Ark was back on the training field. While he had never stood in front of an opponent in this room, he had stood in many like it. His fingers twitched. His throat was dry. He wished he had gone to the bathroom before they entered. Why was he here, what was happening?

In front of him, Alistor had taken a position at a reasonable distance for a duel, hands in the pockets of his shorts, while he held his drinking straw in his mouth like a pipe. His dark sunglasses made it impossible to see his eyes, instead reflecting Ark’s semi-confused visage back onto him.

Get it together, Ark, he thought, biting his lip. He would do this; show Alistor and everyone else in the room what he was made of.

Mino stood of to side along with Matthews, the latter of which looked miffed. “This is highly unusual, Tracker,” he called, trying to sound respectful, “They have only just arrived here, shouldn’t we—“

“Shut up, Matthews,” Alistor said, drawling his words and kicked an imagined pebble in the Pathfinder’s direction, “No one likes a goody-two-shoes.”

Behind Mino and Matthews, Ark noted two girls his age had come out of a nearby observation room after the fight that had preceded his and Mino’s entrance into the room. They stood together with Jenson, who scowled in Ark’s general direction.

Great, Ark thought, unable to ignore the look. Just great, Ark. You’ve already made friends. How do you do it?

“Eyes front, Tiny,” Alistor called, “I ain’t gonna waste all day on this. Let’s see if you’re really what you claim, shall we?”

“What do you want me to do, sir?” Ark said, returning his attention on the trainer.

“I want you to attack me, don’t I? C’mon Tiny, give it your best shot.” Alistor grinned maliciously, as he raised one hand and beckoned Ark, “I’ll stay right here, so give us your best shot. You only get such a chance once.”

Taking a deep breath, Ark settled himself. Alright, you’ve trained for this. Let’s hit him with everything you got, he thought, firing up his netlink display. Like he had learned so long ago, back in the Maze, Ark activated the built-in programs as he figured out his lanes of attack.

Enhancing his sight, the netlink depicted the open pathways into Alistor’s system, from his connection to the Neural Network, to low-frequency signals that could be used for a direct link between systems.

“Well?” Alistor called, tapping his foot in impatience, “We doing this or what?”

Ark hit him at full force on all channels. He could feel Alistor’s netlink attempt to put up automated defenses, but Ark was overwhelming them as soon as they came online. With spears of intent, Ark smashed into Alistor’s system, penetrating into the first layer of the netlink’s functions, throwing up error messages that would hamper Alistor’s visuals.

Alistor definitely had high-grade tech installed, as his netlink responded with guardian programs that tried to counter Ark’s spears with shields and probing tracebacks that attempted to return fire.

Ark cut down and deflected the attempts to counterattack, ducking and weaving against a growing storm, while he located his own targets with pinpoint accuracy. He pulled up the nastiest programs he had, the ones that would create painful short circuits in Alistors netlink if they got through.

He just needed an opening, a crack in the armor of the netlink, and he would throw the programs at Alistor and damn the consequences. Ark could almost see the arrogant trainer brought to his knees before him, mouth slack from the pain coursing through his nervous system.

There, Ark saw it, unable to hide a smile, as he sent forth his final attack. In a moment, this would be over.

“Hmm…” Alistor scratched at his chin, “I see.” Then he reached up and lowered his sunglasses, just an inch. Underneath, milky-white eyes with no iris or pupil stared at Ark with uncanny intent.

While Ark was surprised by the sight, it was nothing next to the wave of force that crashed into his mind. It hit him without warning, like a bucket of ice-cold water, but without any physical sensation.

Staggering backward, Ark recognized the feeling, cold sweat springing down his back in droves.

“Huh,” Alistor said, tilting his head, “…interesting.” Then he took the glasses completely off, and Ark lost all control over his attack. It was not just a bucket of ice-water now—it was an ocean.

Ark felt it crash down onto him. Despite his best efforts, his assault on Alistor’s netlink came to a screeching halt. Without him directing the programs, they hit a brick wall in the defensive systems put up against them, and were quickly vanquished.

Meanwhile, Ark found it difficult to maintain his balance. The floor felt alive, as he kept backing up, pushing and pulling him rather than just being damn still!

“Tracker!” He heard someone call in the distance, but his mind was too muffled to register any more. What was he doing again? Someone was approaching. Ark felt he should be ready to defend himself and put up his hands, eyes watering.

The enemy—who was it again? Ark launched a preemptive attack, misjudged the distance and almost fell on his face. He recovered, thanks to the floor shifting in the right direction at the last moment. Stumbling forward, he came right up to a writhing mass of mouths and eyes; speaking to him, staring at him.

“Mno!” Ark growled and attacked again. Something caught his hand. Another hand. Ark kicked instead. Then he felt the floor, soothing against his back. The back of his head hurt.

“Tracker! Stop it!” All of the world zoomed into one moment—milky white eyes above him, looking down without a hint of pity—then a lot happened all at once. Pathfinder Matthews appeared in Ark’s vision, grabbing the head with those brilliant, white eyes, pulling them away as Mino knelt down beside him.

“Ark. Can you hear me?” His voice was calm, quiet. A moment away from turning into a storm, Ark suspected.

“I’m… good,” Ark croaked, mind clicking back into focus.

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“Did he leave any damage?” Mino said, still quiet. He was angry, Ark could tell from his eyes, but contained.

“N-No… I don’t think he tried to,” Ark said, trying to master his voice, “It was… I’ve never felt anything like it.”

“Never?” Mino said, his anger alleviated somewhat, “Not even when… you know?”

“No.” With help Ark sat back up, holding his head in between his hands. “Not even the psychics there could do anything like that. It was… Mino, I think that guy is probably one of the most powerful psychics in all of Vanguard.”

“He was one of the most powerful,” someone said behind him, and Ark twisted his neck to look up at one of the girls he had seen stand behind Mino before. She had dirty blond hair set in a ponytail, with brown eyes and a mouth set in serious lines. Standing back a few meters, she was looking at the Pathfinder and the Tracker, having a visibly animated discussion.

“What do you mean?” Ark said, his voice still hoarse.

She finally looked down on him, with no hint of either glee or pity. Shrugging, she lowered her voice as she spoke, “I heard he had to retire due to injury. You saw his eyes.”

“Yeah.” Ark shuddered at the memory.

“How did you survive that?” She asked, a hint of curiosity in her voice, “He only flashed his eyes briefly at me, and I thought I was going to die.”

Ark screwed up his face in disgust and said, “I’m special. It’s not worth the cost, though.”

“Oh? And what would that be?” Now curiosity was all over her face, and Ark mentally kicked himself for saying too much. Just spewing out his secrets into the open was a bad idea.

“Tell you later,” Ark said, reaching his hand up to Mino. His friend grabbed it and pulled him back on his feet with ease.

“Sure you will,” she said, voice full of disbelief, “And will you also tell me how you got military grade tech installed in your netlink?”

Ark eyed her, trying to keep his face from reaction. She had noticed that? In the end, he settled on a noncommittal answer. “Would you?”

She crossed her arms and tapped her foot, looking him up and down like an appraiser, figuring out his value. In the end, she sighed and shook her head, “Maybe not. Then again, I’m not the one who just got a target painted on my back, and might need some friends to help with that.”

Furrowing his brows, Ark was unsure of what she meant, when she subtly jerked her head in the direction behind her. There, Jenson stood and looked straight at Ark with such an expression of anger on his face that Ark was taken aback. “What’s his problem?”

The girl just raised one eyebrow. “What? You want me to tell you secrets?” She said, leaning forward, arms still crossed, “You start, Pal.” Seeing Ark’s face twist, then turn placid again, she nodded. “Thought so.”

With the turn of her heel, she uncrossed her arms and walked away. Over her shoulder, she called, “I’m Rex, by the way, let me know when you’re ready to talk.” She continued walking, out through the corridor that led away from the training room.

Jenson kept his glare up for a short while, then turned and followed, jogging to catch up.

Mino’s eyes narrowed as he watched Rex and Jenson walk away. "Looks like we're not making friends anytime soon," he murmured.

“Yeah.” Ark sighed and rolled his shoulders.

“You are not very useful,” A new voice spoke behind, and they both turned to look at the second girl. Her skin was smooth, darker than Ark’s and with an earthy tone. She had black eyes and hair, cut neatly at shoulder-length. Behind her, the tall spearwielder towered above Ark, staring down at him without a hint of emotion in his black eyes.

“Excuse me?” Ark said, not sure how he should respond to the dispassionate statement.

“You are a mindweaver, yes?” She said, her accent slightly different from his, “That is a weak profession. We will have to protect you while we fight. It is inefficient.”

“Hold up,” Mino said, getting in between Ark and the girl. The moment he stepped forth, the spearwielder made to do the same, but the girl signaled him with a hand, holding him back.

“Who said you’d have to protect him? I’ll do it, so you won’t have to worry about it.”

“Then you are doubly inefficient,” she said, her cold tone hitting both Ark and Mino in the face like icy shards, “For, whatever combat powers you bring to the fight will be tied up keeping your friend safe. What is the point of you two, then?”

Ark opened his mouth, then closed it again. What was the point, indeed?

“I am Naomi,” she said, bowing her head slightly, then gestured behind her at the spearwielder “This is Ran. Let me know if you figure out what the point of you are.” She gave them a final nod, then walked out the same way Rex and Jenson had gone. The spearwielder, Ran, followed her, eying them until he was past, leaving Ark and Mino standing mildly amused and offended in equal measure.

“That… was not a great start,” Mino said.

“Could have gone worse,” Ark said, shaking his head, “At least we didn’t start a fight.”

“Maybe we should have,” Mino observed, staring at the spot where their fellow trainees had disappeared out of the room, “At least then we could have knocked some sense into them.”

“You saw that guy, Ran, fighting,” Ark said, waving in their general direction, “Do you think you could have done anything against that?”

“If I was angry enough…” Mino said, carefully hedging his words.

“You’re never angry, Mino,” Ark said, patting his friend on the arm, “Not until you are too angry. Then where would we be?”

“In the infirmary?” Mino said, and they both laughed. It had happened before, after all.

“You two having fun?” Alistor said from behind. They turned once again to find themselves approached, this time it was their instructor and guide, finally having come to some kind of agreement. Ark sighed in relief when he saw that Alistor had put his glasses back on.

“No, sir,” they both said in unison.

“Aww shut up,” Alistor growled, “I don’t need you brats calling me ‘sir’ all the time. It’s Instructor, if you have to use titles.”

“Yes, Instructor,” they parroted, standing at attention.

“Well, at least they’re well-trained,” Alistor noted to his side, where Matthews stood with a miffed expression on his face. Alistor nodded in Ark’s direction, “I apologize about the trial by fire, Tiny. I’ve agreed to make it up to you, so you will report back here after dinner, understood?”

“Understood, Instructor,” Ark said, keeping his eyes straight.

“See that? What’s gone wrong with today’s youth?” Alistor shook his head and mumbled to himself as he walked past Ark and Mino, “No backtalk, not even enough to justify a little smack to the back of the head. Where’s the rebellious spirit? I tell you, back in my day…”

When he was finally gone, Matthews sighed heavily and scratched the back of his head with his prosthetic hand. “I’m sorry about that, Ark. You should have told me you were a mindweaver, I might have been able to forestall this…”

Ark furrowed his brow. “Why does it matter that I am a mindweaver, sir?”

“Huh?” Matthews paused mid-scratch and eyed the two of them. Then he lowered his arm and said, “No reason, Trainee. Now, dinner is served in the mess hall between 1800 and 1900 hours. You remember the way?”

They both affirmed. After giving them a second look, Matthews smiled and said, “Although it could have gone better, don’t get discouraged. All teams start out with a bit of growing pains—you’ll find each other along the way.”

“What if we don’t, sir?” Ark said, feeling dejected after the meetings he had just gone through. It felt a lot like being back in the Maze, with all the calculation of value and need.

“Well…” His smile strained somewhat, and he started scratching the back of his head again. “It’s either that, or you die out there. Riftwalking is not so understanding a pastime that it forgives infighting.”

“Thought so, sir,” Ark said, closing his eyes. Behind the closed lids, he felt he could foresee all the troubles that lay ahead, as well as all the bullshit they were about to wade through.

Just great, he thought.