Chapter 19: 18 Entry Exams – Part 1

“Believe it or not, the process of developing the nanite refiners was easy. The hard part was infiltrating the Osai Order itself.”

- The Unabridged Interview of Veldraken Juinper, ARCborn

❄

Nanites streamed from the arena tiles and formed steps to ring 3. Mori climbed them and entered the small, circular arena, the interlocking hexagonal tiles sheen white. Even with the sounds of nanofiber boots squeaking in the rings next to her, Projections tearing through the air, and the battle cries of fellow contestants, the silence of the crowd reigned supreme.

An ocean of faces stretched up into the dome, lights beating down into Mori’s eyes. Watching Favored fight on the holo-V was one thing, but being here under the gaze of spectators was something else entirely. Her normal airy and breathable nanofiber suit became hot, slicking to her back with sweat.

Just how many of them were selecting her ring on their nanostrips to spectate?

Mori’s opponent stepped into the ring dressed in a venomous yellow suit with white triangle patterns, a serpent emblem printed above his chest. His purple dyed was pulled back into a top knot, and his eyes reminded her of a viper, his notched eyebrow only adding to the toxicity of his wicked smile. “So you’re what has the Ascension in a tizzy.” He cracked his neck, sweeping his foot back and angling into an aggressive stance. “Unfortunate you got me as your first match. The hype surrounding you is about to be cut short.”

The vein in Mori’s temple twitched, and she slid into her own. Shielding shimmered into existence over the ring, muffling the sounds of combat. Mori fought the urge to look up at the holocube above to see his class, but ended up not needing to. The boy's hologram appeared in her vision—a Brawler like her.

“In ring three do we have a match for you, folks!” the announcer spoke through her nanites. “Mori of House Prime. Yes, you heard that correct! The infamous masked Brawler of team Stellar is here in the stadium tonight.”

The crowd's silence erupted into cheers, only slightly muffled through the shielding. Chills ran down Mori’s spine.

“Her candidate is her daughter, no less. The intrigue intensifies! Let's see what Mori has in the cards. Hopefully something good, because her first opponent is Loig of the Great House Illnar! Already 2-0 and on the hunt for his final win of the exams. Will he get his sweep? Time will tell.”

Mori clenched her fists. A Great House? If Illnar was anything like what she had seen of House Drasta, then Mori would tear this man apart until they told her to stop. She couldn’t get the images of how the Favored treated their servants out of her head, the look on Black Lightning Killuan’s face when he lit her village ablaze with a sinister grin.

Loig’s grin reminded her of it all too well.

“Ready you Anima, fighters. 3, 2, 1, fight!”

Mori’s anima sparked to life. She cycled the influx of power through her channels, doing her best to keep the majority of her attention Loig, but the noise of the crowd threatened to make her lose control of her cycling almost immediately.

Loig charged down the center of the ring.

Mori strode forth to meet him.

He hadn’t manifested yet, leaving her uncertain what to expect. She kept her eyes razor focused on his movements, her attention taught. She’d fought hundreds of Brawler bots over the past month, analyzed their tells, knew when and where to position.

How different could Loig be? But did he have a Projection, or a Summon?

The crowd erupted even louder at the start of combat, piercing the layer of sound protection the shielding offered. There was the stomping of feet, whistles, all of it out of sync with the cadence of her cycling.

Her heart stuttered, her attention splitting to keep her cycling rhythm. Don't sputter out. Don't sputter out.

Loig was on her before she could reorient herself.

He Summoned—just as the Enforcer did back on Telark at the last second—a black sword polished with dark yellow sheen materialized mid swing.

Mori lost her cycling cadence. Her anima sputtered out, her enhanced power and speed going with it. Her pulse thrummed through her veins, her movement slowing. She estimated the sword's trajectory, and desperately twisted out its path, hoping she was quick enough to not get slashed.

In the space between thunderous heartbeats, it was as if Loig entered slow-motion. His black-yellow sword uncoiled, notches along the blade unlatching like a whip, shooting an inch away and across the span of her chest.

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Loig flicked his gaze to her, his venomous eyes gone wide.

The realization hit Mori all at once. She had been going toe to toe with Acolyte speed bots night after night.

Loig was an Initiate.

Mori caught the spark again. Her anima roared to life, her gut lurching into her esophagus as she churned the power through her channels. Icy blue veins crept up her forearm with the re-ignition. She snatched Loig’s extended sword arm by the wrist, and yanked him forward, growling through gritted teeth.

She smashed his larynx in with her other fist.

His spit flecked her face, his eyeballs bulging in their sockets.

She punched his throat again, once, twice, over and over until the holocube dinged and he collapsed to the white floor. His Summon disappeared. Loig seized in on himself, gagging and gripping his throat.

Mori’s shoulders heaved up and down as she collected her breath, adrenaline tearing through her. Unsparking her anima, she wiped her face, watched while the Great House Favored suffocated, died, and reanimated again. It didn’t give her pleasure to watch. Did she expect it to? Did she think it would be cathartic? Some level of release? She wasn’t sure.

It certainly didn’t bother her, though.

The shielding dissipated, the crowds cheering so loud, Mori’s ears rang.

“Did you see what I just saw, folks?!” said the announcer in her ear. “What an upset by newcomer, Mori of House Prime, robbing Loig of his sweep without manifesting once. To further salt the wound, she unsparked and resparked mid-dodge. Unbelievable! Some may call it unsportsmanlike, but it looks like the judges are giving her the A-OK! Let me tell you, folks, if she keeps this up, it’s going to be one spicy year at Lyko Foundation School.”

Mori turned in an arbitrary direction of what felt like where the announcer could be. Unsportsmanlike?

“Oi!”

Mori looked back to Loig, who unspooled to standing, shivering with the after effects of death, his face crimson with anger.

“Don’t you dare fail.”

Mori raised a brow. That was not what she expected him to say.

“Because when the school year starts, I’m going to slice and dice you until you're nothing but bone meal. Got it?”

Yeah, that was more of what she expected. She walked away.

“You’re dead, Prime Mori, you hear me? Dead!”

Mori hopped off the ring, climbed the stairs back to the Favored viewing section, wading through shocked faces and upturned noses back to Prime’s side.

Prime stood straight with her hands clasped behind her back, as always. She bent down and grabbed a plastic bottle of water, handing it Mori.

Jeropi’s Springs ™. It had a picture of a moon wrapped in oceans. Mori shrugged, quenched her thirst. “They called me unsportsmanlike.”

“Good.”

“I guess I made a splash.”

“That you did.” Prime paused, waiting as cheers erupted for fighters in other rings. “Did you do it on purpose?”

Mori’s cheeks heated, and she looked away.

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