by Zeppy Cheng
The Lesser One
Zeppy Cheng
Dingbat Publishing
Humble, Texas
THE LESSER ONE
Copyright © 2021 by Zeppy Cheng
Published by Dingbat Publishing
Humble, Texas
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are entirely the produce of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to persons living or dead, actual locations, events, or organizations is coincidental.
1 Awakening
I stand before a Judge. His long, sweeping hair is tied back in a ponytail that sticks up above his skull like a rocket engine. His eyes burn into my soul, and the souls of the ten initiates beside me.
The room is bright, not from the artificial lamps above, but from the clear window that lines the wall behind the Judge and the wall to my left. We are in a corner suite. The Judge stands behind a plastic table, a cheap piece of furniture in an obviously expensive room. The carpet is school-library grade. He wears the traditional robes of the profession.
Today is my Awakening Ceremony. To the Judge, it’s another day like any other. But to me, this is what fifteen years of life has been leading to. I hope that I will be special.
The Judge takes off his cloak, holding his arms together. His robes flow down to his feet. “Forty years ago, the portals opened. We were not prepared for the monsters that came out of them. Thankfully, at the exact same time, people began to manifest spirits, special powers that can be cultivated and used to defeat the monsters that come from the portals. You are second generation spirit users. Your spirits are more important to the effort to keep the world safe than ever before. I hope that, through your training, regardless of what spirit you manifest, you will become a boon to society and build towards a better future.” The Judge opens his arms. “I am about to activate my companion spirit.” His eyes remain level. “Do not be afraid of what you are about to see.”
Behind him, the skyline of New York towers outside the window of the penthouse temple. A low rumble grows from the floor and circles the Judge’s podium. The lights in the room darken, as if a curtain has been cast over them. The sunlight coming through the window suddenly appears sickly and dangerous.
A powerful light emerges from the Judge’s body. Wind sighs through the room. The chandelier tinkles as it dances back and forth. My clothes ripple. Then the image of a wolverine, eyes blazing red, leaps out of the Judge’s back. Its fangs are riveting white. Its fur, glossy and clean, shivers in the rushing wind. Its presence is filled with power, not exactly menace, but not something I’d want to be on the receiving end of. The wolverine hovers menacingly over the Judge’s shoulder, moving its gaze from initiate to initiate. Its breath rumbles as its chest moves up and down with slow patience.
Several of the initiates take a step back, afraid. I am not. I stand where I am, facing the monster before me.
The Judge opens his arms and a ball of crystal light floats out from the podium. “You.” He points to the girl at the left-most end of the lineup. “Place your palm against the sphere.”
The girl steps up, hesitant. Wearing a pinched expression, she touches the sphere with her hand. A small flicker of light dances through her hair. The ball lights up slightly.
“A computer mouse. Household object.” The Judge appears satisfied. He flicks his fingers and a piece of paper appears where there was none before. “Here is your job assignment,” he announces as he hands it to the girl. The girl’s expression becomes even more pinched. She is, by all accounts, not satisfied. I can’t blame her. She’s destined for a life as a cubicle mouse. No pun intended.
The Judge moves to the next initiate, a boy with curly red hair wearing a windbreaker. The boy approaches the ball, not needing to be told. When he touches the ball, a burst of sparks pops out of its surface. His hair sticks up on end. The image of an electrical socket floats above his head.
“Electrical socket. Household object.” The Judge hands the boy the same piece of paper.
The ceremony continues. Yellow beams of light. “Banana. Lesser food object.”
A red circle that spins quickly. “Gear assembly type two. Minor mechanical system.”
A spout of water, steaming hot. “Teapot. Household object.”
After a figurative forever, the Judge turns to me. I step up. Touching the ball, I wait, my breath catching in my chest.
Nothing happens. The Judge appears confused. He checks his tablet. “Markus Red. It says here you awakened your spirit potential a week ago.”
I nod.
“Touch the ball again.”
I touch it. The ball changes color almost imperceptibly.
The Judge sighs. “Anima.”
I tilt my head. “Anima?”
The Judge nods. He seems to think for a moment, and then flicks his fingers. A piece of paper is handed to me. It reads Adventurer. The Judge sighs. “I know I’m going to get flak for this decision, but we just don’t have enough manpower.” It appears he is explaining things to himself rather than me.
I shift, uncertain. “Manpower?”
The Judge nods, his eyes already turning to the next initiate. “Touch the ball…”
Later, on the subway heading back home, I take another look at the paper he handed to me. It’s actually an envelope. The job assignment is written on its face. I tear the envelope open and a plastic card drops out. It has my picture on it and all my physical information. At the bottom, it says, in small red letters, Companion Spirit: Blue Anima.
I don’t know what that means.
Along with the card is a couple pieces of paper with instructions. I must report to the New York Adventurers’ Association within two days of receiving my companion spirit.
A small voice echoes in my mind. I have not heard it before. Hello… Hello…
I do my best to ignore it. Something about the voice makes me feel uncomfortable. I know that it has something to do with my Awakening, but it feels like a goblin in a dark street holding a suspiciously bright torch, beckoning me into an alleyway. I do not like the sensation and, even though I know it might be important, I push it aside.
I decide to report to the Association now. I don’t have anything to do, after all. Today is a Sunday. I don’t have any homework, and I have no friends to hang out with.
I ride the subway to the stop closest to the Adventurers’ Association. Passing by my favorite dollar-slice pizza store, I approach the building. It is a gigantic tower, at least seventy stories tall, the entire thing dedicated to the New York Adventurers’ Association.
At the entrance, a security guard stops me. “Your reason for visiting?”
I hand him the piece of paper that came with the envelope I just opened. The guard looks it over. “Right this way,” he says. I follow him inside.
It’s truly a grand entrance. Marble pillars march towards a faraway row of elevators. A waterfall coats the atmosphere in a thin covering of mist. Exotic plants line the walls. Several sitting rooms, tucked quietly away in the corners, host chatting Adve
nturers.
I can tell because of their armor. Bright metal breastplates and greaves, dark cloaks, studded leather. The gear of an Adventurer.
It finally hits me — I’m going to be an Adventurer! Protecting the world from dungeon portals! I’m going to be famous!
That thought is put out of my mind by my meeting with the receptionist. She looks at my ID card and frowns. “Who did your awakening?” She slides the card underneath a reader.
“Er, um, Judge Erin.”
She sighs. “I trust his judgment, but I don’t understand his thinking.”
“Why?”
The receptionist shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it. The decision has been made.” She hands me the card back, pointing to the bank of elevators. “You’ll have your meeting with the coordinator in room 1204.” She turns away and answers a phone. I stand there, stupidly, for another fifteen seconds, before turning towards the elevators.
Room 1204… That means it would be on floor twelve. Probably. I wait for the elevator to arrive.
When it does, two armed Adventurers walk out. I recognize one of them.
“Fast T!” I say, without thinking.
The Adventurer, a thin, lanky man wearing studded leather armor and metal shoulder plates, looks at me with disinterest.
The lady beside him elbows him. “You have a fan.”
Fast T sighs, visibly irritated. He looks at me. “What, you want an autograph?”
I shake my head. “No. I, uh, I just became an Adventurer.”
“What’s your familiar spirit?” says Fast T.
“Er, Blue Anima.”
Fast T sighs again. “Yeah, don’t get your hopes up, kid.” He starts to turn away.
The woman touches his shoulder. “Come on, tell him something supportive.”
Fast T pauses. “Be careful out there.” It appears he is forcing himself to put on a face for me, his fan. Before I can say anything else, he walks away with a grimace.
As they leave, I hear the woman say, “You could have been nicer…”
With mixed feelings, I step into the elevator. Floor twelve. Even though the encounter didn’t go like I had imagined it many times before, I still met Fast T, one of my favorite Adventurers.
Once the doors open, I step out into a nice, plush hallway with close-set walls. It does not take long to find room 1204. On the wall, a plaque reads Dr. Mason Irr, intake officer.
I knock.
“Come in,” says a voice.
I open the door. The office is small, like the office of my vice principal. There are no windows, just a bunch of pictures of dogs. A couple of model cars sit on top of a crowded bookcase. The person inside, presumably Mason Irr, looks up from a computer screen. “May I help you?”
I nod. “I was just assigned to be an Adventurer.”
“Your card.”
I hand him my newly acquired ID card.
Mason looks it over. He types a few things into his computer. “You know what this means, right?”
“What does?”
Mason shakes his head. “If we weren’t so desperate for manpower, you would have been designated as a non-effective.”
“A non…”
“A non-effective,” he repeats, appearing a bit miffed. “Someone whose companion spirit is so useless and weak that they are not given any special job or preferential treatment.”
“My spirit is… weak?”
“One of the weakest. Anima spirits are practically useless. Though I have never seen a Blue Anima before, I can assume it’s the same.”
I blink a couple of times. I think I might cry. “But… what can Anima spirits do?”
“Anima spirits only affect perception. They can’t cast spells. They can’t block blows. They can’t heal.” He taps his finger against the desk. “We will have to test you anyways. You’re going to need stats for the draft.” He seems to think for a moment. “Come back tomorrow at two precisely and we’ll have your assessment.”
Right after school, he means,
He looks up at me again. “You’re one lucky fellow. Whoever made the decision to allow you to become an Adventurer despite your spirit has done you a great favor.”
I know enough about Adventurers to know what the draft is. I nod. “Tomorrow, then!”
Mason waves me away dismissively. “Don’t be late.”
I nod again and back out of the room.
On the elevator down to the ground floor, I hear the voice in my head again. …Come… to where I lead you…
The goblin is back. This time, I decide I can handle the mugger in the back street he’s inevitably leading me towards. I agree with the voice and tell it to give me directions. I sense a waypoint hovering over me, leading me towards a corner on the block two streets down from the entrance to the Association Headquarters.
When I get there, I find a small shop embedded within a tiny little alleyway. Though I see no sign, I know that it is there. Somehow.
I walk into the alley. A rusted metal door opens as I approach. It appears to have opened on its own, revealing a low-lit, atmospheric bar scene where well-dressed individuals sip cocktails in front of a bartender. The lamps hanging from the ceiling give a warm yellow glow. Sparkles of light adorn the hundreds of bottles lined up behind the bartender.
The bartender glances me over. “You must be the one I sensed coming up the alley.”
“Sensed?” I say.
The bartender motions to a stool in front of the bar. “Sit. Have a glass of — well, juice will work.”
“I don’t have any money.”
“It’s on the house,” says the bartender. “Your companion spirit is an Anima, yes?”
“How did you know?” I sit down at the bar, surprised.
“You have an aura I recognize. It’s not often that an Anima spirit wielder has your level of psion particle emission.”
“Is Anima a bad spirit?”
The bartender nods. “Most people think it is useless. It is quite common, and not much can be done with it.” He pauses. “Except…” He pauses again. “I might want to introduce you to someone.”
“Um, okay,” I say.
The bartender takes a bottle of what looks like orange juice out of a cooler. “Is Orengina good for you?”
“Is that… orange juice?”
“A high-quality one, yes. I mostly use it for mixing cocktails. But since you are a minor, I think this will suit you best.” He pours it into a glass cup, and takes a single large piece of “on the rocks” ice and drops it in. After stirring it with a long spoon, he hands it to me.
I sip at the juice. Yes, it is good. It feels very luxurious — I would not have the chance to drink something like this normally. “You said you wanted to introduce me to someone.” I look around the room.
The bartender nods. “He’s not here now, but he’s a regular here at Half Moon.”
“Is he an Adventurer?” I ask.
Again the bartender nods. “An Anima user, just like you. He is an old fart and not very sociable, but I think he will know what to say to you. I am guessing here, but were you given the assignment of Adventurer?”
I think for a moment. It’s not exactly a secret. “Yes. How did you know?”
“I just had a hunch. Your psionic emission level is higher than it should be. Any competent Judge would notice that and make use of it. After all, Adventurers are scarce.”
“Is there a reason for that?” I have been following famous Adventurers my whole life, but I have not been told much about the world besides the sport-like coverage of the higher-level dungeon crawls. I can recite spirits and stats and names but, when I think about it, I really don’t know much about that world. I certainly never got the idea that Adventurers were scarce.
Another nod from the bartender. “It’s not splashed around, because of how it would affect the public’s appearance of safety, but Adventurers are a rare breed.” He picks up a cup and begins polishing it. “Most people do not know that their very li
velihood is balanced on a thread.”
“Is there a reason?” I ask again. “I got the feeling that Adventurers are strong.”
“Yes, some are, but most of them are like you and me. Just warriors working a beat to protect the safety of society.”
An old man with red-faced cheeks pipes up from across the room. “Stop scaring the little man, Jim! He doesn’t need to know that!”
“He’ll find it out eventually,” says the bartender, who I assume is named Jim. “After all, he was selected as an Adventurer.”
The red-faced man scoffs. “Adventurer, ha! Just a glorified infantryman.”
Jim purses his lips and his nose curls up. “Yes. I think Glen would like to meet this young man.”
The red-faced man grimaces. “Ya mean to say you’re going to feed this kid to that bald-headed lion?”
“I wouldn’t say he is a lion, but I do agree with your assessment of bald-headed,” says Jim. “I think it will be best. This young man faces a hard road ahead.”
The red-faced man turns away, muttering.
“Is there something wrong with Mr. Glen?” I ask.
Jim shrugs, smiling a bit. “You’ll see. Come here tomorrow between two and four and I’ll introduce you.”
I shake my head. “I have my assessment tomorrow.”
Jim tilts his head. “That will take only an hour, won’t it?”
“I don’t know,” I say.
Jim taps his finger on the table. “Well, then. If you can come tomorrow, come tomorrow. If not, come the next day, after school.”
I nod, getting up. “Thank you.”
“You haven’t finished your drink,” says Jim.
I take the glass and down it in one big gulp, placing the cup back on the counter with a gentle touch. “Thank you again.”
Jim nods and goes back to working with his glass. I walk out the door, the soft jazz music disappearing as the metal entrance swings shut.
Two o’clock tomorrow. Right after school. Whatever the case, I’m not going to miss school tomorrow. I’m not the kind of person to give up on my education just because I got a life-changing assignment. Even though I’m pretty sure I’ll be taken out of school…