Chapter 27: 25 – You Show Me Yours, and I’ll Show You Mine

"Teamwork makes the dream work. Unless you're me. I made the dream work with my two hands alone."

- The Unabridged Interview of Veldraken Juinper, ARCborn

 

❄

 

The alarm programmed through Mori’s nanites went off. She awoke bleary eyed in her new room, trying to produce saliva in her mouth. Her new bed was as comfortable as the one on the Ion Blade, and of course more comfortable than her bed on Telark had ever been. Despite this, she had slept all of maybe 2 hours.

She opened up her holo notes and groaned. She'd only cracked seven out of the dozen plus forms on the scroll, the rest seemingly just out of reach. She had to hope if she pieced them together, the secret to her cycling lay within them.

Slipping into her Lyko burnt orange nanosuit, she stepped out into the suite. Empty.

She blinked, smelled the scent of coffee from the kitchen, found what had to be Nevara’s mug with a box of sugar next to it, remnants of black liquid and sugar clumps within. Where’d everyone go?

Mori checked her schedule.

Breakfast in the banquet hall.

The idea of sitting down surrounded by Favored who hated her made her grimace. She’d rather not if it was an option. Besides, she wasn’t hungry.

She poured herself lukewarm coffee and perused the schedule in more detail now that she had time before team practice. Team practice alternated three times a week, with two days of the week concentrating on class specific training in between. Both took place in the morning, with non-combat classes in the afternoon.

Mori had been shocked to learn that they had an entire two days off a week. Two days. Supposedly for relaxation and unwinding. The idea was utterly foreign to her. Regardless, it was two more days Mori could focus on her cycling, and she needed all the time she could get.

Closing out, she noted a tray on the counter, with a small white, shimmering sphere encased in plastic packaging, a note beside it. Mori held up the package, but she could tell from the shimmering alone what it was—refined treasure ore—a treasure pill. It was crazy to think Favored only took such a small dosage each day, but when Mori recalled how tapping the stalagmite of raw ore back on Telark almost tore her channels apart, it made sense.

The note was from Klaire: ‘Knocked on your door, but you must have been out cold! We’ll be at breakfast. They drop off the pills early, so I left yours where’d you see it!’ - Klaire.

Mori entered the bathroom and held the treasure pill over the toilet bowl. Adin’s words ran through her mind, ‘you don’t need help refining, you need help not shredding your Vessel into pieces.’

But should she waste a perfectly good treasure pill? What if she needed it in an emergency? A do or die situation where she was found out and needed to brute force past her Inhibitors? Would it work? Would it even help in that scenario? Surely there must be strong Favored staff here at Lyko, Enforcers close at hand. She might not stand a chance against then even if she managed to push past her inhibitors. And the idea of unshackling the weapon inside her…

She exited the bathroom and entered her room, stuffing the pill under her mattress. It seemed like a good intermediary solution.

She sighed. If only getting to Acolyte were as easy as taking a pill.

 

❄

 

Mori was the first to arrive at her team comp's reserved training room, but soon other teams trickled into the training level, and the sounds of combat and manifestations filled the air.

Digging into the training room menu, Mori found the blurring option for the glass panels, a sound dampener that reduced the sounds to murmurs, and an option to lock the door. She had a feeling the Drasta Weaver wouldn’t overlook that option again after last night.

Klaire, Nevara, and Rikon entered in their Lyko nanosuits. Nevara, looking as tired as last night, sighed. “At least you're on time.”

It was as if she was looking for reasons to complain.

She looked around. “But it appears our instructor is not.”

Mori followed Nevara’s gaze across the training room. It didn’t even occur to her that they would have an instructor. Wow, she was more tired than she thought.

“Anyway,” Nevera said, strutting across the interlocking white tiles to face the three of them. She yawned. “Since we are still waiting, let's decide who will be the team Captain. All in favor of me, raise your hands.” Nevara raised hers.

Mori, Klaire, and even Rikon shared a glance. It must have been the first time Mori had made eye contact with the Weaver. Mori furrowed a brow. “Shouldn’t we get an idea of everyone’s abilities before deciding that?” She immediately regretted speaking up. She had one manifestation, and it was an Enhancement. No one would pick her, but something about Nevara inserting herself so blatantly ticked her off.

Nevara shook her head. “I expected more of Prime’s daughter, but I suppose I shouldn’t have, considering you were practically raised on the Edge.”

Mori glared.

“Realistically, there are two options for team Captain; the Striker or Weaver. They almost always have the greatest vantage in the arena, whereas a Guardian and Brawler are generally in the thick of it.”

She was crossing off Mori entirely.

“Since Rikon hasn’t uttered a word since the welcoming ceremony yesterday,” Nevara said. “I am considering myself the best option. Rikon?”

Rikon shrugged. “Agreed. I think you are better suited.”

“He speaks.” Nevara splayed her hands. “It’s settled then.”

Mori looked to Klaire, who pursed their lips. “She’s right. If Rikon doesn’t want it, then Nevara is the best pick. I have more range than most Guardians, but not as much as her.”

Mori did not want to have to take orders from Nevara all year.

“Face it, Brawler, even Prime took calls from her Weaver during her Stellar days. Or do you think that you, who received a penalty loss at the entry exams for unsportsmanlike behavior, should provide battle calls?”

Mori grimaced. It was obvious she’d lost this one, though she refused to be happy about it.

The door to their training room opened, bringing in the noise of other training rooms, and in walked a tall, lean man with his stubbled face and blue shadowed eyes absorbed in a book, medium length platinum gray hair disheveled atop his head. He wore the beige instructor's nanosuit, a gray open shawl layered atop.

The team watched as he crossed the training room and plopped down on the ground with legs criss-crossed, resting his back against the blurred glass. The title of the book read, ‘Star-crossed Lovers,’ and image of a man and woman reaching out for one another on the cover in space.

Mori rubbed her eyes, just to make sure this instructor who thoroughly disregarded all of them wasn’t a hallucination, which during her sleep deprived training on the Ion Blade, had occurred more than once.

“Have we decided on a team captain?” The man asked, not looking up.

“Speaking,” Nevara said with a frown.

“Nice,” he nodded. “If you need anything, don’t be afraid to ask.”

“Uhm,” Mori said, “aren’t you going to?...”

“Going to what?” He said.

“Instruct?” Klaire finished Mori’s question.

The man shrugged, still reading. “I’m sure you can figure it out.”

This was a Lyko Instructor? Wasn’t this supposed to be a prestigious school? “Are you… at least going to introduce yourself?” said Mori.

Nevara sighed. “Don’t bother. I can’t believe Lyko hires deadbeat Brawlers like Min Okiri.”

Okiri lowered his book, looking nonplussed. “Rude.” He raised his book again.

Mori glanced between the two.

Nevara crossed her arms. “By all counts was a prodigy, presumed by all to have what it took to go far, but after winning the Mid Rim Circuit, he decided to destroy all paths to further advancement by bonding a corrupted Daemon on purpose.”

“A Daemon?” Mori had heard the terminology, had asked Prime once about how advancement in the Mid and Inner Rim work, but was told it was largely irrelevant until she got there.

“The ghost of an Osai,” Klaire said, pressing a finger to their lips. “Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say the leftover essence of one. To compete on the level of the Inner Rim Circuits, you have to bond one.”

Mori’s lips soured. Leftovers? Bonding one of the ghosts of her dead ancestors? The thought made her skin crawl, anger blossoming in her chest. As if wiping her entire kind off the face of the galaxy wasn’t enough, the ARCborn had found a way to make use of their ghosts, too? Had Prime done so? She had to of. How did that even work? Where were these Daemons?

Nevara tugged at the bags under eyes as she dragged hand down her face. “Did your mother teach you anything at all, Prime Mori?”

“Look,” Okiri lowered his book with dismay again. “How about we start with you all getting to know each other's abilities? See how they interact? Then we can go from there.”

Nevara sighed. “Now he acts like an instructor.”

Okiri ignored that and went back to reading.

Nevara crossed her arms. “Alright, who wants to go first?”

Mori was relieved when Klaire thrust their hand up, though there was little use putting off revealing her rank at this point.

“Me, me, me!” Klaire hopped forward. “I’ve been dying to show off Lunar Crush’s new compatibility with my Projection.”

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Was that the name of their Summon? And was it actually a robot?

“Alright, let’s see it, Polyestra,” Nevara stepped off to the side, and Mori and Rikon followed suit. Mori watched with interest as Klaire angled towards the other end of the training room.

They brought up their holo and the room controls and generated an Acolyte training bot. Spools of nanites streamed up through the interlocking tiles and formed the beige bot.

The bot manifested bright silver energy in the palm of its hand, the Projection rippling and condensing. It hurled a contorting orb down the stretch of tiles. Mori’s eyes widened at the speed—seemingly faster than the Acolyte bots she had trained against.

Klaire’s upturned lips fell to a line, their expression one of complete and utter focus.

“Lunar Crush,” they muttered the Summon’s name.

A giant orange gauntlet with blue accents rippled up their forearm, and they backhanded the orb away and curving behind them. It undulated in the air until it detonated against the translucent shielding, exploding.

Klaire’s blond hair fluttered. Okiri licked his finger and turned the page of his book.

Using their momentum, Klaire whipped their leg out, a large pair of orange and blue grieves materializing over their boot and calf. Segments in the armor popped open, gusts of air shooting out—thrusters.

Was this a Projection in combination with their Summon?

The grieves rocketed off Klaire’s foot and closed the distance to the bots face in a blink. The bot smashed against the far wall, peeling off and smacking the floor.

The grieves stayed hovering in the air until Klaire dematerialized it. They straightened, their determined look turning into a grin. “Pretty cool, right?! It does have a ten meter radius from me, though. And I can only Summon two hand or foot armorments at a time.”

Mori realized her mouth was hanging open and closed it. “Cool? That was amazing.”

“Seriously,” Rikon said, and when everyone turned to him, his cheeks reddened.

Klaire beamed.

“Not bad, Polyestra,” Nevara said. “Metal and wind nature together is rare, but what is your Summons ability? So far, you are looking pretty offense focused.”

Ability? That threw Mori off. They hadn’t used it yet? The gauntlets and grieves do more?

Klaire scratched the back of their head. “Ah, right, forgot about that! I am the team Guardian afterall.” The Summoned Lunar Crush’s gauntlet once more, thrusters unlatching from the armor plating.

Mori’s heart skipped a beat when Klaire aimed the gauntlet's black open palm at her chest.

“Don’t worry,” Klaire said, and launched the gauntlet. The Summon transformed mid air, armor platelets spreading out. Mori willed herself to stand still, and Lunar Crush wrapped itself around her chest and back, locking over her shoulders in straps. An armored vest.

Mori slid her palms down the cool metal. Klaire could do all of this at Acolyte? It made Mori’s Enhancement pale even more in comparison.

“Lunar Crush can mold to cover portions of a friendly's body—well—save your face. I hoped it would turn into a badass angular helmet with glowing eye slits, and… currently it will just suffocate you to death.”

Okiri gasped. “No way.”

Everyone turned, only to find him holding the book closer to his face, enraptured in the text.

Nevara shook her head, turned back to Klaire. “Very good, Polystra. Though, I can see a possible complication between your Summon and my Projection. Which has me wondering what our Weaver can do.”

Rikon warmed his throat, and stepped out into the middle of the room. Klaire hopped in between Mori and Nevara to watch.

He brought up the holo controls and generated another bot. The bot began forming cuts and gouges in its nanite formed metal, slumped over itself, simulating damage.

“Lime Light.”

Rikon Summoned a small, metallic bird with a lime green body and white patterns. It fluttered above his palm, its wings a blur of movement. He gestured towards the injured bot, and Lime Light flew off, flitting above the bot's head. A spotlight of light green covered the bot, and its wounds began to slowly heal.

Nevara nodded. “A passive regeneration ability. Not bad, not bad, Rikon. Your Projection?”

Rikon canceled the Summon, moved some settings around on the holo control to change the bot to an enemy. The bot straightened, a red aura emanating from its body. A buff?

Rikon whipped his hand out, and a light green silhouette of a bird shot forth as if in a dive, breaking across the bot's chest in a shimmer. The red aura faded.

“Useful situational,” Nevara said. “This is your Debuff technically, correct?”

Rikon nodded. “I won’t be able to clear any debuffs on team members, correct. And… uh, it’s probably important to note that this will clear any debuffs you put on targets as well.”

Nevara grimaced. “Then we will need to be somewhat tactical in how we use it, allow me to show you why.”

Nevara took the floor, and Mori wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or worried about going last.

A wicked smile spread across Nevara's pale cheeks. “Life Eater.” “She held out an open palm, and a small iron skull appeared above it, eyes bleeding with purple fire.

She focused the skull between both her hands and reared back, her Summon vibrating with purple energy. She thrust her palms out, and the skull shot forth, catching and orbiting around the bot until it hovered over its shoulder. Purple wisps licked the bots body, and then dark purple veins began encroaching up its forearms slowly.

It couldn’t…

“My Summons ability burns an opponent's anima, and my Projection…” Nevara wreathed her hand in black-purple flame, shot out a beam across the interlocking tiles and struck the bot in the chest, the flames tracing veins across its right pectoral and shoulder, continuing to flicker on the bot. “My Projection eats Anima in bursts. With Life Eater on a target, I can drain an opponent dry in three to four strikes of my Soul Flame.”

“The mental aspect of it, I would argue, is more powerful than the physical,” Okiri had lowered his book to speak, surprising everyone with his interest. “Your manifestations take away control, and nothing can get to a Favored’s head quicker in a fight than that. ‘How much anima do I have left?’ ‘Should I risk another Projection?’ You’ve certainly been blessed by the ARC themself.”

Did Mori catch a hint of condescension in his words?

“Jeez…” Klaire said, and Mori felt the exact same. Not being able to control the burn of your anima was a terrifying concept.

Nevera brushed her thin black hair with white streaks over one shoulder, pleased with herself. “I concur. I am powerful, but one of Rikon’s Projections will clear my Life Eater. Polystra, if you’d try hitting the bot with your Summon, please.”

Klaire shrugged and shot forth Lunar Crush’s gauntlet at the bot. It connected, sending the bot with Nevara's skull across the tiles. Klaire recalled the fist and inspected it. It's front knuckle plating had been eaten through, glowing purple around the edges, revealing buzzing nanites within.

“Woah…” Klaire said.

Nevara nodded. “It eats all anima within an inch of the target’s surface. Damage focused Projections should get through fine enough, but we’ll have to be careful with who you hit with that Summon, or else you’ll be wasting anima to repair, or even be forced to reSummon.”

Mori rubbed her arm where her tattoo was. She hadn’t even considered these combinations. It annoyed her to admit it, but Nevara seemed capable as a Captain.

Nevara dissolved her Life Eater, and Klaire, Lunar Crush. Nevara faced the team with hands on hips. “But so far, I dare say the cards are falling in our favor. We just need more strict damage.” Her tired eyes fell on Mori. “Prime Mori, what do you have for us?”

Mori took a breath, stepped out into the center of the training room. She knew she was about to disappoint Nevara no matter what, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t prove she was capable, even as an Initiate with an Enhancement.

She generated an Acolyte Brawler bot, and set it to attack. She ignited her anima, cycling it roughly through her channels. With the sound dampener over the room, there was little distraction compared to the arena.

Mori charged forth, the Brawler bot closing the distance with Acolyte speed. Had it just been a while, or were these bots faster? The bot Summoned a mace. Mori was already dodging to the side when it swung, focusing on keeping her anima looping as it smashed against her channels with its passage. She manifested her Enhancement, anima burn creeping up her calf, and she slicking Chill touch behind the bots left knee, mace grazing her stomach as she slid past.

The bot reoriented on her in a blink with a back hand. Her pulse thrummed, and she took a glancing blow across the shoulder as she twisted. Pain flowered up her neck. She jabbed the bots shoulder joint of its weapon arm, applying cold. It finally began to slow. Applying the Enhancement in a couple other joints, she leapt, grappling her legs around the bots neck, pulling it to the floor, with a smack.

She pulled and twisted with everything she had on the bot's neck, like she did with Hermel and Viri, in the entry exams, but the bot kept squirming, its neck wouldn’t give way. What in the Aether? She had never defeated an Acolyte bot on the Ion Blade, but had come close a few times. Was Acolyte seriously this large of a gap?

With alarm, Mori watched as the bot broke through her Enhancement, the translucent icy blue flaking away in embers from its joints. It gripped her forearm with its free hand, ripping her off of its neck. The bot pinned her underneath it, its hand crushing her neck before she could piece together how it happened. It reared back its mace.

Mori gritted her teeth, her anima sputtering. Metal clanged against metal. The bot flew off of her, tumbling across the arena. Klaire’s Summoned gauntlet hovered over her with wind Projection.

Mori winced as she sat up, taking in the variety of shocked expressions. Rikon’s mouth was agape. Klaire scratched their chin. Even Okiri peered up at her from his book.

Mori sighed. “So… I am still at Initiate.”

Nevara’s face twisted with rage. “How much farther?”

Mori furrowed a brow. “How much farther, what?”

“How many more perimeters before Acolyte, you fool?”

Mori swallowed. She thought about lying, but didn’t see the benefit. “I’ve got a ways.”

“You’re telling me, Prime, who owns a Great House, didn’t supply you with a wealth of treasure pills and training?” Nevara practically foamed at the mouth.

Mori scratched her neck, not sure how to answer that. “It’s… complicated.”

Nevara threw up her hands, strode towards the training room door. “Where’s the nearest airlock? We’re screwed.”

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