The Lesser One

by Zeppy Cheng

  “You can still work with him,” Mary says as we walk back towards her office. “There are twelve guilds and only twenty or so portals opening in a week under our jurisdiction. Most guilds have at least half a dozen teams, so we Riding Valkyries only sortie out a couple of times a month.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief as we enter Mary’s office. My time at the Half Moon won’t be cut short, I can still work with Dr. Barrimore, and I’ll probably have enough time for a club.

  “Now, I’ll have you sign some paperwork…”

  My parents have already been informed of everything that is happening — I didn’t skip that part before heading to the draft — and I hand over all the permission forms they had to complete. After signing several lines and filling out boxes and boxes of information, I am finally done. I don’t feel particularly nervous, as my house is just a couple of stations away.

  “If you have any classes left today,” Mary says, “you can attend them. Otherwise, the time is yours. The Riding Valkyries’ meal time is at six-thirty.”

  I nod. It’s only three-thirty, so I decide to check out the shooting clubhouse. Dres’s fired-up spirit and cordiality really made an impression on me.

  The clubhouse is actually a large open area on one of the sub floors, just like the one where I took my physical exam. I approach the sign that says Ixtham Shooters. Dres is standing at the entrance, talking with a tall, spindly girl with blue-highlighted hair. As I approach, Dres notices me.

  “Hey! It’s Markus!” He strides over and claps me on the shoulder. “I knew you were coming.” His smile is big and genuine. As before, he radiates an aura of psionic power. “Let me introduce you to the club leader, my sister Rey.”

  The blue-haired girl looks at me smugly. “So you’re an Anima.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “What’s your dex stat?” she asks.

  “Five.”

  “Sheesh. What’s your strength?”

  “Six,” I say.

  Rey sighs. “With that kind of stats, you’re going to have to work with the lowest draw weight we have.” She hands me a piece of paper. “Your club registration form.”

  I fill it out against the wall with the pen hanging from the notice board and hand it to her.

  Rey takes it, grinning. “Great!”

  I examine the shooting range. It is as expected. Several targets at the end of a long range, a staging area, walls lined with arrows and unstrung bows. “Where are all the members?”

  Rey looks sheepish. She shrugs. “Everyone either left or graduated. You and my brother are the first two to join since three seniors left last semester.”

  I pick up an unstrung bow from the lineup. It looks exceedingly modern, with lots of pulleys and divots and wires.

  “Whoa, there,” says Rey. “You aren’t ready for a compound re-curve bow right out of the gate.” She picks up a simple, plain-looking wooden bow from the other side of the range. “This one is better for you. A draw weight of only twenty-five pounds.” She takes a bowstring, places the bow against her feet so that it rises up her side, and strings the bow. I have never seen it done before — it’s almost magic. She unstrings it. “Now you try.” She hands me the bow and the string.

  I put it behind my feet and try what she did. The string, though, just doesn’t seem to be long enough.

  Rey approaches me and helps me push the bow just a little bit harder. The string slips into a notch, and I hold up a newly strung bow. Satisfaction fills me.

  “Have you ever seen someone shoot a bow?” asks Rey.

  “Yeah, on TV.”

  Rey holds up her own bow, one of the compound re-curves she was talking about. She pulls the string to her ear and releases. The arrow flies straight and true.

  For some reason, the fast-moving object seems to slow down as it passes me. Blue lines radiate outwards from its center, and I even catch the arrow wobbling a bit. Before I can understand what I’m seeing, the arrow has embedded itself in the center of the target on the other side of the range.

  “You try,” says Rey.

  I oblige. Holding the bow, nocking an arrow, I try pulling the string to my ear.

  “Hold the arrow to the string like this.” Rey shows me a peculiar three-fingered hold.

  I arrange the arrow like she says.

  “Align the feather that is out of alignment with the others to your left,” she says.

  I notice that one of the feathers is at a different angle than the other two. I position the arrow like she said, pull the string to my ear, and release. The arrow zips, but in slow motion like the one before. It’s like my eyes are high-speed cameras.

  I miss the target completely. The arrow embeds itself in the ground halfway down the range.

  Rey places her hand on my shoulder. “You have a long way to go.”

  My arm already hurts.

  Rey straps a leather gauntlet-type thing to my arm. “This is for prolonged use. Sometimes the string will snap back and hit your arm. This will keep you safe.”

  I nod. “Can I keep practicing for the rest of the day?”

  Rey shares a glance with Dres. Both of them smile. “Sure.”

  “I have to go at six for dinner, and then I’ll be working with Dr. Barrimore until midnight. Is this place open after midnight?”

  Rey seems impressed. “You have some work ethic.”

  I smile, even though I don’t feel that exceptional. “It’s the only thing I have going for me.”

  Rey puts her fist into her palm. “I can teach you now.” She pauses. “And if I’m still awake at midnight, I’ll come here and teach you some more.”

  I spend the next two hours working on my shooting basics. The draw weight of the bow — even though it’s light, comparatively — begins to grind on my bones and stretch my muscles. By the time six rolls around, I am bone tired. I say my goodbyes to my club mates and head towards the cafeteria.

  Once I get there, I look for the Riding Valkyries’ section. It’s around a corner and in a portion of the room I’ve never been to, sort of like the bar round back of a family restaurant.

  Three people are sitting at the Valkyries’ table. There’s the girl I spotted in the common room when being showed around, and two people I don’t recognize. All of them look to be at least a couple years older than me.

  “It’s the useless one,” the older girl scoffs when she sees me arrive

  One of the other apprentices elbows her. “Don’t be mean. I’m sure the guild master chose him for a reason.”

  “Whatever that reason is, it’s probably not worth it,” she says.

  “I’m sorry,” says the one who scolded the girl. “My name is Evan. This is Sarah.” He points to the silent third member. “This is Rick.”

  Rick nods.

  “He doesn’t talk much,” says Evan.

  Rick nods again, returning to his food.

  “You can get your food and sit with us,” says Evan.

  Sarah looks like she is about to say something. Evan shakes his head, putting his hand on her shoulder. She sighs, turns away from me, and begins to eat.

  “You guys, the Riding Valkyries, have five apprentices, right?” I ask. “Who are the other two?’

  Evan smiles. “You’ll get to know us all. The two others are Blake and Tom. We’re pretty tightly knit, all things considered.”

  Sarah scoffs again. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to get along with this one.”

  Evan frowns at Sarah. “You don’t even know his name yet.”

  Sarah glances at me, clearly miffed. “So? What’s your name?”

  “Markus.”

  Sarah scowls at Evan. “There. Happy?”

  Evan sighs. “You might as well grab something to eat.”

  With a quiet sigh, I walk to the serving counter and grab my food. As I walk, I think about how I’m going to make a good impression. It’s funny. My mind is blank. And I’m not sure if I’ll ever manage to get along with these people.

  6 My
First Dungeon

  Back at the Riding Valkyries’ table, I sit down next to Evan. Sarah stands up as soon as my butt hits the bench. She takes her half-finished meal and dumps it in one of the bins.

  Evan reaches for her. “Hey.”

  Sarah pushes him away. “I’m sorry. I’ll be working out at the gym.”

  Evan sighs. “I’m sorry about her behavior.”

  I smile as best I can. “It’s okay. I’m useless, after all.”

  Evan seems to be deep in thought. Then his eyes light up. “But I heard you have a genius IQ.”

  “Genius? No one ever told me that.”

  “What, you didn’t get your intelligence stat when you got your card?”

  “I did,” I say. “I even made a comment about it during my draft.”

  “Your stat is fifteen,” says Evan. “That’s means you’re as smart as a genius.”

  “I… That won’t help me in a dungeon. My strength and dex are much lower than average.”

  Evan takes a bite of his chicken patty. He chews, thinking. “Some day that intelligence might save you.”

  I shake my head.

  Evan shrugs. “Well, it’s good to be humble.”

  I turn towards my food. It’s a Salisbury steak with mashed potatoes and canned beans. I start picking at it. I’m not that hungry, but I force myself to eat. I notice Evan has finished his food yet hasn’t gotten up. I get the sense that he wants to keep talking.

  “You’re young,” he finally says. “I was seventeen when I got accepted here.”

  I hadn’t noted the ages of the people around me when I was Awakened, but I did notice there were a considerable number of people older than me at the draft. “Does that make me special?”

  Evan raises one shoulder. “It’s up to you.”

  I shake my head. “I think that just gives me a handicap. I don’t have as much life experience as everyone else, and I also haven’t received the same schooling.”

  Evan lays his hand on my shoulder. “I understand you. I’m the youngest person to ever receive a fourth-degree black belt in Taekwondo from my studio. I really felt that weighing on me for years.”

  I feel a little better, though impressed better describes my mental state. “What club are you in?”

  Evan finishes the last of his chicken and clatters his spoon on his plate. “The Taekwondo club, of course.” He looks at his watch. “Speaking of which, I have to be there in fifteen minutes.” He gets up, sliding his tray off the table. “If you ever want to talk about anything, you can reach me in room 4013. Just knock before you enter.”

  “Thanks.” I really am appreciative of his advice. I feel like, among the members of the Riding Valkyries, I will get along with him best.

  I finish my meal in silence — Rick refrains from speaking — and get up to head to Dr. Barrimore’s lab. Rick gives me a single nod as I pick up my tray.

  After cleaning up, I take the elevator to Dr. Barrimore’s office. It’s a nondescript room on one of the floors dedicated to housing faculty, and it used to be a chemistry lab. I knock on the door.

  “Come in,” says Dr. Barrimore.

  I enter.

  “Ah, yes, you’re just in time. I heard you were selected by the Riding Valkyries.”

  I nod. “I don’t know much about them. I’ve never even heard of them before.”

  Dr. Barrimore raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t do your research?”

  “I did! It’s just that they don’t appear on TV or any of the aggregate web sites. When I did my research, I didn’t find a thing about them! They weren’t mentioned anywhere!”

  “They are indeed small, but I think that will suit you better. I gave you a very positive letter of recommendation to the draft committee, and an even more positive one to Tuffman. Perhaps I should have told you about it?”

  I smile a bit. Dr. Barrimore is to thank for me being placed at all. “No, I liked it better as a surprise. I’m just happy that any guild accepted me. The candidate before me wasn’t selected. She was really messed up about it.”

  Dr. Barrimore’s perpetual frown softens. “I don’t like the draft format, it leaves so many people disappointed after publicly putting them on the line, but I can’t do anything to change it.” He unlocks the door to the lab, separated from his office. “Well, then, shall we begin where we left off?” He smiles a little — I’ve only ever seen him do that before in his lab. The comment about the draft system seems to be weighing on him, so it wasn’t as bright as usual.

  I know what to do; I’ve been doing it for a month. I get into my lab gear and head for the lab’s far side.

  The wall is lined with terrariums containing the dungeon equivalent of lab mice — red slimes. The slimes meander around their little homes, absorbing the last of the little bug bits I fed them yesterday. I reach into a sack containing more bug bits — ick — and feed the whole wall, one terrarium at a time.

  By the time I’m done, Dr. Barrimore has set up the Spirit Ring reader with a system of magic he encountered while on a furlough in Japan. The Spirit Ring reader is a complicated device covered in open wires. Installed laser technology reads the effects of spirit and psion interactions. A paper talisman containing Chinese characters sits in the center of the device’s operating table. The talisman is a substitute for a human, an inAnimate object that is capable of absorbing Spirit Circles. Dr. Barrimore is the only one in this school who uses one. It’s not a secret; it’s just that most research done here doesn’t require a human substitute in this capacity. Not to mention, with our very tight budget it is useful that all a talisman takes is a piece of paper and some Kanji lettering.

  “Find me a six-year slime.” Dr. Barrimore is already immersed in the output filling the console screen.

  I look at the labels on the terrariums and find the one so labeled. I use a special pair of slime tongs — kind of like noodle strainers attached to long chopsticks — and pick up the specimen. I bring it over to the talisman and place it in a special holding tank. I’m not exactly sure what Dr. Barrimore is trying to prove here — it’s too technical for me to understand — but I do know that what is about to occur will be amazingly cool.

  The slime bumbles around for a bit before settling down at the east corner of the holding pen. Dr. Barrimore makes some notes. He then turns a big dial on the side of the machine. A high-power laser shoots out from a divot on the machine’s interior, vaporizing the slime in a puff of goo. A kernel of light rises from the remains.

  “O great light in the heavens, please allow my proxy to absorb this gift from the gods,” says Dr. Barrimore, holding his hands out in prayer.

  The kernel of light turns into a ring about a foot in diameter and decorated with ancient, inscrutable lettering. Its complex webbing pulsates with light.

  It’s like watching gold glitter, or the aftereffects of a Disneyland fireworks show. Veins of bright light twist through the webbing and energy explodes from every rune. All this from a six-year Spirit Ring! But it was a beautiful, impressive display to very little effect. Any good Adventurer would turn their nose up at it in a dungeon setting. The only thing it’s good for is spirit cheese. Even so, I can’t get enough of it. I watch as the circle is absorbed by the talisman, becoming a rotating Saturn-esque adornment.

  Dr. Barrimore nods, appears pleased, and the experiments continue. Six hours later, the clocks announce midnight. Dr. Barrimore allows me to leave.

  I take the elevator down to the sub floor to the shooting club. When I arrive, Rey is leaning against the wall. “So you really came.”

  I nod.

  She sighs. “I made a bet with my brother about whether or not you would. I guess I owe him twenty bucks now.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  Rey shrugs. “I dunno. I really haven’t worked with anyone crazy enough to sacrifice sleep for practice. I’m pretty much the only one who cares enough about the sport for that.”

  “So you’re used to working nights?”

  “I’m
a champion. I have to defend my title.”

  I nod. This is one girl I can empathize with. Hard work makes everything better. “You can teach me, then.”

  Rey nods back.

  We practice shooting until the wee hours of the morning. Finally I head to my room and sleep for maybe three hours before class starts again.

  Two weeks pass. My time is divided between classes, Dr. Barrimore’s lab, and practicing on the range. I sleep maybe four to six hours a night. I don’t have to study much, so I have more free time.

  Two weeks after I get drafted, the Riding Valkyries get a dungeon assignment. It’s a D-class, which I learned about in General Spirit Theory.

  Basically, dungeons are classified by how much spiritual and psionic interference they put out. The classes are rated F, E, D, C, B, A, S, and SS+. The scale is a logarithmic one, meaning that a D-class is ten times as powerful as an E-class. It’s called the Mallory Scale. The more powerful a dungeon’s emissions, the more powerful its monsters and traps.

  F-class portals usually contain monsters that a child can beat. These monsters are little more than the animals one would find outside. Not even like a lion. More like a moose. You know, it’s possible to be killed by a moose, but you’d have to be stupid or unlucky to die that way. E-class dungeons contain monsters as dangerous as a lion, and also have between one and three boss monsters. They also never contain more than three levels. D-class dungeons can have up to five levels and the monsters are equivalent to hippos. It’s a factoid that hippos are the most dangerous animal, by kill number, in the world. C-class dungeons are dangerous enough to kill about ten percent of all adventurers who enter them. We’re lucky that they only appear one in fifty opened portals. B-class portal dungeons kill forty percent but are only one in a hundred. An A-class kills sixty percent but are only one in five hundred. S-class portal dungeons have been known, more often than not, to wipe out entire guilds. Luckily for us, very few of them have ever opened. They’re also the reason Hawaii has a two-hundred-kilometer exclusion zone around it. SS+ is a theoretical maximum, and if a portal of this power opened, it would mean the end of the world.