Chapter 16: 15 – Glow Up

How are nanites refiners made, you ask? Well, since this might be one of the last interviews I do for some time, I suppose I should I come clean… Psyche!

Edit that out.”

- The Unabridged Interview of Veldraken Juinper, ARCborn

 

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Mori ducked under the ultra greatsword coated in green energy swung by the Acolyte Guardian bot, imbuing her knee with Chill Touch and driving it into the armpit joint, forcing the bot back two steps and slowing its swing speed. This gave her just enough time to kick the now charging Brawler bot in the hip joint, applying another dose of her Enhancement.

The bot stumbled to its opposite knee, its short sword thrusting wide of Mori’s torso, its neck exposed for a hammer palm strike.

There! It was her chance to finally get a maiming blow in.

The morning crew of the Ion blade cheered from the balcony, throwing off Mori’s cycling tempo, her anima sparking and sputtering in her channels. She narrowly avoided the Striker bot in the far back’s energy arrow, the shot tearing through the side of her stomach. She cursed, freezing it over, missing her opportunity to score a hit on the Brawler bot.

The Weaver bot off to the right cleared the debuffs she placed on the two melee combatants with shimmering green healing, and it was all over.

Just when she thought the Weaver bots debuff removal Projection couldn’t get any more annoying, the Brawler bot impaled her and the Guardian lopped her head off.

When she came to and most of the phantom pains had dwindled, Prime offered her a hand. “The longest you’ve held out yet.”

Mori stood and cracked her neck, her brain still not quite accepting it was reattached to her body. “I’d like to do more than just hold out.”

“Should we finally lower the difficulty to Initiate, then? We might still have time for a few rounds before tomorrow.”

Mori shook her head. “Don’t want to get used to the slower speed. It would help if there was less cheering in the morning. It’s difficult to keep the cycling tempo going as is with everything else going on.”

Mori remembered when she craved the idea of adoring fans, others cheering her on, but she didn’t realize how distracting it would be in practice.

Prime shooed away the morning crowd again with the flicking of her hand. “You're best off getting used to it. This is nothing compared to the cheers you’ll receive at the entry exams. Maybe I should have had the night crew come pay you a visit during your sessions.”

Mori looked away, scratching the back of her neck.

Prime had tried to get Mori to train during the day, but Mori simply could not. She kept waking up in the middle of the night no matter how many times Prime tried to reset her sleep schedule, the twins beside her, her brain running through the memories over and over again until she got up.

It was only when she stepped out onto the quiet expanse of the training deck did the nightmares pause, where the sounds of her heart pounding consumed her, Summons and energy blasts cutting through the air, the smell of sweat and the taste of blood.

After seeing Mori’s progress, Prime allowed it, offering tips and tricks where it was applicable. She was an Apogee Champion Brawler, after all. Still, it surprised Mori how hands off she had become week after week.

"Have you been keeping up with your cycling training?" said Prime.

Mori chuckled awkwardly. Well, Prime was almost hands off. She kept on her case about that one. Mori had tried again and again under the cold shower stream, but everytime that night on Telark came back to haunt her, and she struggled to breath. "Not… especially. I just felt like it would be more practical to practice while fighting."

“Not an impractical thought,” Prime said, “but you are hamstringing yourself more than you know. The Osai used to make their fledglings master their cycling techniques before they even allowed them to begin manifesting techniques.”

Mori raised a brow. “And… you are just telling me this now, why?”

Prime shrugged. “I informed you at the beginning that cycling would be important to your advancement, but I am not an Osai. I was not left with instructions. Instead of forcing you to do it, I quickly decided I’d rather you make progress in your own way. Would you have focused more on cycling if I had mentioned this earlier?”

Mori pursed her lips, looked away. “Probably not…”

Prime nodded. “I also knew if you made the cut for the Lyko Foundation School, you would be forced to change your approach eventually.”

Mori glanced up. “What does that mean?”

Prime clasped her hands behind her back. “Every Initiate with a decent sponsor—which is the majority—is at the peak of their advancement at this very moment. They are being trained by some of the best Favored in the Ascension and have been receiving daily treasure pills. With a flick of their will, their nanite refiners will advance them to Acolyte.”

Mori’s jaw dropped. This whole time she had been preparing herself to process information and react faster than other Initiates. “Wait, what? Why are you only telling me this now?”

Prime shrugged again. “Same as with cycling. It won’t apply until after the entry exams. It is against the Ascension rules to advance to Acolyte before you are accepted to a Foundation school. I didn’t want to stack too much on top of you.”

The weight of the realization fell on Mori. “So after the entry exams, nearly everyone who passes will immediately advance to Acolyte rank?”

Prime nodded. “Correct. And how close are you to advancing?”

Mori closed her eyes shut, pulled up her holo and stats.

Rank: Initiate

Class: Brawler

Anima burn: 58%

Advancement: No perimeters met.

It was the last one that was like a stone in her gut. All this training, night after night and day after day, and she hadn’t met any of these ‘parameters’? But, when she inspected the anima in her channels, it didn’t feel much denser since the day she had begun, nor did her channels feel stretched to any sort of limits. Her nanite inhibitors kept shoving her back every time she came close to doing so.

Besides Prime forcing her to cram the basics of martial arts into her routine, and Mori having learned beneficial applications of her Enhancement in hand to hand combat—freezing limbs and slowing her opponent—she had spent all her time brute forcing matches against higher rank bots.

She had improved, yes, developed muscle and stamina despite her horrible sleep and inconsistent meals, but her anima and advancement perimeters?

It hadn’t improved at all, and entry exams started tomorrow.

“So,” Prime said, angling towards the hatch, “should we get you prepared for your big debut?”

 

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Mori followed Prime through the corridors of the Ion Blade, the traffic surprisingly sparse given it was the day before Entry Exams to the Lyko Foundation School. The few mornings Mori had been out and about, the ship always seemed to be pulsing with life, too much life at times, though she wasn’t quite sure what jobs everyone was rushing about to complete besides the few individuals she’d gotten to know.

The people who did pass them were more comfortable around her now, their earlier treatment of her reduced from awe to smiles and short waves, acknowledging Prime as they passed with a fist over their chest.

It wasn’t that Mori didn’t want to get to know the crew. After all, they were the people who were making all of this possible for her, but making small talk, making friends after what had happened, the idea twisted her stomach into knots.

Her focus was singular—get stronger. Anything outside of that and eating dinner with the twins was difficult to justify.

“Where are we going?” Mori asked. “Shouldn’t I just use all the remaining time I have to train?”

“You’ll see,” Prime said over her shoulder. “This is arguably as important, and if you like, you could catch up on your cycling during it.”

Mori chewed the inside of her cheeks.

Prime stopped before the indoor pool, dim lighting dappling its still waters beyond the glass paneling from the hall. Mori raised a brow. “Are we… going swimming?”

She knew Jeren and Launi had spent time here being taught to swim by Adin, as well as another person named Lepanya, who she hadn’t met yet but was told by Launi that she ‘ruled’. It took the twins a good week or so to find the energy to fully explore the ship. Mori was just glad to see them act somewhat like normal kids again.

“I… don’t know how to swim,” said Mori. There weren’t many liquid bodies of water on Telark. “Will there be underwater battles?”

“Eventually,” Prime said, “but don’t worry about that for now. Follow me.”

Mori stepped into the pool area after Prime, the smell of warm chemicals worming their way up her nose, combated by an oil dispenser spraying mint into the room. The two walked behind long chairs to the back, where one door in particular said, ‘Spa’, above it.

Mori recognized the word from an old rom-com holo recording she and the twins had watched where shenanigans and miscommunications took place in a sauna and bathhouse.

Confusing, but if Prime said this was important to her advancement, she would refrain from asking too many questions.

Through the door the smell of essential oils thickened, opening Mori’s sinuses as effectively as Joma’s week-old frost rodent stew. They moved past a room with massage tables and ambient lighting, through a wood-paneled locker room with neatly stacked towels and towelettes and soaps, and then into… Mori believed it was called a salon.

Irane—her curly red locks cascading to her shoulders—wore a black apron and rested a hand against a rotating leather chair before a workstation stacked with bottled products, combs, brushes and scissors. A mirror ran the length of the wall.

She raised a pair of scissors and snipped the air twice. “Who's ready for a glow-up?”

Now, Mori was confused.

Prime patted her on the back. “She’s all yours, Irane.”

Mori spun. “Wait, hold on. I thought you said this was as important as training.”

“It is. Very important. Looking the part is half the battle.”

Mori narrowed her brows. “I look fine, thank you.”

Irane, who Mori didn’t even notice leave the workstation, ran her hands through Mori’s white hair. Mori winced as she tugged at a knot. “You have great hair, but it could use some help. Luckily for you, I am cut above the rest!”

Mori glanced at Prime as if she was a life line. A haircut? And Puns? Fashion, beauty, those weren’t even considerations on Telark. There was no time or need for it. “How does any of this apply when I am going to be sweaty and fighting?”

“It doesn’t,” Prime said. “In some battles, it might actually be a hindrance.”

Mori blinked. “I don’t understand.”

Irane continued playing with Mori’s hair. “You’ve seen fights on the holo-V before, right?”

“Yeah…” Mori remembered the fights she and the twins watched, and tried to block out all of the ones she had seen a thousand times with Black Lightning Killuan in them.

“Besides the flashy manifestation and epic combat, was there anything else you noted in particular about the players?”

Mori closed her eyes. She understood. “They all looked… fashionable, cool.”

“Sure as Aether they did! And that’s what I’m here to do for you. Training, advancing, winning, that’s all important stuff, but Favored need to stand out on and off the arena floor. Battle circuits?” Irane snorted, “how about media circuits? Late night holo-V interviews? Autograph signings and fan meet and greets? Appearance is everything.”

Mori glanced at Prime. “Are you sure I can’t wear a mask and hood like you?”

“Yes. You need to establish your own brand separate from me.”

Irane ushered her over and sat her down in the salon chair, fluffing Mori’s white hair out at the sides. Prime stood behind them in the mirror.

Mori frowned at the person who stared back at her. Her long white hair was disheveled and tangled. Icy-blue eyes had lost their sheen, tugged down by dark bags from lack of sleep. Her cheeks hugged her jawline tighter than before, and she knew it was because she had forgotten meals, and when she hadn’t, it was difficult to finish them without feeling guilty.

There was a mirror in her cabin bathroom, but she had avoided looking at it, avoiding seeing herself.

Now, here she was, exposed.

“Just a haircut?”

Irane smiled, highlighting the dimples on her freckled cheeks. “A haircut—I’m thinking we go shorter, bangs and highlights. After that, a facial, manicure, pedicure, proper care in all the right places. We’ll save make-up tomorrow.”

Mori knew what maybe one or two of those things were. “Make-up?”

Irane wrapped her in a large apron. Prime headed for the door.

Mori felt the urge to get up and run for it, and would rather fight a team of Proven bots and die on repeat than go through all the things Irane listed. Still, she gripped the hand rests and forced herself to stay seated.

This is to protect the twins, everyone like them, for father, for Joma, to slay the bastard at the top of Apogee.

She looked to Irane in the mirror, who beamed with confidence. “I thought you were a life support specialist?”

“That’s my day job.” Irane raised a comb and spray bottle, spritzed the air. “This is my passion.”

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