“M-my bad, I usually keep quiet w-when I’m nervous, but I was told to try talking instead... so, I tend to end up rambling n-nonsense.” The big bull-guy, Mene-something, lowered his head in apology, chuckling awkwardly to make light of it. “I’m g-getting a lot of flack in the clan for that... and for being a mage.”
Forgetting about the beef with my sigils and my envy of the young Terr’den woman, one of the feathered ones, sitting on the bench to my left closer to the door with her 32 sigils in her Flyer Array, I instead sat there staring at him with my mouth agape. For someone as big as him to be bullied just didn’t make sense. All he had to do was punch them hard.
But then, the sad reality of this world dawned on me. Things were not as simple here as they were on Earth. Here, the World Rune Lattice bent the rules, tying people to paths they didn’t necessarily want to walk or didn’t choose to walk in the first place. The arrays were like cattle brands that people couldn’t get rid of and the sigils the rankings always on display. In a way, it was sickening, making people form an impression of you before they’ve even spoken a word to you. So, the first thing they saw when they looked at me was how well I served my master, while the big bull-guy sitting next to me stood out as a weak mage in the eyes of his clan.
‘Weak my ass! Were they blind?’
Sure, I knew that each sigil made one a little stronger - in all aspects, be it muscle or mind. Back on Earth, I could barely manage to do a few push-ups before collapsing to the ground, and now, without giving in to the mindless workout in my horrendous captivity, I felt like I would have no problem doing a few dozen. But did having twice as many sigils as the bull-guy make me stronger than him?
One look at his massive arms, and I banished the thought.
‘Maybe with the right array and weaves... ’
And that was likely the hardship he faced in his clan. Despite his beefy stature, the Lattice made the others stronger just for the path he chose. Unfair and plain sickening, for sure.
But the big Terr’den got to choose that path, unlike me.
“Y-yes?”
“Oh, s-sorry, I didn’t mean to... to stare,” I blurted out, realizing my lame blunder. “It’s just... is being a mage that bad? I know I’d give anything to be one.”
Not some hollow prattle. There was a time when I wished so hard to be a magical girl and seeing a magic trick always made my day.
“F-for a Taurus?” The bull-guy cracked a sad smile. “Yes. Yes, it is. My clan made sure I’d regret it the whole time. Not much I can do about it now, can I? Unlike you.”
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
“What do you m-mean?”
“Your s-sigils... just two more, and you can become a mage.”
Swallowing the remark about the two sigils as a Slave being simply two too many than I could bear, I forced myself to smile back. “You... you talk about the second array, right?”
To be honest, all I knew about it was that, at some point, people were able to form a second array - the point apparently being the 99 sigils engraved on the first one.
“Y-yes, indeed, the 2nd Array... I can’t wait for the day when... ” he said, falling silent abruptly as the door to the identification room opened. Out came the rodent family, clearly much happier, while the feathered couple walked in. Slowly but surely, the line thinned.
My turn was drawing near.
The weight of it silenced me, the same way it had shut the big guy up. And so there we were, sitting side by side, two losers, lost in our own thoughts. The difference between the two of us was that he was trying to do something about his crappy clan situation, to become better, while I fought the urge not to run away.
“W-what’s it like in there? Is it - you know, bad?” I eventually ventured to ask.
“No. N-no, not at all. The men and women under Captain Rayden are upstanding. Do as you’re told, do NOT lie, and you’ll be fine.”
‘Do as told, huh?’
That didn’t sit well with me for so many reasons, and I did my best not to, even with a collar around my neck. Worse, I had so many things I was afraid for others to know now. In fact, just sitting here was putting me at risk of ending up who knows where, so...
“Am I... am I really gonna be okay?”
“I am sure you will,” the bull-guy replied, much to my horror, as I whispered my thoughts aloud. “I’ve never seen the city guards treat anyone unfairly.”
No doubt, he was their fanboy.
Not that it was a bad thing. In fact, a little bit of envy at being able to put so much trust in something or someone bit into my heart. I could only hope that one day I would be able to do so again too. Nevertheless, my distrust aside, much to his credit and that of the city guards, the ones I had met so far didn’t care much about who I was or what I looked like - sure, my freaky looks did pique some curiosity, but not the kind I expected - and instead they were concerned with what I wanted to do in their city.
“I hope... I really hope you’re right,” I whispered and dropped silent as the doors opened again. The queue in front of me thinned to just a few people.
The closer I got to my turn, the heavier my breaths grew. With three in front of me, the beats of my heart rang in my ears like church bells at noon. And when the time came and the last Terr’den disappeared behind the door, I could barely breathe, sweated like crazy, and was sure that my heart would burst out of my chest.
“Next!” A male voice cut into my ears, and I froze, staring at the open door of the room.
‘How?! When?! What now?’
“B-best of luck,” the bull-guy stammered, in no better shape than I was, snapping me out of my stupor.
“NEXT!”
“T-to you, t-too,” I managed to whisper, stood up from the bench, and, dragging my feet, walked into the room before the man inside had to call out for me the third time.