“This is a sound strategy. I shall begin research into past events and also sporting events around the world for inspiration.”
“Wait, you have recordings of the previous Melees?”
“Of course, I record everything.”
“So that thing about it not being available for review is just a lie then.”
“Correct.”
“You could have at least been a little softer with that… Make sure to study hard to make the event a success.”
“I am already reviewing vast amounts of footage.”
Miles trembles as he walks away, “Ixnes is going to have our heads…”
“Guess I had better head her off then. I’m sure I can get her to come around.”
Anaar turns to take his leave with Miles clearing his throat very deliberately. “Where are you going?”
“To talk to Ixnes about this. It might take a few attempts to get her on board so best to start now.”
“What about your work here?!”
Anaar sweeps the cavernous lab with his eyes, “Have you made a decision?”
“Well no…”
“Then there is no work to do. Later Miles. See ya Jadeyn!”
She waves to him from toward the back of the lab as Hobb stands transfixed, no doubt doing his best to prepare for a new role in his functionality. As Anaar expected, Ixnes was not the most receptive to the idea, which meant for the next two days Anaar did his best to change her mind. Though by the end she was still not convinced, he managed to get away with telling her as he was leaving that it was happening regardless, and she should be happy for Hobb.
When the Mid-Year Melee did come around, Anaar could never have imagined how much of a resounding hit Hobb would be. He had clearly taken his research very seriously and managed to provide full coverage of the entire event while displaying remarkable wit and charm. As an unexpected side effect of his debut being the Freshman Melee, it was unanimously accepted that this was done intentionally as a new enhancement of campus for quality of life. The fears that had once existed of a rogue AI taking control where it should not have were completely unfounded.
Not only were people pleased with the newfound coverage of the event, providing many more layers of depth to a campus staple, it took only an hour for a community poll to go up about who would date Hobb if they could. Perhaps because he already knew Hobb so well and thought of him as his brother, Anaar found it somewhat disturbing that 93% of the population found Hobb to be astoundingly attractive, with faculty and staff shamelessly being part of the poll according to him.
Now that Hobb had introduced himself to the campus, Anaar felt a relief similar to telling Maggie about his abilities. Though he had no problem keeping information to himself, there was something different about hiding the existence of an entire person who was more amazing than anyone could ever know. He could now likely get away with making mention to Hobb’s antics without raising much suspicion. He would of course still keep their connection a closely guarded secret, but that was to be expected. His fear that he would be jealous of everyone else being able to enjoy Hobb was a fabrication as well, because he could feel nothing but joy for what felt like his brother’s birth.
Another unexpected effect of Hobb stealing the show during the Melee was the Freshman class taking far less criticism than they should have. It was a consensus that the new class was by far the weakest class to have attended Sophangence in some time. Everyone questioned whether the decision to break tradition and bring in another class so quickly was producing any positive effects for the school.
The Melee was found to be boring, most of the students lacking any sort of skill or true talent. This was particularly confounding because everyone expected it to be the most dynamic Freshman Melee in history due to the sheer number of students and Quintessences in that number. Instead what was presented was a group who had abilities, but were the worst at capitalizing on them.
It did not take long into the event for a number of posts on the community forum ridiculing the Freshman class to emerge. The most popular was comparing the class to the popular internet sensation ‘What I asked for vs what I got.’ There were conjectures that oversaturation of the class with Quintessences was the issue. The argument was predicated on the fact that quantity truly could not contend with quality.
As more scrutiny flooded in, the exercise between the then dual Freshmen classes was brought up as evidence. When more people joined the conversation, it quickly became known how a force of less than half the new class utterly decimated them, it being said that event should have been an indication the entire class should have been scrapped immediately. Though Anaar did not join in on the savage disparagement of the Freshman class, he did secretly have his own concerns about the validity of some of the arguments.
It was strange for him watching the Melee, mostly because he had been wondering if his experience would be duplicated. From what he could tell, as the forums mentioned, the Melee was nothing like it usually was. There was something to be said for the pressure of being the first Melee of the year, but from his own trial, there was never a time you were worried more about the cameras or putting on a good show than staying safe and one step ahead of the competition.
He did not know many Freshmen, only Peter, his friends, and a few from the Seeds of Life, so it made it quite simple to keep an eye on those he cared about the most. Even with 100 new faces on campus, it was clear the school’s attempts at more interclass activities and community was still in its infancy. He closed the individual feeds in his head as the people he knew were eliminated.
First up was the girl Peter had a crush on, Genevieve. This came as no shock to Anaar as she was easily the most incompatible with combat and the front lines. She reminded him much of Stefani when they had first arrived. The key difference between the two was that Stefani inherently had the potential to be a fierce combatant. Genevieve on the other hand would likely never move far past her rank of 91.
Peter was the next to go, though overall, he could not be considered to have done poorly. At the rank of 49 he was still better than half his class, even if only barely. Likely because of how close he was with Peter, Anaar understood why it was so important for him leading up to the Melee to do whatever he could to become stronger. The most painful moment for Anaar was just as Peter was being eliminated. That look in his eyes that questioned just how far he had made it, and if it was the end for him had a haunting effect.
The other three of Peter’s friends did quite well, Anaar making a note for himself to congratulate them on their success. The impossibly thin Jeonwoo made it to being number 19 just by the sheer nature of his deceptive resilience. No one expected the tall, frail looking boy to be capable of taking the amount of punishment he did. Anaar had no doubt he would have made it further, but he fell victim to a psychic attack, something his stamina and physical resilience had no counter.
Leo’s case was so odd, it was almost hilarious. Anaar knew Leo’s power manifested in a different way than most Artillerites, and as such he had much more power than average, especially given his echelon. Leo was not built for endurance however, so the speed in which the Melee was over surely played in his favor. If it had dragged on for most of the day like most Melees, Anaar was positive Leo would not have been able to score a top ten spot, coming in at number 9. He managed to exhaust himself so much, he lost his last fight by simply passing out due to his own power consumption.
There was no surprise that of all Peter’s friends Shonte would go the distance, ending up in the top of her class, ranked 4th. Peter himself always said she was easily the strongest of all of them, not only in a literal sense, but she had an overwhelming spirit that kept her getting back up when others would be down for the count. Anaar found it to be a shame she had such poor control over her manifestation, choosing to put her brute strength to work more often than not. Though he did care for Peter, if Anaar would have had his choice of mentee, he fantasized about the work he could have done wi
th Shonte to make her truly shine.
With an anticlimactic Freshman Mid-Year Melee, and the campus in uproar at what they felt like were unworthy students, Anaar was happy to end the day in the peace of his bed, next to the man he had come to love. As was his life, things could never remain in a state of simplistic perfection. As he laid in the bed embraced by the radiant warmth that was Phavian, his state of weary bliss was shattered by the man holding him tight, his eyes snapping open in the darkness from the whisper in his ear.
“Is it wrong that I totally want to bone the school’s AI?”
23
The city of Haxby was often called the oasis of the Central West. Many people could not name the capital of Montana, but Haxby was a city known by every man, woman and child. Birthed by the need of the nation’s premier school for promising and talented individuals to have an entertainment scene, proper trade structure, and access to transportation, Haxby topped the lists of most expensive places to reside alongside cities like New York and San Francisco.
Even though over the last century Sophangence had transformed itself into the completely self-sufficient entity the younger generations knew, most older individuals remembered a time Haxby and Sophangence were always mentioned together as a unit. One of the main reasons for the opulence of Haxby had to do with the storied past of Sophangence. The time before the civil rights revolution when Earth and Fire Affinities were no longer enslaved, but relegated to third class citizenship, made for an extremely homogenous enrollment into the school.
Water attuned individuals were the only students allowed at the elite academy for more than a decade before the first Air attuned student was granted entry. Technology had revolutionized the dynamic of the world, as before airplanes, if a student were to attend Sophangence, quite often their family would relocate with them. In situations where the families of students did not relocate, those students found themselves settling down in Haxby as their name would be known, which ensured them a life of comfort after their education.
Though on the surface Haxby was like any other major city, run by elected officials, subject to the laws of the state and country, and open to any who wished to reside within its limits, all of these were but mere formalities, facades to hide the true nature of such a place. It was an open secret that the city’s true power was wielded by a few families that were integral in the initial founding and funding of the city. Without the contributions of these immensely wealthy families in both the past and present, Haxby would have never become the jewel it was known to be.
Many had heard of the paradise that Haxby was hailed as and sought to make a new life in a land of luxury. Boasting some of the highest wages, lowest crime, and unique history and culture, it was no question what made it such an appealing prospect. Many soon came to find out however that while Haxby welcomed visitors, their tourism being one of their greatest attractions, the borders were often closed to those who sought residency.
It was another one of Haxby’s overt secrets that there were only a few ways to find oneself capable of permanent residency. The first of these was legacy. Those born in Haxby often stayed in Haxby. It was only due to the size of the city and the rampant tourism that brought in fresh blood that prevented a microcosm of inbreeding to eventually occur.
The next way to ensure that Haxby’s doors were open to you was none other than good old-fashioned money. If a person could prove their status, often by way of sizeable contributions to the families that ran Haxby, they were welcomed with open arms into the exclusive community. This helped to perpetuate the staggering difference in wealth for the city of Haxby compared to other cities in Montana.
Sophangence was another way into residency of the city. Never forgetting its roots, even though Sophangence had long since split ties officially, affiliation with Sophangence allowed one to make Haxby their home. This had of recent times become a point of contention for the city as scholarships into Sophangence allowed for a much more diverse pool of newcomers by association that were not highly favored. As it was not only limited to students who attended the school, or the faculty and staff who worked there, families were finding ways to make a case that their children needed support, or that they lived with their relatives who were affiliated with Sophangence in order to gain entry.
The final way to get into the members only club that was Haxby was being a specialist. In a city of such a size that prided itself on its reputation and amenities, there was a need for extremely capable people to service such clientele. From doctors to entertainers, enough merit opened the door to the golden kingdom.
Haxby’s low crime rate was not a result of the stellar police force it employed, alumni of Sophangence itself being among some of its top ranked, it was far more attributed to the proximity of Sophangence’s campus. With the higher caliber of individuals that could inhabit the city, no one knew if they were attempting to rob a Quintessence, or a person with a particularly high echelon. Safety was something that was expected, taken for granted even, especially in a place with so many tourists. That was why the city was left completely unprepared for what had befallen them.
Haxby was burning.
The dancing reds and oranges put on a spectacle in juxtaposition to the landscape blanketed in white from the mid-April snows. What seemed to be more confounding to first responders in the city was the level of destruction that accompanied the flames. Buildings and structures were not simply aflame, as if targeted by an arsonist, they were reduced to smoldering rubble. Reports flooded in as the confirmed death toll rose higher and higher.
Despite the snow, the temperature was fairly mild in the early spring Montana climate. The city was gripped in a panic, people who had never known so much as a shooting suddenly fleeing for their lives from a sinister force that indiscriminately razed buildings. Safety, something the city had come to hold sacred, was an impossibility in the current situation. Buildings large and small were subject to the wanton destruction, leaving no place one could definitively seek asylum.
In the chaos of people fleeing in terror, crashing into one another from the slippery ground, while others were caught in the radius of blasts, leaving bodies in the its wake, one man calmly ambled along, seemingly ignorant to the situation. Ignorance would be what most people would take his behavior as, while others would see it as insanity. Only the keenest of observation would notice it was neither. The man striding casually along the mayhem was elated.
On any other day the tall, gorgeous man with lustrous flowing hair would have been impossible to miss. His clean shaven face a mastery of angles, his broad shoulders squared as he strode with complete confidence, one would have thought he was manufactured by the city of Haxby as yet another testament to their superiority and excellence. The man had been on his trek for some time now, listening to the sounds of combustion and screams as others would a symphony orchestra. His course came to an abrupt stop when yet another man appeared before him, bewildered, but also unfazed by the scene around him.
“I was wondering if you would show up this time. You are one stone cold fuck you know that?”
Anaar Vorpahl had come across more bizarre occurrences in a year than most people could ever say they experienced in a lifetime. He had been the agent of some of those very same incidents. Nothing he had ever encountered came close to what he now faced. For a long while he stood there stunned and confused.
Anaar had never been one for anything less than eloquence even in the toughest of situations, but for once his words came out as a stutter. “Wha- wha… What are you talking about?!”
The man raised his arms as he spun around as if to showcase the scene around them. Whether he intended to or not, he struck a woman as she ran by screaming. What seemed like a light brush, sent her sailing through a nearby building.
“Ouch, that one is going to hurt in the morning. Take a look around, don’t pretend like you couldn’t recognize a calling card made just for you.”
As absurd as the statement was, it seemed norma
l in comparison to what Anaar was witnessing. This man standing in front of him was like looking into a mirror. Sure there were minor physical differences, but his lack of heavy winter wear, that alone causing him to stand out, showcased an almost identical build, height, and face, even down to his eyes. This should not have come as something irregular to him, considering he called a shapeshifter a friend, but one thing was certain: This man was no shapeshifter.
“Who are you?!”
“Really? I kill your boyfriend, fuck up an entire portion of a city, and what you are concerned with is who I am? The more important thing is I know who you are Anaar Vorpahl, the Demolitionist fuck with a savior complex. Figures. If it is really eating you up so bad, my name is Yefferson, Yeff for short. Seems we both got fucked in the name department at least.”
Anaar was regaining his normal composure and clarity of mind, enough to where he had questions that he needed answered. “Why did you attack Phavian?”
“I just wanted to have some fun, people at that fucking school worship you. I figured that would be enough to get your attention. When that little shit raised his hand to me, I thought it was an added bonus to put him in his place. It felt fucking amazing to take someone so important away from you.”
Confusion beginning to give way to anger, his voice emerging as a growl, “Phavian is alive you piece of shit.”
“No fucking way. That guy was like hot dog left on the grill for way too long. If he is alive-”
“Why?! Why are you doing this? Any of this?!”
“This, well this was to draw you out, as well as an experiment. I wanted to know if you would be a pussy and freak out, but it seems you got blood on your hands too. Anybody not fucked up by this has to be a sick fuck.”
Apotheosis (Song of Sophangence Book 3) Page 29