by Yi Zhu
“It’s almost over,” Manus reminded. “Then we don’t have to worry about this for another year.”
“Long live the Empire,” Triton muttered.
“Long live the emperor,” Manus corrected.
The announcer’s voice flowed into the room. “The final round is about to begin, the barrier is down, and the battle for—”
A gut-wrenching scream interrupted the announcement, and the siblings turned to see the orphan from Zone 1409 spring into action.
NO! NO, NO, NO! Vince’s face heated up with anger as the flames of fury burnt away all restraint. He charged directly into a larger opponent, but Vince no longer cared. His friend was dead; his ugly, stupid, brutish, but loyal friend now lay motionless on the dirty arena floor. And the person responsible was within reach, breathing heavily and struggling to stand.
A small part of Vince fought to maintain control and composure, but his body moved with a will of its own. Without the awareness to plan and coordinate, Vince found himself rapidly closing the gap with his enemy. What zone was this person from? I don’t care. Vince’s thoughts became fragmented as the adrenaline rush kicked into full gear.
Something about the taller boy’s face seemed strange to Vince, and the image begged for him to slow down. But it was way too late; there was no stopping Vince as all the sensations of pain began fading away. Without any hint of hesitation, Vince whipped out his fist and swung toward his target’s nasal bridge.
The brutish enemy dodged the attack, and a powerful fist hit Vince right on the rib. Though Vince felt the punch throughout his entire body, he felt no pain. Undeterred, he swung forth, landing a satisfying kick on the back of the taller boy’s knee. As his opponent buckled from the attack, another punch struck Vince right in the arm. Once again, he felt no pain, but the damaged limb felt a lot less responsive.
Vince’s mind wrestled for control, and the same image of the tall boy’s face surfaced. Why does it matter? Vince quickly shook away the flicker of doubt and continued his assault. A powerful backhand landed on his left jaw and sent him reeling to the ground. As he struggled to claw his way up, Vince lifted his head, and looked into the eyes of his dead friend. Then, with another flare of anger, his mind lost what little control it had managed to cling to.
“Impressive,” Katherine mused. She had dropped her bag of snacks in excitement earlier, when the shorter orphan screamed out. “He is fighting like a wild animal. I can’t believe he actually bit him.”
Zed watched helplessly as Vince slowly lost his mind in the arena below. From the Wolf’s actions, Zed surmised that the dead orphan had been important to Vince somehow.
“I wonder,” Katherine said out loud while scratching her head, “with him going berserk and pumping himself full of adrenaline, he might actually have a fighting chance. Do orphans train themselves to snap like that?”
If Zed wasn’t so focused on the match at the moment, he was certain he would have slapped or spat in the elitist girl’s direction. You, all of you, are the real animals.
The crowd around him cheered time and time again as Vince dove into the melee without any consideration for his own personal well-being. With each successful hit either combatant landed, each fighter took tremendous punishment in return. Though Zed was no stranger to pain, he was sure the amount of beating Vince had taken so far would have knocked Zed out of commission a dozen times over.
“No way!” Katherine screamed out and poked her head over the rails in an attempt to get an even closer look. “That’s disgusting; he spat blood on the other guy’s face.”
Sure enough, Zed watched as Vince scored another kick behind the knee on the blinded opponent. With savage fury, Vince pounced and brought the taller boy to the ground. No, don’t do it, Vince! YOU ALREADY WON!
The image of his opponent’s interesting expression popped up once more, as some semblance of reason returned to Vince’s mind. No, I must keep punching, Vince told himself as his knuckles met flesh with sickening frequency. Something felt different about the battle, and it took him a moment to realize his opponent was no longer fighting back.
“Stop! He is almost dead!” a vaguely familiar voice shouted out and finally registered in Vince’s mind, standing out among the sea of cheers and encouragements that showered down from above.
Without the constant return fire to maintain his heightened state, the adrenaline rush began to come to an end. All the pain he had been able to shove aside rushed back in a tidal wave of sensation, and Vince staggered. Luckily, his reason came back with the suppressed trauma. I can control my body now, but why am I not stopping? A feeling of unease filled his body.
What was so curious about his expression?
Finally, the realization froze Vince in his tracks. He looked down at his opponent, and barely recognized the face now swollen and bleeding profusely. He was crying. Slowly, Vince got up off of the defeated orphan. He had been crying, and shaking. He hadn’t meant to do it.
The revelation quickly turned his anger into grief, and the will to fight fled him completely. Minzy.
Vince tried to take a step toward his dead friend, and his legs gave way under him. An intense pain shot up his right arm as Vince barely broke the fall. Determined to see Minzy up close once again, Vince continued on all fours, and crawled, inch by inch. Tears of anguish trickled down the lumps on his cheeks and over his numerous cuts. His right leg was completely useless, and his upper body started to fail him.
Still, he soldiered on. Even if this exertion would kill him, Vince was determined to see it through. After what felt like eternity, he reached the lifeless form of the Dragon enforcer.
Vince looked down at Minzy’s bruised face, and couldn’t help but choke back sad laughter. For the first time since Vince could remember, Minzy actually appeared to be at peace. There was something wonderful about Minzy’s expression, something beautiful.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, the Martial Recruit, Vince from Zone 1409!” the announcer cried out with exuberance.
The coliseum erupted with cheers, and people began standing up and shouting Vince’s name.
My name.
“He appears to be frozen in shock at the tragic loss of the representative of Zone 1406,” the announcer added as an afterthought.
No, you won’t.
“Minzy!” Vince howled with all his strength. “His name is Minzy!”
A few of the revelers fell silent with discomfort.
“Minzy! His name is Minzy!” Vince cried out over and over again. Let them feel the pain in my heart, even if just a fragment of it. As Vince continued to scream, the cheers all around died down, bit by bit.
By the time Vince lost his voice completely, an eerie silence filled the Grand Coliseum.
“Minzy,” Vince whispered one last time, and lay, sobbing softly, over the body of his friend.
Up in the stands, Zed stood silently like all those around him. His head filled to the brim with chills from the scene that unfolded below, and Zed shivered. He managed to silence thousands with his pain, and overcome seemingly impossible odds.
Next to Zed, Katharine grimaced. “How rude; what a spoilsport,” she complained loudly. But from the corner of his eye, Zed saw the subtle tremble in her movements. “Defiant to the core; I can’t wait to see him at the Academy,” she seethed, with all the sarcasm she could muster.
Zed nodded his head. Defiant to the core. I can’t wait to see him at the Academy.
Chapter 24: Riftborn
Sawyn stared north across the toxic river known as the Great Divide, at the industrial zone on the other side. Enormous metal pipes protruded off the sides of the gray factories and funneled the Fye byproducts directly into the already-poisonous waters. According to the book in her hand, each factory could supply almost ten thousand people with all of their household needs, or in the time of war, produce dozens of techno-gear per day.
Ever since she had snatched the text from the Southern Embassy, she had read it cover to c
over so many times that the picture on the front looked worn out. A small twig functioned as a bookmark, and it remained always on Chapter 13: Riftborn.
That’s what I am, Sawyn thought to herself. When she first got to that chapter, she had dropped the book in shock. The increased strength after exposure to Fye, her loss of memories, and the fact that the door in the embassy had failed to work with her leaning against it. All of it was explained in less than two dozen pages. In a single afternoon, she had managed to learn much about herself.
Initially, Sawyn was filled with joy as she scrolled through the pages. But as she approached the end of the information, the pictures sent shivers down her spine. When a Riftborn gets discovered by the empire, he or she will be bound and enslaved. If she wasn’t careful, that would be her fate as well: to be chained like a rabid animal.
Sawyn looked down at a tiny puddle of Alchemical waste on the ground, and poked a finger in it. She closed her eyes, and wished for the sticky sensation to disappear. When Sawyn sneaked a peek, the puddle remained the same texture. Damn it, now I just got my finger all gross. According to the stupid book, she should be able to break down and absorb the impurities, but so far, she had succeeded less than half of the time. It also said that with enough training, manifestation of her Riftborn abilities would no longer require physical contact. “Under the guidance of a trainer, these rare beings can be tamed, and have their powers amplified exponentially.”
Where am I supposed to find a trainer? Sawyn thought, and kicked a pebble into the river out of frustration.
A hand tapped Sawyn on the shoulder, and she turned around, smiling. “Hey, Fen.”
The nervous boy shifted his weight around compulsively and swallowed. “I, erm, it’s time to eat. I just came to, erm.”
“Thank you,” Sawyn replied with a kind smile.
The boy opened his mouth, as if about to say something else, then, after taking a deep breath, he turned back and headed down the street, back toward the orphanage.
Alone again, Sawyn looked back toward the dirty water. The men from the embassy had allowed her to choose any orphanage she wanted, and Sawyn had decided on the one closest to the border. It was a childish sentiment, but she wanted to be as close to Zed as possible.
A few days ago, a sly man with extremely white teeth stopped by and gave the elder in charge of the house a large sum of money on behalf of her brother. She had no doubt that both of the adults had pocketed a liberal portion for themselves, but the food and living conditions around her had improved drastically. After all, once her brother became an Elite, there would be hell to pay if they kept all the money without his knowledge. Ever since that day, the children all treated her with awe and respect, as if she had personally provided them with fresh produce and clean beds.
I’ll come find you, Brother.
Sometimes, Sawyn felt the urge to plunge into the river and swim north. Although she could probably swim the whole width of the river in minutes, the toxicity was the main issue. If I can just somehow unlock my abilities, I would be able to survive the journey.
With another regretful look at the Great Divide, Sawyn headed back to the orphanage for dinner.
Sawyn arrived at the Yellow Soil Orphanage in minutes, to find the meal already in progress. Though this shelter would never replace home in her heart, it was a safe place to be. Or so she hoped.
Triton lay peacefully in the royal bedchamber, his back propped up by several pillows. To his left stood Manus, in his usual combat attire. To Triton’s right stood Emelia, back straight and at the ready.
“Report,” Triton demanded. His relaxed posture did nothing to diminish his commanding aura.
The supreme general saluted respectfully. “Captain Siera finally tracked down the traitor, Lucien; he was holed up in a fortress in Zone 511 with his personal army. Thankfully, no other Elites were willing to take his side against Your Majesty,” she reported.
“Army? How large?” Triton asked.
“Six dozen non-elite Alchemists inside the fortress itself, with eight thousand Techno-soldiers stationed nearby,” Emelia answered with a hint of pride in her voice.
Of course, she’s enjoying her victory, Triton thought with exasperation. While he fully respected her power and efficiency, sometimes the casual bloodlust she displayed disturbed him. Good luck with that, Brother. “Casualties?”
Manus nodded. “We didn’t engage the Techno-soldiers, but assaulted the main structure directly. Three of my Elite envoys were injured, and two Specialists dead.”
“Astonishingly low for a battle that size,” Triton commended. Despite the sizable price tag the Specialists commanded, they were much cheaper to replace than Elites. Triton felt a twinge of guilt for so easily accepting the loss of his subjects, but he was being practical.
Manus bowed. “I took the liberty of mobilizing the three Royal Riftborns. Along with Neruby, the four of them provided support against enemy alchemists, and made the direct assault a simple affair.
“And a lot less fun,” Emelia commented with a smirk, some of her professional composure slipping away.
Triton choked back a cough.
“As much as I hate to admit it, that Lucien put up quite a fight,” Emelia continued and chose to ignore Triton’s disapproving expression. “I guess even the worst in the class had to learn something at the Academy.”
Manus cleared his throat loudly. “After we captured Lucien, the ground troops surrendered.”
Over all, well executed, Triton thought with relief. Though none of them were willing to admit it, if the assassination attempt on Manus had proved successful, Lucien might have succeeded in gathering support from the other Elites. The resulting coup would have been disastrous. Eight thousand, right under my nose. Triton’s hold on the empire seemed to be deteriorating rapidly, and Lucien’s failure would only deter others for a few years, at most.
Triton pulled Manus closer. “What’s the distribution of the graduates this year?”
Manus took a moment to sift through his memories. “Aside from the Elites who are assuming various official posts or delving into research, all of the freelance Elites have pledged their services to the crown.” That was a great start, but the emperor’s influence must be absolute, especially if a succession might happen soon. “I want you to go through the Academy graduation list and recruit every single Specialist, Scholar, and Fist to our cause. Expanding our influence is top priority; hike up the tax rates as needed. If protests occur, you know how to handle it.”
“It will take a while.” Manus nodded. “But consider it done.”
“Meanwhile,” Triton turned to Emelia, “I want you to take as many people as you deem necessary and comb through the Southern Kingdom for Riftborns.”
With a salute toward Triton and a wink at Manus, Emelia took her leave.
“Nesting already, Brother? Is it getting that bad?” Manus asked as the door swung shut once again.
There’s Manus again, always hiding behind the jokes, Triton thought sadly as he shook his head. “Unrest is growing more frequent nowadays; the gaps between each insurrection are rapidly closing.”
Manus nodded gravely. “You must fight on, then, Brother.”
Triton closed his eyes, and dismissed Manus from the room. Part of him yearned to ask his brother one more favor, but it never felt like the right time. When the young Darius finally ascended the throne, the new emperor would need a strong Shadow for support.
Ever since Triton’s own coronation, he had watched his brother turn from a brash, young hothead into a serious, pensive protector. Manus had said that it was a natural transformation that came with age, but Triton knew better. While his brother was undeniably the best man for the job, there was a part of Triton that always regretted taking away so many years of Manus’s life. How can I ask him to continue to live such a life of crushing responsibility?
The pain nagged at Triton’s side, as if reminding him of his duty. Triton winced and shifted on the bed. Sometimes,
the burden of rule suffocated him. Why won’t this pain go away? I would take it all back if I could.
Chapter 25: Healing
Vince was sinking, and he didn’t know why. He looked all around him, yet found nothing.
No matter how hard he tried, he could never snap out of this particular dream.
Two apparitions appeared before him, and immediately locked one another in combat. Vince blinked his eyes, and one of the faces became Minzy’s.
This is my chance! Vince attempted to assist his friend and took a step forward, right into an invisible wall.
Frustrated, he slammed his body against the barrier. The chill of the obstacle seared his skin, and Vince recoiled in pain. Desperate, he scanned the area, and came up with no solution. This is my chance, damn it!
The fight on the other side escalated, and with it, Vince’s frustration. He looked down toward the ground and tore at his hair. A loud crunch made Vince look up, just in time to see Minzy hit the ground.
NO! Vince pushed hard against the barrier, and felt the air around him shimmer. Though he failed to make progress, the shimmering intensified. The space distorted around him, and Vince kept up his advance. Suddenly, a feeling of nausea washed over him, and the invisible barrier began giving way. Inch by inch, Vince moved forward.
The freezing temperature made Vince close his eyes as he moved, and with one final stabbing pain in his head, he broke through to the other side. Without the resistance, he collapsed on top of something solid. When Vince opened his eyes, Minzy’s cold, dead gaze was all he saw. The same blind rage flared once more, except this time, it brought with it immense heat. For a brief second, the world around him caught on fire. Then, just as quickly, everything faded away.