“My understanding is you're to be an operator?” Yana babbled, absentmindedly toying with the headset atop the table. Her fingers skidded across the gray in color feathery light contours in search of any buttons or seams alike. Instead, holographic icons flip-flapped and enlivened to animation. “How did the technology come from lumpish wires to loony tunes motorcycle helmets? The fuck's this?”
“A virtual reality headset,” Larissa remarked, her arms folded. “It connects you to the Arcanaverse. You want me to tell you about that too?”
“VR, yes? Oh hell nah. Not sure games carry much significance when the real world is a zombie survival shooter copypasta.” Yana visibly lost interest in the headset, setting it aside, and grabbed the glasses beside it, fingering them. Both the dark edges and barely seeable frames felt light in her hands, wafer-thin.
Wasn't she asking about that warcraft thing a moment before? How fickle can a person's mind be… Larissa sighed at the ridiculousness of her predicament. Why was she even going along with this stupid play of her sister? Maybe because, unlike usual, Yana was the very personification of optimism. Or just overly cynical? Larissa couldn’t pinpoint the right extreme. Was there no middle ground that embodied both?
“Let me guess. Did I wear these to look pretty despite having perfect eyesight?” Yana asked, spinning the glasses in between her fingers as though it were a pen.
“These are oracleyes, not just regular glasses,” Larissa snatched the pair of oracleyes from her sister's hands, then, stepping to the right, bent and plopped the glasses onto Yana's head from behind, against her temples. “For augmented reality. Basically an alternative for phones but better. Way better. With more functionality.”
The very moment they settled, quantum lights quivered back and forth. “Shit, nostalgic. Like a progress bar on a computer loading screen,” Yana said, mesmerized by the simple technology, its silvery letters arranged in a minimalistic interface.
Soon enough, they stilled, and the world before her shimmed. An almost transparent menu effectuated before her.
“Señorita, the lack of sleep is terribly-terribly bad for your growing body~” An erotically manly voice assaulted Yana’s ears. She looked up and saw an annoying, pesky little fairy.
“Hell’s this?” Yana asked. “Can you see this shit?”
“Yes, I can. Your oracleyes are in public mode… and I don’t need to wear a pair since the technology is incorporated into my eyes… In any case…” Larissa stammered, her eyes wide. “It seems to be an Assistant you’ve personally customized…” Larissa scrutinized the AI with her hazel eyes. “I never knew you had such tastes. I always thought you were more into elves… or anything that remotely represents your boyfriend… ex-boyfriend…”
They stared at the oily figure of a muscular fairy. His ebony skin fouldered. Amber curls snowed over his high forehead and ruby eyes to beside his chiseled jawline. Each strand of hair dribbled with molten gold, the same fulgid his dragonfly wings teemed with.
On his bare chest hung a collar of leaflike silverwork with even moreso shining rubies accentuating his eyes. At his waist hung a girdle of crimsony textile, gilded threads gliding as he levitated. Tattoos of fervid serpents entwisted and slithered up his forearms. Where the tails ended, they merged with similarly chromatic gauntlets enframing his hands and wrists.
“That look! Why so angry, Señorita? Oh, how harsh! How have this humble Romeo ever wronged you, my hope, my Juliet, my sole solace in this dark and lonely world—”
“Fuck this shit.” Yana clenched the oracleyes and vehemently slammed them onto the wall. “Enough fuckery for the day. Let's get to the topic at hand, shall we? When is the military, and why are you scared shitless? Didn't you say operators operate those huge robots— wardens? Aren't you, like, safe inside it?”
“To put it bluntly, I don’t have any remarkable talent,” Larissa said, once again projecting lights onto the wall.
Wood 20%
Earth 20%
Water 20%
Fire 19%
Metal 18%
Miasma 3%
“Our vessels are composed of five elements. Also impurities — miasma. These are my elemental alignments and miasma level,” she said, pointing at the wall. “To become an operator, the percentages for each element need to range between eighteen and twenty-two, with miasma of three or under. The lesser, the better.”
She carried on, “We’ll both be sent to the military quarters the day after tomorrow. Our lives will turn into hell. As for me, if I fail to meet the standards during the military training, which with my miasma will be the likely scenario, I’ll be sent to the South. A warzone.”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“Oh, I see. If my lost memories I somehow just discovered serve me right, nineteen percent is the average. The more you stray from the number nineteen, the more uncommon your alignment with a specific element becomes,” Yana whispered with her elbow slouched on the table’s surface, chin resting on the back of her hand. “What about me? Do you know my alignments and what I’m presumed to become?”
Larissa blinked. Even if she were to be possessed by someone from the pre-apocalyptic era, I think she wouldn’t know about what she just said… The projection blurred as the numbers switched.
Wood 66%
Earth 3%
Water 3%
Fire 16%
Metal 2%
Miasma 10%
“You’re to be an exceptional mage, of course.”
“What’s exceptional about it?” Yana asked, locking eyes with Larissa’s.
“You told yourself that the most likely alignment a person can get with a specific element is nineteen, and the less likely the probabilities are of further straying away from it.” Larissa pointed a finger up like a tutor, only lacking in glasses. “So, while getting numbers like eighteen or twenty is as per usual, lucking in on sixty-six as you did is extremely rare.”
“Look:”
(EA — Elemental Alignment)
+70% EA — S-grade talent
+60% EA — A-grade talent
+50% EA — B-grade talent
+40% EA — C-grade talent
+30% EA — D-grade talent
+20% EA — E-grade talent
+10% EA — F-grade talent
“I suppose with the population the Earth has, it'd be considered pretty fucking rare…” Yana muttered, scratching the blood off her stomach.
“That's why you have been doted on by Father since your birth—”
“And you were being treated like a bastard. I get it,” Yana finished for her, waving her hand in a dismissive manner. “It is what it is. Many have tried to achieve equality, but it is but a mirage, Lis. A path with a dead end.”
“Easier for you to say…” Larissa bickered.
“Is it really?” Yana asked, sweeping her hands along the graphic tablet that stood beside the VR headset. “There are those with abnormal elemental alignment above the seventies, no? Compared to them, purely on the basis of talent, who am I but a pebble? Similarly, there are countless people below me. Below us. You can complain eternally or strive for the best with whatever you've got in your hands. So — do your best to surpass yourself, okay? I'll always be fucking smarter, and stronger, and sexier than you are.”
Larissa frowned, baffled at the level of narcissism. “Stronger? Fine. Prettier? Arguable. But smarter? But smarter?!? Especially with all the miasma you've got. Ha!”
“See for yourself:”
0% Miasma — Psychopathy
1-3% Miasma — Clarity
4-6% Miasma — Sanity
7-10% Miasma — Instability
11-14% Miasma — Insanity
+15% Miasma — Monstrosity
“An individual, on average, has impurities of five percent. Possessing a miasma of seven isn’t half bad, as one at least gets qualified to become a demolisher. But ten?” Larissa scoffed. “You're borderline insane, you do realize that, dear sister, don't you?”
“Just because I'm considered a tad bit unhinged by these lousy standards you dumb fucks have set doesn't necessarily mean I'm stupid. That's a stereotype. All I see is an F-grade talent for miasma, which is pretty impressive. Means I can delve deeper into the dungeons without giving a single fuck, no?” Yana grabbed the stylus beside the tablet before tapping it against the screen as a blank canvas appeared.
“F-grade talent for Miasma? Miasma is not an element,” Larissa said begrudgingly. “You say to accept our misgivings as they are but are not obliging to it yourself. Accept it!”
Yana examined the various digital brushes as she drew random lines. “Drawing, is it? Well, why not? An interesting hobby. Should give it a go, perhaps. Whaddya think? How old are we, by the way? I look about twenty, and you around thirty, so I can't quite tell.”
While she was engrossed in her sketches, no answer came from the back for a while.
“Thirty…” Larissa finally muttered to herself. Thirty. Thirty, she says. Hahaha, thirty….
“What? That’s a compliment if you didn't catch on,” Yana tsked. “Wow wow, why are you so worked up, Lala? Did my humble opinion hurt you? Does looking young matter to you? Oh well, maybe for some, you'd look younger, if you care so much. So don't despair. Besides, some desperate guys fuck anything as long as it has a hole in it.”
Thirty. Thirty. Thirty. Thirty. “Thirty?!”
“I'm fucking eighteen in a week's time!” Larissa slapped Yana with full force.
“Oh, haha…” Yana gasped, itching the back of her head. She smiled awkwardly.
An awkward silence fell.
“I'm sorry, kid. Truly so very sorry—”
“Go get a shower! You reek of death! Then go back to sleep after I clean this mess you’ve caused!” Larissa shot one word after the other, seething like a hot kettle. “The next time you kill yourself do it properly!”
“Yes, I love you too.” Yana stood and stammered toward the door as it slid open. “But… where in the fuck is the shower again?”
“Find it yourself! I don't care! Die!”