knew Lynn was aiming her Executioner revolver at my head.


    ¡°I had a sense that you were hiding something.¡± She said in a cold voice. ¡°There is no way that corp could know we were here unless they were lead. You¡¯re the only new blood and fresh to the gang. So, who did you bring? Is it Dryzor corp, hm? Maybe Black Jade Hydra? No. I think it¡¯s Vartex. Just like them to send a mole claiming to hate them for dark dealings.¡± She pressed the muzzle against my temple. ¡°I don¡¯t take kindly to moles. Now, if you are honest with me, I¡¯ll make it quick.¡±


    I reflexively moved to look at her but froze when she ground the muzzle against my head. ¡°I¡¯m no mole, you schizo witch.¡± I lied. ¡°I¡¯m aiming to drop Vartex.¡± I lied again.


    ¡°Oh yeah?¡± She said in a sarcastic tone. ¡°I bet your father wasn¡¯t even killed. Is he a corp officer?¡±


    At her words, I spun with a snarl on my face. I pressed forward, locking eyes with her as I made sure to put enough force to make the gun barrel leave an imprint on my forehead. ¡°Don¡¯t you speak a word about my father. If you utter anything about the man who died a hero, I will take as many rounds as I must to ensure you won¡¯t walk away.¡±


    I didn¡¯t blink as I stared the Ceangar down. After my threat, I thought I might¡¯ve seen a crack in her stalwart stance. But I would never know if I was right. Gunfire and screams rang from the outer room. Lynn looked to the door only to find a nasty surprise.


    A bolt of pure light flew over my shoulder and struck her wrist, throwing the weapon aside to spin off into the corner of the room. Lynn instinctively pulled back her hand and bared her teeth at me, like a feral cat. I kicked over the table atop the Ceangar gang boss and leaped to my feet just in time for the room to be subsumed by darkness. Magical shadows filled the space like a thick gas. But I could see through it easily. The magic only gave the world around me a gray tint. But I could tell by the expressions and body language of the rest of my group that they were totally blind.


    I snatched Ferris¡¯s wrist and drove his hand into Nel¡¯s own hand. I did the same with Ferris¡¯s other hand and Kharmor¡¯s. In a hiss, I whispered, ¡°Hold tight, we¡¯re about to move fast.¡± just loud enough for my friends to hear. Then, I grasped Nennel¡¯s free hand in my left hand and led the others at a brisk base to the exit of the room.


    We stepped through the entry into a world of natural light, or as natural as fluorescent bulbs can be. The room was in total chaos. Figures in black tactical outfits and gear were breaching the room and opening fire on anything that moved. I looked at the rest of my group to find them all blinking against the sudden difference in light.


    Ferris and Kharmor were moving to arm themselves even as they adapted to the light. Meanwhile, Nel already had her Lash Gloves armed and ready even as she rapidly blinked. I caught sight of an armed stranger lining up a shot at Ferris, and I threw him to the floor by his neck, myself dropping with him. As Ferris was thrust to the ground, he gave a strangled ¡°GAK!¡±


    ¡°Can you all see?!¡± I shouted over the gunfire.


    ¡°I can!¡± Nennel replied even as she lashed two molten-red threads against a Ceangar assailant in tactical gear. One thread wrapped around their myst lance rifle and cleanly severed the front-most third of it. Her other thread wrapped around the Ceangar¡¯s ankles and pulled taut. The poor man or woman was pulled completely off their feet, literally. Their feet stayed standing on the ground, severed, as the rest of them were pulled and fell onto their back.


    I was about to unsheath Devil¡¯s Tail when I found a boot striking my shoulder and shoving me sideways. When I righted myself, I looked for whoever had pushed me, ready for a fight. I found the same Grytess Orc who had stepped in on my behalf earlier, when I had asked the Ceangar ganger about the Zyzivane, and he had gotten suspicious. In the wall where I had just been standing, at my neck level, was a combat knife, still quivering from the force of the throw. This Orc stranger held a Snuffer elemental pistol in his left hand, firing off shots of Myst Fire, while hurling shots and spears of Lumina and Umbra Myst from his free hand. He looked to be attacking everyone who wasn¡¯t part of my group.


    Ferris pulled me to my feet, and I reinspected my surroundings. I saw a Human ganger who had noticed that our new Orc friend was attacking both gangers and the assault team. This Human was charging my Orcish friend with a heavy-headed sledgehammer pulled for a powerful swing.


    I didn¡¯t hesitate. I raised my right hand and aimed my Shockbites at the Human and shot a single one. The lone spike bloomed into a flower of voltage as it flew and latched onto the poor guy¡¯s face. While I felt bad for the ganger, I didn¡¯t feel bad enough to do anything.


    In a single fluid motion, I drew a small caliber kinetic pistol in my left hand and Devil¡¯s Tail in my right. The moment my sword arm had enough space, I activated the expandible shield in my cybernetic arm. The defensive device was no larger than a buckler, only a foot and a half in diameter. But any cover could help keep me and my friends alive.


    I cracked off two shots at a female Elf ganger who had started blindly firing a fully automatic rifle. She had been putting rounds into everything in front of her, friend or foe. My first shot struck her in the arm, only throwing her off balance. But my second shot punched into her right lung and dropped her to the floor where she struggled to draw gurgling breaths.


    I mentally commanded the shoulder Loklink piece to activate. The right shoulder of my leather jacket split as six iron-glass vials extended and began filling with my blood. I sidestepped closer to the friendly Orc and shouted to the entire group. ¡°We need to move, NOW! The boss is out for blood and will leave the dark room any time now.¡± The Orc nodded in confirmation, and I took the lead to move the group to safety.


    The assault team had entered the room and spread out to clear the space, leaving only two members on either side of the exit. I fired three rounds against the guard on the left, and the Orc threw a bolt of shadow at the one on the right before firing off two shots at the same target.


    My first bullet bounced off her chest plate. The second round clipped her barely on the side of the neck. But the last round struck her in the center of the neck. The poor Human woman clutched at her neck with one hand even as she attempted to raise a sidearm at me. But I closed the distance and launched a sidekick into her kidney, bouncing her off the wall and to the floor.


    The Orc¡¯s attack was a bit different. The shadow bolt struck the Elf guard in the center of his body. It didn¡¯t seem to do anything until the Myst Fire shots hit in the exact same spot and punched through the armor, which should¡¯ve been resistant to the attack. The guard dropped his weapon and pressed his hands on either side of the wound, but he dropped all the same. I was about to push through the doors when I heard Lynn scream, ¡°IVEN!¡± as she spotted me immediately after entering the room.


    I kicked open the doors in a panic, even as I heard a high-caliber gunshot I knew came from Lynn. When I didn¡¯t feel any pain as I rushed into the hallway, I thought myself lucky. I hurried toward the stairs even as I checked myself for damage. Her shot had punched through the back of my cybernetic hand and out near my thumb. I thanked the Goddess that nothing worse than losing my illusion had happened. But I was wrong. Very wrong.

 PITM Chapter 34

    Subcasters are individuals who are not full Mages and have an extremely limited range of abilities. Sparks can only cast small spells of a single element that they are tied to. Embers, similarly, can only use spells containing a single element they have a tie to, but they are capable of using this element in combat. Dyads are a very special form of subcaster. A Dyad only has access to two elements, but they are always two opposites of a Duality. So a Dyad of The Cycle can use Life and Death Myst, and a Dyad of Choice can use Fate and Chaos Myst.


    Even as I inspected my hand, I saw the bio-synthetic material fade from the green-black of its natural color to a fragile and flacking gray. I stopped at the top of the stairway down and rolled the fingers of my right hand while maintaining my grip on my sword. The graying and flacking texture had stopped at my wrist, and my hand was still functional, but I could feel that my once enhanced grip strength had been cut down to a quarter. While I could maintain melee combat with the hand, I would likely lose the hand from a direct blow to it, and I didn¡¯t dare use it for anything strenuous.


    I was shocked back into the situation when the Orc snapped at me, ¡°Move your horned ass. This place is packed full of gangers, and I doubt the strike team we just fled is alone.¡°


    I turned to him. ¡°Who are you, and why are you helping us?¡±


    ¡°Right. You don¡¯t recognize me.¡± He said in realization. ¡°This might help.¡±


    Suddenly, the gray-skinned Orc began to shrink and warp. Within seconds, a familiar Half-Star Elf girl was staring at me with an annoyed look. ¡°You get it now?¡± She asked with attitude. Even her clothes had shifted with her.


    ¡°I-uh. What? Zynna? How?¡±


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t break your brain over it, horn-head. I¡¯m not a Half-Elf. I¡¯m a Copkin, Mr.Genius.¡±


    For those of you who have never encountered one, Copkin are Halflings, like Darklings or Brightlings. Only their strange parent was a doppelg?nger. That means that these select individuals can change shape into any humanoid species, any breed, and any gender. Copkin are almost always mistrusted because of how easy it would be for them to steal, cheat, or deceive. Copkin normally only reveal what they truly are to their most trusted friends. But I think this would be considered an extenuating circumstance.


    I stared at Zynna for a very long moment, just blinking as I tried to process this development. ¡°Okay. So shape-changer. Got that. But the magic?¡±


    Zynna gave me a look from under her brow that told me I was an absolute idiot. ¡°You¡¯re in the middle of a war-zone where everyone else will kill you on sight, and you¡¯re wondering what kind of Mage I am? You really need to straighten out your priorities, horn-head. If you seriously need to know, I¡¯m not a Mage. I¡¯m a Dyad of The Dichotomy.¡±


    Before I could say anything in understanding, the doors we had just passed through burst open. The force was hard enough to rip one door clean off its hinges and send it spinning. The flung door struck the wall not even eight feet from us. Lynn stepped through the doorway with her revolver at the ready. The false skin that had covered her arms was in tatters, exposing the synthetic muscle fibers beneath that bulged to an unnatural degree.


    ¡°I¡¯m not about to let you parasites go.¡± She said in a steel-laced voice.


    I shouted to the others, ¡°Move! I¡¯ll buy you time.¡± as I pointed Devil¡¯s Tail at the Ceangar.


    Zynna stepped up beside me. ¡°I¡¯ve got a better idea. Nel, you and the boys head down. Wait for us at the first floor.¡± She tapped her therra and spoke to someone else on the other end. ¡°Hey, scale face, we need a crash and bash. Third floor, stairwell in the center of the west wall. Come in blasting.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡± I asked as my panic spiked. Did Zynna just call in an artillery strike or aerial assault somehow? Were we about to get blown to kibble?


    ¡°I¡¯d recommend that you take a step back, horn-head.¡± Zynna advised.


    I did as she said, taking two steps back as I lowered my blade and aimed my pistol at Lynn.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care who your new friend is, or what that threat was supposed to mean. I¡¯m out to make you a corpse because of what you di-¡± Lynn was abruptly cut off when the wall to our left erupted inward. Bricks and mortar blasted across the hall and filled the air with a thick cloud of dust.


    I reflexively covered my mouth with the crook of my arm, despite my filtering mask. When I realized that I had stopped aiming my firearm at the gang boss, and moved to correct my mistake. I had almost lined my aim back up when I froze as I noticed something.


    Standing just in front of the fresh hole in the wall was a figure veiled in the dust. They raised up from a crouched position to stand over six feet tall with board shoulders, a draconian head, and a matching tail. I recognized who it was when I saw the dancing mane of green and white flames flowing behind her horns and matching flames engulfing her gauntleted fists.


    Demierra stood in the orange-red light of dusk that flowed in through the wall behind her. She looked like an avatar embodiment of wrath and justice. That was the truth of a Fury, even if I didn¡¯t know the details of the class at that moment.


    Lynn moved to aim her Executioner Revolver at the Fury, but she was too slow. Demierra launched forward as if shot from a cannon and struck Lynn in the chest with an uppercut carrying enough force to launch the Ceangar as if she was struck by a cannon blast. She flew backward and struck the wall hard enough to crack the surface. The revolver fell from Lynn¡¯s hand just before she fell herself.


    I had to assume that the gang boss had to have cybernetic-reinforced bones, given that she wasn¡¯t dead and was still partially conscious. Lynn struggled to reach for her weapon with a shaking hand.


    Demierra strolled forward with hands on her hips as she kicked the weapon further out of Lynn¡¯s reach, before turning to me with a proud grin. ¡°Did I make a good entrance or what?¡±


    ¡°Uh, yeah.¡± I numbly agreed.


    Zynna gently shoved my shoulder to turn me toward the stairs. ¡°Move your ass, numb skull. We need to meet up with the others and get the hells out of this place.¡±


    It was at that moment that the sound of gunfire intensified before a group of gangers rounded a corner of the hall to our right, retreating as they fired in blind panic. My stomach dropped out when I saw several chains ending in spikes rounded the corner, and attacked the retreating gangers. Each time a chain struck, a ganger fell with a scream.


    The source of the chains rounded the corner at a steady, unhurried pace, and my fears were confirmed. A familiar Ceangar Arsenal named Kellden attacked every target he could reach with lethal ease. Only a few moments after he rounded the corner, he noticed me. ¡°You!¡± He snarled with enough venom to kill a griffin.


    Demierra was the first to act. She conjured a javelin of lightning, took three strides forward, and hurtled the attack with brutal force. The electrical lance punched through three of the fleeing gangers, one after another, with ease. With each target the javelin punched through the bolt glowed brighter and flew faster. I watched the shot fly true, and I was positive it would strike the Arsenal.


    Then Kellden dodged it with unnatural reflexes and simply let it slide by to strike the wall behind him, blasting a hole in it much like the one Demierra had caused when she entered. ¡°I¡¯ve caught your trail, Taint-Blood.¡± He called even as I led the way down the stairs.


    Nennel, Ferris, and Kharmor had already started down the stairs, and following on my heels were Zynna and Demierra. I told the two behind me to take the lead while I slowed Kellden and Lynn down. I stepped to one side and let them pass while I holstered my firearm, and felt along my utility belt for what I was looking for. My fingers landed on my sought-after device, and I pulled the tube free. I held a Gas Cap-Shell full of Oleum Gas, a powerful magical corrosive gas. I depressed the timer with my thumb. My thumb hadn¡¯t been on the trigger for a whole second when a shot rang out. The Cap-Shell was launched from my grip to fly, spinning, down the stairs to bounce off the wall of the landing.


    I threw my gaze to follow where the shot came from to find Lynn, aiming her gun at me. She hissed a curse and adjusted her aim. I spat a curse in turn and backed down the stairs to leave her line of sight even as the corrosive cloud ejected from my Cap-Shell. The last thing I saw before I entering the cloud, when I was forced to hold my eyes shut, was Lynn climbing to her feet and Kellden stepping into my sight and toward the stairs.


    Lynn was right. I did need a full face cover mask. Despite sealing my eyes and hurriedly rushing down the stairs, using the wall as a guide, I could feel the acidic gas clawing at my eyelids and unprotected upper face. In my hurry, I tripped over my own feet on my way down the stairs when I was almost to the ground floor. I left the acid cloud as I fell face-first to the ground floor. I had only been four steps away from my near destination and struck the tile floor forehead first. My horns protected my cranium, but my brow still ached from the impact.


    I let out a growl as I clawed my way back to my feet. Ferris grabbed my natural arm and helped me up. ¡°You okay, dude?¡± Then they all got a look at the exposed skin on my face.


    ¡°By the gods! Iver, your face. Are you okay?¡± Nennel asked in panic.


    My face burned and stung, but I could see just fine, and that was what mattered. ¡°I¡¯ll live.¡± I grumbled. ¡°We need to keep moving. They¡¯re not far behind us.¡±


    ¡°Ozwald has our escape route mapped.¡± Zynna said as she pointed down the hall. ¡°He should be waiting for us in the mess hall.¡±


    ¡°Lead the way.¡± I said as I reflexively wiped my face with my left arm. I regretted the action as it lit a flare of pain across any skin my arm touched. At the burst of pain, I pulled my arm away and saw what only could¡¯ve been scraps of my skin clinging to the sleeve of the severely damaged jacket. ¡°Damn it!¡± I cursed as we started moving. ¡°I was going to keep this jacket for personal use.¡±


    ¡°Seriously?!¡± Nel chided me. ¡°Your skin is falling off your face and you¡¯re upset about a damaged jacket?¡±


    ¡°What? My face will grow back, and this was a nice jacket, even with the wear and tare.¡± I defended.


    ¡°I¡¯m coming for you, foul blood!¡± Kellden called as he stepped from the Oleum Gas cloud.


    ¡°Oh no you don¡¯t, short stack! He¡¯s mine!¡± came Lynn¡¯s voice, trailing not far behind the Arsenal.


    ¡°RUN!¡± I shouted to the others. Nennel and Ferris were the first to break into a sprint, likely because they had seen what the Arsenal was capable of. Zynna threw a bolt of shadow at the Ceangar Regulator before following hot on the heels of Nel and Ferris. Kharmor kept pace with me as I aimed to make some distance, before slowing the lethal attacker. Demierra, the courageous idiot, stood her ground.


    The Dracose Fury conjured an aura of electricity to wreath her. Even as arcs of blue lightning swirled around her and lashed out at the surrounding surfaces, she summoned a javelin of white, vermillion, and gray energy. The moment Lynn had stepped into view, covering her face against the gas, Demierra hurled her energy spike.


    Kellden, just as before, sidestepped the javelin aimed at his chest. The shot flew wide of Lynn and struck the wall of the stairway, which was still filled with the Oleum Gas. I was about to curse at Demierra for the desperate shot when I realized that she had learned from her last attack.


    The javelin of Lumina, Distortion, and Earth Myst struck the wall and erupted with a crack like a gunshot. Lynn and Kellden were both forced to take a step forward to keep their balance as the cloud in the space was thrown away. Then, there was a reverse rush of air with much greater force. Kellden and Lynn were wrenched backward to the landing between the first and second floors. They both landed in a tangled heap and were covered in a dense fog-bank of acid that only covered them.


    Even before the javelin burst, Demierra slapped her hands against the ground and raised them up with a clawed grasp. Following the Fury¡¯s hand motion, three figures of flame rose from the ground. All three of them were armed with short blades and round shields. With the wordless command of a pointed finger from Demierra, the flame entities marched forward, blades and shields at the ready.


    At this point, I had made it ten paces down the hall, Kharmor at my shoulder. Demierra turned and moved to catch up, but another shot rang out from Lynn¡¯s revolver. The massive round clipped Demierra along the side, carving a furrow of blood and meat through her tactical armor.


    ¡°Dreck!¡± I cursed as I pulled an about-face and hurried back to Dracose at a double pace. ¡°Khar¡¯!¡± I called as I threw Demierra¡¯s arm over my shoulders. ¡°Cover fire!¡±


    The Half-Dwarf moved faster than I thought someone with his mass could. He slid to a halt, and turned on his heel, drawing a massive single-round sidearm in the same motion. Kharmor drew his aim as I helped Demierra to safety. When Khar pulled the trigger, the weapon let out a loud ¡®Thunk¡¯ like a piece of metal being shot down a tube. A round I honestly couldn¡¯t call a bullet flew over my shoulder close enough that I could feel the breeze. The projectile was the size of a potato and struck a hard surface behind me with a sound like shattering stone. I didn¡¯t stop to look as I half-carried the Fury, who was bleeding like a running hose.


    ¡°Hold in there, Demi¡¯. I¡¯m about, to do something, that might help.¡± I grunted with effort between every few words.


    ¡°What?¡± she asked in a dazed wheeze.


    ¡°Oh, frag this!¡± I cursed before half-turning and trying something. While still supporting the Dracose¡¯s arm on my shoulders, I pulled free another Gas Cap with my left hand. I thumbed the button for a half second while mentally commanded my shield to collapse, immediately after using another mental command to deploy my launcher system LokLink.


    The shield folded into itself and slid back into my arm, followed quickly with a three-inch diameter wrist cannon extended upward to take the shield¡¯s place. The back end of the cannon popped open, and I jammed the Cap Shell into the opening, slapped the seal shut. The launcher dilated its diameter and rifling to fit the Cap Shell, gray-blue smoke already streaming from the muzzle. I launched the small canister down the hall, Secorus Gas trailing in streamers. Before the canister even touched ground, I was already activating a Shock Byte to follow in short order.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    I did notice that the acidic gas that was still lingering in the stairwell was mixing with something other than the Secorus I had just gifted our intrepid hunters. An almost clear gas that was already causing Lynn and Kellden to be wracked by gagging coughs. With my new gift, their life was about to get even more unpleasant.


    I hurried to half-drag Demierra to safety. When I heard a gunshot go off, there was an immediate sound like a mine going off afterward. Kharmor was suddenly helping me pull Demierra along, holding her waist and hurrying to keep up with me.


    ¡°What in the Hells did you hit them with, Khar¡¯? A cloud of Blast Powder?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Na.¡± He grunted. ¡°Just tear gas. I wanted to buy us a few seconds.¡±


    ¡°What about that blast?¡± I asked.


    ¡°That, would, be, me.¡± Demierra wheezed. ¡°Servitors, blow, on death. Must¡¯ve, died, from, your cloud, of, whatever that is.¡±


    ¡°I want details when you aren¡¯t dying.¡± I said as I heaved her into what I recognized as the dining hall.


    Ferris, Nel, and Ozwald were all waiting for us in the room, and they all moved to help Kharmor and me carry our wounded comrade to a nearby table.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Ferris asked as we slid her atop a dining table.


    ¡°What does it look like?!¡± I snapped at him. ¡°She¡¯s been shot.¡± I turned to Kharmor, then Nennel. ¡°We need Quik-Klot, right now.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got some.¡± Ozwald said in a panic. He was holding a package of the powder in one shaking hand as he stared at the gaping wound in horror. Kharmor snatched the substance from the Human without a word, ripped it open, and started packing fistfuls of the powder into Demierra¡¯s wound.


    When her bleeding was slowed enough to keep her breathing when we escaped, I told Kharmor to stop and check her wound. ¡°What?! Why?¡± Ferris snapped at me.


    Kharmor took a seat beside the Dracose on the table and looked at her wound. ¡°Because, Iver wants to know if there is any residue from the shot that hit her. If it was a Stain-Glass Round, she¡¯s dead, no matter what we do. If it was a BloodBurn Round, we might have a chance.¡± Khar¡¯ explained as he examined the wound, desperately looking for any hint of danger to Demierra¡¯s life. I stepped up to take a look for myself, not sure if I knew what I was seeing if there was anything beyond caked blood and gore. Mixed in among the white-tan Quik-Klot were specks of mat black grains. Kharmor sat back and gave a sigh of relief before moving to continue applying Quik-Klot. ¡°She¡¯s only been hit with a Mage Killer Round.¡±


    ¡°What!¡± Ferris panicked. ¡°She¡¯s going to die?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I explained. ¡°That type of ammo uses Scaiben Crystal, which cancels all magic it comes in contact with. She won¡¯t be able to cast any spells while it¡¯s in or on her. And we also can¡¯t use any healing magic on her. But Quik-Klot isn¡¯t magical. It only makes blood congeal much quicker.¡±


    I paced back and forth, desperate to leave, but worried to move Demierra. I looked at the crew to check each of them for wounds and found none. Kharmor was already moving to pull Demierra from the table with Ferris¡¯s aid. Nennel was watching the door we had come through with a sidearm at the ready. Zynna was watching every other entrance to the space with twitching eyes. Ozwald was attempting to wipe blood from his hand onto a nearby seat with little success. When he realized I was looking at him, he made brief eye contact before bashfully looking away. ¡°Thanks, Oz.¡± I said in a serious tone. ¡°You just saved Demierra¡¯s life. Zynna said you had our exit ready?¡±


    ¡°S-sure.¡± He nervously answered before pointing to a pair of doors to my left.


    ¡°Lead the way. I¡¯ll watch our backs.¡± I said.


    ¡°Fer, Nel. Can you two take her shoulders?¡± Kharmor asked. ¡°I¡¯ve got her waist. I can take most¡¯ve her weight, but I need you to keep her upright.¡±


    Ozwald led the escape, with Zynna on his heels, weapon at the ready. Ferris, Nennel, and Kharmor followed behind with Demierra in hand. I took up the rear and watched in tense anticipation. If Kellden and Lynn were still following us, I¡¯d need to buy the others time, given that they were carrying a quarter-ton wounded Dracose.


    I waited for a spare second at the doorway before passing, and that was our undoing. Kellden and Lynn stepped through the doors at the same time and locked eyes with me.


    I inwardly cursed my pause to check, even as I goaded them. ¡°You two working together now?¡±


    ¡°Shut it, fell-spawn.¡± Kellden snapped as he marched toward me, throwing tables and chairs aside with his chains. ¡°We¡¯re both hunting you. After that, I¡¯ll deal with her.¡±


    ¡°Like hell, creep.¡± Lynn said as she aimed at me. ¡°I¡¯ll put you down before you can even look at me. But, Dark Horn here, is dying first.¡±


    With those words, I slipped through the door and used it for cover, crouching down as I pulled a vial of blood free from my shoulder. I popped the seal on the tube with a thumb and drew Devil¡¯s Tail along the outside of my left arm as I readied my ability. Blood from my arm dribbled to the floor in gushes timed to my pounding heart.


    A hole the size of my fist burst through the door, just above my head, in time with a thunderous gunshot. I took that as my cue to act. I shouldered the door open as I rolled through while casting my ability. The blood in the vial vanished. The blood on the floor and flowing down my arm pulled together into a series of crimson bullets.


    I flicked two fingers toward Lynn to direct my volley toward her. Even as the bullets flew, I twisted the pommel of Devil¡¯s Tail to trigger its first change. The individual segments that formed the length of my sword separated into the form of a Serpent Blade. The blade segments separated into a loose whip-like form, each segment linked by a controlled magnetic field to allow for maximum flexibility while maintaining the serpentine form. That magnetic field could be directed through commands from my Mental Command Module in my arm, allowing me to pull off impossible moves. And I was about to put that to the test.


    I struck out at Kellden with the lengthened blade, extending the sections even further with a simple mental command. The head of the blade and two following segments struck the Arsenal¡¯s faceplate, carving a gouge through the metal, exposing a sliver of his face. With a swift redirect of my blade hand and another mental command, the blade retracted from the previous strike like a true serpent and struck like a cobra toward Kelleden¡¯s chest.


    The attack from my blade was sent flying off by a simple bat of one of the Arsenal¡¯s chains. I caught a glimpse of one of his glouring eyes through the fresh slash in his helmet as he made his next move. Two of his spike-ended chains launched toward me.


    Expecting this action, I lunged to my left as I reached to draw my sidearm. There was an instant of panic when I realized that my timing was off and I was about to take a spike to the leg. But I was saved by an unlikely action.


    Lynn kicked out one of Kellden¡¯s knees before cracking off another shot toward me. The Arsenal¡¯s attack was diverted and thrown wide by Lynn¡¯s kick, but the gang leader¡¯s shot missed me by several inches. She didn¡¯t even check to see if her bullet landed as she breached her revolver, ejecting bullet casings, and any unused rounds. I struck the ground and shoulder-rolled. My tumble came to a stop beside a concrete support column just in time for me to see Lynn fast load six new rounds with rust-colored tips.


    Seeing the ammunition change, I knew it couldn¡¯t mean anything good for me, so I made an impulsive choice. I fired three shots at the ganger from my sidearm, but I didn¡¯t take the time to aim. Two of my bullets flew wide of the mark, and the third bounced off her bicep, confirming her arms were cybernetic. I quickly learned that my impulse was a massive mistake when she fired a single shot at me, even as I tried to take cover behind the pillar beside me.


    I got to cover, but not before I felt a hole get punched through my right thigh. I cried out in pain, dropping my pistol to clutch at the wound. At a glance, I saw that whatever Lynn had shot me with had passed through the armor plate covering my thigh with no issue, and cleanly exited the back of my leg, only grazing the bone. I thought I was lucky until I watched for a second longer. Rust spread out from the bullet hole across the armor plate at a rapid rate. When the burning sensation in my leg spiked to a very literal sense of scorching heat, I knew I was in serious trouble.


    The iron in my body was oxidizing at such a rapid rate that it produced enough heat to start a fire. If I didn¡¯t do something fast, the oxidation would spread through my whole body, and I would turn into a living pyre. So, I did the first thing that came to mind. I drew on the blood from the bullet wound as fuel as I jammed my thumb into the very same hole and released a large amount of Death Myst into the tissue and bone of the affected area. Put simply, I forced all of the affected flesh and bone to flash necrotize to halt the progression of the Ruinite of the BloodBurn bullet. The pain in the wound peaked before vanishing into a disturbing numbness. When I slightly moved the leg and gray dust fell out of the exit hole, I was thoroughly disturbed, but I shoved that aside to deal with the immediate threat.


    I grasped for any idea of what I could do to get out of this without losing any more of my body. My mind snatched on a desperate idea. ¡°Hey! Reg-boy! How was your sister¡¯s funeral?! I bet it had to be a closed casket, given the mess I left her in!¡± I taunted. Just saying the jab made me feel like an absolute bastard, but I got a response.


    ¡°Shut your rotten mouth, Hexxen!¡± Kellden shouted in a rage as he threw his chains against the pillar protecting me. Dust and stone debris flew with each powerful blow thrown in rapid succession.


    I successfully got the Regulator enraged, but I was certain that if I didn¡¯t do something else soon, he would just carve my cover into a carpet of rubble. I mentally added metal scraps to that unwanted result when I saw a segment or support rebar spin off from the pillar to imbed in a nearby wall.


    ¡°Hey Lynn! I hope that these Regs tear down your whole empire! All you¡¯ll have left is dust and a jail cell if you¡¯re lucky! I can¡¯t say I¡¯m surprised that inviting corporate guard dogs was all I needed to do to ruin you. You did just let me walk right into the gang like a trusting idiot. But it¡¯s not hard to see you¡¯re no intellectual giant! You did play Garden of The Gods like a brain-damaged barracuda. Flopping about, trying to look tough and smart, but just flailing and looking more like a sympathy joke. But then again, you can¡¯t even line up a kill shot on me, even when I¡¯m standing still and not even looking at you.!¡±


    I was grasping at straws, trying to piss Lynn off, but poking at her intelligence and accuracy did get a response when I heard five more thunderous gunshots. At the time, I didn¡¯t notice, but I should¡¯ve recognized that I didn¡¯t hear any of those shots ricochet to another surface. But even if I had noticed, I could not have foreseen what that meant for us.


    Nice job, Iver. Tactical genius of heckling. I mentally chided myself. I was confused as to why neither of them were trying to close the distance or flank me, until I heard deafening silence followed by a metallic click and the sound of something like a metal can hitting my protective cover. Then I heard Lynn spit a panicked curse, and I knew I had to move. But, I couldn¡¯t move with any deftness with a ruined leg. I threw myself away from the safety of the pillar and dragged myself all of two feet further when the world collapsed.


    If shots from Lynn¡¯s Executioner Revolver were thunderous, what struck me was a sound like a giant clapping its hands at full strength right behind me. I felt the sound as a wave of physical force that washed over me. The support column that I owed my life to gave me one last gift as it dissolved into a gray cloud. Even as shards of stone and metal peppered me, the floor below me simply stopped existing. Then I was falling.


    Those few seconds suspended in the air, hanging in a choking cloud of stone, felt to last forever. I remember seeing a piece of rusted metal rebar frame float by me, dissolving into powder as it tumbled. For those eternal seconds, I wondered what on Anogwin had just happened to put me in this situation. Only later would I learn that through a series of unfortunate events from ill-judged heckling, I was put there. Kellden¡¯s enraged chain attacks against my stone guardian had exposed the metal frame. Lynn¡¯s BloodBurn rounds had contacted those metal support rods and caused them to rust at a horrifying rate, and the rust caused by Ruinite will continue to spread as far as it can unless stopped. Through lazy planning during the construction of this section of the hospital, those metal rods linked to the metal supports of the floor below. Within seconds, all connected metal within ten feet of the pillar was rended to red powder. That wouldn¡¯t have been something I would¡¯ve considered concerning when my life was in parrel, but that metal clatter and click I had heard before everything went to Pandamonium was the sound of the blasted Arsenal Regulator throwing a kinetic concussion grenade. The blast from the metal can shattered the floor and sent me straight into the morgue.


    Before you freak out about that choice of words, no, I did not die that time. Directly under the dining hall was the hospital¡¯s morgue, which sounds rather unhygienic to me. At that point in time, I had bigger problems than hygiene.


    Without any warning, time shifted from seconds creeping by to a lot happening all at once. The next thing I knew, I lay atop a heap of rubble, gasping for air, and everything hurting, my leg particularly so. I gagged on the dust and let out a wracking string of coughs even as I sat up to look around.


    It took me a few moments to recognize autopsy tables and related tools under the jagged carpet of stone and rust. As the dust settled, I briefly took note of the icebox corpse-storage wall across from me. Then I noticed two Ceangar-sized figures lying on the floor between myself and that cold storage. Somehow, I had been turned around during the fall, but that didn¡¯t matter.


    I dragged myself to my feet, my right leg almost barely able to take any weight. Immediately, I tried to find an exit before my hunters gathered their senses. But I stopped and changed my plans when I noticed three things. First, I noticed that the Arsenal, who had made it his single-minded goal to kill me, was struggling but unable to even rise to a sitting position. From the way his chains were twitching like dying insect legs, I assumed he had broken his spine. Next, I noticed that Lynn was farther away from me than Kellden. She must¡¯ve tried to make a break for it when she saw the grenade. The last thing I noticed turned my thoughts from immediate escape to dealing with trouble. Lynn¡¯s Executioner 34SRD was only a few feet from me and looked freshly loaded.


    With gritted teeth, I limped to the firearm. It was heavier than I thought it would¡¯ve been, and more than a little unwieldy in my grip, but it would have to do since my sidearm was nowhere in sight. I cracked the revolver open and checked the cylinder. Six rounds were freshly loaded, and checking each type, I realized just how lucky I had gotten. Lynn was done messing around when she loaded it. All six bullets were Stained Glass Rounds. Just holding one of these bullets was enough to earn an immediate execution in almost any nation. I closed the siege weapon of a sidearm and gave a frigid smirk at the layers of irony at the situation. An Executioner revolver loaded with ammunition that earned execution being used to execute someone who wanted to execute me for something I technically didn¡¯t do.


    I limped up to stand over the Regulator, feeling for all the world like the avatar of vengeance. The crippled man below me had been an ever-looming threat. He had almost killed myself, Ferris, and Kharmor. He did tear Nennel apart and traumatize her. Now I was the one looming over the mad dog, and he was the one wearing the executioner¡¯s collar, to use the saying in a very literal sense.


    I raised the heavy weapon in both hands, took as stable a stance as I could with my leg, and lined up my shot with Kellden¡¯s center body mass. The Regulator shakily raised his head to lock eyes with me. ¡°Do it. If you don¡¯t, I will track you to the ends of the realms. I won¡¯t stop hunting you for as long as I am on the mortal plane.¡±


    I didn¡¯t respond to his threats. I only took a single long breath and squeezed the trigger. But the trigger didn¡¯t pull. I tried again to no effect. I checked the safety, to find a series of small indicator lights over ¡®Off¡¯, ¡®On¡¯, and ¡®UU¡¯. The light under the letters ¡®UU¡¯ was glowing a dim but defiant red. I gave a frustrated hiss of exhaled air through a sneer before gripping the sidearm by the barrel and striking Kellden across the temple with the butt.


    I raised my hand high for another blow but froze when I caught sight of something against the back wall. My sight was locked on a horror scene for only a few seconds, but it was long enough. Lynn came from seemingly nowhere and drove a fist into my damaged leg, snapping my femur like a dry stick. Luckily, almost all of my weight was on my other leg, and my reflexes triggered before the venomous ganger woman could do more. The reflex that triggered was activating the kinetic burst from my grounded foot to launch me into the air. I flew out of Lynn¡¯s reach even as she reached to grip my gun arm. The first burst brought me to eye level with the floor we had fallen from. I activated a second burst from my good foot to gain enough height while I activated a blast from the foot of my ruined leg to throw me far enough horizontally to land on what remained of the floor of the dining hall.


    The burst from my bad leg ripped a scream of pain from me as I hit the tiled floor and slid onto my side. ¡°Give me back my gun!¡± Lynn screamed at me. At the same time, I could hear a lot of boots pounding their way to my location. The last thing I wanted was to find out if it was gangers or Regs heading my way. But with my bad leg, there was zero chance of me escaping the building in time, let alone making the whole trek to where Teefa was waiting for us. But I still tried to move, at least to a more hidden or strategic spot.


    I clutched the Executioner revolver in a death grip as I definitely crawled toward the kitchen. I had lost almost all of the weapons I had come with. Firearms were all lost at some point along the way. Devil¡¯s Tail was under the rubble in the morgue, but I was not about to face that schizo Ceangar woman in my current state just to get a weapon. Between the Mage Killer round I took in my right hand earlier, and the fall had screwed up almost all the systems in the cybernetic arm. I might not have been able to fire the sidearm I clung to, but it was better than nothing.


    I was crippled, armed with nothing but a dud of a gun, with enemies on all sides can closing in. I refused to just give up. If I had to, I would bite out throats before they put me down. Defiant to the end.


    Suddenly, someone stood over me. I blindly lashed out with the revolver at the stranger¡¯s knees, only to find a pair of hands gripping that same arm and pulling me to my stable foot. ¡°I got you, buddy.¡± Came Ferris¡¯s voice and I wanted to cry with joy, even as he threw my body over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Ferris pulled me from the hospital and to the extraction point, running like I weighed almost nothing.

 PITM Chapter 35

    Non-magical medical procedures have never been the specialized practice of most professional medical offices. Why get a cast for a broken arm when a Healer could simply wave their hands and mend the wound? All hospitals have non-Mage staff, from mundane doctors to ordinary nurses, but those roles have always had a backseat in funding and fame compared to the miracles magic could endow.


    Non-magical medical procedures are normally only used for one of two reasons.


    Either,


    A)The patient has insufficient financial means to afford magical healing.


    Or


    B)The subject is unconscious or in an altered state of mind and in immediate need of care.


    I¡¯ll keep the details about the AV ride to a functioning hospital short. Mostly because of all the drama that came from the others. I will state that during that flight, I had to¡­ make preparations.


    Between the Mage Killer round I took in the hand, and when those two lunatics dropped the floor out from beneath use, they had rendered almost all of the LokLink devices installed in the arm useless. The Scaiben Crystal residue from the bullet was causing interference in the limb¡¯s more advanced systems. Luckily, the arm could still work as a normal limb, and the Mental Command Module did technically work with linked systems not attached to the limb, I didn¡¯t have anything linked other than Devil¡¯s Tail, which I had lost in the fight. So I detached all of the LokLink devices, complaining the whole time. If the interference wasn¡¯t bad enough, the same bullet had also punched clean through my Mimic Facade device, so I couldn¡¯t hide my appearance, which would cause trouble in the near future if not remedied.


    The answer to the facade was an easy fix. Ferris just gave me his simple illusion pin. I had made basic illusionary pins for each teammate just for the mission. I did need to tap into the programming of the pin to change my look to that of another Darkling, so my blood type wouldn¡¯t raise questions because I knew I needed a transfusion. The change was a simple tweak of a few lines of code using my therra to access the device through wireless Near Field Communication (or NFC for short).


    While I was re-tailoring the disguise device, Kharmor was practically drooling over the Executioner 34SRD Revolver I had inadvertently stolen.


    Flash forward two days. I lay in a hospital bed in the same room as an unconscious Demierra. My then-current residence was in Healing Light General Hospital, a whole district and eight hours¡¯ flight away from the ganger hideout. There was a large amount of fussing over Demierra and me when we came through the emergency care entrance. I had severe chemical burns on my hands and face (which was difficult to imbed into the illusion cleanly), a broken femur with a necrotized bullet wound passing through it, and uncounted lesser wounds. While I was fussed over by the nurses and the occasional doctor, it was Demierra who needed care, and I firmly stated as much, refusing almost any care directed toward me. While part of the refusal was because the Dracose Fury needed priority over me, it was also in part because I knew that my care was going to raise questions.


    The doctors stabilized Demierra enough to keep her just conscious enough for healing magic to be safely used. Her healing only took an hour and a half, and after that, they drugged her enough to keep her sleeping for days. My healing, on the other hand, was¡­ complicated.


    None of the medical professionals believed that I had an ¡°allergy¡± to Life Myst until they tried to heal my face. The instant the healing magic was applied to my skin, I bit back a gasp of pain as my skin began rapidly discharging puss. Gross, I know. It was my face, after all. So they applied bandages coated in a natural healing salve to my burns and puzzled over how to deal with my leg. The answer the doctors went with was installing a metal plate to mount the bone pieces back into place until it healed naturally. The necrotized tissue wasn¡¯t even an issue because I forced the flesh to rot so fast it couldn¡¯t fester. To fix the hole through the leg, they surgically implanted fresh cadaver tissue and bandaged it.


    Of everything done to me, the blood transfusion was the simplest. My facade made me appear as a Fiend-bred Darkling, and I just gave the nurse the first matching blood type I could think of. Thankfully, no one looked twice.


    For the three days, I was in the hospital, at least one of my friends was there to act as guard and company. Navor stopped in on the morning of the second day to debrief me and ensure Demierra and I would make a full recovery. But it was the afternoon of the third day when things took a severe turn¡­ again.


    Nennel, Ferris, and Kharmor were all in the room, working and relaxing in equal measure. Ferris was leaning against the windowsill, practicing simple spell-casting using his Focus. Specifically, he was drawing random doodles in the air with a finger by channeling energy from the local spirits haunting the area. I thought the act was disrespectful to the dead. That is until he explained to me that the spirits seek to escape the realm by any means, and even just leaving images in the air can be enough to get a few of them that much closer to true peace.


    Nennel was paging through the leaked digital documents on next-gen cybernetics released by Weaver. After she learned about them, she asked me to have Skitter acquire her copies and even paid his price. She didn¡¯t give me any details, but she said that she needed to puzzle something out to help her in the field.


    Kharmor sat in front of a table brought in at his request, set in the far back corner. The table was occupied by the disassembled components of the Executioner Revolver I had procured from Lynn. The Half-Dwarf was in the process of systematically cleaning and reformatting the biometrics of the weapon. I did notice that he was muttering under his breath the entire time he worked.


    I was reading the archived messages of the G3ar Gh0zt account Weaver had pointed me to. To get access, I had Skitter patch me through a backdoor in the copper-for-your-thoughts website. I had been digging around the site before checking the chat logs of the single interaction the profile had. I wanted to get a sense of the website to get context for the type of people who would post on it and what was posted. The site was a simple affair with bare-bones designs in both appearance and function. The site mainly consisted of posts about users¡¯ problems in life and seeking advice on how to handle them.


    I was about to inspect the chat logs that truly mattered when I was distracted by Kharmor. ¡°And¡­Done! Ives¡¯, you want me to install your bios?¡±


    Reflexively, I minimized the windows from my therra before giving Kharmor a look of mild annoyance. ¡°Khar¡¯, that thing is just as heavy as a stone club, and its kick would probably take my hands clean off my arms. Besides, I couldn¡¯t fire the damned thing when needed.¡±


    Kharmor gave an even more annoyed look than the one I gave him before turning his gaze back to his project. ¡°This is not a thing. She is equal parts masterpiece and lethal tool. This beautiful piece would be a prized centerpiece for any collector. These lethal weapons are famously reliable and safe. She¡¯ll never jam. She only fires when someone with matching metagraphics has an active intent to fire while wielding it. And that¡¯s why you couldn¡¯t fire it before. You didn¡¯t have a recorded PVC in its system.¡±


    ¡°Metagraphics? PVC? I doubt you¡¯re talking about pipes, so you¡¯ve lost me.¡±


    Kharmor rolled his eyes so hard that his head partly rolled with them before he started reassembling the weapon. ¡°PVC stands for Personal Vital Codes. A metagraphic reader identifies and stores these codes. PVC code takes into account factors such as fingerprints and heart rate, and even neural response time. These codes are the most accurate form of identification other than a Universal User Profile and can¡¯t be falsified.¡±


    ¡°Great.¡± I said sarcastically. ¡°The gun can notice that I¡¯m not supposed to use it. I want nothing to do with it. Personally, I¡¯m more interested in the¡­disposable contents in the weapon.¡± I said, carefully choosing my words.


    ¡°What¡¯s so special about the contents?¡± Nennel asked as she closed her windows to join the conversion.


    ¡°They¡¯re called Stain Glass Rounds.¡± I Explained. ¡°They are so dangerous that almost every nation has marked the items as banned. So banned, that just holding one can earn you an execution.¡±


    ¡°What makes them so dangerous?¡± Nel asked.


    This time, I looked to Kharmor for the answer because I had no clue what made munitions so hated. The Half-Dwarf gave a weighty sigh before making us wait while he finished reassembling the gun. Once he was finished, ending the whole process by aiming down the sights and dry firing at the ground three times. Once he set down the weapon, he answered. ¡°These rounds are formed from specially shaped and designed fragments of myst crystals set in layers. I won¡¯t get too deep into the details of what they do. Simply put, they enter a body, and a charge is detonated at the center of the round. The explosive discharge causes damage, but its primary purpose is to scatter the myst crystal shards and send them throughout the body. The shards with elements like Fire and Death are spread throughout the body, and immediately after, the paths of the shards are healed by Life Myst shards. The result: you suddenly have burning, freezing, and rotting crystal shards pushed throughout your organs, and they can¡¯t be traced to their locations easily, and the paths healed rapidly develop any type of cancer. In short, if you¡¯re shot with one, you will die.¡±


    Nennel just stared at the bearded guy in shock and horror as she digested the answer she asked for and clearly regretted it. She slowly turned her head back to center and stared at the ground for a moment before standing and hurrying out with a mumbled excuse about getting food.


    Ferris pushed off the sill and followed Nel out with the yawned comment: ¡°She¡¯s got the right idea.¡±


    Kharmor wordlessly went back to the sidearm, polishing it like some prized trophy while muttering to it. When he said nothing more to me, I took it as the opportunity I needed to finish reviewing Copper-For-Your-Thoughts.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    With a few gestures, I pulled my browser windows and dove straight into the archives.


    The only conversation in the records of the G3ar Gh0zt account was with one person, a user under the name GentlemanWolf55. I was already aware that G3ar Gh0zt was Weaver, but this GentlemanWolf figure must¡¯ve been someone the phantom found immensely useful, given the number of messages traded between the two.


    I skimmed each message for a rough idea of what was going on before taking my time to dig deeper. At a glance, Weaver, or G3ar Gh0zt in this instance, had contacted this Wolf figure under the claimed intent to provide emotional support. GentlemanWolf spilled his complaints and problems without hesitation, emotionally ranting about his cold and toxic mother, who he lived with, and his dead brother, who the Razor Wings killed. After a few messages of G3ar Gh0zt spouting hollow sympathies, he became manipulative, and this Wolf person fell for it without question.


    G3ar Gh0zt fed this clearly young man a concocted mix of advice pushing for revenge and the tools needed. One of the earliest tools that Weaver gave to this boy was a modified copy of the Zyzivane formula that was supposedly poisoned. G3ar Gh0zt spoon-fed the kid a plot to ruin both his mother and the gang. Just glancing at the instructions given to GentlemanWolf55, I could see that this scheme was overly complicated, which might¡¯ve been to keep the puppet confused. I did gather a few helpful tidbits from the talks. This kid lived in Grimvale. His toxic mother was some kind of corporate higher-up for a medical mega-corp that could only have been Evea-Life.


    Continuing to read, I noticed a serious turn in the tone of the discussion. GentlemanWolf55 was uncomfortable with how the scheme was unfolding because of some snag. He didn¡¯t want to follow G3ar Gh0zt¡¯s commands because he was about to head to an academy in the mountains. That raised my brows as a suspicion took root. The suspicion was confirmed when the name Aegis Academy was used along with the legal name of GentlemanWolf55; Jonathan. The name tickled at the back of my head. I knew of a Jonathan who was tied to the academy, but I couldn¡¯t grasp the memory.


    I was shocked out of my pondering when an instant message appeared in my inbox. When I saw that the sender was labeled G3ar Gh0zt, my heart skipped a beat. I hesitated briefly before opening the message, which only read, ¡°White Rook moves to take Black King.¡±


    I stared at the single line, rereading it two more times as my heart rate spiked.


    I was shocked out of my paralysis when the doorknob turned. I scoured the area around me for any kind of weapon but found nothing. The door swung open, and I readied myself for a struggle. And an unsuspected figure stepped into the room.


    Ozwald, dressed in a black suit with a red shirt and darker red tie, stepped into the room, carrying a bouquet of flowers with both hands. He was not someone I expected to see visiting me, and with a bouquet, no less. Maybe he was here for Demierra, and the flowers were for her.


    ¡°H-Hey Ozwald.¡± I said woodenly with a stiff hand wave of greeting. ¡°Nice to see you. Here to see Demierra?¡± I asked.


    The dark-skinned Human stepped farther into the room, refusing to look up from the flowers in his hand. ¡°No.¡± He said in a voice just as wooden as my own.


    I knew that something felt off, so I truly looked Ozwald over, from head to foot. He wore a classy dress suit, as always. A black jacket and slacks over a deep red silk shirt and a deeper red tie. He looked like he was dressed for a funeral. But his shirt was wrinkled, and his tie was loose and off-center. Then I noticed that the entire bouquet he carried was composed of nothing but Red Spider Lilys. Those flowers were the hint I needed to what was about to happen.


    Ozwald stepped up to my bedside nearest the door and said, ¡°I was told these flowers were for you.¡± Then he flung the flowers into the air to reveal a dagger within the bouquet and lunged for me. In answer, I flung the covers off the bed and over Ozwald before I gave him a hefty kick with my nearest foot. However, that was my right foot, the foot of my broken leg, and the strike rang a gong of pain up my leg that caused my entire body to lock up for an instant. The force of my kick was only slightly stronger than I thought it would be, but it was a paltry excuse for an attack. While my body was locked in pain, Ozwald threw aside the sheets and made another attempt.


    I panicked and did the first thing that came to my head as Ozwald flew at me. The first idea that popped into my head was simple, direct, and brutal. I drove my horns into his brow with as much ramming force as I could muster. The boy staggered back two steps, his eyes hazy and his brow bleeding from two gashes that were just off-center to the left.


    Before he could recover and make a third attempt, there was a large gun barrel pressed against the side of his head. Kharmor stood beside Ozwald, gun hammer cocked and his expression cold.


    ¡°Don¡¯t move.¡± Was all the Half-Dwarf said before gripping the collar of the Human¡¯s dress jacket and physically flinging him into the nearest chair.


    Ozwald struck the seat propped against the wall opposite the beds and folded over as his dagger spun across the floor to stop beside Demierra¡¯s bed. The Human didn¡¯t sit up as Kharmor took up a shooter¡¯s stance between Ozwald and the beds. Instead, the dark-skinned boy covered his face in his hands and began sobbing uncontrollably.


    I suspected it was a scheme to make me and Khar¡¯ lower our guard until a mix of snot and tears visibly dripped from between his fingers onto his pants. I hadn¡¯t known much about Ozwald, but I did know that the guy was meticulously clean and organized. If he wasn¡¯t in distress, there was no way he would look that much of a mess.


    I gave a weighty sigh before I said, ¡°Jonathan. Jonathan Ozwald. You¡¯re the one Weaver was talking about when he gave that fourth hint: look into those around you who have been hurt by the Razor Wings.¡±


    Ozwald struggled to get control over his sobbing before looking up at me. His face was the picture of guilty betrayal. His eyes were puffy, and his face was stained with tears and mucus. ¡°What?¡± was all he said before the sobs overtook him again.


    ¡°Weaver sent him?¡± Kharmor asked me without looking away from the emotional wreck of a guy.


    ¡°Kind of.¡± I said. ¡°I need details from him, but as best I can tell, he was forced into this whole thing.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ don¡¯t shoot him?¡±


    ¡°Please don¡¯t Khar¡¯. Especially with what¡¯s loaded in that thing right now.¡±


    ¡°I told you, she¡¯s not a thi-¡± Kharmor started, only to be cut off by the door opening again.


    A stranger stepped into the room. The stranger was a Human man, shoddily dressed in an expensive midnight blue suit and robin egg blue dress shirt. His shirt was half tucked and hung past his jacket. The man¡¯s dark blue jacket was buttoned incorrectly, and his dress shoes were completely untied. His black hair appeared to have style gel in it and was once slicked back but presently hung as a chaotic mop. All of that raised questions, but the most disturbing thing was his eyes. The capillaries throughout his sclera were horribly ruptured, turning the white a mottled pink and red. His stare also gave the sense that there was no one home in that skull.


    The strange man said one thing ¡°White-t pawn t-takes white rook, or black knight t-takes white-t pawn.¡± in a flat and mechanical voice. As he spoke, he raised his hand, which was out of my line of sight, to reveal it was holding a simple kinetic pistol.


    With a curse, I threw myself out of the bed, putting it between me and the man. I hadn¡¯t even fully left the bed when a gunshot rang out, followed by a hard ¡®thud¡¯ sound. When another gunshot didn¡¯t ring out, I looked over the bed. Kharmor was facing the door with his gun pointing toward the foot of the door. Ozwald was still sobbing but now clutched the side of his head as blood ran down.


    I pulled myself to a standing position, keeping weight off my healing leg by bracing against the bed. When I stood, I found the stranger lying on the floor, dead, with a dagger lodged in his left eye.


    ¡°W-what happened?¡± I asked.


    A familiar but unexpected voice answered. ¡°I wasn¡¯t able to sleep with all this noise.¡± I followed the voice to find Demierra sitting up in her bed, her right arm extended as if she had thrown something.


    I looked from the Dracose Fury to the corpse, back to her, then to the dagger in the corpse¡¯s eye. Only then did I realize the dagger was the very same one that Ozwald had attempted to kill me with. When I thought back to the initial fight with the Human, I recalled that his weapon had flown from his hand to land beside Demierra¡¯s bed.


    ¡°I-uh¡­wow.¡± was all I could say to my rescuer before the sound of heavy footfalls closing in from the hall outside. ¡°Khar¡¯!¡± I hissed. ¡°Gun. Gone. Now!¡±


    He took my meaning instantly and shoved the Executioner Revolver down the back of his pants, covered the grip with his shirt, and placed his back against the far wall. A few heartbeats after, two security guards and a nurse stormed the room.


    The Nurse checked Ozwald¡¯s freshly trimmed ear while the guards got the story from me and the other two after I pulled myself back into bed. With Kharmor¡¯s and Demierra¡¯s help, I convinced the guards that we did not know why the attack happened. It wasn¡¯t hard to sell the story because I was the only one in the room with even the slightest idea of why it happened. I also claimed that Kharmor was the one to kill the attacker. That also wasn¡¯t hard to sell either, because he was the only one in the room who was not maimed.


    While the body was carried away and the blood pool cleaned, I talked the nurse treating Ozwald into letting him stay in our room for the evening, just in case he was the target of the attack. After the nurse left, I told everyone in the room to hold their tongues until Nennel and Ferris were present. The silence in the room was heavy and charged with dangerous potential. In that silence, I thought about the recent events and discoveries.


    Nennel and Ferris walked into the room, both with trays of food. Nennel froze just inside the door, clearly sensing the tension. Meanwhile, Ferris casually walked over to Demierra and set his tray of food on her lap.


    Ferris and Nel both spoke at once, in totally differing tones. ¡°Glad to see you¡¯re up.¡± Ferris said with a casual smile and relaxed body language. ¡°What in the hells did we miss?¡± Nennel demanded. She might not have shouted, but the threat was obvious in her voice.


    I glanced at the cold-cut sandwiches, mashed potatoes, and assorted fruits on the tray in Nel¡¯s hands before locking eyes with her. ¡°We are leaving. Immediately.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Ferris asked in innocent confusion.


    ¡°What?!¡± Nennel demanded in an even more angry tone.


    I threw my legs over the side of my bed as I started issuing instructions. ¡°Fer, I need you to get our clothes and gear that the hospital collected.¡± When I had been admitted to the hospital, the nurses had collected my clothes and the only weapon that had been left on my person, my Infusion Dagger. All of my other gear and armor had been handed off to Khar¡¯ before we had entered the medical facility to prevent undue questions. The gear should be safely stashed back at the safe house. ¡°Nel, can you get me a crutch? Khar, can you scout an exit route?¡±


    ¡°Uh, yeah. Sure.¡± Ferris said before hurrying out of the room, finally catching that something had happened.


    ¡°I¡¯ll find a crutch. But I expect a full and complete explanation.¡± Nennel said in a controlled but clearly upset tone as she wagged a finger at me like an angry aunt.


    ¡°I promise.¡± I said before turning to Demierra while my sister stormed from the room. ¡°Can you walk?¡±


    Demierra twisted and flexed gently to test her functionality before giving me a ¡®so-so¡¯ sign with her hand.


    ¡°And what about me?¡± Ozwald asked in a raw voice, holding a tone of mixed dread and hope.


    ¡°Oz, your job is going to be helping Demierra walk out of here. Demierra, if he tries anything stupid, crush his head like a melon between your thighs. Now, I need to get us a ride.¡± With that, I pulled up my therra¡¯s HUD and sent a message to Teefa with a request for transport. The Order member, who was undercover as a taxi driver, griped and complained about us using her for free rides all the time, but she agreed to come get us.


    Three minutes later, Demierra and I were dressed in street clothes. I had a crutch, and Kharmor was guiding our group to the nearest exit that passed as few guard and nurse stations as possible. We were leaving before the Regulators arrived and started digging.

 PITM Chapter 36

    The LSN (Living Sigil Network) also known as the World Wide Web, spans across the globe. Even in the deepest jungles, or the far Northern Ice Wastes, devices can still have web access. But there are still places that can¡¯t be touched by the Resonance waves. Some locations innately have an interference field of the natural magics in the area. Other spaces have an interference field artificially added using jamming devices that utilize Distortion Myst. The LSN also can¡¯t access other realms. This includes pocket dimensions unless there is an open path from Anogwin to the pocket space. Once a pocket space is sealed, no signals or data get in or out.


    We had all rode Teefa¡¯s cab back to home base after making a stealthy exfiltration from the hospital. Ferris, Kharmor, Demierra, and Ozwald were forced to share the three seats in the back. This meant that Ferris, being the physically lightest of the four, had to sit on our Dracose Fury¡¯s lap for the ride. Nennel had the honor of getting the front passenger seat, which I gave her to keep her somewhat appeased during the trip. And where was I, you may ask? Why, the trunk of the AV, of course.


    Everyone had complaints about the seating plan. Demierra and Ozwald both wanted the shotgun seat, which I flatly denied. Ferris would rather have been spared the shame of a woman¡¯s lap. But Kharmor had too much mass to take anyone¡¯s lap, nor would he have suffered the indignity. Ozwald was wounded, nor would he suffer the indignity either. No one even thought of sitting the Dracose in anyone¡¯s lap for more than one reason. Nennel and Ferris were enraged at the fact that I was ¡®forced to lie in the trunk¡¯ as they put it, but I told them both to eat a sock and deal with the choice.


    My choice of so-called seating was a complicated one. It spared my leg from undue stress as I lay on my side. It also kept me out of sight from anyone glancing in the vehicle, which I preferred out of fear of someone with an eye like Lynn¡¯s piercing my illusion. The space muted against the complaints of everyone else in the AV, including Teefa, who I knew would be particularly bitter. But above all previous reasons, the trunk was a quiet, dark, and private space to let me brood over the events without interruption for the ten-hour trip back to the safe house.


    Things in my life had been moving at a break-neck speed almost since I had entered the hive-city. Murders, ambushes, poisoning, delving into the Undercity, a Regulator AV chase, Nel getting torn to pieces not once but twice, cutting off my own feet like some schizo lunatic, infiltrating a murder happy gang, a law enforcement breach and siege, and above all, that damned digital phantom forcing me into some grand game I couldn¡¯t even comprehend. It was all too much. Too much happening too fast. So, for the first hour of the ten-hour trip, I had a mental breakdown. I sobbed, screamed, and thrashed for that hour.


    I was a seventeen-year-old boy, for the sake of the gods. I should¡¯ve been stressing about school exams, finding a girlfriend or boyfriend, and what I wanted to do with my life. But there I was, up to my eyeballs in murder and intrigue, trying just to figure out my next step while some maniac cyber-ghost was plotting who knew how many moves ahead.


    After I had my tantrum, I settled into the space and thought. I picked apart as many events as I could, piecing them all back together as one large mental puzzle. But the puzzle had holes. Massive holes, and several of them.


    Before I knew it, the AV was landing, and I had to find composure before the others saw me. After I felt the vehicle come to a shuddering landing, I took several slow breaths to prepare myself. When the trunk popped with a click, light flooded my vision, burning my eyes. I raised a hand to block the light and let out a melodramatic hiss like some creature of the night.


    ¡°Oh, quit being such a baby.¡± Navor chided before gripping my ear and dragging me out by it.


    ¡°Aw aw aw aw!¡± I protested as I attempted to follow the force to lessen the pain. That only resulted in the Master releasing my ear in time for me to fall, face first, onto the street. I rubbed my ear as I pulled myself to my good foot, using the AV as a handhold.


    ¡°I should have each and every single one of you punished for the sheer stupidity you somehow lived through.¡± Navor scolded.


    ¡°And calling me for transport, again.¡± Teefa complained. ¡°I¡¯m not your private chauffeur, you know.¡±


    ¡°Look, I¡¯m sorry.¡± I said. ¡°But what was I supposed to do? Walk back here on an inoperable leg?¡±


    ¡°That would be just what you deserve.¡± Teefa snapped at me.


    Navor turned to the Ceangar. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Teef. I¡¯ll pay you back with my next paycheck.¡± The Master then glared at me and each of the other students in turn. ¡°And I¡¯ll take it out of what they would earn.¡±


    After a few apologies and promises, Navor herded us all inside. That was where the real work was about to begin.


    <hr>


    I had barely made it into the basement when a hand gripped the collar of my shirt and almost pulled me off my foot. I turned around to find Nennel griping me and pinning me with a look that promised violence. ¡°Talk. Now.¡±


    ¡°Okay, okay.¡± I hurried to agree with a hand gesture for her to calm down. ¡°Fer, Khar, can you two get some seats for the group and bring them down here? This is going to be a long talk.¡±


    A few minutes later, everyone in the house, including Zynna and Master Navor, was gathered in the basement in a circle of chairs.


    ¡°Okay.¡± I started. ¡°Before I get too deep into what I know, I need info from Oz.¡± I turned to the Human, followed by everyone else. Ozwald¡¯s eyes went wide and visibly flinched with nervousness.


    ¡°I¡¯ll start with a simple one.¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re GentlemanWolf on the Copper-For-Your-Thoughts website. Correct?¡± I stated.


    He only gave a single nod in answer.


    ¡°And G3ar Gh0zt sent you to put me down. Correct?¡±


    ¡°Correct.¡± Ozwald confirmed with audible shame.


    ¡°I want details.¡± I said.


    ¡°Let me get the biggest piece out of the way.¡± Ozwald said as he interlocked his fingers and rested them on his knee. ¡°I killed my brother.¡± The silence after that single sentence was thick as tar and just as ready to ignite. When no one spoke after a moment¡¯s wait, Ozwald continued. ¡°Let me give a bit of context to that proclamation. My family has lived in Grimvale for the whole of my life. In District 1, in fact. That should tell you plenty about my mother. She is what you would call a Corp-rat, but she earned our home by snatching political power at every opportunity. My father was never in the family portrait, and I have no inkling of what happened to him. The only parental figure in the house considered my brother and myself an afterthought behind her corporate climb. My brother and I were twins, but we didn¡¯t have that stereotypical bond that people say twins have. Nathan, who always had a nose for trouble, turned into a drug addict seemingly overnight. My idiot brother had been regularly purchasing Ink-K from the Razor Wings and quickly became unstable. But since Mother was never around, I was the one who became the target of his fits. One day, Nathan stepped over a line, and I had to defend myself. The result was my twin brother dead on the floor with a bread knife in his throat.¡±


    Nennel gave a sharp intake of breath, but that was the only response in the room. Ozwald continued with only the slightest emotional inflection in his words. ¡°My mother blamed me for the murder but had no noticeable response beyond annoyance that she had to pay for a cremation. So, I turned to the digital world to find what she would never give. I found the web page Copper-For-Your-Thoughts, posted a rough outline of my situation, and asked for advice. A guy using the username G3ar Gh0zt contacted me and was the friend I needed to pull through those hard days. I didn¡¯t realize he was manipulating me until I was in too deep to get out safely. I had heard my mother ranting about a new drug formula that she was tasked to complete but required testing. I mentioned it to Gh0zt while complaining, and he mentioned that he had a modified variant of the formula and offered to help me use it for revenge. One talk led to another, and the next thing I knew, Gh0zt told me to find a subordinate of my mother¡¯s that I could use as a means to an end. That subordinate came to the house on occasion to submit reports. During one of his visits, I heard my mother verbally abusing the Dwarf through a closed door. I spoke to the man over a meal with an offer to help. Over dinner, Mr. Fadlemor explained that Mother had tasked him with finding willing test subjects but had failed to do so and was in trouble. I may have lied and said that Mother was setting him up for failure to use him as a scapegoat for the project. Then, on Gh0zt¡¯s instructions, I mentioned utilizing drug users on the streets as test subjects and using the Razor Wings as Fadlemor¡¯s legal fall guys if the test results raised trouble in the city. He thought it was brilliant and mentioned intentionally poisoning the formula to ruin Mother¡¯s standing in the corporate world. I thought it was a great idea, but it came back to bite me.¡±


    I spoke up, verbally working through thoughts of what must¡¯ve happened after. ¡°So, this Fadlemor sold the poisoned formula to the gang. But how was he supposed to get the tailored results from the drug users?¡±


    Ozwald corrected my expectations. ¡°If everything had worked according to plan, you would be right, Maverick. But while Fadlemor made contact with the gang through the LSN digital network, he got cold feet when he needed to meet the gangers in person to hand over the written formula, since it could not be sent over the net without a trail leading back to Fadlemor. Gh0zt said that I had to finish the transaction in person. So I went in disguise and took the money from the sale for myself. The test data was supposed to be collected with body-state tracker bracelets, which I tried to hand over during the deal, explaining that it was for user vital readings and could be given to the addicts as a ¡®subscription bonus¡®. But the gangers just laughed in my face and told me to stride before I tasted steel.¡±


    ¡°So you and your minion couldn¡¯t get the data to ruin your mother. That must¡¯ve been an issue. But, you had to have made the trade before you traveled back to the Aegis Academy for the school year.¡± I deduced.


    ¡°Correct.¡± Ozwald confirmed. ¡°I thought I was clear of trouble, but the Razor Wings had a Circuit class Mage on retainer who recorded my personal IP address during the transaction. And when the drug testing caused trouble for the gang, they came looking for compensation, intending to take their pound of flesh from my body as payment. I would¡¯ve simply ignored them, stayed at the Academy for the year, and purchased a new device and IP address when I got home. But Gh0zt knew more than he should have. He demanded I join a training party coming to Grimvale. When I told him where to stick it, he¡­ told me things. Things that no one should¡¯ve known, and he proved he had power beyond what any normal Circuit Mage should have. I was threatened into doing things I did not want any part of.¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°Like poisoning the party?¡± I asked.


    Ozwald ran a hand through his hair again, clearly stressed. ¡°The money from the drug sale was spent buying poison from a Silent Heart student I know at the academy. I poisoned the coffee and was instructed to frame either Darrdane, Stillwind or you, Maverick. Gh0zt said that it was to cause you trouble and put you off your game while he worked on¡­ something. I don¡¯t know what, to be honest. Gh0zt also fed me information on Darrdane¡¯s father to send to the Razor Wings to save me from the gang who caught onto my trail the moment I was in the city again.¡± Ozwald nodded toward Nennel as he mentioned her. ¡°He never gave me a reason for what he made me do, other than simply saying ¡®To toy with a fresh player.¡¯¡±


    Nennel audibly growled like a hound at the Human boy. At the same time, I spat out a string of curses that caused everyone in the room to stare at me.


    I lightly tugged on one of my horns with two fingers in thought and locked my eyes on the floor as I ran through what Ozwald had just said. Weaver had me targeted for his games before I even entered the city. Did he specially set up that first corpse in the electronics shop for me to find? How? Maybe he dug into Vartex¡¯s systems and lured the agent there with a planted job after he somehow learned I was going to be on that corner. Did that mean that Weaver had hacked into Navor¡¯s systems to read the schedule planned for that day? I raise my gaze back to Ozwald. ¡°I¡¯m getting the sense that you are playing a bigger part in the happenings that you¡¯re letting on. Spill.¡±


    Ozwald nodded with his eyes locked on his hands in his lap. I couldn¡¯t help but question how on Anogwin this guy had made it into Sightless Eye and Silent Heart if he was so bad at acting and had such a soft conscience. ¡°Gh0zt had me feeding him intel on the group whenever something happened.¡± Ozwald continued. ¡°After I threw Darrdane to the wolves, I had to tell him about your plan to travel into the Undercity to talk to some hacker. He took an intense interest in this. And I¡¯m guessing he found out whoever you were meeting because he mentioned something about laying breadcrumbs in the spider¡¯s web. He must¡¯ve been watching you somehow as well, because he told me about your Regulator chase before the Master said anything. He said something about a hound on your tail that I would need to contact later.¡±


    ¡°Later?¡± I asked.


    ¡°When you went to the gang hideout, Gh0zt had me contact a Regulator named Kellden and tell him that the killer of his sister would be at the Razor Wing hideout. He said that it would stir up two wasp nests and give you something to worry about.¡±


    I rolled this news around in my head for a second before a question came to mind. ¡°I don¡¯t understand why he would sick the Regs on the Razor Wings. He told me himself that he hired the gang to put down the targets he challenged me to save. Why would he get in his own way like that?¡±


    ¡°Then he sent that stranger to kill Oz.¡± Ferris pointed out. ¡°Why would he target his own mole?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t get it.¡± I said as I ran a hand between my horns and through my hair. ¡°And there was definitely something wrong with that guy. Did you see his eyes?¡± I asked.


    Kharmor nodded in agreement as Demierra said, ¡°Yeah. Guy must¡¯ve been on something. He wasn¡¯t even talking straight. What did he say again?¡±


    ¡°White pawn takes white rook, or black knight takes white pawn.¡± Kharmor repeated from memory. ¡°But there was something wrong with his speech pattern. He had a stutter that sounded more like a computer glitch than anything natural.¡±


    ¡°White pawn. White rook. Black knight.¡± I muttered.


    ¡°Can someone please fill me in on this whole story?¡± Zynna asked with annoyance. ¡°I feel like I picked up a new holo-show halfway into a season.¡±


    ¡°Agreed.¡± confirmed Demierra, even as Ozwald gave a slight nod.


    So, I told the room my side of the story up to the present at that time. I kept nothing out. Everyone knew that this all started as a vengeance mission for Nel after the Razor Wings jumped her the first time. But the people who weren¡¯t with me for the delve into Undercity listened intently, only knowing the tail-end of the encounter. Demierra laughed at my disaster of an escape from the ghouls. When I got to the moment of stupid when I nose-dived into the toxic pool, everyone, including Nel and Ferris, booed me and threw wads of paper at me. Zynna directly called me a liar when I got to the Stigmagaunt, but Nel and Ferris both vouched for me, and Nel pulled up the news footage of the Stigmagaunt¡¯s rampage.


    When Nel pulled up the footage, I got the complete story on the creature¡¯s blitz of terror. The creature had totally collapsed six buildings, severely damaged seventeen structures, and killed forty-six people directly or indirectly. The creature was stopped by the Regular Stryker team after half an hour of nonstop combat and the death of four Regs.


    This news only served to put more weight on my shoulders. But I got back to my tale of woe, picking up with the infiltration of the gang. When I revealed that Gh0zt G3ar was a cyber phantom, Ozwald almost ripped out his own hair with the realization. Apparently, the knowledge that he was being manipulated by the soul and engram of a dead Circuit Mage did not sit well with him.


    When I got to the part where Zynna and Demierra swooped in to save our collective bacon, I asked them what had led up to that. Turns out that even as I was laying groundwork plans with Ferris, Nel, and Khar, Master Navor had set the other three members of the team as a safety contingency. The Master already knew that Zynna was a Copkin and clearly put her species¡¯ natural talents to use, slipping into the ganger ranks with much more ease than myself and the others. While Zynna was keeping an eye on us and obviously bailing the Darkling idiot out of trouble, Demierra had been perched on a nearby rooftop, ready for a tactical strike, such as wrecking balling herself through a third-floor wall. Ozwald, meanwhile, was tasked with lining up several escape routes if things went sideways. Well, it¡¯s hard to get much more sideways than what happened, especially with the knowledge that Ozwald sicked the Regs on us, which was a guaranteed method to throw my plans right out the window.


    With everyone brought up to speed, we went back to puzzling our situation out. We had Ozwald acting as an unwilling mole for Weaver, Weaver apparently committing self-sabotage to get rid of me, a Regulator Arsenal with a serious grudge against me, and a strange, possibly drugged up man stepping into our hospital room and attempting to dispose of Ozwald in a rather permanent fashion.


    With Ozwald revealing his role, we got some answers, but several more questions as well. While we pondered this, I had a sudden realization. ¡°I need to go get some paper and a pen.¡± I said casually as I stood and limped my way into my bedroom. Quickly, I collected a sketchbook and a pen, and took off my therra, placing it in a desk drawer before writing a message of five lines. I pinned the message to the back of my door and called Navor into my room for a private talk.


    As Navor entered my room, I closed the door and carefully placed myself so she faced me at an angle that my message would be just inside her range of view, but outside the camera angle of her therra.


    ¡°What do you want to talk about?¡± The Master asked.


    In answer, I faked wiping my nose with a hand, a single finger just barely pointing to the message on the door before speaking. ¡°Sorry, runny nose. I wanted to talk with you about Ozwald. He¡¯s already poisoned the squad once, informed on us to this wraith in the system, and almost got me and my friends killed when we were neck-deep in the gang. It¡¯s your final choice, Master Navor, but I don¡¯t feel comfortable working with him. I say we confiscate his therra for evidence and throw the corp-kin traitor to the street.¡±


    I never saw her eyes even glance at the message, but it was clear that she saw by her response. ¡°Are you sure, Iver? He was at the top of his class in both sects at the academy. He has very useful skills.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s because of those skills I don¡¯t think we can trust him. He might just be giving us tailored responses to play on sympathy.¡±


    ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll take all his devices and ship him back to the academy. I can contact the headmistress to close off the entire network there and put him under guarded watch for the duration of his year. After that, it will be up to Mysteriarch K whether he stays with the academy or goes.¡± Navor said in a dead serious tone.


    I opened the door to the room to hide the message before Navor turned to leave. As she passed into the communal area again, she made the decree that sealed the deal. ¡°Alright, everyone. I have two announcements.¡± She made eye contact with Ozwald as she folded her arms in disappointment. ¡°Mr. Ozwald. I¡¯m afraid we are going to need to send you back to the academy. We are going to restrict your access to the LSN and keep you under watch.¡± While Navor made her decree, I folded and pocketed my note before I pulled my therra from the desk and remounted it to my temple.


    As I stepped into the communal area, I folded my own arms and gave Ozwald an obviously ticked-off expression. He looked ashamed and hurt, but didn¡¯t argue with the decision. ¡°But first,¡± Navor continued. ¡°I need to collect all your therra-nodes to review any footage and data on them we might find useful. That includes yours, Jonathan. Once you make it back to the academy, you¡¯ll receive a temporary therra with improved security and monitoring. Now, everybody, follow me to my room.¡±


    Everyone looked shocked at the development, but not a word was said as we all followed the Master upstairs and into her pocket space room. The room looked the same as before. That strange cross between refined noble and barbarian war chief esthetics. Nennel, Ferris, Ozwald, and Demierra ogled the space in curiosity, clearly new to the space, but Zynna and Kharmor seemed unimpressed. As if they had been there before.


    First, Navor walked up to her mammoth cherry wood desk against the right side of the circular room. She pulled open one of the top drawers and withdrew an electronic stick no bigger than a thumb drive. It was Coded Teleportation Key, or CTK for short.


    For those unfamiliar with CTKs, private or heavily restricted Teleportation Traversal Zones can¡¯t be accessed without one of these keys. Each CTK is linked with a single TTZ, and trying to jump to one of these restricted TTZs without the correct key can have¡­ messy results since the jumper is redirected to another TTZ, or several TTZs at once. Think missing pieces.


    Navor handed the CTK to the miserable boy. ¡°This is keyed to the correct destination. You¡¯ll get told anything you need to know after you land. I¡¯ve already messaged and paid for a cab to take you to the TTZ.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help but wonder what the Master had planned. I was originally plotting to use Ozwald as a triple agent against Weaver. But Navor had far more experience than me, so I¡¯d have to trust her judgment.


    ¡°But before you go, and this goes for everybody, I need ya¡¯ll to put your therras in this shielded box.¡± As Navor spoke, she walked over to a set of shelves against a nearby wall and pulled down an ornate wood and stone box with a hinged and locked lid. She flipped the box open and moved to each student one by one. ¡°I want to make sure that there is no messing with the data on these things.¡± Navor explained. ¡°Now, Ozwald, I¡¯m going to need you to wait by the curb for pick up while I talk with the rest of the party. Your ride¡¯ll be here pretty quick. Please close the door on your way out.¡± Navor closed the box in time with Ozwald closing the door with dejection.


    ¡°Okay, we can talk freely now.¡± Navor said as she moved to flop into her desk chair.


    ¡°Okay? What the hell?!¡± Zynna demanded. ¡°I know Oz screwed the pooch-¡±


    ¡°More like screwed a warg.¡± Ferris cut in.


    Zynna shot the Quint an annoyed glare before continuing. ¡°But, he came clean and honestly seemed to regret the screw-up. We could¡¯ve used his help with this shit storm.¡±


    I shot the Copkin a skeptical look. ¡°The guy poisoned the squad, was feeding intel to the enemy, and set up an ambush that almost got me and Demierra killed. And you¡¯re saying, trust the guy who was trained as a spy and assassin based on him acting like he feels bad? Zynna, you¡¯re part of Sightless Eye too. You should know better than anyone that he could¡¯ve been play-acting to win our sympathies.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t give me that.¡± Zynna snapped at me. ¡°I¡¯ve seen the guy act for a role, and that all seemed pretty real to me. And he could¡¯ve been useful.¡±


    ¡°I agree.¡± stated.


    ¡°Stop being a resentful ass. I know he-¡­ Wait¡­ What?¡± Zynna was winding up for an argument until she realized what I had said. All that simmering anger dropped into open confusion.


    ¡°You heard me.¡± I said. ¡°I agree that Oz would¡¯ve been useful.¡± I turned to direct my question to Master Navor. ¡°So why send him away?¡±


    Navor looked at me for a long moment without saying anything. ¡°Let''s think of this as a lesson. Maverick, show the others the note.¡±


    I eyed the Master in curiosity as I pulled out the folded paper and opened it to show everyone what it said.


    Likely have bugs. Weaver is Circuit. Need to make a show of throwing Ozwald out. Separate him from therra. We all need new therras with masked data. Till then, meetings in your room, with door closed.

 PITM Chapter 37

    A Cyber Phantom is an immensely rare occurrence, and almost exclusively occurs to Circuit Mages, with few exceptions. There is a great deal of debate about whether a Cyber Phantom is a mortal soul trapped in cyberspace or simply a digital copy and manifestation of a subject¡¯s memories and personality. Is a Cyber Phantom still a person if it¡¯s just a copy of a dead person¡¯s identity?


    ¡°Lesson time, kiddos.¡± Navor said with a knowing smirk. ¡°Your idea of using our little mister turncoat as a triple agent is thinking in the right direction. Maverick¡¯s suspicions of spy bugs are also likely on the money. His idea of making a scene of throwing out our spy and taking his almost-definitely bugged therra was a smart choice. Maverick, explain your reasoning to the class. We have half an hour.¡±


    ¡°Half an hour till what?¡± Ferris asked.


    ¡°Till Ozwald is back.¡± Zynna filled in.


    ¡°What? But we just threw him out.¡± Ferris asked, only more confused.


    ¡°We¡¯ll get to that in a sec. First, Iver, reasoning.¡± Navor said.


    I walked over and took a seat on Navor¡¯s bed as I talked out my reasoning, processing everything as I spoke. ¡°Well, Oz had said that Weaver had been blackmailing him with things that the phantom shouldn¡¯t have known. That told me right there that at the very least, his therra was tapped with likely both video and audio feeds back to our cyber-stalker. This means that Weaver is well aware that his plan to dispose of Oz went down the drain and that Oz spilled his guts to us. So if we had willingly kept him with us after he spilled his story, Weaver would just use him and his devices as a tap to monitor us at least. Weaver might also blackmail Oz into making another stupid attempt on one of our lives. Since we made a big show of being upset at the realization of Ozwald¡¯s facts and throwing him out, Weaver can¡¯t use him to get at us, expecting him to be leaving the city. Master Navor supposedly sending him back to the Academy and keeping him under strict watch makes Weaver think that Ozwald has just been removed from the board and can¡¯t be used.¡±


    ¡°In short, sending him away keeps him safe, and prevents the phantom from trying to use him again.¡± Nennel summarized.


    Navor pointed to my borg sister with a grin. ¡°Five points, Darrdane. Now it¡¯s your turn, Missy. Why would make a show of sending him away without his therra and give him a jump-port key, hinting at its home port?¡±


    ¡°Asking the hard questions, Master." Nel teasingly commented with her own smirk as she started to pick up on the pattern. ¡°You said all of that before sealing his therra, telling this Weaver ghost-guy-thing what you wanted him to hear. That means Weaver is expecting Ozwald to head straight for the TTZ. But without Oz¡¯s therra, Weaver would have track him to the TTZ by other means.¡±


    ¡°What kind of means would some dead guy in cyberspace have?¡± Demierra asked.


    I answered our Dracose Fury¡¯s question. ¡°Weaver had let slip to me that he is or was a Circuit Mage, if you remember me saying that earlier. Use that big brain, Demi. What can Circuits do?¡±


    Demierra eyed me suspiciously for a second. ¡°That¡¯s the second time, you¡¯ve used that nickname. You calling me a friend, Iver?¡±


    I panicked at the question, not even realizing that I had used a nickname not once but twice. But before I could answer her, Navor brought us back on task. ¡°Focus, Flametongue. What can Circuits do?¡±


    The Fury cocked her head in thought. ¡°I don¡¯t know much ¡®bout them. They use those deck computer-thingys for superhacking, I guess. But like I said, I don¡¯t know much ¡®bout the class. I¡¯m not exactly a big-brain-kinda girl.¡±


    Zynna stepped up to elaborate. ¡°Circuit Mages are one of the more recent additions to the official class list. They can use Fire and Air Myst as Voltreonic Current, or Lightning if you¡¯d rather, along with Chaos Myst, Morphic Myst, Resonance Myst, and Distortion Myst. But they can only use them in small amounts. Before the digital age, they were thought to be a form of subcaster, like Dyads, such as myself. But, the class became acknowledged as a full Mage type after the First Cyber War.¡±


    ¡°History is all well and good, Miermor. But we need facts that matter in the moment.¡± Navor gently chided.


    Zynna shot the Master a defiant look. ¡°I was getting there. Circuits got recognized when it was realized that their low-power/high-precision control of myst allowed them to manipulate digital code. Circuits can inject their consciousness into cyberspace like how we can Full-Dive today, but they can mess around with program code like it¡¯s clay. So, if this Weaver lives permanently in cyberspace, he can control anything linked to the LSN. So he would follow Ozwald using street cameras and other cameras with a view of the streets.¡±


    ¡°Very good, Miermor.¡± Navor gave soft applause.


    ¡°I guess there is a brain under all that attitude.¡± I teased.


    ¡°Shut it, horn head, before I put an Umbra Bolt in your good leg.¡± She replied. I quietly didn¡¯t mention that it might not do anything, given how myst had been working on my body.


    ¡°Focus chitlins.¡± Navor chided me and Zynna before dramatically pointing a finger at Kharmor. ¡°Quiet one. Time to participate, Gaibnigh. If our opponent is going to watch Ozwald travel to the TTZ, but we plan on putting him to good use, how would we do that?¡±


    Kharmor gave Navor a patient but irritated look before answering. ¡°The CTK you gave him doesn¡¯t lead to the Academy, but somewhere we can collect the idiot without making it obvious. As far as where that is, I¡¯ve got no clue.¡±


    ¡°Our breaded friend has the right of it.¡± Navor said as she stood from her chair to stroll over to a corner of the round room. ¡°Not knowing where he¡¯s coming isn¡¯t your fault, because none of you could¡¯ve known that the CTK I gave him links right back to this room.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what?!¡± I asked in panic. ¡°I had mentioned meetings in here because I thought it was severed from the rest of reality when the door is closed. Are you telling me that Weaver could be listening in right now?!¡±


    ¡°No, no, Maverick. This space is disconnected. But I have a¡­ We¡¯ll call it a midway check location between there and here in a pocket space that is still open to here. As far as this Weaver is concerned, if he really is monitoring our Ozwald, he will see the boy scan his key and vanish to places unknown. Ozwald will blink into an isolated room with another teleporter that links here.¡±


    ¡°You can link pocket dimensions?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Kind of.¡± Navor said. ¡°If you have a firm enough grasp on parallel dimension physics, you can have a space that can always be reached by teleportation from the standard plane. Then you link an isolated teleporter in that realm to only reach another pocket realm like this one. Think of it as a dimensional man-trap like banks use.¡±


    ¡°Okay, so I get that much,¡± Demierra said as she followed the explanations. ¡°But why did we all give up our therras to put in a box too?¡°


    Navor answered the Dracose as she pushed something out of my line of sight that caused a bookcase to retract into the wall and slide away to reveal a small personal teleportation zone. ¡°That¡¯s simple. If Ozwald¡¯s therra is infected, then there¡¯s a pretty high chance that all of your therras have been infected. Maybe other devices of yours beyond your therras. I¡¯ll flip the bill to get everyone new devices, if we can spare the funds. But like Maverick¡¯s note said, the new devices are going to need to be linked to identities that aren¡¯t yours and locations that aren¡¯t here. So anyone in this room whose a part of Sightless Eye or Silent Heart are going to be tasked with drawing up false IDs and SINs for each of you. As far as location, the house has a system that will reroute any location pings on those devices to somewhere else in the city unsuspecting. But can any of ya¡¯ll tell me why we are keeping the infected devices?¡±


    Nennel answered this one with no small amount of malicious glee. ¡°So we can feed this Weaver phantom tailored information to make him think what we want.¡±


    ¡°Very good, Darrdane. Now, it¡¯s about time that our wayward Ozwald should be circling back round.¡±


    We all waited in quiet and tense anticipation for another eight or so minutes before Ozwald blinked into reality. Our soon-to-be triple agent blinked and looked around in confusion, his questions plain on his face. ¡°I¡­uh¡­ I thought I was leaving?¡± the Human stammered.


    So, we gave him the rundown of what had been discussed and our rough plans moving forward.


    <hr>


    By the time we were done explaining, poor Ozwald¡¯s head looked like it was about to spin off his shoulders. When he finally got his grips, he looked at me and asked, ¡°You really planned all this? I severely underestimated you, Maverick.¡±


    I gave a bashful grin and scratched the back of my head in embarrassment. ¡°I can think past gears and springs when it¡¯s needed. Besides, It wasn¡¯t originally all that complicated, when I had the idea. My original thought was to separate you from your hacked therra and pretend to throw you out on the street. Then bring you back in disguise and feed the rat-bastard false info to get him into a trap. Navor took the general idea and filled in the gaps with facets I hadn¡¯t even thought of. Speaking of, Master, what about telling the Mysteriarch about closing down the academy network? If Weaver slips in and can¡¯t find our dark-skinned friend, won¡¯t he suspect something?¡±


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry about that.¡± Navor waved off my worries. ¡°The Mysteriarch already knows what¡¯s happening and has set things in place. But now that we are all in the pocket space with no eavesdroppers, we need to put all our cards on the table. No secrets between us. And I do mean none. We need to know everyone¡¯s situation down to any detail that could cause wrinkles in plans moving forward, no matter how unlikely. I don¡¯t care if you¡¯re a bastard child of a corp officer, a deserter from the military, or if you have three mothers and no fathers. We level with everything. Let¡¯s start with a review of the dirty laundry we already have and move on from there.¡±


    <hr>


    So we came out with everything. Nennel started with the news about her father being a former drug runner for the Razor Wings and how he was murdered. She also mentioned things that I didn¡¯t think had any bearing on what we were going to do, such as her strange fascination with the Fae, her hobby of crochet, and an unbridled love for animals in all forms.


    Ferris brought up his Quint origins with a noble and hateful mother and rapist warlord father. He revealed his recent development into a Reaper class with only fundamental skills. He wrapped up with the big reveal that he had a terrible fear of dark holes, coupled with a dire threat toward anyone who tried to mock him for it.


    Ozwald gave the cliff notes of his hidden actions that had already been aired. He ended his repeat big reveal with the fact that he was gay, which I don¡¯t know how that could be a hazard to the mission, but okay, I guess.


    Demierra had nothing big to reveal. She was the daughter of a regional corporate officer of the Black Jade Hydra mega corp. She admitted to a love of fist fights that boarded on addiction. The Dracose bashfully admitted to a fawning love for anything with fur. Our Fury wrapped up with an admitted discomfort ranging on fear of smaller people; the smaller, the scarier. She followed up this admittance with a vicious declaration to turn the face inside out of anyone who even thought of mocking her for the fear. That had me wondering how she had managed to fight toe-to-toe with Kellden when he and I had first bashed skulls. Demierra¡¯s tone took a dramatic turn from defensive to shameful as she mentioned that she was the reason for her mother¡¯s death, but refused to elaborate.


    Zynna revealed herself as a Copkin, which Demierra was unphased by. Nel, Ferris, and Kharmor had already learned this fact during our escape from the Razor Wings. Ozwald was the only one not to know this fact and was floored by the revelation.


    <hr>


    While I¡¯ve skimmed over the majority of this heart to heart between students, I¡¯ll paint you a scene for the last two to share, myself and Kharmor. I was chosen to be next to air my dirty laundry and throw open the door to my closet of skeletons, so I did so without holding back.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to warn you all now that I¡¯ve got a load to unpack for this.¡± I started.


    ¡°Don¡¯t give us the blow-by-blow of your secret love life and how you hide a nasty sock under your bed.¡± Demierra mocked. ¡°Just the things that matter, please.¡±If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    As the Fury teased me, Navor fell back into her desk seat and settled in for a show. She looked like she was only missing a bowl of popcorn. She even wore a knowing Cheshire grin at what was about to happen.


    I shot the Fury an angry look. ¡°You mean like how I watch my uncle murder my father?¡± I snapped. ¡°The same uncle that brought me to Aegis Academy. Or how about that how uncle trained me through scarring torture to get me admitted to The Sect of The Dark Hunter? Yeah, that supposedly non-existent sixth sect of the order that¡¯s full of schizo super agents who kill people to take their hearts.¡± My tone grew heated. ¡°The same uncle that revealed that he was a double agent of another secret organization and tried to kidnap me by chopping off my limbs to drag me to gods-know-where.¡± I spat with venom. ¡°Or how about the fact that I¡¯m some kind of genetic experiment with more than two parents, and at least one of them wasn¡¯t from any species we can recognize. I¡¯m a freaky test-tube baby who was tailor-bred for some purpose beyond my comprehension.¡± I started to snarl my words, my hands curled into vindictive claws as I seethed under the facts I hated so very much. I was totally unaware of everyone else in the room other than Navor, backing away from me with worry in their eyes. ¡°A purpose that has something to do with a mystery box my gods'' forsaken uncle stole from my father after killing him, which is somehow ¡®my destiny to change the world with¡¯. Whatever the hells that means.¡± I blindly threw out a fist as if to strike something unseen before storming back and forth in murderous pacing. I failed to notice that I was stomping with each step of my pacing, without my crutch. ¡°And if we are airing dark and bloody secrets, how about the fact that one of my closest friends and the first love of my life turned traitor to join my uncle instead of saving me, because the sinvious, wretched, vile, loathsome, slither spined bastard promised her power.¡± By this point in my frenzy, I was baring my teeth, seething with anger and pain at my life that had gone so wrong. ¡°I never wanted any of this! I just wanted to be left alone by the world and live quietly in some corner of nowhere. I never wanted to fight! Never wanted to feel all this pain and fear! I never wanted to be some gene freak, covered from the neck down in enough scars to make me a damned portrait of the embodiment of pushing past pain!¡± I turned and glared at Navor with all the pent-up rage in my soul. ¡°Do you know what I wanted?¡° I demanded more than asked.


    ¡°What did you want?¡± Navor asked in a bland tone, totally unphased by my manic outburst.


    ¡°What I wanted! All I ever wanted, was to be fragging left the hell alone while I designed gadgets. None of this trog shit! Not rushing headlong into danger to save people! Not delving into skavy, monster-infested shadows and being chased who-knows how many miles by slither-spined, flesh-ravening nightmares! I definitely didn¡¯t ask to be chased by a titanic soul-eating eldritch Creature-Feature! I didn¡¯t ask to get caught up in a wreck-it-all action movie AV chase with sinvious, trog-souled, law-suits trying to kill me! I certainly did NOT ask to chop off my own damned foot with a blade NOT meant for the job, so I could replace it with a slab-shod spell I threw together on the fly while I fought for my life and the lives of my only friends against a half-stack psychopath armed with murder chains! I didn¡¯t ask to have my arm shaved off me like a flank of stake to have it replaced with some mind-bending meta-tech-schizzed-magic theory-lunacy! I didn¡¯t ask to save or kill anyone! I didn¡¯t ask to get roped into some schizo murder-death game, saving people I don¡¯t know, let alone care about! I didn¡¯t ask to walk into the jaws of a gang of sadist-psychopth drug dealers who were doing some nightmare experiments on randos off the street! And by the Primordials, I NEVER asked to be a self-mutilating Hecatomb!!¡±


    As my thermo-nuclear meltdown venting came to a halt, I stood there, my chest heaving with each defensive and defiant breath, holding myself like I was about to lunge and maul someone, my eyes wildly crazed and flashing to look everywhere at once, searching for a threat.


    After a few seconds of silence, Zynna gave a long whistle. ¡°Geez. You really do need those meds.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me.¡± I said with both accusation and defensiveness.


    The Copkin gave me a long look with her arms folded in defiance. ¡°You heard me.¡±


    My eyes flared with scolding anger, and I stormed toward the Copkin. Demierra stepped between me and Zynna in a patient but combat-ready stance. ¡°We don¡¯t need to fight, you two. Let¡¯s play nice. But now that you brought it up, Iver. What¡¯s this weird blood magic thing you¡¯ve got going on? I¡¯ve been meaning to ask since the fight with the Arsenal, but Master Navor told us to leave it alone.¡±


    I took a long breath through my nose and slowly let it out of my mouth as I turned to sit back down on Navor¡¯s bed. As I sat back down, I folded both my arms and my legs in a defensive posture before giving what explanation I could. ¡°I don¡¯t know everything, but I¡¯m a class of Mage called a Hecatomb. That means my spell focus is my own blood. In short, to cast spells, I need to bleed. I know almost nothing about the class other than it¡¯s not on the standard class lists, and as a limit of the class, I can only use negatively aligned elements.¡±


    ¡°Is that the allergy thing?¡± Ozwald asked.


    ¡°Na.¡± I waved his question away. ¡°From what I can tell, that¡¯s got something to do with my weird-ass genetics. Positive aligned elements have¡­ adverse reactions with my body. And negative aligned elements¡­ act weird with me.¡±


    ¡°Got it. So you¡¯re a super freak with super powers and super weaknesses.¡± Zynna summed up with a circular wave of her hand.


    I opened my mouth to argue the statement but couldn¡¯t find a flaw in her explanation, so I closed my jaw in disgruntlement. I hated being summed up so easily.


    Navor acted to move the discussion along before we could get more distracted, looking to Kharmor and pointing at him with a single word spoken. ¡°Next.¡±


    Kharmor locked eyes with every student in the room in silent challenge before he spoke. ¡°I¡¯ll start with the obvious. I¡¯m a Half-Dwarf. My parents are smiths. I lost my hands in a forging accident. They are cybernetic now. I told everyone that I¡¯m a Mechanist class Mage, but that¡¯s a lie.¡±


    ¡°I had figured as much.¡± Ferris said with a shrug. ¡°You don¡¯t walk around with an Omni-tool. You know, the spell focus of that class. I¡¯ve also never seen you use any Mechanist abilities. But I will admit that you¡¯re good at crafting.¡±


    Kharmor answered the unspoken question with an abrupt and clipped answer. ¡°I¡¯m a Facet Vein.¡±


    We all stared at Khar in a mix of confusion and disbelief.


    Given that I know the large majority of people reading this likely have never heard of a Facet Vein class Mage, I¡¯ll give a quick rundown. The class is unique because they can¡¯t cast any spells without myst crystals, which act as their focus. But because their focus is myst crystals, they have access to all myst elements, which is a rare factor among Mages. That sounds all grand and extraordinary until you learn of the standard and well-known side-effect of the class. All Facet Veins are crazy. Every single one is some flavor of stark-raving looney. Some of them have strange obsessions, like with a seemly-random type of object, such as spoons or clocks. Some of them hear, see, or feel things that aren¡¯t there. The only commonality is that Facet Veins are ALWAYS crazy.


    Everyone in the room but Navor stared at Kharmor wordlessly for a long few seconds before I was the one to speak up. ¡°But, Khar, you¡¯ve always seemed to have all your gears in place and working. Are you sure that you¡¯re a Facet Vein?¡±


    My Half-Dwarven friend met my eyes and said in a calm and stable voice. ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡± I started before I started putting hints together. The bracelet he always wore with sixteen stones. One myst crystal for each element. His meticulous knowledge of Lynn¡¯s collector limited addition revolver. Kharmor muttering to himself while he was working on that same revolver. ¡°Khar¡­¡± I started, pausing as I double-checked my math. ¡°Do guns speak to you?¡±


    ¡°All weapons, actually.¡± He said as unconcerned as if he were ordering a meal from a dining menu.


    ¡°All¡­ weapons.¡± I repeated. ¡°What do they tell you?¡± I asked with intense worry about the answer. If weapons were telling Khar to kill people, we were going to have problems.


    Kharmor drew the Executioner I had mentally tied to his newly admitted condition. Everyone in the room but Navor flinched away from Khar, even just slightly. He held the weapon in a causal grip, finger away from the trigger. Kharmor held it as gently as if he were holding a wounded bird, as he looked at the revolver with affection. ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry about me losing the reins and killing people at random. Each weapon has a story to tell. They¡¯ve all seen things, felt things, and done things that they want, or need, to share. When I pick up a weapon, they tell me what parts of them need care and repair. They tell me their balancing, advantages, and limitations. They show me the right way to hold them, and how to use them for best effect.¡± He holstered his new weapon before locking eyes with me, and only me. ¡°Everyone that hears my class and its mental effects, think that all any weapon wants is blood and death. That¡¯s wrong. Very wrong. Weapons are like people. There are good ones and bad ones. Yes, some of them want nothing more than to butcher anything they can touch. But most have simple wants. Like to be used to protect others, or to be used to stop terrible things from happening.¡± He holstered the firearm with a memorized motion and lovingly patted it at his hip. ¡°Condolences here, she hated her last owner. Her goal is to bring justice to those who need it. She is driven unlike any other weapon I¡¯ve touched. Her moral code is almost like a Paladin¡¯s.¡±


    I eyed the sidearm for a few seconds before asking, ¡°Your revolver has Paladin Syndrome?¡±


    ¡°And you don¡¯t, Iver?¡± Kharmor retorted


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry? What?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t give me that confused look, Ives¡¯. You will do anything to save someone else. Who was the one that nose-dived off a broken bridge toward a death lake just to save Nel?¡±


    ¡°I-¡± My tongue was suddenly tied when I tried to defend myself, but Kharmor didn¡¯t let up.


    ¡°Who was the one that carved off his own foot to save that same sister? That same someone who flew into a literal blood rage when Nel was seriously damaged. The same someone who tracked down that same sister when she was kidnapped by gangers, and pulled her from the warg¡¯s jaws to piece the girl back together. The same someone who infiltrated that same gang to get answers for that same sister.¡±


    I tried to think of some defensive in response, any defense. But my mind came up blank.


    ¡°Gods damn it, Kharmor!¡± Nennel snapped with blazing heat. ¡°You make me sound like some damsel that needs to be saved all the time! Iver is not some knight in shining armor! I¡¯m not swooning in his arms!¡±


    ¡°Because most of the time you¡¯re in his arms, you unconscious and in pieces.¡± Kharmor pointed out with a smirk. ¡°If I didn¡¯t know better, I¡¯d say you two have a thing.¡±


    Nennel and I looked at each other in panic before turning away and gagging in revulsion. ¡°Never Nel.¡± I said.


    ¡°Yuck! Gross.¡± Nennel said.


    The whole while this argument was passing, Ferris was laughing so hard he was bent over and crying. I was about to walk over to the Quint and sucker punch him, but Nennel beat me to the preverbal punch. She was wearing her Lasher Gloves and whipped an unpowered cable out to wrap around Ferris¡¯s feet. She yanked the legs out from under the twit to drop him to his ass. But he kept cackling at the idea of Nennel and myself as a couple.


    Nennel glared at Ferris for another few moments before turning that glare on me. ¡°I¡¯m done damseling.¡± she proclaimed. ¡°I swear Iver, if you step in to save me one more time, I¡¯ll make you eat my tin foot.¡±


    I held my hands up in placation. ¡°Please, no. I like having a full set of teeth in my face.¡±


    Navor stood from her seat, clapping her hands to break up the argument. ¡°Alright, crotch goblins, recess is over. Now, circle up. We¡¯ve got a few things to review and a battle plan to make.¡±


    Without another word, we all dropped the talk and focused on the Master. ¡°Iver, you said the stranger that tried to off Ozwald was acting weird, that something was wrong with his eyes. Explain, please.¡±


    I shrugged and jumped into the description. ¡°He came into the room in plat-quality clothes, but they were disheveled and mussed up. The whites of his eyes were full of burst capillaries, all red and pink. When he spoke, he said ¡®White pawn takes white rook, or black knight takes white pawn.¡¯, but he said it with a glitch-like stutter of the Ts.¡±


    ¡°Did he move weird?¡± Navor queried.


    ¡°I guess?¡± I half answered, half asked, looking to Kharmor and Demierra for input. ¡°His motions were¡­ odd. Jerky, but mechanical, if that makes sense.¡±


    Navor gave a slow nod at my explanation. ¡°Most of the signs you pointed fit together. It sounds like the guy Demierra put a knife through had been put through a Personality Scrape.¡±


    Kharmor and Zynna paled at the term, but the rest of us seemed totally in the dark. ¡°Um. Sorry for the ignorance,¡± I nervously interjected. ¡°But what exactly is a Personality Scrape?¡± Demierra, Nennel, Ferris, and Ozwald nodded in agreement with my question.


    ¡°Nasty process.¡± Navor said. ¡°Anyone put through it has everything that makes them a person scarped off, leaving behind a robot of meat.¡±


    Demierra gave a guilty look to the Master, clearly ashamed of killing someone who had been essentially brainwashed. Navor saw the reaction and explained. ¡°Don¡¯t feel bad, girl. When someone is put through this process, there¡¯s no coming back. Your whole identity is scrubbed from you, mind, body, and soul. Putting him down was a mercy.¡± Navor pinched her chin between thumb and forefinger as she thought. ¡°The only thing that doesn¡¯t add up with the scrape is that stutter you mentioned. When a scraped slate person is given instructions to speak, they will say every word in a dead tone, but the words are spoken the same as the master, down to the T. That means that this Weaver, a digital being which shouldn¡¯t have any kind of speech issues, had the same stutter.¡± Navor turned to me. ¡°Iver, you spoke with this cyber phantom in person. Did he have any speech issues?¡±


    I thought back to my talk with the being of blue static with the strange mark on his hand. ¡°Now that you mention it, yeah, he stuttered a few times, and they definitely were more glitch than anything natural.¡±


    Navor bit a knuckle of a finger as she puzzled out the facts. When she spoke, her deduction sent a chill down my spine. ¡°It sounds like his engram is getting corrupted. That¡¯s not anything good for anyone.¡±


    I could make my own conclusions given that choice of words, but I asked for an explanation to make sure I wasn¡¯t overreacting. ¡°I know that when computer files get corrupted, they eventually stop working. But what happens to an¡­ Engram?¡±


    ¡°What is an engram, anyway?¡± Ferris asked.


    Navor looked between me and Ferris before answering. ¡°There¡¯s a lot of science behind what an engram is, but simply put, it¡¯s what makes a person who they are. It¡¯s the experiences, memories, and natural responses of a person. If a computer program stops working after it gets too corrupted, what do you think would happen to a person¡¯s psyche if pieces randomly fell away and got replaced with other random code?¡±


    ¡°They would¡­. stop existing?¡± I asked more than answered, hoping the fallout was not as bad as I suspected.


    Navor pinned me with her gaze, the weight almost a physical thing, pushing me down. ¡°That will be the end result, eventually. But what do you think would happen to you if your memories and thoughts were gradually replaced with fragments of random data?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d go insane.¡± I said numbly.


    The thought of pieces of who I was being chipped off and replaced with shards of random code data was a thought that disturbed me on a fundamental level I can¡¯t even put into words.


    I verbally worked through my own questions and tried to find answers. ¡°Is that why he sicked the Regulators on the Razor Wings? He told me himself that the gang was hired to kill the same targets I¡¯m supposed to save. Weaver wanted a game of wits, and he threw aside his entire front row of pawns. But why? To push that Kellden Arsenal guy to hunt me? What¡¯s the point of that? It''s not like he can just tell the Regulators to go somewhere or do something without enough cause to motivate the Regs. So what is he doing?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, boy. But I don¡¯t think this path is going anywhere good.¡± Navor said in a foreboding tone.

 PITM Chapter 38

    The Alchemyst Adventurer Class is an oddity among the list of professions and skill sets. They are listed under Hybrid Classes because of the need for components, in addition to magic, for them to perform their functions. While Alchemysts are ¡°Technically¡± Adventurers, like many Mage classes, the large majority of people with this label vastly prefer working in a comfortable and reasonably safe laboratory rather than out in the field.


    After our party meeting in the sealed space, with all secrets aired, and upfront, we sent Zynna out with enough clat to purchase everyone in the squad basic replacement therras. When our Copkin companion returned, Navor revealed a hidden control panel behind a false wall segment and activated some unknown system. She then casually explained that if we linked our new therras to the house network labeled Far Echo during the initial setup, it would offset the device location ping by two blocks in a random direction for each device.


    With safety measures in place, we activated our new devices and tied them to false identity profiles Navor had already drawn up for each of us. The fact that the old warhorse was already prepared with those profiles had me asking internal questions.


    Once our therras were linked and dislocated from our actual location, we had to systematically go through every device in the house with a wireless connection, that being almost every device in the house, and perform factory rests on everything and bind the new addresses to the dis-locator system. That took a fair bit of time and no small amount of personal complaining from everyone involved at the loss of personal settings and digital material lost.


    With false profiles in place and security measures active, we set to work planning our next steps and acting accordingly.


    The first official step of any planning is research. We had a list of names of corp-rats we were tasked with saving. Six targets that we needed to find first. That meant we needed access to their work profiles in the Vartex database. Unfortunately, Vartex had updated their network security since the last time when Skitter had gotten us access. Meaning that we needed our Arachnyte acquaintance to give us a helping hand again. However, if we were buying help from the spidery hacker, I was going to ask for a package deal with a few extra pieces we could use to get ahead.


    Navor begrudgingly gave me access to enough funds to purchase the stack of gate passes. She flicked me two thousand credits paired with a stern warning about how much money I had been throwing around. ¡°Don¡¯t get comfy with having this much pay power, kid. You threw the original plans for this training trip right out the air-lock, and this is a special condition. You won¡¯t be getting this kind of help again for a very long time.¡±


    With the digital equivalent of two hundred gold Deckra, I contacted the arachnid and placed my order. I would have paid Skitter with another few Black Gold stimulant drinks, but the limited batch release I had purchased before was almost bone dry on the market. A single can of Black Gold was going for thirty gold a piece. For what I was asking Skitter to do, he¡¯d charge me an entire pallet of the drinks. So, credits were the cheaper option.


    When the deal was done, and I got what I had paid for, I had walked away with a fist full of falsified security access credentials, backdoor access to several secure networks, and specially designed aliases injected into a few strategic registries.


    With a fair bit of deliberation, I divvied up the digital goodies between Nennel, Ozwald, and Zynna and set to digging.


    Ozwald was tasked with nosing through the Vartex network for the profiles of our targets. Nennel set to work going through the Regulator database for some specific information we wanted on hand. Because Nennel and Ozwald both had targets on their backs, they stayed in the safety of the house while they researched.


    While Nel and Oz were holdup in the nest, Zynna was using a set of falsified credentials to do some research in the field. Zynna, being a shapeshifter, had been and would likely continue to be an immense boon, allowing her to become anyone and go almost anywhere with enough preparation.


    While those three were digging up dirt, Kharmor, Ferris, Demierra, and I were keeping busy in our own ways. Kharmor was building me a replacement Devil¡¯s Tail, along with a few other pieces. Ferris was interviewing the local street scuffers for any news that had trickled down into that social collection. Demierra couldn¡¯t do much, so she kept busy with training.


    And what was I doing, you might be wondering? I was the busiest of the squad. On my laundry list of to-dos, I had:


    -Speak with Lind and get arm repaired.


    -Build a new Mimic Facade for myself.


    -Build Ozwald a disguise pin like Nennel¡¯s.


    -Return to the Razor Wing hideout if it wasn¡¯t hazardous.


    -Find a way to get Nennel into a better fighting condition.


    -Design support gear for Kharmor, Demierra, Zynna, and Ozwald if I somehow had time.


    As much as I wished that we all found the critical information within the first day, that was definitely not the case. So, I¡¯m going to jump between discussions that truly matter to this tale. You don¡¯t need to hear me and Ferris bicker over which streets to start with, or the countless arguments I had with Nennel after she developed that ¡®self-saving maiden complex¡¯. This entire search took weeks of constant work with no breaks and plenty of overtime.


    <hr>


    Search and Study: Day 3


    Lind had repaired my arm by this point.


    Ozwald had disheartening news for the group after digging into the Vartex servers. We were having a squad meeting in the living room. Ferris, Nennel, and Zynna sat on the couch. Demierra sat in the over-sized chair beside the sofa. Kharmor sat in another chair, which was more his size, in the corner beside the holo-display. Ozwald stood in the center of the room, having convened the gathering. Navor leaned against the doorframe to the room with one arm folded under her breasts with paperback in hand while she sipped from a glass of whiskey in the other. I leaned against a wall with an illusion pin in hand as I inspected it for flaws.


    Ferris was toying with a silver Deckra coin, rolling the square piece of metal back and forth over the knuckles of his right hand. His face reflected agitation and irritation.


    Nel was reading documents on her therra, intently focused on whatever she was reviewing. Her face reflected intense stress as her eyes aggressively read line after line.


    Zynna was dressed in a janitor¡¯s uniform, her form that of a middle-aged Human man with a balding pate and scarred knuckles. While she sat there, she shifted her left hand in shape, size, and color out of evident boredom.


    Demierra was toying with her guitar, wearing her spell focus, Hands of Fury¡¯s Wrath, as she absent-mindedly strummed. The Dracose just looked bored and twitchy.


    Kharmor sat deep in his chair, intently inspecting an advanced-looking throwing knife for¡­something.


    ¡°Well,¡± Ozwald started. ¡°I¡¯ll start with the worst news. The rando that tried to put a bullet in my head was one of the targets we were tasked to save.¡±


    We all looked up and focused on the Human who seemed to hold enough stress in his shoulders to support a mega-plex skyscraper. I pocketed the pin I had in hand. Ferris dropped his coin. Nennel seemed to have totally forgotten the documents in front of her. Zynna set Dracose scaled pow into her Human lap. Kharmor set his project blade into his lap to focus his complete attention on Ozwald. Demierra played an off-tune strum before setting her instrument beside her chair.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± I started in an irritated tone. ¡°What did you just say?¡±


    ¡°That the guy Demierra put a knife through the eye of was one of the protection targets.¡± Ozwald clarified with no small amount of irritation in his own voice.


    Frag this shit!¡± I cursed with balled fists and an irritation like I had been told I would have to start a year-long tech project over from scratch.


    ¡°Did you ID the other five targets, at least?¡± Nennel asked, her own tone somewhat irritated. She hadn¡¯t seen the murder firsthand and seemed to have her own problems.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Ozwald verified. ¡°Three combat specialists with powerful ties, a Sorcerer with problems, and a black-listed Alchemyst.¡±


    ¡°Well crap.¡± Ferris cursed like he had lost a game of cards. I was annoyed by how easily my Quint friend was taking this.


    ¡°Do you got their home locations?¡± Demierra asked as she leaned forward with eager anticipation, interlacing her hands.


    ¡°Yes.¡± Oz said with his own irritation.


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll-¡± Demierra started, but Master Navor cut her off with a firm ¡°No.¡± that barred any argument.


    ¡°You¡¯re hungry to beat someone¡¯s face inside-out.¡± Navor accused. ¡°But,¡± she started in a softer tone. ¡°There will be combat in the near future. Keep calm, train, and stay ready. I promise you more fights than you could hope for, IF you can keep your head.¡±


    The Dracose flopped back into her seat with an indignant huff but made no argument.


    When Ozwald said he didn¡¯t have more data on the targets, we broke the gathering to work on our own project.


    <hr>


    Search and Study: Day 14


    I had repaired my LokLinks by this point, including the Mimic Facade.


    We all stood around the dining room. None of us sat with the stress of the situation. We all held our arms crossed with varying degrees of irritation, stress, and boredom.


    Nennel had started the gathering with the statement that we were not going to like. ¡°The Arsenal, Kellden, just had a cybernetic spine installed and will be back in action within the next three weeks.¡±


    ¡°Crap.¡± I cursed with a disgruntled sight.


    ¡°Crap? That¡¯s all you got to say?¡± Nennel accused.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to rip his head from his shoulders and shove it so deep up his rectum he¡¯ll be measuring his own intestine.¡± Ferris proclaimed with a melodramatic amount of venom.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Yeah. No.¡± I said, denying my friend gently but firmly.


    ¡°Why?!¡± He demanded.


    ¡°Fer¡¯, the only one here with more of a grudge against the guy than me is Nel, and I still might have her beat. He carved my dominant arm off me like a damned drumstick from a chicken, then chased me through and tried to kill me in a condemned hospital. I even tried to put him down after his spine broke, with Khar¡¯s new favorite toy.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s not a toy.¡± Kharmor replied with mild annoyance.


    ¡°Can I hunt him?¡± Demierra asked eagerly.


    ¡°No!¡± Nennel, Ferris, Navor, and I said in tandem.


    ¡°Damn.¡± The Dracose cursed.


    ¡°So we have three weeks to save five lives.¡± I stated.


    ¡°Three weeks from when?¡± Navor asked.


    ¡°From two days ago.¡± Nennel answered.


    ¡°And we know that he¡¯s going to interfere?¡± Zynna asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure.¡± I said. ¡°I think Weaver is pointing him at me like some frothing rabid cannon since he blames me for his sister¡¯s death.¡±


    ¡°Even though I was the one to kill her?¡± Ferris asked.


    ¡°I may have antagonized him with a few comments¡­¡± I said with embarrassment.


    ¡°Like what?!¡± Zynna demanded.


    ¡°Like something involving a closed casket.¡± I bashfully admitted.


    ¡°Duuude!¡± Ferris chided.


    ¡°That¡¯s just wrong.¡± Demierra added.


    ¡°What is wrong with you?¡± Zynna demanded with an offended tone.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry!¡± I tried to defend myself. ¡°I needed to make him angry. It was the first thing I thought of.¡±


    ¡°Dick.¡± Demierra said with spite.


    ¡°Sociopath.¡± Zynna commented.


    ¡°Asshole.¡± Ferris said with a straight tone.


    ¡°Monster.¡± Nennel said with a strange amount of venom.


    Only Ozwald among the students kept quiet.


    <hr>


    Search and Study: Day 18


    Kharmor had almost finished my new Devil¡¯s Tail by this point. I had been working on something new.


    Nennel had more bad news. We were gathered in the living room again, everyone in the same spots as before.


    ¡°Kellden let Lynn out with a plea deal.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡± I demanded.


    ¡°Crap.¡± Ferris spat.


    ¡°You¡¯re joking.¡± Zynna said in disbelief.


    Demierra leaned forward, her gauntlets gripping her knees like claws. ¡°Dibs.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± was Navor¡¯s firm response to Demierra.


    ¡°News. Now.¡± I demanded.


    Nennel clearly looked uncomfortable as she made the motions to send each of us the documents she found. ¡°She was let loose on bail if she gave up all of her Street Alchemysts.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure I believe that.¡± I said. ¡°She hinged too much on the Zyzivane, and I know she¡¯s willing to take long-shot gambles.¡±


    ¡°How would you know?¡± Zynna demanded.


    ¡°Because I played Garden of the Gods with her.¡± I started. ¡°She had me responding to her lunges using strong units with flanking. She was always aiming to break my line with anything of any noticeable strength. She took calculated gambles with units she thought expendable. If her Alchemysts, key for drug production, are expendable to her, then she has some kind of backup to keep the income coming.¡±


    ¡°So what?¡± Demierra asked. ¡°She¡¯s got some other way to make income after selling out her decoction doctors to the Regs?¡±


    ¡°From what I can tell, what she¡¯s betting on can only be made by Alchemysts. I think she kept her best chem-grunts on this cash cow.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Zynna asked. ¡°She bought a rando drug from¡­¡± She looked to Ozwald. ¡°Someone with motive, and it was a fumble. Why would she stay with it and double that gamble?¡±


    ¡°Because,¡± I started. ¡°She must¡¯ve seen results from tests of the drug Oz was fed by the cyber-ghost. The same cyber-ghost that had stolen the formula from a mega-corp. I would not be surprised if they knew that Oz was a corp-kin and doubled down on the experimental drug with high expectations.¡±


    Ozwald fidgeted and lowered his head in shame at the reference.


    ¡°Why would she double down on the rando drug?¡± Zynna asked.


    ¡°Because she was told that it was a performance enhancer, like a magical steroid.¡° I explained. ¡°It doesn¡¯t take much critical thinking for a Gang leader of thugs to have interest in a cocktail that could make her grunts into super-troops. She was already holding a Kolterath bartender hostage to use his establishment as a midway to joining her cult. I suspect that she was exploiting ¡®protection clat¡¯ from victim shops like the Crossline Electronics, where I found the first phantom corpse. If a gang boss would have super-bruisers, don¡¯t you think she¡¯d take it?¡±


    ¡°I¡­guess?¡± Demierra asked more than stated.


    ¡°She secretly kept drug mixers while selling out a chunk of her gang?¡± Zynna deduced. ¡°Heartless.¡±


    ¡°I want to punch her.¡± Demierra said with anger, punching one gauntleted fist into another.


    ¡°I think I¡¯m going to need to take a stop at the hospital.¡± I said in annoyance.


    <hr>


    Search and Study: Day 20


    Carefully, I inspected the shattered window of the derelict hospital. Ferris and Demierra stood behind me with impatient looks on their faces. When I was certain no one was close enough to see the infiltration, I broke the remaining glass from the first-story window.


    With a swift strike of my elbow, I shattered the glass blockade and slithered my way into the hospital. Ferris followed me with little effort, but Demierra had a slight struggle squeezing through the window with her large frame. We had entered the former battleground from the east side. I might have been a bit paranoid, but I chose it for being on the opposite side that Demierra had wrecked through during the Stryker siege.


    Ferris, Demierra, and I skulked through the decrepit halls of the first floor as we sought something I had only caught a glimpse of for an instant. A living nightmare. When I didn¡¯t hear a single living thing in the area, I whispered to Ferris to check the next floor for anything of interest. Demierra stuck with me as I circled around to the west side, to the dining hall with the collapsed floor I had been dumped through. As I stalked the abandoned halls, I passed countless bullet holes, plenty of slash marks in the walls, and enough blood strains to leave me disturbed. I skulked around every corner and through every doorway, slow, careful, and paranoid. Meanwhile, my Dracose companion strolled along behind me like she was walking the streets. No caution. No discretion. Just gauntleted fists swaying by her sides, only to prop against doorframes when I took pauses for inspection.


    We didn¡¯t encounter a single soul along our path. My caution might have been seen as unnecessary, but I refused to take any unneeded gambles.


    We reached the shattered dining hall without issue, and after a quick inspection, I dropped down the hole into the ruined morgue. Demierra waited above with her arms crossed and an irritated look on her face.


    I dropped into the dark hole into a darker space that stank of stagnant and halted death. The space was about one hundred and eighty feet long by eighty feet wide, the front-most third of the space was covered in the rubble I had dropped with. I dropped with my back to the morgue doors, facing the¡­ What would you call them? Ice boxes? Corpse Fridge? Dead Cold Space?


    I crossed the carpet of dust and rubble to the wall of morgue-cooler doors. What I had seen when I had first fallen through the floor into the space had clung to my mind like a hungry parasite ever since. I needed proof of what I had seen. There was a part of me that worried that the nightmares I had spied were hallucinations. Crazy brain making me see crazy things to make me more crazy. But my horrors were realized. Proven beyond any doubt.


    I popped the latch of the cooler door that held the nightmare I had seen. The square door swung wide, and I pulled out the slab to find what I hated to expect. Atop the rolling pallet was a corpse. A deformed corpse. I inspected the middle-aged Human male that lay on the table, nude. The body was¡­ wrong. That¡¯s the best way I can describe it.


    The body¡¯s muscle tissues had expanded by seemingly random amounts in seemingly random locations of the body. I could go into the muscle groups of the mutations, but the short and quick of it was that his largest masses of muscle were enlarged to the point of splitting the skin. Across the cadaver, muscle tissue was so enlarged that it showed through split skin like portions of monster meat covered with a tight fabric bag laced with splits and slashes.


    When I had first seen this ¡®test subject¡¯, he was still living with an expression of constant anguish. If Zyzivane really was a physical performance enhancer, the users better be okay with their inside muscles being on the outside. I inspected the deformed corpse from head to toe for several minutes before moving on.


    I opened cooler after cooler, inspecting each corpse before moving to the next. They all had similar, if not the same, wounds. After I opened the eighth door and inspected the corpse within, I stepped back with a mind full of questions and curses.


    Demierra still stood in the dining hall above me, with her arms crossed. She looked annoyed, disturbed, and bored. Anger boiled in my guts at the idea of what those people had been through. It was more than inhumane; it was monstrous.


    I clenched and unclenched my fists as I made my way to the stairs of the room. Halfway up those stairs, Ferris contacted me over therra-node local communications. ¡°I found someone. Also found some computers I think you¡¯ll want to see.¡±


    I shot my gaze to the ceiling of the dining hall above. Demi followed my gaze as we both heard the same message. I hurried to reach the first floor, waving my Fury companion to follow me before I made my way up to the second floor.


    After Ferris had messaged us, I had pinged his therra as I climbed the stairs. Demi followed me with an eager-for-violence expression while I hurriedly followed the location ping to my Quint friend to the third floor, six doors down from the emergency care ward where I had first met the gang. I passed through a swinging pair of doors into a room full of fossil computers so old I could¡¯ve called any one of them great-grand-dad.


    Inside the room of proto-tech computers, Ferris had pinned a Human man against the wall. Ferris¡¯s hand was bolted to the Human¡¯s shoulder, and he held the Infusion dagger I had given him so close to the Human¡¯s eye, I could¡¯ve watched the appendage dehydrate to a rasin.


    As Ferris watched me step into the space with pre-age computers, he stepped back and drew an elemental sidearm to point at the Alchemyst. ¡°Dont, Move.¡± was all he said.


    ¡°Fine, fine!¡± The blond Alchemyst cried in panic as he held his hands in surrender. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    I strolled into the room, drawing my own Infusion Dagger as I went, and triggered its blade as I pressed it against the Alchemyst¡¯s chest. Sparks flew from the lightning-infused edge as I pressed that edge into his chest just enough to break the skin and send a slight jolt. I didn¡¯t even think about my Dracose friend as I moved to play the villainous antagonist.


    ¡°You, my dearest friend, have the answers I need.¡± I said.


    ¡°What answers?!¡± The Alchemyst demanded in panic.


    I didn¡¯t hesitate to slightly push the Infusion Dagger just the smallest bit deeper. The man¡¯s arms spasmed in response to the wound before I retracted it.


    ¡°What are you doing with Zyzivane!?¡± I demanded.


    ¡°I DON¡¯T KNOW!¡± the Alchemyst screamed in desperation. ¡°Lynn gave us the formula. She wanted results. She said it was a performance enhancer!¡±


    ¡°So What!?¡± I accused


    ¡°She GAVE us the compound!¡± He insisted. ¡°She told us to fix it! She demanded!¡±


    ¡°Demand what?!¡± I snapped, driving the dagger just slightly deeper into a new location on his chest.


    ¡°To Fix It!¡± The Alchemyst said in desperation. ¡°But the docs she sent us said there were four phases!¡±


    ¡°Four phases of what?!¡± I demanded again.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know!¡± he sobbed. ¡°We were given one part. It was supposed to make them stronger. But they kept dying. So Lynn kept forcing us to change it. Tweaks after tweaks! But they kept dying.¡±


    ¡±Why!?¡± I pushed. I directed my pent-up rage from everything that had happened into that single word. Every wrong done to Nennel by the gang, every wrong done to me within those walls, fueled my drive.


    ¡°I Don¡¯t Know!¡± The Human Alchemyst wailed. ¡°She said it was a booster! But there¡¯s more! I don¡¯t know what, but more!¡±


    ¡°Explain.¡± I said in a calmer voice, but the words still held an edge.


    ¡°There¡¯s something else with the formula!¡± The panicked man¡¯s words came in a rush. ¡°I don¡¯t know what! But more to the formula! Missing pieces! There¡¯s at least one other substance needed for the drug to be survivable! Lynn¡¯s got the gang out looking for it, but we got no clue what to look for!¡±


    I withdrew the dagger and pinned the Human with a stare just as sharp. ¡°You know nothing else?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± He answered as he slid down the wall, holding his head in panic. It was then that I noticed he had soiled himself.


    While I had been interrogating the frightened man, Ferris had snatched the Almchemyst¡¯s access card and was sending any files he found to a computer back at the safe house.


    I stepped away from the poor man, holstering my Infusion Blade and dropping any pretense of aggression. ¡°You were held up by another gang. You got me?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± the poor guy responded. I turned to check on Ferris¡¯s status only to find him giving me a thumbs up in silent sign of completion. I spun on my heel with a dramatic flourish of my coat and exited the room without another word, Ferris and Demierra in tow.


    We fled the building like shadows in the night. The three of us hadn¡¯t even left the courtyard of the hospital when I was already sending a group message for a meeting.


    I had a bad feeling about this new development.

 PITM Chapter 39

    A common security regulation method are Endow Seals and Endow Brands, commonly simply called Seals and Brands. Both of these identifiers are a unique series of complex lines and shapes that act like a visual badge. Endow Seals and Brands can be a digital image, magical tattoo, or soul imprint, depending on its purpose and select factors of the Seal or Brand holder. Endow Seals mark someone with access to certain restricted locations, items, materials, or information. Endow Brands, on the other hand, mark someone with restrictions due to crimes, or similar negative actions. In Tier 1 nations, such as Ventic, The large majority of seals are digital. There are security systems that actively scan for Seals or Brands and allow or deny access as needed.


    I had convened the squad in a meeting for a purpose that had me more than a little worried. After my brutal talk with the Alchemyst, I had a feeling that there was something much bigger at play. Drug-based body modification to enhance a physical body¡¯s state of a subject. But that modification kept resulting in death, and with a hint of something missing. Possibly several somethings missing.


    At the moment of this talk, the day was deep into the evening hours. I had gathered the squad in the basement common area. Kharmor sat at the large crafting bench in the space while he pieced together a metal sphere covered in large holes. Nennel sat atop the same crafting bench, just to Khar¡¯s left, reviewing documents again. Ferris sat atop a piece of workout equipment while he picked at his nails with his inactive Infusion Dagger. Ozwald sat in the nearest corner of the room in a folding chair while he was doing his own picking at a plate of cold cuts and cheeses while he continued his own digging on his new therra. Zynna was still in her Human disguise, leaning against a nearby wall while she did something unseen on her therra. Demierra was in the middle of using a weight press machine, her frustration at being denied a fight earlier pushed her to do anything physical. Navor stood at the foot of the stairway with a mug of something hot she sipped on intermittently.


    Everyone but the Master had been suffering from escalating stress levels. As the days passed, the bad news piled up, and we made very little progress. Each of us had been at someone else¡¯s throat at least a few times in the past two weeks, myself more than anyone else.


    After the talk with the Street Alchemyst in the abandoned hospital, I had been suffering from a severe manic episode. The mania had been driving me wild but had given me enough ideas to help me flush out the puzzle. But we were about to be given another piece of the puzzle.


    ¡°Lynn had been spoon-fed the drug formula by Ozwald, who was fed the formula by Weaver.¡± I muttered aloud while I paced back and forth in the center of the gathering with nervous energy. ¡°And Weaver had snagged the formula from Vartex. Weaver told me that he scrubbed all data and records of the formula when he klept the info. And you verified that, right Oz?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I spent the first week after you flicked me the access seals digging through Vartex databases. The only records I found outside of the Operation Missing Sock documents were a handful of mentions that the key formulas for the ZYZ substances had been ¡®removed¡¯. I¡¯m currently digging up the home addresses of every member of Missing Sock. The only issue is that each one I¡¯ve looked into has at least three mailing addresses and they are all some public location, like a mailing office, motel, or something similar. They really don¡¯t want to be found.¡±


    ¡°Try looking into their operation locations in the near future. If we can find a definite spot where we¡¯ll find them, we can follow them back to their burrow holes.¡± Nel recommended.


    ¡°Good idea.¡± Oz said as he no doubt moved to act on the new angle.


    ¡°Why are we even saving these guys?¡± Demierra grunted as she finished her latest repetition in her emotional-venting workout. The Dracose released the handlebars of the apparatus without easing them back into place, causing the gravity-distortion plates to slam down with a teeth-jarring boom. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. ¡°These sewer-suckers kill activists that get too busy, right? So what¡¯s so bad about the digital ghost putting them in the ground?¡±


    ¡°In the beginning, it was because I had an issue with more deaths on my conscience after I massively screwed up in the AV chase.¡± I said. ¡°But, with Weaver¡¯s mind breaking down, and him acting illogically, I¡¯m worried that he won¡¯t keep to his promise.¡±


    ¡°What promise?¡± Demierra asked.


    ¡°To not directly attack any of us. When we spoke, he wanted a challenge and went so far as to put safety wheels on this bike ride down the highway to the hells. But if he¡¯s not stable, then there¡¯s nothing stopping him from cooking our brains the next time any of us are wired or diving into the net.¡±


    ¡°So? What¡¯s that got to do with saving these corp-rats?¡±


    ¡°Those corp-rats are his focus right now. He has a single-minded drive to toy with these guys before killing them.¡±


    ¡°Like a cat.¡± Nennel pointed out.


    I gave Nel a nod of agreement before continuing. ¡°That became obvious when he tricked us into killing one of the targets by sock-puppeting him into taking a shot at Oz. Once these five mice are gutted, I have no idea what the cyber-ghost-cat will do, but I don¡¯t think it could be anything good.¡±


    ¡°So what are we supposed to do? Jump each of these goons, tie them up, and throw them in some hole in the ground for who-knows-how-long?¡± Demierra had a point, and I didn¡¯t have an answer.


    I was saved from the need to answer her when Ozwald spoke up. ¡°Uh, guys. We¡¯ve got a problem. A big problem.¡±


    I glared at Oz, my anger on the foreshadowing of bad news, not the messenger. ¡°What kind of problem?¡±


    In answer, he flicked a digital document to everyone in the room. I pulled up the document and read the message. Then, I read the message twice more to ensure I wasn¡¯t misunderstanding the new development.


    ¡°Well, crap.¡± Ferris cursed.


    The document was an email sent to everyone involved in Operation Missing Sock.


    <hr>


    To: [email protected]</a>


    From: op.mis-soc-handler:[email protected]</a>


    Attention, I have just found a portion of the missing data regarding testing substances ZYZ:382, ZYZ:383, ZYZ:384, and ZYZ:385. It would appear that the initial intruder overlooked this key data for ZYZ:382 and ZYZ:383 as someone unprofessionally named the file ¡°Ghost Crumbs.¡± I will overlook this immature prank seeing as it has allowed us to at least partially recover the project. Unfortunately, the formulas for all four phases are still missing.


    As everyone receiving this message should remember, our attempts to contact the original provider of the formulas, codename: Red Arbitrator (RA), refused to pass on any copies of the formulas or data we have sent them. Our connection had sighted information security in our contract concerning Clause:23A Subsection:475.


    Our agreement with RA was in danger of termination after the foreign data expungement by the rogue operator Weaver. This would have cut our RnD funding by 66% due to our inability to uphold our end of the agreement regarding the development of the ZYZ:382 project.


    However, with this new development, RA has extended an opportunity we can¡¯t afford to let pass. Our partner has contacted the current holders and owners of formulas ZYZ:382 and ZYZ:383, the Evea-Life corporation. RA has organized a business meeting to draw up a deal with the formulas¡¯ current handler, Mz. Layshulla Ozwald. If we can come to an agreement, the project will be joint-operated between our two groups, allowing us to see their data from their own tests. To my understanding, Mrs.Ozwald has been struggling to make any developmental progress without the data-points, a portion of which we have just recovered. What I have been informed, is that she has yet to have a subject pass the second phase.


    Evea-Life is willing enough to make this deal that they are holding a special, closed social gathering atop their offices. They have also specially requested for everyone reading this message to join this party. This event is invitation-only, with a savanna-gala dress code. This meeting will be in three days. I want all invited field personnel to come armed.


    You all also remember our regulations regarding speaking about the sibling project: Mage Hand. You are not to bring it up unless directly stated to by your handler for the vent.


    With regards,


    Andrew Collins


    P.S. I feel I should also remind all field agents of Op: Missing Sock to behave. We don¡¯t need a repeat of the Jade Hyrda incident. I¡¯m looking at you, Jenkins.


    <hr>


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s one hell of a monkey wrench.¡± Ferris complained.


    ¡±Monkey wrench? Fer¡¯, this is an entire haywire of gremlins that just crawled into our plans.¡± Nennel corrected.


    ¡°Oz¡­ Is that your mother they''re talking about?¡± I asked, already knowing the answer, but it had to be said aloud.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± He sighed as he massaged the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed with what could only have been a stress-based headache.


    ¡°Why do I feel like I¡¯m living in a soap opera?¡± I complained as I massaged my brow just under my horns. I had my own headache setting in.


    ¡°You believe that Weaver missed an entire file of research data?¡± Nennel asked me.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Me neither.¡± Nennel agreed. ¡°Especially with that filename, Ghost Crumbs. I think our spooky cyber phantom just set up a massive trap for everyone on your list.¡±


    ¡°Not everyone.¡± Ozwald said.


    ¡°You talking about the ones already dead?¡± Ferris asked.


    ¡°No. There is one name on the list that¡¯s not part of Vartex, and he¡¯s the outlier.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡± I asked.


    ¡°One Mr. Tommis Vanderbar. A former Evea-Life Mystgenist.¡± Ozwald answered in a dry tone.


    ¡°How do you know that he was an Evea-Life scientist?¡± Nennel asked.


    ¡°Because my mother was the one to fire him. I don¡¯t know the details. But it must¡¯ve been incredibly bad to push my mother to boot him out the door.¡±


    ¡°Are we sure your mother¡¯s not this Weaver person?¡± Ferris asked jokingly. ¡°I mean, she snagged at least part of the formula from the net after this Weaver guy flung it to the far reaches of cyberspace. She needed test subjects, and Weaver gave you some of the formula to sell to the gangers, for them to sell the face-melting drug to junkies as guinea pigs. Now she¡¯s inviting these Vartex guys to some kinda gala ball for shady dealings.¡±


    Ozwald gave an amused snort. ¡°I¡¯m certain that she¡¯s not Weaver. If she was the one to steal the Zyzivane code, then why would she give some of the data back to Vartex and then broker a deal to get that fragment of data? If she was the thief, she¡¯d have everything from Vartex. And even if the drug was poisonous to begin with, she would need nothing from the corp. I saw my mother¡¯s stress over needing this project to work.¡±


    ¡°What I¡¯m wondering is who this Red Arbitrator mentioned is.¡± I said. ¡°The sender practically told us that this Arbitrator person gave the formulas to Vartex alongside a massive chunk of clat for them to develop. Whoever they are, they must have massive pull to outsource drug development to Vartex and keep them on edge out of fear of losing a business deal. A company as big as Vartex, they wouldn¡¯t worry over some small-time company deal falling through.¡±


    ¡°We also know that there are four separate formulas.¡± Kharmor pointed out. ¡°And Evea-Life only has two of the four.¡±


    ¡°So, four different variants of the drug.¡± Nennel said.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s entirely the case.¡± I said.


    ¡°Why?¡± Nennel asked.


    I turned to Ozwald. ¡°Do you have any idea which formula you sold to the Razor Wings?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I didn¡¯t think about it when I was in possession of the formula and samples, but it was labeled ZYZ:382. Why? What are you thinking.¡±


    ¡°Well, I called the meeting of the minds because I saw the aftermath of Zyzivane first hand and it¡¯s gruesome. But, more important than that, Ferris found one of the Street Alchemysts. My guess is that he was cleaning up evidence, like the bodies I found. I politely asked him a few questions-¡±


    Ferris gave an amused snort. ¡°If you call putting an elemental blade tip in his ribs polite.¡±


    ¡°I asked him politely,¡± I repeated. ¡°And he said that what they were using was incomplete. It needed something else. With that linear list in the message and the use of the term ¡®phase¡¯, it¡¯s a safe bet that these things needed to be administered together, likely in stages.¡±


    ¡°What was the ¡®aftermath¡¯ you mentioned?¡± Zynna asked, finally adding to the discussion.


    I visibly winced at the memory. ¡°Well, the Wings were told that it was a performance enhancer. Likely a combat stim. But the Street Alchemyst said that the test subjects kept dying. What I found of the corpses was¡­ unpleasant. Their muscle mass had been boosted so much it tore the skin, which was likely the cause of death.¡±


    ¡°That tracks with what I was digging up.¡± Zynna off-handedly mentioned as she scrolled through something on her therra.


    ¡°What have you dug up?¡± I asked. ¡°You¡¯ve been infuriating vague every time we debrief.¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    I had acquired the required digital security Endow Seals to get our Copkin friend into Vartex¡¯s offices under the guise of a new hire janitor. Every time we¡¯d asked for an update on her snooping she would just say something along the lines of ¡°I don¡¯t have anything, but I have suspicions.¡± Which I found hair-pullingly frustrating.


    Zynna closed the windows on her therra, leaned back, crossed her arms and legs of an old man, and proceeded to drop logic bombs. ¡°Well, while I¡¯ve been pantomiming a janitor with those credentials and seals you got me, I¡¯ve played the bit of senile and depressed old Human guy. Since they¡¯ve had me on a rotating shift schedule, I haven¡¯t been able to do as much digging as I had intended since it¡¯s pretty difficult to snoop in an office full of people busy at work. When I have had the night shift, I¡¯ve been digging through the physical financial docs.¡± She nodded to Ozwald. ¡°Oz has been giving me what breadcrumbs he¡¯s been finding. I did find a few mentions of someone they just listed as ¡®RA¡¯. Given the numbers tied to that label, I thought it was another mega-corp. Clearly not, given what we just read.¡±


    ¡°Okay?¡± I asked. ¡°So you found papers tied back to this mysterious benefactor. Did you dredge up any clues as to who they are?¡±


    ¡°No. But, I did find mention of a name that will perk your horns.¡±


    I raised a quizzical brow. ¡°Go on.¡±


    ¡°Thallos Kiem.¡± was all she said.


    At the mention of the name of my traitor uncle, my body locked up with tension. I froze mid-pacing, not even breathing as I processed the development. The only part of me that did move was a spasm of my right eyelid. The entire room was quiet as a grave. Even Demierra, who had been about to start on another exercise machine, had stopped. I could feel everyone¡¯s eyes on me and I struggled to grapple down the outburst that was clawing up my throat.


    ¡°That¡¯s your uncle, right? The bad one?¡± Zynna asked.


    I spun on the ball of a foot and rushed at the Copkin so fast I didn¡¯t even know what I was doing until I gripped the collar of her uniform with two white knuckle fists. ¡°Elaborate. NOW!¡±


    Zynna¡¯s eyes went wide at my reaction, but she answered in a level tone intended to calm an angry beast. ¡°What I was able to dig up said that he has been operating as a goffer for this Red Arbitrator person. He seems to come to the building every month, dropping off physical clat as payment for the RnD department. He hands over the money and takes the data from the tests back to wherever he goes.¡±


    I released Zynna and started pacing again, only at a much more frantic rate. ¡°Red Arbitrator. Blood Arbiter. By the Gods, it¡¯s so damned obvious!¡± I cursed.


    ¡°A Blood what now?¡± Demierra asked.


    ¡°Arbiter. Blood Arbiter. It¡¯s some kind of field specialist in The Company. Thallos was training me to become one before he escaped. That¡¯s where I got all my scars.¡± I gestured to my chest with an absentminded wave of a hand. ¡°He had said that I was made for a purpose. He knew that I was a gene baby and was testing me. If he¡¯s involved¡­¡± I trailed off as I gripped a horn in one hand and tugged it in thought. I could feel my tail going absolutely wild. An open sign of my mental state.


    Suddenly, something in my head clicked and things started coming together. ¡°That means that the mysterious benefactor is, if not The Company, someone high enough in the group that they can afford to sling enough coin to sink frater without batting an eye. They also would need to have enough personal power for Thallos to be willing to work under them. He only respects someone able to give him a run for his money when crossing blades or spells.¡±


    I suddenly spun around to point at Kharmor, my eyes alight with a manic gleam. ¡°Weaver had said that he knew about The Company and would give details if I won this murder game madness. So he must¡¯ve known that The Company sent Vartex the formulas for development. No doubt offering them a cut of the sales profits if the drug could be completed. Thallos is a disturbingly proficient salesman, and no corp as big as Vartex would be able to resist the idea of controlling a substance that anyone regularly diving into combat would lunge at the chance to get.¡±


    Demierra spoke up as she started seeing the bigger picture. ¡°Vartex would have corps like Black Jade Hydra over a barrel and in the executioner¡¯s collar. Any group like them that makes the biggest chunk of their coin in combat supplies would do almost anything for a super combat drug. The Hydra might even be desperate enough to join Vartex¡¯s grunt companies, just so they can get ahold of the stuff.¡±


    ¡°Adventurers too.¡± Kharmor pointed out. ¡°If this stuff is as big as it sounds, if it works, any Adventurer that relies on physical strength and speed would be the ones lunging for the stuff. And Adventurers are a cornerstone of society, given everything they do.¡±


    ¡°Wait, wait, wait.¡± Ferris said, patting the air with both hands in a ¡®slow down¡¯ motion. ¡°I don¡¯t think the stuff is just a normal combat stim.¡±


    ¡°Why would you say that?¡± Nennel asked.


    ¡°Because, look at what we¡¯ve seen and heard of the process. Combat stims are a standard staple for any Warrior of Jaeger. You whip one out, jab yourself, and inject, and BAM! Super fighter. But this stuff has four whole fomulas that need to be added in stages. Do you think any corp would want to sell a four-piece package deal that requires the user to take who-knows-how-long to take it in stages? And from what Iver said he saw of the corpses the tests were making, they were Permanently changed. If it was just a magic booster, the body would go back to as close to the natural state after the magic wore off, corpse or not. I think this stuff makes permanent changes. If it has four stages or phases or whatever, wouldn¡¯t that mean regular doses as the guinea pig is changed from one to the next? I think Vartex is so desperate for a grip on the stuff because it would make permanent super soldiers.¡±


    Everyone in the room stared at Ferris in shock, even Navor. ¡°So our resident joker actually has a brain under all that wild hair.¡± Nennel teased.


    I shook my shock off and continued piecing things together. ¡°If the Zyz-process, if you will, would have permanent results, that explains why the ¡®sister project¡¯ would be the transparently named Project Mage Hand, which would make artificial Mages using cybernetics. One project makes Martial Classes uber troopers, while the other is a Mage factory that makes the rare power to cast spells commonplace. Vartex would¡¯ve held the leash on the power to change the world in almost any way they wanted. They could charge any nation to pay coin through the nose for the ability to make a military unbeatable.¡±


    ¡°A money-hungry, morally bankrupt mega-corporation with the power to change the world into whatever they want.¡± Nennel said in numb horror.


    ¡°Well, things already didn¡¯t go as they planned.¡± I said with a smirk that was both amused and worried. ¡°Weaver erased what Vartex had of the formulas and released both it and the Mage cybernetics designs out into the globe-wide network.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± started Zynna with no small amount of snark. ¡°Everything was leaked. Now, the only ones with at least some of the formulas is another money-hungry, mortally bankrupt mega-corp. And the cybernetic designs are in the hands of who-knows-how-many Cy-Docs, corps, and government.¡±


    ¡°Got it, so our world is just a new flavor of boned.¡± Demierra complained, throwing her hands up in the air in frustration.


    ¡°Well, I think things are a bit more complicated than that.¡± I said.


    ¡°How so?¡± Nennel asked.


    ¡°I doubt Thallos or anyone he works under would be so easy to share something so valuable.¡± I explained. ¡°Because I know Thallos and the kind of people he would work with. There is zero chance that anyone working with or above wretched bastard would share that kind of power with another corp, let alone two others.¡±


    ¡°So, what do you think they¡¯re playing at?¡± Ferris asked.


    His use of the word ¡®playing¡¯ set off yet another series of sparks in my mind. ¡°Let¡¯s say you¡¯re a power-hungry, morally bankrupt leader of a corp. You¡¯ve got a rough idea of how to rule the world using a super soldier formula. We¡¯ll simplify the problem by saying there¡¯s only one formula. You need to flush out the deadly kinks in that compound, but you don¡¯t want any testing leading right back to you. If others knew you had the stuff, you¡¯d be a serious threat and target to every nation and mega-corp. What would you do?¡±


    ¡°Set up a scapegoat.¡± Zynna answered. I confirmed her answer silently with an ¡®on the nose¡¯ gesture.


    ¡°But let¡¯s say your scapegoat was not only making progress faster than you expected. And they have a sister project on the brink of completion that would make them a serious threat to you if they combine scheme A and scheme B. What¡¯s your response?¡±


    Kharmor was the one to answer this question. He set down his project and gave me his complete focus. ¡°Sabotage. Using someone with an in, and a grudge. Someone like a Circuit class Mage, who was told to kill his own sister. A Circuit you have slip in, steal everything before it¡¯s finished, scrub anything that could salvage their projects.¡±


    ¡°Correct.¡± I agreed as I sauntered over to the crafting bench to pick up a spare screw and toy with it. I hadn¡¯t actually solved the whole puzzle by any means. But as I spoke and asked, I found more and more of the pieces were falling into place. ¡°But what if your little cyber-infiltrator had a massive case of Paladin Syndrome, and instead of just handing your prize over, he broadcasts it?¡±


    ¡°Kill him, collect what you need, and scrub the rest?¡± Ferris asked.


    ¡°But what if your scapegoat killed your spy, and someone else got a taste of your project and beat you to the scrub? Then that someone starts doing their own testing with an incomplete project.¡±


    ¡°Kill them so no one knows?¡± Ferris asked.


    I had an off-hand idea of how to think more clearly. Pain. Pain had minimized my panic in combat and let me hone in on what I needed. So I leaned against the crafting bench and folded my arms to hide that I was driving the screw into my forearm. It worked. My senses sharpened, and my mania faded as my thoughts cleared. ¡°But your project wasn¡¯t finished when you took it back, and maybe a few of the data points from your scapegoat were lost along the way. Maybe barter your way to a second scapegoat?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Demierra interjected. ¡°I know corp-rat political games. And after reading that message, what comes next is obvious.¡±


    ¡°Well, I sure as hells don¡¯t see it.¡± Ferris said with frustration.


    The Dracose locked eyes with Ferris, then me. ¡°You¡¯re a corp-rat. You¡¯re already the walking avatar of the term ¡®morally bankrupt¡¯. You broker a meeting between your scapegoats and set both up to eat each other while you collect all those tasty morsels of data. But if your spy didn¡¯t totally die, throw them into the cannibal feast to stir up trouble, maybe even take the blame. No matter how it plays out, you walk away with the goods, and whoever survives the free-for-all takes the blame for everything.¡±


    Now, everyone was staring with shock at the Dracose bruiser. ¡°What?!¡± She defended. ¡°My Father is a high-up corp-rat for Black Jade Hydra. I might not have a head for these games, but I can see patterns. Just cuz I¡¯m a brawler doesn¡¯t mean I can¡¯t add up two predators wearing masks while holding knives and a murderous parasite.¡±


    At the news of Demi¡¯s father, I accidentally drove the screw all the way into my forearm. I was partly aware of the pain but had bigger things on my mind. I shook my head to dislodge the surprise that Demierra was a Corp-kin.


    ¡°Whow, whow. slow down.¡± Ferris said as he pressed two fingers into his eyes as if in pain. ¡°What is all of this madness? I get the ZipVane super-trooper mess. It¡¯s all world-changing and all, but¡­ Scapegoats? Espionage? Double agents? Double deals? Back stabbings? Whatever happened to the bad guy doing bad things, and good guys just need to stop it? And since when has our Phantom jack-wad been a victim? Wasn¡¯t he our biggest problem?¡±


    Nennel propped one foot on her opposite knee and interlaced her fingers in her lap as she began a lecture. ¡°Ferris. Friend. Pal. Brother from another species. We can break everything down into two problems on two separate scales. There¡¯s the ¡®Us Problem¡¯ and the ¡°Global Problem¡¯. Us Problem: Weaver, the Phantom in the machine, is going crazy and killing people. If we don¡¯t find a way to stop him, we are likely the next prey in his sights. I think I speak for all of us when I say we don¡¯t want to die.¡±


    ¡°Well¡­¡± I started to playfully argue.


    ¡°NO!¡± Nennel snapped at me. ¡°Bad brother. Not even joking about wanting to die.¡± She turned back to Ferris without waiting for my response. ¡°Now, we don¡¯t want to die. Thats the ¡®Us Problem¡¯. But there¡¯s the Global Problem. Three predatory companies with more money than any of us could imagine are playing the most elaborate game of political-conspiracy-chess you could imagine. Whichever wolf survives that fight will become the most powerful mortal group on Anogwin.¡±


    Ferris¡¯s headache only seemed to intensify as Nel reduced the situation to such simple definitions. ¡°Look, guys. I¡¯m a simple dude. Mega-corporations and their dastardly plots are beyond my headspace. I understand the problem in front of me: Cyber psychopath serial synaptic scorcher spirit is killing people, and we¡¯re next up with the executioner¡¯s collar. But all this global game of Garden of the Gods between groups so big I can¡¯t even understand is more than a bit¡­ What¡¯s the word? Infallible?¡±


    ¡°I think you mean ineffable.¡± Kharmor corrected. ¡°It means so big or expansive that you can¡¯t put it into words.¡±


    Ferris snapped his fingers in understanding. ¡°That¡¯s the one. So lay it out for me, nice and simple. What do I need to do?¡±


    I plucked a second screw from the table I leaned on and slowly drove it into my skin, just above the last screw, which was still set into my forearm. The pain trick was working, but I¡¯d need to hide it from Nennel and the others. I didn¡¯t need them freaking out over a little blood and pain. ¡°Believe me, I get the confusion Fer¡¯. I¡¯m only tracking all this Hamlet play scheming and backstabbing because I just got deeply invested with the news that Thallos and his schizo group are moving for global control.¡± I crossed one leg over the other and chewed my cheek in thought as I debated how to simplify everything. ¡°How about this? What if I narrow the scope to just Weaver, what he¡¯s doing, and what we need to do.¡±


    ¡°Yes, please!¡± Ferris said with relief.


    ¡°Okay. I¡¯m going to consolidate roles of the players. I¡¯ll concentrate what The Company is doing as Thallos¡¯s actions. I¡¯ll concentrate what Evea-Life is doing into Ozwald¡¯s Mother¡¯s actions. And I¡¯ll concentrate all of Vartex¡¯s crap into an imaginary person I¡¯ll call Vex. Sound good?¡±


    ¡°I think so?¡±


    ¡°Awesome. The Good Guys are us, Team Aegis. The Bad Guys are Thallos, Mz.Oz, Vex, and Weaver.¡±


    ¡°Got it.¡± Ferris said in understanding.


    ¡°Great. So Thallos outsourced the ZipVane to Vex, so he could do the work and take the blame. But Vex had the Mage Cybernetics in the works, and if he combined the two, he¡¯d rule the world. Thallos didn¡¯t like that idea, so he talked Weaver into a snatch-and-smash, so Vex wouldn¡¯t win the game. But Weaver wasn¡¯t told everything and tried to do the right thing by spreading the info across the net. Mz. Oz found part of the prize and is trying to figure out the rest. But she needs extra pieces, which, we think, Weaver put part of back in Vex¡¯s pocket. I think Thallos had Weaver do this to trick Vex and Mz.Oz into meeting. Vex and Mz.Oz are going to play nice until one of them gets what they want from the other, when they plan to stab each other. But Weaver is probably going to try to kill the five guys we need to protect, which is going to cause everyone to stab everyone. Thallos is going to swoop in and steal the prize during the murder-fest and frame Vex, Mz.Oz, and/or Weaver for the trouble. If Thallos pulls the heist off, he gets to rule the world.¡±


    ¡°Got it.¡± Ferris said with a firm nod. ¡°But where do the Razor Wings fit in?¡±


    I looked to Nennel, who shrugged. Then I looked to Kharmor, who also shrugged. I looked to Zynna for help but she just smirked and recrossed her legs. I turned to Ozwald in desperation for any input, but he hadn¡¯t said anything since he sent the announcement that started this discussion. He looked lost in his own head, with an intense expression of worry. I didn¡¯t even bother hoping for Demierra or Navor to speak up. Demierra had little involvement in the mystery other than the corp-kin bomb she dropped on us. And Navor, no doubt, saw this as a learning experience.


    ¡°I¡¯ll need to step out of the simplification for that bit.¡± I took a long and slow breath before starting this theory. ¡°The Wings got part of the drug from Oz, but not the whole.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. We know that.¡± Ferris agreed.


    ¡°Oz got one formula segment from Weaver. He said that he was planning on framing his mother for the inevitable screw-up because she already had two parts of the four and is more than a bit of a bitch.¡± I continued. At my comment about his mother, Ozwald gave an amused huff.


    ¡°Okay.¡± Ferris confirmed that he was still following.


    ¡°Oz hates the gang for getting his brother hooked on the drugs that got him killed. Weaver has a grudge against the gang because they pretty much put his mother in a coma. I think that whoever got Weaver into this revenge game told him to get more test results.¡±


    ¡°Got it.¡± Ferris said, starting to fit his own simple puzzle together. ¡°So Weaver bonded with Oz over hating the Wings. Weaver needed test answers, so he cheated, using Oz to smear the gang while getting those answers.¡±


    ¡°I did not bond with the creep.¡± Ozwald argued. ¡°He used me.¡±


    I gave Ferris a proud grin. ¡°That¡¯s really boiling it down. But yes.¡±


    ¡°So then, whose this guy that wanted Weaver to get the test answers?¡±


    I shot Master Navor an annoyed look of pleading for help. Her response was to lock her good eye with me and take a long pull of her beverage, saying absolutely nothing. I looked back to Ferris with a weighty sigh. ¡°Weaver had mentioned someone he called Mr.Durge, who supposedly recommended the gang angle. I theorize whoever this Durge guy is, he¡¯s working with Thallos.¡±


    ¡°Well, crap.¡± Ferris cursed. ¡°This whole bad guys using bad guys to hurt other bad guys¡­.thing, is making my head spin.¡±


    ¡°Says the guy that pointed out the drug this whole thing is revolving around was way bigger than we thought.¡± I teased.


    ¡°Don¡¯t give me that! It seemed obvious. I¡¯ve been training to earn the Warrior or Jaeger class. Combat stimulants are a key tool for those classes. I had to study a ton of them and how they work. None of them are supposed to be combined and definitely none of them are used in this stages/phases thing.¡±


    ¡°But weren¡¯t you training to be a Rogue last year?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yeah, but while I can hide and run pretty well, I just don¡¯t have a head for the traps and lock-picking.¡±


    ¡°Well, Oz might because to help you with that, right?¡±


    I looked over to the Human, still stuck in his own head. He only said seven words in a numb tone. ¡°I might have to kill my mother.¡±

 PITM Chapter 40

    Mega-corporations hold massive political and economic sway. Some of these mega-corporations hold more sway than many nations. These groups of millions of employees are packs of cutthroat predators, but nothing like wolf packs. In a world of fish, mega corps are shark tanks of titanic proportions, each predator watching for weakness among their peers to lunge for an exposed throat to claim territory, resources, and/or power. In order for the sharks on top to keep their underlings occupied and their throats free from teeth, they keep competition razor sharp with cliff-steep stakes and the finger pointed at other corporate shark tanks. When you have more than one mega corp office in a settlement, there will always be strife between them, even between partners. Because of this unspoken corporate law, there have been more than a few corporate wars.


    Once we had assembled the full picture of the scheme we were crossing blades with, our group had scrambled to pull together a viable plan. We finally agreed on a strapped together a battle-plan from the shards of ideas and metaphorical rubber. I use the rubber metaphor instead of glue, because it was a plug-and-play five-part heist quest.


    Gods, that simplification makes it sound like I¡¯m pitching some kind of game. No. This was a life-and-death job set to be completed by professional Adventurers. More than that, this was a brandwork adventure. An illicit operation undertaken by Adventurers knowing they were breaking laws. The kind of work that would earn criminal brands on profile or person.


    We had a five-part path to victory. 1: Entry. we needed to get in unnoticed. 2: Party and Pilfer. Some of us needed to observe the party and its guests, and some of us needed to find the Zyzivane labs. 3: Collection. We needed to find our targets and ¡®collect¡¯ them, with or against their will. 4: Extract. We needed to get everyone outside of the building. 5: Escape. We needed to get the targets to a safe location without being tailed.


    As a squad, we had assembled several options for each part of this plan. The strategy options ranged from cautious to cacophonous. I¡¯ll admit some of our agreed strategies were a bit insane, but each member of the squad promised to follow through with any option needed.


    We had even cobbled together resources for each option we agreed upon. Our on-call hacker Skitter had shipped us a care package full of useful goodies. Most of those goodies had less-than-ethical uses or intentions. Uniforms for various companies, security seals for digital profiles and physical persons, code-cracker chips, gate-cracker picks, and much more were all in this package. However, that package came with a hefty price tag and not just in coin.


    The day of the rescue/abduction mission was on our doorstep before we knew it. Where I pick the story back up, it was twilight hours, not that you would know by looking at the smog-caked sky. Our squad was packed into a caravan AV. Despite ordering a rental Aerial Vehicle designed to carry copious luggage, we still found ourselves crammed into the back like a vacuum-sealed package of Resonance micro capacitors. The AV was designed to hold a whole family of Demierra-sized people. But that luxury of space was absent with the stacks of food cryo-coolers. Each cooler was loaded with equipment we might need for the brandwork quest.


    Despite being packed in shoulder to shoulder, we kept focused.


    I held a hologram display aloft in one hand for everyone to inspect the image. The three-dimensional image was of the Evea-Life tower floor layout and systems. ¡°So we¡¯ve got four entry options.¡± I started. Demierra interjected with an indignant comment of ¡°Five options.¡±


    I shot an annoyed look the Dracose¡¯s way, but I still corrected myself. ¡°Five options. Each with its own hazards and problems. Our options are the front door, the cargo bay, the rooftop, the Undercity, and¡­¡± I paused to take an exasperated breath before voicing the final option with an irritated tone. ¡°The wrecking ball method.¡± With a rolling gesture of my hand, I signaled for Zynna to list off the obstacles she had found.


    The Copkin, back in her preferred Half-Elf shape tapped the hologram to zoom in on the main entry lobby. ¡°If we go in through the front door, we¡¯ll need to stay aware of security forces, automated defenses, traps, and scanners. Similar systems also arm the cargo bay. And both locations have breach defenses, meaning blast doors and reinforced structures. The roof isn¡¯t much better. It also has automated defenses, an energy barrier doming it, and breach defenses.¡±


    ¡°The party is also on the roof.¡± Ferris pointed out.


    ¡°Could we use that?¡± Nennel asked. ¡°It would be simpler if we crack the energy shell, swoop in with our company AV, and snatch our prey like a falcon, before riding off into the sunset.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d rather not open with that.¡± I said as I pulled on one horn in thought. ¡°We would still need to get to the labs to scrub their research, and those are on one of the subfloors below the tower. We need to get in with as little commotion as possible.¡±


    ¡°We should probably split up and enter from different positions.¡± Zynna said as she reached into the bag at her feet to pull free a lab coat. ¡°The elevators that reach the subfloors are apart from the elevators that scale the tower up to the roof. Another reason: We¡¯d look awful suspicious, walking in as a full squad. Especially with how strange our squad is.¡± Zynna slipped into the lab coat as her face and body began to shift and distort into a new shape. In moments, where a half-Star Elf girl had stood was a taller, male High Elf with short golden hair, long ears, and heavy bags under his eyes. The Copkin reached back into the bag at his feet and produced a pair of half-moon glasses he propped on the end of his nose. ¡°I¡¯ll head in through the front. Hey, Scum Blood,¡± he directed the slur at Ferris.


    ¡°Hey!¡± Both Ferris and I shot at Zynna in offense.


    ¡°Shut it, both of you.¡± Zynna snapped at us in response, before continuing in a more even tone. ¡°I¡¯m only getting in character, twits. Ferris, I need you to follow me as a lab tech. It¡¯ll look more believable if this sleep-deprived researcher dragged his obviously hated assistant back to the lab with him.¡± The Copkin turned to Nennel with a hand extended in request. ¡°Can I get the seal imprinter?¡±


    Nel quietly pulled a small metal cylinder from her bag and set it in Zynna¡¯s hand. The false High Elf pressed the imprinter against the back of his hand, triggering a dull blue flash, though nothing visible changed. Without prompting, I pulled up my therra¡¯s user interface and scanned Zynna to pull up his/her official profile.


    The profile portrait matched Zynna¡¯s current face, and the name was listed as Tane Palebloom. The profession listed with Mister Palebloom as a Magical Theory Specialist Mystgenist. And sure enough, in the Endow Seal window under the profile image were several ornate and complex symbols with listed access clearance and security levels.


    ¡°Looks like you¡¯re good to go.¡± I informed Zynna with a thumbs up.


    Ferris, meanwhile, was grumbling to himself while angrily pulling on his own lab coat. ¡°Ives, you¡¯re positive that I won¡¯t get spotted by the scanners? I shouldn¡¯t have some illusion or hologram face-thing?¡±


    Kharmor was the one to answer. ¡°The scanners only go off when they identify a known criminal, a projected disguise like what Iver made Nel or items that produce a dangerous type or amount of energy. You aren¡¯t entering with anything that would set off alarms on your person. Correct? Nothing using Ruin Myst, Death Myst, or Distortion Myst?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± the Quint answered. ¡°I¡¯m only bringing in an elemental pistol, the infusion dagger, and anything you guys think I can smuggle in with my pockets. But, you all are certain that I¡¯m not flagged as a criminal?¡±


    ¡°Iver¡¯s the only one flagged as a criminal, at the moment.¡± Nel answered in an annoyed voice.


    I was the one to change topics to get back on course by speaking to Kharmor. ¡°If those two are entering through the front and heading up, think you can go down to the Maintenance and Systems Floor?¡±


    ¡°What are you plotting?¡± Kharmor asked with teasing accusation.


    ¡°I¡¯m thinking of putting you in a power company uniform, arming you with a few¡­ troubles to take to the basement.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. That sounds simple enough. Though I¡¯ll need to wait a bit after Zy and Fer go in. I don¡¯t want any ties between them and me should things light up.¡±


    ¡°If anything, I think you should go in first, and they wait till ten minutes, or so, after.¡± I corrected. ¡°You¡¯re going to have a few things to get in place, which could take some time. After you set up everything, come find me. I suspect I¡¯m going to need all the help I can get.¡±This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Kharmor slid into a Source-Fold Energies uniform and picked up a weighty black duffle bag. I had loaded the bag down with a few gadgets and a few more nasty surprises. As the Half-Dwarf readied his own seals I gave him a warning. ¡°A few items in the bag will set off the scanners. So don¡¯t freak when you get a pat down from the guards. Since I built everything in the bag, none of it looks like standard sabotage gear they will recognize. Since power technicians regularly need to carry tools infused with Distortion or Ruin Myst, just tell them you¡¯re a generator technician and you have a job there. If we¡¯re giving you Source-Fold access seals then that should be enough to point to as the reason you¡¯re carrying ¡®certified¡¯ gear.¡±


    ¡°Won¡¯t I need an appointment on the books to get in?¡± Kharmor asked. ¡°I doubt Source-Fold would perform surprise inspections.¡±


    ¡°Yep.¡± I said with an innocent smile, although no one in the vehicle trusted me when I wore it. I handed Khar a flat electronic stick. ¡°This is something special I asked our hacker for. Press the blue button to link it with your profile before you pass the doors. Once you¡¯re within thirty feet of the reception desk, press the black button. It will add your profile to the logs with a scheduled appointment ten minutes ahead of the time you press the button. It¡¯s not foolproof, but if you¡¯re smart, it will help you get in and down.¡±


    After Kharmor entered the tower, we waited with bated breath for another ten minutes, until we were sure there wasn¡¯t an eminent battle. Another ten minutes later, Zynna and Ferris entered. After they weren¡¯t attacked, I turned to the remaining squad mates. Nennel, Ozwald, and Demierra had been deliberating over whether to enter from the cargo bay or roof. Demierra wanted to crash in through the roof with fists swinging. I flatly denied the ¡°wrecking ball option¡±.


    Instead, I had Nennel, and Ozwald dress in server uniforms for Platinum Platter Catering. A false company, that would be likely be discovered by evening¡¯s end.


    Nel was dressed in a high-cut skirt, leggings, a ruffle-dominant finery shirt, and a dress vest, all patterned in black, navy blue, and silver. Her entire body was covered by fabric, hiding her cybernetics, and what of her face and neck were visible had been covered in prosthetic skin.


    Ozwald was dressed in something I would expect to see him in on a temple day. Dress slacks, a fine dress shirt, and a neatly buttoned vest in a matching pallet to Nennel¡¯s guise.


    Nennel and Zynna had to Demierra practically forced into a manual labor jumpsuit. The laborer uniform was the safer option, compared to the same high-cut skirt and ruffled shirt of Nennel¡¯s uniform, in a size fitting a mammoth Dezzar Dracose¡¯s frame.


    The wait staff sub-squad was going to enter through the cargo bay since it would lead to somewhere at least close to the kitchen serving the roof. But first, we had to slap a company logo on the side of our AV van to complete the guise. They needed the vehicle to sell the story they were pitching. It would¡¯ve been pretty weird if two wait staff and a laborer simply walked up to the back gates and asked to be let in.


    The AV van was both our biggest foil and our biggest crutch. The van was our main exit strategy, but there was more to it. The back of the vehicle was armed with every scrap of gear and weapons we could think of, find, and afford. Those tools could be our saving grace, but if they were found, we would be too in short order. The gear was hidden in the food-storage cryo-coolers to trick a cursory glance, but if someone opened a cooler, we were screwed. So Demierra was instructed to stay with the van until someone called for support.


    I watched from an old parking lot as the last of my squad started their end of the heist. My position was a block and a half from the tower and the thing dominated the skyline. The mega-scraper building was a monument of abstract glass and steel dedicated to greed and exploitation. It was a tower that vanished into the smog clouds overhead in a curved and pompous stab at the angels above.


    I noticed that I couldn¡¯t see the peak of the tower, and it bothered me in a way I couldn¡¯t define. With a force of effort, I tore my eyes from the monument and started down the road another two blocks.


    <hr>


    I inwardly cursed my suicidal streak as I lowered myself into a runoff canal. I was verbally cursing my lack of anything resembling a survival instinct when I dislodged a grate leading to the waterways under the streets. When I passed into a piping and cabling maintenance tunnel, I started cursing Evea-Life and Vartex. By the time I reached an entrance into the Undercity, I was cursing whoever created the very concept of undercities.


    <hr>


    I used my therra to call Skitter as soon as I found a passageway leading in the right direction.


    ¡°I was right, wasn¡¯t I?¡± The Arachnyte gloated. I could hear the split-jawed smirk in his voice.


    ¡°You were right.¡± I admitted in defeat.


    ¡°I told you, your only way into the rat trap was either on wings or tunneling. They¡¯re a lock-tight site. That¡¯s why I said you¡¯d need an under-street J-walk to get where you need.¡±


    ¡°Yeah-yeah.¡± I sniffed the air for the thousandth time. ¡°I was wrong when I turned you done. You were right when you said you¡¯d keep the offer open. But you were wrong when you thought you could talk me into using sewage ways. This place already smells like rust, mildew, bygone ages, and mummified corpses of dreams. If you think I¡¯m going to go unnoticed in this corp-rat ball while smelling like an outhouse, you are stupider than I gave you credit for.¡±


    ¡°I can see your logic, but it¡¯s the safer option.¡± Skitter hinted.


    ¡°I¡¯m already down here because I don¡¯t have the survival sense a god would give any animal. I¡¯ve already outrun ghouls, dove into a pit, and almost nosedive into a vat of acid and chemical waste in this necropolis. As long as it¡¯s not another stigmaguant, I think I can manage.¡±


    ¡°I know what you did. I told you as much when we first met. You¡¯re a madman with a heart of gold. Well, I hope you¡¯re comfortable with acid.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± I asked nervously.


    <hr>


    ¡°You breach the wall into the sub-structure under the sub-floors?¡± Skitter asked.


    ¡°Yes.¡± I said


    ¡°And you turned down the hall into the hall full of buckle head hatches?¡± Skitter pressed.


    ¡°Yes.¡± I answered in an irritated tone. I walked down a narrow concrete corridor floored with a steel grate catwalk. The passageway was only two feet wide and illuminated by bulbs from a past age that hadn¡¯t been lit for who-knows how long. The corridor looked to span the width of the mile-wide building. Behind me, the passage dead-ended in a hole I had blown in the wall with a bit of blast clay. The other end of the passage wasn¡¯t in sight, and the path seemed to stretch into the void. Just to my left was a rusted-out bulkhead hatch with a patchy label eroded in almost illegibility. It read: WARNING!!! Acidic Disposal Pit. High-threshold PPE Gear is needed past this point.


    I approached the hatch, peering through the few holes in the rusted gate. I couldn¡¯t see anything through the gaps, but I could smell something chalky that reminded me of death. The rest of the corridor stank of caustic chemicals, but that door was different.


    ¡°My payment is promised after this point, correct?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I answered in an even more annoyed town.


    ¡°Good. You should be standing next to one of those doors. If you¡¯re lucky, it should have a sign. That sign should give you enough warning of what you¡¯re about to need to do. If you need it spelled out, you¡¯re going to need to climb up a waste chute, over a pit of acid, in the dark, while carrying everything you need.¡±


    ¡°Skitter¡­¡±I started in a false-calm tone. ¡°If you don¡¯t make this up to me, I¡¯m going to pull off every single one of your legs, boil them, and rip out the meat like from Colossus Crab legs. Don¡¯t think I won¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I hear you loud and clear, Captain.¡± Skitter said with nervous assurance. ¡°I should leave you alone for this-¡±


    ¡°Hold on, Four-Eyes.¡± I asserted. ¡°Care to explain these acid pits?¡± I asked as I glanced down the hall again.


    ¡°Listen,¡± Skitter started. ¡°Above you is a two-hundred-story super-structure. Between you and the surface are ten subfloors of maximum security protecting research projects, many of which are likely unethical. Each subfloor has a dedicated acid pit. This is since some of those things from the labs should never mix. You¡¯re going to pick one of the ten pits to climb up.¡±


    ¡°What about the one just to my left?¡± I stepped back and sought out an identifier for the chamber. I found it just to the left of the hatch. ¡°Chamber 10.1.¡±


    ¡°No good. It¡¯s an extra vat chamber used to kick-start the myst crystal production of the acid. While it does have a chute, it leads straight to an emergency incinerator.¡±


    ¡°Emergency incinerator?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got no clue, but it¡¯s incorporated into their security system. Meaning either access through it has an alarm, or will trigger the furnace like a trap. Why? That death pit look more appealing to you than the others?¡±


    ¡°No. I just¡­ it smells different.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care if it smells like lavender and roses. If it smells different, it¡¯s a trap.¡±


    ¡°If you say so.¡± I uncertainly agreed. ¡°Then, which of these death traps has the shortest climb?¡±


    ¡°Two doors down on your right.¡± Skitter answered instantly.


    I moved further down the corridor even as I asked my next question. ¡°How far of a climb is this going to be?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll take you straight to subfloor ten, the very bottom of the tower¡¯s serviceable floors. You¡¯re currently about twenty feet below that floor.¡±


    I stepped up to the bulkhead I needed and wrapped both hands around its door wheel. ¡°And- Rrrrr! where- Rrrr! does this- Rrrr! Lead?¡± My question was broken up by efforts to loosen the wheel. The handle gave a groan of protest for an instant before I broke the stalemate with a burst of magic. Hinges of the gate screamed their own protest as the door swung open. The door¡¯s screaming was paired with a wave of foul stink, like the gate was a beast with the most caustic breath.


    ¡°It¡¯ll take you straight to the maintenance floor.¡± Skitter answered as I stepped into a roughly twenty by twenty-foot room. Rather than having a floor like any normal room, this space was occupied by only a pool of gray-clear liquid with a catwalk running the perimeter. Instead of a ceiling, the top of the space was a conical lid tapering into a dark pit at the center.


    ¡°Sounds like I¡¯m about to surprise our Facet Vein.¡± I said as I pulled my Squid Hook Lok-Link from my bag and integrated it into my arm. ¡°And Skitter, you¡¯re explaining this tower to me while I climb. Otherwise, I¡¯d be cursing you the entire time.¡±

 PITM Chapter 41

    Teleportation systems are used in a wide range of scales with interlinked closed systems. Inner-building teleportation systems, known as Jump Pads or Blink Pads, to transition between levels have been known to be used for security or safety purposes.


    These systems are required to be equipped with several methods of identification and warning. Warning lights and sides, intensionally identifiable humming, and noticeable magical emissions in the space are all intensionally built into all legal systems. This is because they can go completely unnoticed until triggered. This is what makes teleportation traps so insidious. This also causes hidden teleportation systems to be a staple in many genres of pop culture.


    Teleportation is also a known method of capturing people and creatures using small devices known as Jump Tags or Blink Tags. These tags are tied to Capture Cells, enclosed spaces within a constant energy field with no doors or seals.


    Both of these methods of transport/capture are only effective within a limited range. The teleportation devices for sending and receiving must be keyed and coded with each other.


    ¡°You catch everything I dropped on the automated defenses?¡± Skitter asked while I crawled up the chute one step at a time.


    ¡°Yeah-¡± I grunted, my voice slightly distorted by the mask I wore to protect from the fumes of the acid pit ten feet below me. ¡°Hidden auto-turrets, laser grids, razor-line net launchers, flamethrowers, disintegration fields, pit traps, blade launcher traps, electrocution field generators.¡± With each listed threat, I took a step up the shaft wall and gave another grunt. ¡°I miss anything?¡±


    ¡°Not that¡¯s listed in the building systems on the records I¡¯m looking at. But there¡¯s more I should inform of about than the traps.¡±


    ¡°Oh-yeah?¡± I growled the question.


    ¡°Well, for one, the first twenty floors above the ground is a hospital. The Evea Elixium Sanctum. Above the hospital are ten floors of storage. Above that are sixty floors of offices, then another sixty floors of employee housing. The next forty-five floors above that are product production. That¡¯s where they make their commercial medications, medical equipment, and over-the-counter first-aid supplies. The top five floors are for the corp-rat lord offices and meeting areas. It¡¯s at the top where the party is booked.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t even want to think of counting, let alone climbing, all the stairs to get there.¡± I shivered at the idea of how my legs would feel after a climb like that. ¡°The elevators could take me all the way up there, right? Do the subfloor elevators lead to the hospital?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡± Skitter asked as much as answered. ¡°I¡¯d assume that¡¯s how they get their people test subjects from hospital to hell hole. What are you scheming?¡±


    ¡°We already know that the freight elevator reaches from ground to roof.¡± There was a pause in my explanation for me to focus on my breathing as I reached the ceiling of the chute. ¡°They¡¯d also need to reach the storage floors to drop off incoming equipment and-¡± another grunt slipped out as I adjusted my grip on the cable and my foothold on the wall to allow for a better angle. ¡°-supplies. You said storage is just above the hospital. What if I sneak into the hospital as a patient or janitor just long enough to jump from the subfloor elevator to the freight elevator?¡±


    Skitter was silent for several moments as I inspected a sealed shafted door just across from me. When the hacker answered, he sounded contemplative. ¡°That might work. But I doubt you¡¯ve got any way to keep all that gear with you if you want to look like a patient.¡±


    ¡°You do-¡± I strained to reach across the shaft with my whole body ¡°-have a point.¡± My fingers brushed against the hatch with no handle and I growled in irritation. ¡°I¡¯ll just have to ask Khar.¡± I threw out another snatch at the hatch, to no avail. ¡°Speaking of, I think I¡¯ll need to let you go.¡±


    ¡°Hope your gamble pays off.¡± were Skitter¡¯s last words before cutting the call.


    I pulled myself back against my mounted wall as I sent out a therra-call to Kharmor. He picked up after the first ring with ¡°Trouble?¡± his tone was on edge, but not nervous.


    ¡°Kinda.¡± I bashfully admitted. ¡°Can you pop the trash disposal chute for me, please? I¡¯ve found myself in a¡­ predicament.¡±


    ¡°How on Anogwin did you get back there?¡± The surprise was clear in his voice.


    ¡°Oh, you know. The normal way. By clawing my way up a shaft over a pit of acid.¡± I spoke casually, as if the act was simply an everyday occurrence.


    ¡°Ives¡¯¡­ You are insane.¡± Kharmor sounded like he should¡¯ve expected this kind of occurrence. ¡°So that¡¯s how you bypassed the security?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Now open the damned hatch!¡± I snapped, quickly followed with a hurried ¡°¡­Please.¡±


    ¡°I got you. Keep your trousers on.¡±


    A few seconds later, the door across from me swung in and down. The opening was filled with an irritating beam of light around a stout shadow, reaching out a hand in offer.


    After my bag and my person had fallen through the door, I inspected the local area with a nervous eye. I stood at the end of a soft-lit hallway lined with security doors on either side. Each of the doors bore labels such as ¡®Building Generator Housing & Operations¡¯ and ¡®Master Server Bay¡¯.


    Kharmor gave me a sour look of discomfort before covering his nose as he took a single step back. ¡°You stink like a chemical dump, Ives.¡±


    In response, I peeled off my mask and gave my shirt a long stiff. Sure enough, I wreaked like a chemical-waste spill into a sulfur pit. Whether or not that was better than stinking of sewage, I hadn¡¯t decided.


    I looked back to Kharmor as I asked, ¡°Get everything in place?¡±


    ¡°Sure did.¡± Khar confirmed.


    ¡°Disruptors on the generators?¡±


    ¡°Yep.¡±


    ¡°Signal jammer in the comms hub? ¡°


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Scrambler in the Auto Defenses Master Control?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± It was obvious Kharmor was starting to get irritated with my pestering. He gave me a telling look as he adjusted the shoulder strap of the gear bag he had entered with.


    ¡°And the camera feeds?¡± I gently pressed. Everything needed to be in place before the show started. I wasn¡¯t about to take any unnecessary gambles if I could help it.


    ¡°Ives¡¯.¡± Kharmor said my name with weight and emphasis. ¡°Calm down.¡± he said more softly. ¡°Show a bit of faith for the rest of the team.¡± Khar turned and started down the hall, waving a hand for me to follow. ¡°None of our squad are screw-ups. Don¡¯t try shouldering everything on your own, you loon.¡±


    I didn¡¯t respond to his observations, feeling a bit abashed for my worrying. Instead, I followed behind the Half-Dwarf while I called Ferris to check on his progress. When the call was picked up, I immediately asked, ¡°You and Zynna find the formulas?¡±


    ¡°Uh. Yeah. We found them. But Iver¡­ you¡¯re going to want to come here and see this for yourself.¡± Ferris spoke in a tone both disturbed and distant. If his words caused me to worry, his tone almost drove me to panic.


    ¡°See what for myself?¡± I pressed.


    ¡°Just come to Lab 3342 on the eleventh subfloor. I can¡¯t even put this into words.¡±


    Those two lines had me in a cocktail of feelings. Part of me was worried about what could have Ferris in such a state. But in only slightly less measure, I was ticked off with Skitter for either not knowing about the eleventh subfloor, or he had lied to me. But first, before anything else, I needed to figure out how to go down one floor. And I doubted the elevators would just have easy access to a hidden floor.


    ¡°Trouble?¡± Kharmor enquired as we closed in on the elevators.


    ¡°Not sure. Ferris is one floor down and says I need to see¡­ something.¡± I grumbled in annoyance before I asked, ¡°Any idea how to get down to the floor that shouldn¡¯t exist? I¡¯m pretty sure that the metal box wouldn¡¯t just have a ¡®Secret Illegal Laboratory¡¯ button.¡±


    Khar grunted a ¡®that¡¯s interesting¡¯ fashion. ¡°Well, that answers one of my own questions.¡±


    I gave the Facet Vein a quizzical look, and he answered without any additional prompting. ¡°I spent some time studying the generators and linked power distribution systems. While under the hood, I noticed that there¡¯s an independent power generator with only two lines sending power straight down. After what you just said, it¡¯s clear that either that concealed floor needs far more power than standard, or there¡¯s a second clandestine level below the first.¡±


    I gave Khar a blended expression between irritation and curiosity, and when I spoke, the tone matched. ¡°While that is fascinating, you didn¡¯t answer my question about getting down there.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t get your tail in a knot.¡± Kharmor chided and teased. ¡°When I rode a car down here, I did notice something. The cars, or at least the one I used, were installed with a hidden teleportation system.¡±


    ¡°You simply just found and identified a concealed system that shouldn¡¯t be noticeable, at all, until active.¡± I scoffed with a false casual air. ¡°Is this a Facet Vein thing?¡±


    ¡°Is it not a normal Mage thing?¡± He gave me a perplexed look as we reached the elevator lobby.


    ¡°Yeah, no.¡± I stated, my words and expression colored with irritated amusement. ¡°Hidden teleporters are a common mystery story staple for a reason. The power crystals in them are easily shielded from the large majority of methods of inspection, magical or mundane. That is, other than when the system is primed or active, but that¡¯s only for a few moments.¡±


    Kharmor let out an acknowledging huff. ¡°I always thought that was just a fiction thing to keep the stories engaging. So, yeah, I guess it is a Facet Vein thing. I can sense any myst crystals within a limited range. If I¡¯m close enough, I can even tell you what elements. But, to answer your question about getting down there, I could remotely trigger the system. Though, wouldn¡¯t it just be easier to have Zynna come get you? Their seals did get Zy and Fer down there.¡±


    After chewing on my cheek for a second in thought, I gave Kharmor a weary, yet wary, look before speaking. ¡°I would rather not if I can help it. The way Ferris sounded¡­ disturbed and upset. It¡¯s got my teeth on edge. Besides, I¡¯d bet clat that the teleportation systems in those boxes are monitored. If Zynna came to usher me down, it would be logged. Likely alongside whatever profile she/he is paired to. Meaning she¡¯d/he¡¯d get flagged.¡± By this point, I had thumbed the elevator call button and the doors opened.


    Kharmor gave me a perplexed look with something more I couldn¡¯t quite read. ¡°But¡­ wouldn¡¯t that trigger flags, too?¡±


    I stepped inside the box and turned to explain while Khar followed suit. ¡°Well yes. But it wouldn¡¯t have any ID tied to the flag. Meaning that if you call the security desk and tell them there was a power fluctuation while you were tuning the generators, they¡¯ll likely drop it and move on.¡±


    ¡°I see you using your lobs for something past stressing or complaining.¡± Kharmor teased.


    ¡°Oh shut it, you. Now, if you could please jumpstart the system.¡±


    <hr>


    As always, teleportation was not something that agreed with me. There was a flash of light, then falling through another tunnel of stars while I was treated like a dimensionally loose piece of rubber. Then I was retching on my hands and knees in a hallway. The corridor looked similar to the one I had just left from the floor above, only in much better condition.


    I stumbled down the hall, reading the hologram signs displaying lab room numbers and project codenames. I found the hologram label reading ¡®Laboratory 3342¡¯ beside a pair of reinforced security doors. Instead of knocking or calling Ferris back, I sent him a text, preferring to avoid making unnecessary sounds.


    After a few seconds, I heard a door behind the security doors open, and Ferris granted me access. Ferris led me through a man trap door system and into a large room full of science and magic equipment. The space was practically overflowing with the scent of sterilizing chemicals, causing my eyes to brim with unshed tears of discomfort while my nose hairs curled.


    I looked to Ferris to ask him what was so important to threaten to derail the plan, but I came up short when I noticed his face. His normally bronzed skin was drained of color, as if he had been attacked by a vampire. His gaze was distant and haunted.


    ¡°Fer¡¯. What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    ¡°We found live test subjects. It¡¯s worse than we thought. Much worse.¡±If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°Where are the test subjects?¡± I asked.


    Ferris pointed to a door across the room without looking at it. ¡°If you need me, I¡¯ll be with Zynna in the data room.¡± Without waiting for my response, Ferris hurriedly walked to another door, passing through and shutting it with nervous energy.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to like this, am I?¡± I asked the empty room. With no answer coming to my question, I moved to the door Ferris had indicated. Passing through the doorway, I found myself standing in a dead-end hall lined with holding cells. The walls of each cell were Static Kinetic Shields.


    The first thing I noticed were the cells themselves. Each was a perfect cube of nine feet, with walls, floor, and ceiling formed from a single Static Kinetic Shield projected from devices at the corners of the energy cube. They were Capture Cells.


    Each cell held what once were people, but not anymore. There were dozens of these Capture Cells, and each one I glanced in was occupied. Every cell along the walls also displayed a hologram label, list of details, and charts reading the information of each occupant. I quickly realized that the energy walls of each capture cell functioned similarly to one-way glass. I could see in, but the subjects couldn¡¯t see out.


    Every occupant I saw was deformed, and the further down the hall I went, the more nightmares I collected.


    The first dozen cells held victims marred with asymmetric growth masses of inflated muscle and tissue. One victim displayed a bulbous bicep the size of a sports ball in one arm, while the same muscle on the opposite arm remained in natural proportions. Another victim¡¯s lower lip and right cheek were so enlarged that I would¡¯ve thought that a whole nest of particularly venomous wasps had stung him. These men and women were in varying states of despair, rage, or desperation. Some sobbed in a corner or their space. Others screamed at seemingly nothing.


    I checked the notes and readings of a few of the test subjects, chosen at random. There were no names, only serial numbers used to identify each victim. Below each subject¡¯s serial number, were details on their physical state when they started the process and compared them to their current physical state. Below the state comparison were notes on how many doses of a formula the individual had been subjected to and what results arose.


    The farther down the hall I walked, the more malformed the subjects I passed were. I also noticed something as I started to encounter the older test subjects. The longer someone had survived this nightmarish process, the more mutations. More and more split skin and exposed muscles. But the more mutated the subject, the less sapient and more animalistic they acted. It seemed that surviving the process regressed the mental capacity of the test subjects.


    When I started encountering subjects that had entered the second phase of the process, I only grew more disturbed. With the addition of the second formula, those affected had their inflated muscle masses reduced, gradually, back down to almost normal proportions. That would have been a relief if it weren¡¯t for the other effects of Formula Two. Almost all the test subjects that were in the second phase had their skin over any dense muscle groups split. From those wounds, I saw that the muscle tissue was shifting to¡­ something else. Muscles, tendons, sinew, and bone were being shifted to similar material, if not the same material. The material underneath was almost metal, almost fabric, almost flesh, but not fully any one of these. These strange materials developed in seemingly random colors but held to a similar pallet per each individual. Here was a shifted arm that was the color of concrete, there was an exposed pectoral that was the color of copper. I could find so set a pattern from the changes of one subject to another, beyond that of the strange material their bodies were shifting into.


    This development was concerning enough. That concern escalated to a disturbed near-panic when I saw the test subjects that had survived into late Phase Two. Their skin began to fall from their body in rotting tatters. The gaps in the decaying membrane showed what looked like armor plates and other unidentifiable changes.


    The mental changes continued deeper into this malevolent second phase. The subjects, only just starting the second stage of changes didn¡¯t act animalistic. Instead, early in this stage, they were rabid, rampaging monsters who doubtlessly would kill anything they could find. This was an upsetting realization, but I continued my inspections.


    The test subjects that were massively changed by Phase Two simply stood in the center of their cells, like automatons awaiting activation. Their eyes were soullessly blank or simply altogether missing, rotted from their skull. But this nightmarish development in their state caused no distress or discomfort. They merely stood there, barely breathing, if they were breathing at all.


    I reached the end of the hall. I couldn¡¯t even call the subjects in these cells Sophic Species anymore. They seemed more alien than person. As I scrutinized the notes on one of the last subjects, the one in the cell next door collapsed to the floor, convulsing. I hurried over, franticly trying to think of some way to help, even despite knowing their state. The vital sign readings on the wall were flashing red and displaying what I could only call abnormal numbers. The thing I could no longer call a person fell limp before I could even look for a way to open the cell.


    I stared at the corpse with a whirlpool of mixed feelings. Should I have tried harder to save them? Was death a sweet end to whatever nightmare they were living in? Should I kill the others? It would stop their suffering and cripple any studies the corporation was making. Could they be changed back instead? Was there some way to revert the alterations? Even if I could reverse the physical changes somehow, what about the mental de-evolution? Would they simply stay as raging monsters or motionless flesh machines? What should I do?


    I was startled out of my mental spiral when a buzzer sounded in the hall. I recoiled from the cell I had been looking into, panicking as I thought I had triggered an alarm somehow. However, the buzzer stopped, and the cell with the dead test subject lowered through the floor, and the row moved to fill the gap. It was an automated corpse disposal system. Most likely, the cell would be moved to another lab for the corpse to be dissected before disposal.


    With my inspection of the space complete, I power-walked to the exit. The only thing stopping me from sprinting was the strictly conditioned part of my mind that told me not to burst through doors screaming in a mega-sky scraper full of enemies, even if I had ten floors between me and the ground floor. As I reached the door, I off-handedly noticed that the first cell on the side that disposed of the corpse was empty, with a label that simply read ¡®Vacant¡¯.


    I found Zynna and Ferris in the other room, attached to the main laboratory space. The room was slightly smaller than the main lab, and computer terminals occupied every inch of space against the walls. The other two stood over a single holo-display screen. Zynna, still appearing as the High Elf lab worker, piloted the device via hand motions and holo-keyboard while Ferris read over her shoulder.


    ¡°You find the data we need to wipe?¡± I asked as I approached, trying and mostly succeeding to sound stable and unphased by the previous discovery.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Zynna said. ¡°We have all the notes on every test subject they¡¯ve run through this torture chamber. All of them have died and are labeled ¡®Incomplete Subject¡¯, whatever that means.¡±


    I stepped on the other side of the Copkin and inspected the screen he was reading. ¡°What have you found about this stuff? I want to know what they are doing to these poor bastards.¡±


    ¡°Let me pull up the Master Notes document.¡± Zynna made a few taps, and a new document appeared on the display. I read it carefully.


    <hr>


    >Stage 1: Body Preparation


    -Dosage: 250 mg.


    -Dose Count & Frequency: 12 doses over 24 days


    Components:


    -Steriods: STE:22AV, STE:86MN, STE:293KL, STE:4292JJ, STE:593SJ, STE:552WD, STE:9365DD, STE:211SA, STE:547RT, STE:404FE, STE:32KL, STE:58DE, STE:5456OU, STE:289WK, STE:479BR, STE:153EE, STE:1504WW


    -Stimulants: STI:120BB, STI:32TJ, STI:152DE, STI:585OI, STI:553DU, STI:8923, STI:957SD, STI:8541ER, STI:845EM, STI:987LH, STI:8169WP, STI:5839CC, STI:9753VD


    -Enhancers: ENH:302TY, ENH:402FE, ENH:102GG, ENH:1852BM, ENH:559SB, ENH:303CO, ENH:411RP, ENH:3801DW, ENH:704GK, ENH:9031GO


    -Reductors: RED:154EB, RED:950WN, RED:204UT, RED:708WP, RED:745ED, RED:1503BG


    Effects/Results


    -Body structure reinforced with each application.


    -Muscle and soft tissue expansion mutation: standard result with no exceptions. Mutations are multiplicative.


    -Subjects¡¯ sense of pain is greatly reduced, and aggression is heightened with each application.


    -Subject¡¯s metabolism is massively accelerated. (Subjects require feeding every four hours to maintain an optimal state. Will die of starvation after a two-day period with less than 12 meals)


    -Subjects express preternatural strength and speed after three doses. Results are further amplified with additional dose applications.


    Note: All attempts and more frequent doses have resulted in failure. Set dose count limit to 12 doses over 24 days.


    >Stage 2: Body Alteration


    Dosage: 100mg


    Dose Count & Frequency: ?? Doses over ?? days


    Components:


    -Cy-Cells: C-C:A1.00BUI -> C-C:K93.34BUI, C-C:D12.001MC -> C-C:G335.324MC


    -Gene Recoder Cy-Cells: GRC-C:Type:A32.02 ->GRC-C:Type:K12.12


    -Material Carrier Cy-Cells: MC-CC:HTECM:0001 -> MC-CC:HTECM:2339


    -Semi-Organic Repair Cells: SORC:Type:A002 -> SORC:Type:A031


    -Myst Cy-Cells: MC-C:1MA -> C-C:16MA


    -Myst Carrier Cy-Cells: MCC-C:Fate, MCC-C:Chaos, MCC-C:Synthesis, MCC-C:Ruin, MCC-C:Life, MCC-C:Death, MCC-C:Lumina, MCC-C:Umbra, MCC-C:Stasis, MCC-C:Morphic, MCC-C:Resonance, MCC-C:Distortion


    Effects/Results


    -Body Conversion Starts


    -Expanded muscles are compacted


    -Soft tissues converted to HiTenE ComMat (High-Tensile Elastic Compound Material) Type 1 -> Type 7


    -Cortical Bone converted to Cortical Steel


    -Bone Marrow converted to SoR Cell(Semi-organic Repair Cell) replicators


    -Skin converted to HiTenE ComMat Type 8, Type 9, and Type 10


    -Organ Adaptation Process begins


    Note: Stage 2 leaves subjects in an unstable, partly shifted state. Maximum material conversion of a subject¡¯s body has been 46%. Starting at 23%-26% conversion, subjects¡¯ begin to become more docile. At approximately 25%-29% conversion, subjects stop normal motor functions. Upon reaching 37%-40% conversion, subjects¡¯ body begins failing standard functions. Digestive system begins shutting down, resulting in likely expiration by malnutrition. Brain function almost completely stops, rendering subjects into a near-coma-like-state. If the subject has not expired from other causes, they will expire upon reaching 47% conversion, from severe BMCS (Body Material Conversion Shock). We need the Stage 3 formula and methods to finish the conversion.


    Deceased Subject Autopsy Notes


    -Subjects begin developing unique Epidermis, tissue, and bone pigments with slight mutative growths in localized regions across the body. Have yet to determine pattern to mutative growth development or placement.


    -All subjects have expired from stress on any remaining vital systems not converted during Stage 2. Might be fixed if the process is sped up rapidly enough to minimize prolonged stress. Will need to be careful to not force shift too rapidly to prevent conversion shock.


    -Because of the material conversion, the carbon content of the cadavers is elevated several-fold. This has, in-part, caused the cadavers to become much more resilient. Changes to the Emergency Incinerator have been made to compensate for this durability.


    Note to be forwarded to Lab Techs Noah McClane and Mathew Stew:


    The cadavers are producing significantly more ash when cremated than is standard. The ash has been clogging the Flame Emission Jets as soon as any body reaches 95% breakdown. Cleaning those jets is your current role. Be sure to wait for the furnace chamber to cool and dump before you crawl in. I doubt that I need to remind what the incinerator dumps into. We don¡¯t need any more acid-related deaths this year.


    <hr>


    I read each line with careful scrutiny for anything critical. Unfortunately, almost everything that looked to be a key component in the process was a foreign language to me. The lines of substance code labels were total gibberish to me. They likely needed to be cross-referenced with a database for the normal names. Even overlooking the substance codes like STE:22AV and MC-CC:HTECM-whatever, there were still several terms I didn¡¯t recognize. Cy-Cells, SoR Cells, HiTenE ComMat?


    While the note-writer did leave the full name of several of these terms, they sounded closer to cybernetic terminology than anything relating to drugs or mutations. What I did understand was that the process was changing the victims into something not totally organic and it was killing them.


    I straightened up from reading the display and took a slow breath before saying, ¡°I don¡¯t like this. Not a single bit.¡±


    ¡°We should kill them.¡± Ferris fumed.


    I gave him a tired but questioning look with a single arched brow. ¡°Them who? Them: The Scientists and Mystgenists? Them: The Test victims? Them: The Corp-rat Officers at the party above?¡±


    ¡°All of the above?¡± He half asked/half answered in a tone dripping with anger, emotional exhaustion, and toxic sarcasm. Paired with this half answer, Ferris gave a broad sweep of one hand as if gesturing to all the absent targets he was mockingly asking to murder.


    I was just about to tell Ferris that his request wouldn¡¯t exactly be easy and would throw our current plan right off the roof of the mega-sky scraper. I was interrupted by Nennel calling me.


    ¡°Hey, Ives¡¯, the guests are arriving, and I think we¡¯re going to need to change the plan given how they¡¯re outfitted.¡± I could hear the nervous edge in Nel¡¯s words. Her tense tone was almost enough to throw me over the edge into a fit of lashing anger.


    Instead, I hissed a few curses, stomped my feet as I paced back and forth a few times while I thought, then moved on. ¡°I¡¯ll be right up.¡± I told Nennel. With a flick of my hand, I killed the call.


    ¡°Trouble?¡± Ferris asked.


    ¡°Reworking the plan on the fly because at least one preverbal fire popped up, but I expect more.¡± I turned to Zynna. ¡°The Capture Cells have an installed teleportation, right? That should be how they get subjects in and out of the cells.¡±


    ¡°Let me check.¡± Zynna said as he traversed the computer''s internal data space. He leaned back with a low whistle of surprise before she said, ¡°Yeah, the cells have teleportation triangulation systems installed. How did you know?¡±


    ¡°Because, Capture Cells are designed to never shut down unless damaged. In order to move someone into or out of one of those cells requires teleportation.¡± I turned to Ferris, ¡°Fer, can you find the tags for the cells?¡± Then I turned back to Zynna. ¡°You looked at the building systems diagrams. This lab has an independent powerline, correct?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡± Zynna gave me a worried look.


    ¡°Can you check to see if the floor below us is an autopsy space?¡±


    The Copkin¡¯s expression morphed from worry to paranoia at my question, but he did as I asked. ¡°First, how did you know there was another floor below ours? Second, how did you know it was an autopsy space? And most importantly, what, in the mouth of madness, are you thinking?¡± Zynna asked.


    I answered Zynnas chain of questions with an amused air, I didn¡¯t truly feel. ¡°Well, A: Khar mentioned there were two power lines leading down. Which is also why I had to check to make sure this lab specifically was on independent power. Two, I just witnessed a cell in the other room containing a fresh corpse descend to the floor below. And thrice¡­¡± I gave both Zynna and Ferris a malicious smirk, ¡°Trouble. I¡¯ll give you details closer to the fireworks. Right now, what you need to know is to stay here, at or near this computer terminal.¡±


    ¡°And me?¡± Ferris asked as he walked back to me with a small blink tag in one hand and on display.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to help me.¡± I said, while I pulled up my map of the building and started plotting.


    ¡°We¡¯re gonna put out those fires you mentioned?¡±


    ¡°Not exactly.¡± I gave Ferris a malicious grin. ¡°Where are the rest of the tags?¡±


    Ferris simply pointed a strong box mounted to a nearby wall while giving me a quizzical look. I moved to collect a fistful of specific tags as I gave my cryptic answer. ¡°We¡¯re going to start a few fires of our own.¡±

 PITM Ch 42

    Gate Crackers are a tightly regulated disposable pocket device. These one-time-use devices are designed to break locks. Laser Gate Crackers sever the latch of any physical key locks. Pulse Gate Crackers emit a close-range burst of tailored Distortion Myst to fry all internal circuitry of a lock and force it open. Gate Crackers of any kind are strictly granted to special divisions of law enforcement, military, and specialized Adventurers.


    With a fist full of teleportation tags in a pouch on my belt, I was blinked back to the elevator. I rode that car up to this hospital, shifting my appearance as the box ascended. Just before the doors opened, I checked my appearance in their reflection. Sure enough, I appeared as a brown-haired and brown-eyed Human man in mint-colored nurse scrubs. Unfortunately, I couldn¡¯t do anything with the heavy pack I was carrying.


    The car gave a chime, signaling my arrival at the eighth floor, and the doors slide open. Beyond those doors was a smaller lobby, occupied by a nurse¡¯s station just across the way from the wall of elevators. Two nurses were chatting at the desk; one was a female Ceangar, and the other was a male human. They both looked at me as I entered the space but instantly went back to their conversation without comment.


    With a barely contained urge for haste, I stepped out of the elevator and looked around before pushing through a door labeled Laundry & Housekeeping. The room was long and narrow, lined with washers and driers along one wall, some in mid-cycle. Large hovering laundry carts littered the space in varying states of mostly empty, mostly full, or overflowing. I grabbed the nearest laundry cart and jammed my pack beneath the mounds of fabric and rags.


    I was about to turn and make my way out with the cart, when I stopped and inspected a small nook beside the door that was full of cleaning chemicals of a wide range of sorts. From that quick skimming, I saw a few things I could cause trouble with. I did decide to cause some small degree of mischief before the show got started, by throwing several open bottles of laundry soap into a few vacant machines and setting each to ¡®Long Cycle¡¯ and ¡®Heavy Load¡¯.


    The prank wouldn¡¯t cause much damage or any real threat to life. What it would do was raise a bit of Armageddon with the staff on this floor, which would add another ingredient of mayhem in this chaos compound cocktail we were brewing with sinister intents. Anarchy was the word of the day, and the more confusion, the better.


    I left the laundry room, pushing the cart with one hand and a tired gait. As I passed the nurses again, I let out a false yawn, half-covering my mouth absently with my free hand. They didn¡¯t look at me twice as I made my way toward the freight elevators.


    The crossing from one elevator lobby to another, larger lobby was made without incident. I stepped into the larger car, closed the doors, and dropped my guise. With deft hands, I loaded up my person with gear. Two utility belts full of all manner of small tools, a bandolier slotted with one-use elemental throwing knives, and two thigh satchels loaded with both kinetic and elemental munitions were only the start. Feeling through my hip pack where I kept my LokLinks, I pulled and equipped several pieces. The Extractor Pauldron, Collapsable Shield, Wrist Launcher System, and Shock Byte Box, all seamlessly merged with my artificial arm. These were all in addition to the Squid Hook, Mental Command Module, and Mimic Facade System, which were already installed, making my arm more than a bit heavy.


    With my person armed for Armageddon, I popped the emergency hatch in the freight car¡¯s roof and stowed the gear bag just on the other side. Once the evidence of my meddling was hidden well enough for a cursory inspection, I thumbed the elevator to take me to the party. As the car climbed the hundred-and-forty-plus floors, I started a group call on my therra with Kharmor and Ferris while equipping a new Mimic Facade. ¡°Kharmor, Ferris, I need both of you to make your way to the manufacturing floors near the top of this rats¡¯ nest.¡± I looked around the car for an identifier as the box picked up speed, pressing me harder against the floor. ¡°Be sure to use freight car number 035-81. I left you a bag of party favors on the roof of the box.¡±


    ¡°This is the starting fires bit?¡± Ferris asked.


    ¡°In part. Ask Khar what you should put where for the biggest trouble. Once you both are done, get to the roof.¡±


    ¡°And what exactly will you be doing, pray tell?¡± Kharmor asked while I inspected my disguise in the reflection of the metal doors. ¡°You did say that the plan was changing.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to help Oz and Nel with the party and info collection. If I get the opportunity, I¡¯ll start a few more fires. I¡¯ll set Nennel or Ozwald to prep an exit route for us. If one or both of you could prep a route to the hidden subfloors, it¡¯ll make things go much smoother.¡±


    ¡°How exactly do you expect-¡± Ferris started to ask, only to be cut off when my transport box gave a chime of arrival, and I had to interject a hurried, ¡°Gotta go.¡± before hanging up.


    I stepped from the elevator straight into a chilled storage room for food. My skin tightened into goose flesh, and my breath rolled from my mouth in a vague cloud. I¡¯d need to hold my breath if anyone caught me in the space. The fog would be a dead giveaway that I was wearing an illusion.


    The clock was ticking, so I moved into the next room, holding my breath as I passed through a pair of swinging doors into a kitchen. The large space had white walls and sterile white light from one end to another. Every visible surface was clean and polished to a shine. I¡¯d seen fresh-out-of-the-box cooking utensils look more shabby than anything in that room. The meticulous, immaculate state of the kitchen was a preternatural feat, given the bustling and shouting chaos of the space. Just from a brief visual scan, I counted nine cooks, thirty assistants, and one very intimidating chef.


    With a quick glance at a wall rack of hanging pans, I double-checked my disguise. Dressed in an illusory copy of the same uniform of Platinum Platter Catering as Nennel and Ozwald, I appeared as a Coyote Primal, a head taller than I actually stood, placing my face at the image¡¯s neck and jaw. I would¡¯ve used a Rat Primal or Squirrel Primal, which were closer to my height at the time, but Rodent Primals had a reputation for sticky fingers and illicitly filled pockets. I didn¡¯t need that kind of scrutiny on me. Canine Primals had a reputation for adhering to codes of honor and loyalty. Coyote Primals had a stereotype of breaking with honor when the need arose, but that mentality was expected of everyone attending the party. I¡¯d more easily blend in among the partygoers if they thought I had a similar mentality. Additionally, if I vanished for a while, Nel or Ozwald could just claim I was sneaking a smoke break, which would fit the stereotype of my guise.


    My double-check was interrupted when the large chef approached me with an authoritarian stride. The gray-skinned Orc was dressed in a dirty chef uniform, hat cocked at an angle, and buttons straining to hold in a bolder of a belly. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbow to show hairy arms covered in a patchwork of scars. ¡°You with the other two?¡± he groused, folding his thick arms over this thicker belly.


    I grunted in the affirmative, injecting a note of embarrassment. One of my primary goals at the time was to speak as little as possible, to minimize the chance of someone noticing the discrepancy of the source of my voice.


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re late.¡± the chef accused before unfolding his arms to point to a table across the room covered in serving trays. ¡°Grab one and get on the floor.¡± he half-turned to walk away when he paused to give one last instruction. ¡°And don¡¯t come back until the tray is empty. If there¡¯s even a crumb left when you get back, I¡¯ll crack your brain bowl and send you down the tower. That hospital bill will be all on you, Fuz Face.¡±


    I gave a vigorous nod and grunt of understanding before hurrying to collect a tray at random before moving through another pair of doors leading to the party floor. I passed through the gates and it was like an entirely different world.


    The single massive space reached five floors up before being capped with a hologram mural-covered ceiling. I had no idea how large the footprint of the tower was beyond numbers on a page. 2,500ft long, 1,800ft wide, 3,200ft tall. On the page, those numbers were big, but seeing the visual values of those measurements was an entirely different monster altogether.


    The space was expansive. An open floor of glass, spanning farther than several houses lined up, set atop an aquarium tank large enough to hold more than one massive sea monster. The tank was in actuality, populated with rare and dangerous sea life ranging from sharks a sea serpent, and even a giant squid. The perimeter of the space was wall-to-wall executive corporate offices, each with smart glass walls, like their own big fish tanks. Those offices were presently providing a stunning view of the setting sun and illuminating stars and moons over a carpet of smog that reflected the dying light with a purple-gray shimmer. The ceiling several stories up displayed a moving hologram image of rolling constellations framed within churning storm clouds. Every few seconds, a bolt of illusory lightning snatched out from the clouds to stop just above the crowd below. Occasionally, a comet shower painted the hologram to come swooping down and rain over the crowd like a shower of cold lights.


    The room was jaw-droppingly stunning, but the awe was short-lived when I looked at the partygoers. I then knew what savanna-gala dress code meant. I also saw why Nel said I¡¯d need to tailor the plan. Every single partygoer I could see was dressed in combat gear. Armors ranged from classic plate and mail to advanced power suits and PSGs. Weapons spanned the variety from razorblade daggers to at least one personal mortar cannon. The only thing in common was the colored armbands. One-third of the party wore red armbands, while the other two-thirds wore blue. It must¡¯ve been an easy indicator of which corp a rat belonged to.


    I walked through the crowd with a professional and dignified gait, offering what appeared to be some kind of quiche from my tray to random people I passed. The mingling was reserved and set to a social simmer. Of the eighty people I estimated in the room, only a few were doing anything more than discussing general news, the weather, or the political developments of other companies.


    The last finger quiche was plucked from my tray just before I spotted Ozwald and Nennel. They were playing the role, same as me. They both offered food to individuals with some stick up their ass and tried not to break cover every time someone made a snide remark.


    I folded the tray under one arm and approached both Oz and Nel. While neither of them had entered with an illusion to prevent any alarms, they had put illusion covers on after they passed the checkpoint. Nennel looked like a normal Human girl with brown hair and blue eyes. Ozwald was looking like a young, pale-skinned man with black hair and brown eyes. I had specially tailored Oz¡¯s disguise pin to minimize the chance of his mother identifying him.


    Nennel caught sight of me first and let slip a visible moment of relief before putting the professional mask back on. With a subtle cock of my head and nod, I signaled Nennel to grab Ozwald and move back to the kitchen. She tapped our Human on the shoulder and whispered something to him. Oz gave her a nod before he moved left while Nel moved right, both casually making their way back toward the kitchen, offering food along the way. One at a time, we each stepped into the kitchen, doing our best not to appear like we were grouping. Each of us divested ourselves of trays and moved into the storage room in the back.


    The moment all three of us were in the far back corner, I started with, ¡°Well, I can see why you said changes would be needed. I wasn¡¯t expecting every corp-rat to come armed and armored. What I expected was to have to check for traps, but there¡¯s no hiding anything in that Leviathan fishbowl unless they¡¯re planning on dropping corp-rats in the shark tank. But we¡¯ll deal with that in a bit. For right now, what can the two of you tell me about what¡¯s happening?¡±


    Ozwald was the first to speak up. ¡°Well, to begin with, not all of our targets are here. Three of our five are here. A Sun Elf, a Scarriane Human, and a Serean Dracose. They are currently guarding the deal maker for Vartex, a Human man named Collins. He has a briefcase chained to his person that likely contains their half of the deal. Collins is currently having a conversation with my mother. You won¡¯t be able to miss her. Dark skin, pale hair, and she¡¯s the only one not in combat equipment.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all handy info. What do we have on the opposition?¡± I queried


    ¡°Trouble.¡± Nennel answered. ¡°On paper, everyone here is either a paper pusher or security. In truth, every person in that room other than Collins and Mz. Ozwald has combat experience. I might even guess most of them have an Adventurer class. This goes for both sides.¡±


    ¡°Fragging corp-rat back-stabbing on both sides of this fence. I think we were in the real shark tank, and not walking over one. So, are both sides angling to turn on the other? Vartex seems dangerously outnumbered if they¡¯re going to ambush.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re unworried either.¡± Ozwald pointed out.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like it.¡± I chewed on a knuckle in thought, likely appearing like my Primal guise was nibbling on air and holding a hand to his neck. ¡°Either, A: Who Vartex brought has enough skill to outstrip twice their number. Or B: They have something else in their hand. Maybe both.¡±


    ¡°What could they be holding?¡± Ozwald asked with clear skepticism. ¡°Their best option would be reinforcement in reserve. But it wouldn¡¯t matter how many soldiers they brought as backup. Sieging this tower is a one-way ticket to the afterlife.¡±


    ¡°I agree.¡± I said. ¡°We must be missing something.¡± Then, an idea wormed its way into my forethoughts. ¡°Did either of you spot Thallos?¡±


    ¡°Your uncle?¡± Ozwald asked. ¡°I have never seen the man before.¡±


    ¡°I saw him.¡± Nennel answered. ¡°He¡¯s in the back right corner on the other side of the room. He¡¯s wearing fancy threads, but he¡¯s sipping from a decanter of something strong, like a drunk on the side of the road.¡±


    ¡°The drunk?!¡± Ozwald asked Nel in shock. ¡°That drunkard is the diabolical mastermind?!¡± He pointed toward the door as if Thallos was just in the doorway.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Nennel answered simply, with a shrug.


    I gave a groan as I massaged the bridge of my nose in exasperation. ¡°Yeah, that sounds about right.¡±


    ¡°Why do you want to know?¡± Nel asked me.


    ¡°I suspect Thallos has been doing more behind the curtain than simply orchestrating a deal. Both sides in that room have a sense of confidence. Like they both know they have the upper hand. I think I need to ask him.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re just going to walk up to the only man in the room who both knows you personally and wants you dead and ask him about his schemes?¡± Ozwald asked me like I had lost my mind.


    ¡°Yup.¡± I answered simply. ¡°I might be safer for you, Oz, to talk to him, since he doesn¡¯t know you personally. But he won¡¯t give up anything of value. I know how he thinks and acts. I¡¯ll see if I can trick a hint or two out of him and piece it together.¡±


    The other two argued against the risk I was taking, but they relented after realizing I would not budge on the decision. They both went back to serving and listening in while I carried a fresh tray through the crowd toward where Nel had spotted Thallos.


    Where I found him was both convenient and dangerous. Thallos, dressed in a charcoal and scarlet dress suit, sipped on something amber from a decanter of shaped sapphire beside the rest of the notable figures for our mission. He bantered and joked with our targets, a Sun Elf woman, a Serean Dracose, and a Scariane Human. Not far from those three was their security charge, a crisply dressed human man in a smart three-piece suit of black and brown, square-frame glasses and an armored-metal briefcase handcuffed to his left wrist. The middle-aged Human was holding a casual discussion with a woman who could only have been Ozwald¡¯s mother.


    Just like her son, Laina Ozwald had dark brown skin, pale hair, and frigid pale eyes. But there were noticeable separations between the two kin. Oz¡¯s hair was pale gold-blond, and his eyes were azure sky gray-blue. His mother¡¯s hair was silver-white and not with old age. The chilly-colored hair was worn in a complex braid running down her back. Her eyes were the shade of blue you would give, peering through arctic waters on a clear day into a crystallin iceberg, frigidly cold, sharply clear, and holding no embers of love or trust. She wore a slim, one-piece holo-fabric dress with a slit down one leg and the opposite shoulder bared. The dress was presently displaying a shifting pattern like sunlight dancing through a body of water.


    Standing on either side of Laina Ozwald was a pair of Spliced bodyguards. To her left was a formerly Human man, displaying features like patches of red-tan scales and slit-pupil eyes with yellow irises. To her left was a formerly Elven woman with a nose and ears shaped closer to that of a mountain cat than a person and green-gold feline eyes. Both of these guards wore advanced raid armor designed to handle blasts, blades, and bullets. Lizard, as I shall call the first guard, was armed with an automatic rifle slung across his back, two daggers at his back, and an elemental pistol at his hip. Cat, as I shall call the second guard, was equipped with enough Myst Blade weapons to assault a fortress. Six Myst Blade throwing knives on either caff, a bandolier with another eight of the same, two separate pairs of boot knives, a pair of short swords on the small of her back, four separate sheaths of shuriken on her hips, and I was willing to be that she had more I failed to spot.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    As soon as I was within earshot of the group, I caught the tail end of a story Collins was telling Laina ¡°-then her father raised the price just to spite me after I inquired about her face. I simply wanted to know if she¡¯d suffered an accident, in case there would be additional problems. The man was offended when I raised the question; then he got more enraged when I told him I didn¡¯t care how she looked, so long as she could work.¡±


    ¡°Parents always seem to set so much value in how their children look.¡± The hostess replied to Collins. ¡°Every baby is a beautiful one, according to the mother. It seems so difficult to prove to these people that their children¡¯s value is in their capacity for work output. Goals must be met after all.¡±


    I blocked out that discussion in favor of listening in on the group of three targets, standing together like eggs in a basket, beside a hungry fox. With two swift strides, I stepped up beside the gathered cluster and inspected each person while listening in.


    The Sun Elf woman gave a boisterous belly laugh at something Thallos had said. She was armored in black and gray ballistics armor with a name tag that read ¡®Burnsav¡¯. She gave Thallos a hearty slap on the back. ¡°I gotta say, Judge, you know how to make even a stuffy party like this a wild time. Your stories are killer. It¡¯s really a bummer that Jenkins didn¡¯t come to this shindig. He¡¯d av loved em.¡±


    ¡°Where is your Jenkins squad buddy?¡± Thallos asked innocently before taking a swig from his decanter.


    The Human spoke up. ¡°We could use the whole squad. But it¡¯s just us lowly tools.¡± The man with short brown hair and tired brown eyes wore similar armor to Burnsav, but his nametag read ¡®Seth.¡¯


    ¡°What?!¡± Thallos drunkenly exclaimed in offense. ¡°You guys aren¡¯t tools.¡± My uncle threw an arm around The slender Dracose¡¯s neck in comforting assurance even as he continued to talk to Seth and Burnsav. ¡°I just know that you ALL are gonna get a stroke of luck tonight. You¡¯ll have nothing to worry about tomorrow, I¡¯ll promise you that.¡± Thallos was playing the happy drunk for appearances. However, I knew him better than that.


    I noticed those hints he teased. I had yet to hear a lie drop from his lips, but his wordplay games were a weakness. He said they would have a stroke of luck. He never said it would be good luck. He claimed they¡¯d have nothing to worry about tomorrow. It¡¯s hard to worry when you¡¯re dead.


    The Serean Dracose was human-sized with dreadlock-like flesh tendrils for hair in place of horns, much like any other Serean. His cobalt-blue scales were dull, and there were heavy bags under his shamrock eyes. With a glance at his chest, I determined that the Dracose¡¯s name was Greth. Greth looked to be in ill health and nervously held a drink in both clawed hands. He kept flitting glances at Thallos as if he wanted to speak but feared for the aftermath.


    ¡°Excuse me, sir,¡± I addressed the Dracose with my own worried tone and expression. ¡°Mister¡­Greth?¡± I spoke his name with the uncertainty, as though I was only just reading his nametag. ¡°You seem a bit¡­ out of sorts, sir. Can I get you anything? Digestive aids, perhaps?¡±


    ¡°No, no. I¡¯ll be fine. Thank you.¡± Greth turned down my offer. ¡°Just a bit nervous for the event, is all. I¡¯ve never been hunting in a forest so high above the ground before.¡±


    ¡°Hunting? Truly?¡± I wondered, injecting a note of awe into my questions. I pantomimed verifying the claim by looking to each member of the group with a shocked and disbelieving expression. They all gave silent nods of confirmation. ¡°You all have my deepest apologies.¡± I pandered to the four. ¡°I am still new with this employer, and I was sent to work this event as a last-minute stand-in. You all are telling me that this group of almost a hundred people are going to simply go up to the roof, and what? Shoot birds?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be a fool.¡± Thallos tipsily chided me. ¡°There¡¯s a whole forest/jungle place on top of this building. We¡¯re all,¡± he waved his bottle hand in gesture of the entire room, ¡°goin up there to hunt some game.¡± Thallos, still holding on to Greth leaned toward me and spoke in a mock-whisper. ¡°I¡¯m hopin they loose somethin that can bite back.¡± The Wild Elf took a long pull from his bottle, parting from the decanter¡¯s spout with a dramatic sucking kiss before raising the bottle over head and proclaiming, ¡°I¡¯d better sober up before the deal. The Judge does need to pass his verdict like a professional¡­ or was it passing a law?¡± Thallos mused at his own question as he turned and walked toward the exit to the room. I watched the bastard stagger way while a hot coal stoked in my chest.


    I was shocked out of my vengeful brooding when the Sun Elf, Burnsav, spoke up, starting a new, but related, conversation. ¡°It¡¯s too bad we couldn¡¯t get the rest of the team here.¡± she spoke with a sad tone and sadder smile.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe Jenkins baled on us at the last second.¡± Seth complained. ¡°He would¡¯ve been incredible for a sport like this.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, if he didn¡¯t burn down the entire forest in the process.¡± Burnsav retorted with a smirk.


    ¡°Where is the rest of your team?¡± The question fell from my mouth before I even knew I had a question to begin with. I knew full well what happened to her team, but I wanted to know how she was going to answer.


    ¡°Dead. Mostly.¡± Greth answered.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, What?¡± I painted my question with a hint of distress, but not too much. ¡°Was it a bad mission or something like that?¡±


    Burnsav gave a snort or morbid amusement as she plucked a quiche from my tray. ¡°Or something like that. Our team has had a string of luck so bad I¡¯d think we¡¯d been hexed. I checked that though. I guess the gods have come calling on our karma tab.¡±


    ¡°Excuse our barbarian queen.¡± said the Dracose, Greth, with an irritated glare shot at the Elf woman. ¡°Our security team was bigger, but we¡¯ve suffered some¡­ misfortune. We¡¯ve lost several team members over the past few months to accidents.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all suspicious, if you ask me.¡± Seth replied with a casual gesture of one hand while he picked up a quiche from my tray with the other.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear such terrible things happening.¡± I muttered in a tone of awkward sympathy as I looked away.


    ¡°It makes me wonder why Jenkin¡¯s backed out in such a hurry.¡± Said Seth.


    Greth gave a noncommittal shrug as he responded. ¡°The Sorc did say that he got tangled up in a debt problem with a ghost from his past. Must¡¯ve been bad since he said he was wearing the executioner¡¯s collar if he didn¡¯t pay by the end of today.¡±


    ¡°The weasel has more ghosts in his past than a graveyard.¡± Burnsav groused after she washed down the last bite of her slider with something from a flask stowed in a pocket of her chest piece. She gave a hiss of pained satisfaction as she screwed the cap back on and continued her commentary as she returned the flask to its home. ¡°Jenkins should¡¯ve been a Trickster instead of a Sorcerer. With how often he tries to outplay card sharks, at least then he¡¯d walk away with some clat instead of a barge of debt. You catch who it was this time?¡± She asked Greth. ¡°Or how he¡¯s supposed to pay them off to keep his fingers? He¡¯s only got seven left.¡°


    ¡°Maybe?¡± The Dracose scratched the back of his head with nervous energy. ¡°He was talking pretty quick when he gave me his excuses. Something about someone buying his debt from the Needle Eye gang and demanding he do something tonight to pay it off in full.¡±


    ¡°Do something tonight?¡± asked Burnsav. ¡°Think you can give a bit more?¡±


    ¡°Not sure what else I can give.¡± Greth apologized. ¡°The spoon-eared ape said something about collecting toys, or some nonsense, to deliver to some Alchemyst. But I could be totally wrong on that. He was talking pretty fast.¡±


    ¡°How much you want to bet that he bites it tonight because he didn¡¯t come to this shindig?¡±


    Burnsav folded her arms behind her head in a relaxed stretch. ¡°I¡¯ll take a piece of that action. Two gold says that he¡¯s going to lose another finger, but he¡¯ll live.¡±


    ¡°Oh Yeah?¡± Seth goaded with a smirk. ¡°Four gold says that he¡¯s dead by the end of tonight. And if he does have a full drop to a short stop, I call dibs on his locker.¡±


    I excused myself from the discussion under the pretense of work and moved to find an isolated spot to messagee Nel and Oz. I found myself in a corner of the party room, looking beyond the wall of glass before me. It would only take a few moments for me to type up a simple message with mental commands and get back to work before I drew any more unnecessary attention.


    <hr>


    To Nennel & Jonathan:


    Iver: Nel, we¡¯re going to need you to sneak onto the roof and scout it out. I just found out that they party is planned to hunt some kind of game in the rooftop jungle. We need to know the kind of game will be loosed. We also should get a head-start on understanding the terrain.


    Jonathan: I agree with Iver. However, the standard method of rooftop access is several grav-platforms installed in this floor. There is a stairway for maintenance and gardener just beside the kitchen entry in this room, though it will likely be locked and in plane view.


    Nel: I should be able to crack the lock in a few seconds with one of the three Gate Crackers I¡¯ve got. But I¡¯ve got no way to hide what I¡¯m going from a room this open with this many paranoid people in it.


    Iver: Distraction?


    Nel: Distraction.


    Iver: Oz. How do you feel about some petty revenge against your mother?


    Jonathan: You want me to use my own mother as a party-wide obfuscation ploy? Do you still hate me that much?


    Iver: I don¡¯t hate you, buddy. I might have some unresolved issues. But I don¡¯t hate you. Come on. Do it for the team.


    Jonathan: ¡­ I hate you. But fine. Let me go get a fresh tray.


    <hr>


    I was accidentally engrossed myself in the text conversion hovering in my eyes. So, I failed to notice someone walk up beside me until he spoke. ¡°This is certainly a view worth remembering.¡± I restrained myself from jumping clear out of my own skin, but just barely. Slowly, I turned to look at Thallos. The man had dropped his drunk-act and was staring out over the view I hadn¡¯t even noticed.


    Carefully, I buried my hate so deep it wouldn¡¯t be seen glowing behind my eyes. He had noticed me and taken interest. This was bad. This was very bad. I needed to be more than careful. I had be meticulous in my acting or he would catch me and everything were working on would go to Pandamonium and a wrapped gift basket.


    I locked eyes on the scene. We were just above the blanket of smog that choked the hive-city below. A rolling and churning carpet of foul-tainted cloud lit by the final cresting beams of sunlight before the day closed its final page. Surrounding the sun, the clear sky was painted in a wash of passionate reds and oranges that faded into rich purples and blues dotted with the white specs of stars.


    Finally noticing the scene, my breath caught in my chest, seezed by a sated longing I didn¡¯t even know I¡¯d had. I had not seen the sky once since I had come to Grimvale. I hadn¡¯t even thought of anything past what the toxic cloud covered.


    ¡°You can¡¯t get a view of the stars like this anywhere else in the city. It¡¯s easy to forget that they exist when you live under a blanket of smog.¡± Thallos¡¯s comment echoed my inner thoughts so closely I flicked a worried glance his way, afraid he had actually heard my inner thoughts.


    ¡°It¡¯s been so long since I¡¯ve seen stars. They seem brighter than I remember.¡± I spoke conversationally. Internally, my fury was clawing at the inside of my head. The desire to slip my Infusion Dagger between his ribs was almost overwhelming. However, I kept a firm grip on my emotions. I refused to be the reason that this mission went up in flames.


    ¡°The stars always seem brightest when the surrounding darkness is at its deepest.¡± Thallos sounded like he was conveying some deep wisdom, but he only sounded like a self-inflated ass blowing hot air. I still played along. ¡°Torches of diamond locked in the Stygian void. They look so close to each other. But are actually separated by more distance than a mortal can fathom. It sounds¡­ lonely.¡±


    Thallos let out a huffing chuckle that was somehow heavy with deep sadness and amused. ¡°Sometimes alone is best. You can¡¯t get hurt by anyone else that way.¡± He turned to look at me. ¡°How rude of me to drop such heavy thoughts on a stranger without introducing myself. I spoke with you and the guards before. Though I never gave my name.¡± He offered his hand in greeting. ¡° The name¡¯s Reed Judge.¡± I hesitated for a moment before accepting his grip and providing my own introduction, ¡°Vetos Cliffpaw.¡±


    ¡°Glad to meet you, Vetos. You just needed a moment to see the stars, right?¡±


    ¡°You could say that. Just needed a reminder that there¡¯s more than what¡¯s just in this room right now. What about you, Mr.Judge? You mentioned that you were part of this deal they party is set for. Though, you were drinking like a fish earlier. Is this work or pleasure?¡± I asked.


    Thallos slipped his hands into a pocket of his dress slacks and gave a casual shrug. ¡°I¡¯m hoping for both. I¡¯m here to act as the middleman between the two companies.¡±


    ¡°So Mr.Judge is playing judge for a business deal. Guess you¡¯re living up to the name.¡± I said the lame joke just to reply with something that wouldn¡¯t hint at my identity.


    Thallos gave a hearty laugh as he turned, leaned his back against the glass wall we stood before. ¡°You seem stressed about the night. Don¡¯t worry. If everything goes to plan, we¡¯ll all leave here with what we deserve.¡± He pushed off the glass wall as he said, ¡°Well, I need to get back to our hostess. Need to wrap up a few things before the party really kicks off.¡± Thallos took one step before turning back to say one last thing.


    I restrained the impulse to escape from the man as soon as possible. That impulse died when I locked eyes with him again. Something was different. There was a¡­ liminal sense that charged the small space between us. An almost palpable feeling of being on the edge of something. Something unfolding. Something just beyond an unseen door. When Thallos spoke, it didn¡¯t seem like the true Thallos. ¡°Those diamonds in the sky. You said they must be lonely. Loneliness is something that eats at the heart until you¡¯re hollow. Out there. In that dark between stars. There are things that have been hollow from The First. Hollow like a starving belly. There are things far worse than any villain or beast. A boy like you has never seen true monsters. Best keep it that way.¡±


    I stared at the retreating back of my uncle as he stepped into the party crowd. What was that? What had just happened? I shook the confusion from my head. I had work to do.


    After a quick visual scan of the room, I spotted Nennel almost lethargically walking toward the kitchen doors as if to collect another serving tray. I wondered why she was being so sluggish when I spotted Ozwald. I spotted our Human comrade just as he tripped over his own feet and flung an entire tray of food at his mother.


    The party froze in an instant, everyone waiting with bated breath for the dramatic fallout after a flub of such scale. Laina Ozwald had been coated from hair to heels in a thick pinkish cream sauce, complete with a sprinkling of shrimp and clam meat. Several pieces of shrimp protruded from her platinum hair like fish hiding from predators in an anemone. The hostess¡¯s dark skin flushed with anger and her icy eyes pierced her concealed son with enough venom and scorn to wither a plant monster. Laina¡¯s body quaked as she clenched her fists.


    ¡°YOU!¡± Laina Ozwald accused with a sharply pointed nail of one finger. ¡°You buffoon! You worthless troglodyte!¡± she gestured to her ruined dress with both hands. ¡°This masterpiece, alone, costs more than you and every other help staff in this room will make in five years. You ruined my dress. You ruined my party. You¡¯ve shamed yourself in front of all of these people and you¡¯ve shamed all the staff. I must now dock the pay of everyone working this party. But I choose to revoke your entire pay for this event, you low-living, no-talent, joke of a man.¡±


    While Laina Ozwald was verbally brutalizing her son, unknowingly, I checked Nennel¡¯s spot beside the maintenance door to find her gone, and the door unmarked¡­ mostly. My sister had thought ahead a slipped a spare illusion pin into the locking mechanism. The small tool would¡¯ve gone unnoticed by anyone but me, who spotted the smiling cat design just poking through the crack in the lock.


    Our Ozwald had taken a hasty escape from his mother by fleeing through the kitchen. We had time to kill while Nel scouted out the roof, so I checked in on our Human. Even covered by a false face, I could see that he was troubled. His hurried exit from the spill was a natural response for a server who monumentally blew the goose. But this was more. Jonathan was hiding in the furthest corner or the storage room, his eyes on his hands while he fiddled with a knife disguised as a pen.


    ¡°Copper for your thoughts?¡± I gently teased.


    ¡°You mean like the chat board that got us all here?¡± Ozwald spoke bitter words with a brittle edge. I winced, realizing my mistake.


    ¡°Sorry.¡± I turned and leaned against the wall, beside the Human who was reflecting the struggle between boy and man. ¡°You know, I could¡¯ve been the one to cause the scene. You just had to tell me no.¡±


    ¡°No. You know the relationship I have with her. She¡¯s a cold bitch. A heartless shark of a woman. But¡­ Those were the most words my mother has spoken to me at once, at least since my brother¡¯s passing. She even spoke at me with more than just frosty contempt.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ Glad, for, you?¡± I asked with stuttering confusion.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Should I be happy? Happy that she spoke to me with emotion? Happy that I could have piece of petty revenge? Happy that she didn¡¯t know who I am? Happy that she actually looked at me? Happy that we¡¯re on our way to unravel her plans? Or should I be upset?¡±


    ¡°Why not both?¡± I asked with a light voice and casual shrug as I stared off into the distance. ¡°Now, I don¡¯t understand people all that well, and I¡¯ve never spoken with your mother. But I do know that people are complicated. Who says that your only allowed to feel just one? Hells, even right now, I¡¯m a mess. Fear, hate, and regret are all churning in my guts. But I¡¯m also feeling faith and and hope.¡±


    Jonathan gave me a quizzical look. ¡°Faith and hope? For what? I never expected you to have faith in the Gods.¡±


    ¡°Faith in the Gods?¡± I scoffed. ¡°Definitely not. I¡¯ve got faith in our teams. I have faith that Nennel will think smart. Faith that Ferris has the drive to refuse to give up. Faith that Kharmor is ready for anything. I¡¯ve also got faith that Zynna will keep a level head and Demierra will beat anyone into a coma if needed.¡± I turned and locked eyes with Jon. ¡°And I¡¯ve got faith in you.¡±


    ¡°For what? Betraying the team? Keeping secrets that will get you killed? Attempting to kill everyone myself and pin you with the blame?¡± He spat each example with words of contempt and a derisive sneer directed at himself.


    I leaned my head against the wall and looked at the ceiling. ¡°Don¡¯t get anything twisted. We started on the wrong foot, and you were gunning for me. If you had asked if I had any faith in you a month ago, I would¡¯ve laughed. But you¡¯re a person like anyone else. You¡¯ve got a stained past. You went looking for help and got scooped up by an undead serial killer who got your brain tied in knots. That same spook commanded you to do some pretty unpleasant things, but you said no. That means you do have at least some good in you.¡±


    ¡°You failed to mention that so-called spook then threatened me into doing even worse things.¡±


    ¡°And?¡± I teased him while wearing my own self-hating smirk. ¡°You got strong-armed into everything that caused trouble. What about me? I killed who-knows-how many people with I threw together a makeshift bomb. I killed who-knows-how many more when the Stigmagaunt got loose. Those were accidents of my own devising. I have no one to blame for those stains other than myself.¡± I prodded myself with an accusing finger. ¡°I have absolutely zero faith in myself. I just don¡¯t stop to think ¡®what if¡¯ when something needs doing.¡± I prodded Jon with that same finger. ¡°But I¡¯ve got faith that you are doing everything in your power to prove to the rest of the squad, and yourself, that you deserve to be trusted.¡±


    I peeled myself from the wall and slipped my hands into my pockets as I made my way toward the door. ¡°Now, get that head on straight. I think we¡¯re about to need to put on a show.¡±