The following days quickly fell into a pattern. Ark and Mino woke up, went through conditioning, Basic with Mallis, weapons training, and then they separated from their team to enter training room 5.

The first evening, they stopped at the entryway into the massive room and just looked around. “How are we going to use this?” Mino said, somewhat overawed. They had never had access to a facility like this, completely on their own.

“We work on tactics,” Ark said, already pulling up the rooms controls on his netlink, “The others have advantage in fighting strength, so we have to create situations that will level the playing field.”

“And you know how to do that?”

“Not yet,” Ark admitted with a sigh, creating a basic forest landscape before their eyes and adding a few virtual dummies to act as their opponents, “We gotta try things out.”

They did have an advantage, though, which Ark had been unable to display the previous day. With a willing partner, Ark linked up with Mino through their respective netlinks. It was the fourth of Ark’s primary authorities, to create an near-instant communications network that allowed them to not only speak with one-another, but even see what the other was seeing.

With Mino in front, their basic plan was simple: stop the opponent, then take them out with the gun. It worked on low-level dummies, but as Ark increased the difficulty their plan started to show cracks.

Throwing himself to the side, Ark barely avoided being sliced through by the dummy’s weapon—a sword, mimicking Jenson—while Mino came up from behind and tried to stop it. It just ignored him and kept pursuing Ark, who could not get a shot in to stop it.

Without aiming, Ark resorted to blindly firing behind him as he ran, until he heard Mino grunt through their link.

—Ark… You hit me—

Halting his run, Ark was sliced and diced to pieces by the dummy, before he managed to deactivate the thing, leaving him sprawled on the ground with his nerved frayed by the simulated pain.

While Mino had similarly received some simulated pain, thanks to Ark, he was a lot more resilient. “You alright?” He asked, as he helped Ark back on his feet.

“I’m… getting there,” Ark said, swallowing the pain bit by bit. For a while they just stood there in the forest, recovering.

“We’re in trouble, aren’t we?” Mino said, depressingly earnest.

“Yeah,” Ark admitted, “We need whatever Mallis can give us.”

Thinking back on the night before, the part that kept coming back to Ark was the last discussion he’d had with the old man. The part about the coin.

Standing alone in front of Mallis, in the dim light of the archive, Ark had felt a change in the room the moment the old man saw the object he was holding up. A chill ran down Ark’s spine, as Mallis’ eyes bored into his.

“Now, where did you get that?” He had said, his tone crisp with accusation.

“You know what it is?” Ark had asked, ignoring his discomfort as well as the old man’s question.

“I do… Alistor gave it to you, did he not?”

“Ho—How did you know?” Ark remembered taking a step back, worried if the man might be a psychic strong enough to read his mind—which he was sure not even Alistor could do.

Mallis had reached out, snatching the coin out of Ark’s hand with another feat of speed that seemed incongruous with his thin and aged frame. Holding back his protest, Ark watched as the old man studied the coin from all angles—even holding it up to the light and peering deep into that gemstone eye.

Finally he lowered it and offered it back to Ark. “He is the only one who has one of these in this branch,” Mallis had said, matter-of-fact.

“And? What it it?” Ark had prompted, accepting the coin back and hiding it in his pocket.

“A leftover from the war. Every riftwalker who participated in the final assault was given one of these before the battle. That coin, Young Man, has been on the Red Moon.”

Ark remembered the sharp intake of breath he had taken in the wake of that statement. He remembered how the coin had felt like a piece of hot coal in his pocket; the excitement of holding it overwhelming him.

Even now, as he stood in the simulated forest, he felt the heat coming off the thing from his pocket, even if it was as still as cool to the touch as it had ever been. A piece of history, contained in the shape of a coin, was in his grasp, and Ark still had absolutely no idea what it meant. What was the point of giving it to him?

Mino’s voice broke Ark out of his reverie. “What do you think Mallis can give us?”

Hesitating, Ark bit his lip. “Knowledge,” he finally said, answering both Mino’s and his own question. Both Alistor and Mallis offered knowledge, and Ark wanted to know it all.

When they went down into the archives afterward, what Mallis needed help with turned out to be moving a lot of boxes. He led them to one of the many towers of boxes and began instructing them in how they should be sorted and stored, after which he left to do his own thing.

Ark tried to get some information out of the old man, as to what he was planning on telling them, but he just gave Ark a look that told him everything. “You want me to give you the goods up front, Young Man? How am I supposed to know you will uphold your end of the bargain?”

“Because we’re honest and trustworthy?” Ark had tried saying it with a smile, but Mallis’ frozen look made it difficult to maintain the expression.

“Trust is earned, young Ark. It is not something you should receive up front to squander and abuse. I will tell you when you have convinced me of your sincerity.”

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Like that, the days passed. Every day they went through the same routine, repeating the pattern of getting beaten up by virtual dummies that were too strong for them, and returning to bed in the evening, utterly exhausted.

Likewise, every night, Ark waited for Mino to fall asleep before he sat up and took out the small coin that Alistor had given him, studying its every facet, looking for whatever mystery it was hiding. He found absolutely nothing.

In some ways, he did not know what to expect. What secret could the coin possibly be hiding beyond what Mallis had told him? There was no script on it, or any electronic signature from it. It was metal shaped into a form, with symbols on it, and inlaid with a gemstone that could hold psionic energy. For all intents and purposes, it seemed like that was all it was; A pretty object as a memento for those who willingly sacrificed themselves for humanity’s survival.

It just had to be more. Ark was sure of it. There was no point in giving it to him if that was all, so he kept tinkering with it, exploring its faces every night before falling asleep and dreaming.

More and more, his dreams found him back in the maze, back in the guilt and fear that the place incited in him. The anger came afterward, when he awoke, sweating and breathing in a shallow staccato. Then he would sit up in his bed, knees against his chest and head resting on his arms, as he calmed down from the all-consuming rage.

It was a cycle that would have anyone grow exhausted, and Ark felt his body’s protests growing stronger with every day. When he looked in the mirror, the bags underneath his eyes grew heavier, and his movements were becoming sluggish. It started going so bad that he even missed his shots during weapons training.

When he returned to the armory to pick up his gear, as he always left it there for Harkon, the bald man stopped him with a frown. “You look like shit, Kid.”

“Thanks,” Ark said, snatching his dagger and placing it back on his belt with a sigh. He was growing used to it being away from him, but never comfortable with it.

“Well? What’s eating at ya?” Harkon said, crossing his arms.

“I just…” Ark ran a hand through his gray hair, unable to keep the frustration from either his voice or face, “I’m just stuck, Sir. I need to become stronger, but I only have vague ideas and promises that might get me there.”

The quartermaster scratched his chin and eyed Ark up and down. “Yeah, I can see the problem. Tell you what, I was gonna show you this in a few days, when it’s ready, but you might as well see it now.”

“See what?” Ark said, furrowing his brow.

Harkon just grinned and waved him deeper into the armory. “C’mon kid, you’re gonna like this.”

Ark followed the bald man, barely able to restrain the hope that fluttered up from his stomach. He tried to manage his expectations, but the quartermaster had promised to fix some of the old guns meant for mindweavers. Perhaps this was the break he had been waiting for.

Down the central hallway of the armory the walls were lined with cabinets displaying a wealth of different weapons. Axes, swords, shields, as well as more exotic instruments were proudly placed here to showcase what the armory held. It provided a distraction to Ark’s excitement that only grew as Harkon began explaining.

“When Doug told me about how good of a shot you were, I kept thinking that just giving you a pistol would be a shame. You see, we’ve got a lot of Homerealm tech just lying about in this branch, no one up top wants ‘em, so they end up here.”

He waved in the general direction of the pieces on the wall. “Like these ones, a lot of them are not suited for anything but to be ornaments, but I looked through them and found something special.”

He stopped in front of a door and winked at Ark. “Studying your gear has also given me some inspiration. The way anti-gravity has been incorporated into that dagger is simply fascinating. If I didn’t know any better, I’d call it magic.”

“Is it really that amazing?” Ark said, as Harkon opened the door and let him into a cluttered workshop that appeared to be the quartermaster’s own personal workspace.

“Oh gear is always amazing,” Harkon said, shaking his head, “Imagine a piece of tech that adapts to its user, growing alongside them as a symbiote. If we could just equip everyone with that, we wouldn’t be struggling out in the Web.”

“So, why don’t we?” Ark said, being very careful not to step on any of the scattered items on the floor as they walked toward a workbench.

“Central Command are the only ones who know how to manufacture the things,” Harkon said, as he walked up to the bench and began tinkering with a long box that sitting on it, “And they guard that secret jealously. I wouldn’t even know how to begin reverse engineering a piece of gear, even one as relatively simple as yours.”

The box had a very old mechanism for opening, and Harkon clearly had difficulties with it. Tapping on an old display, he kept inputting the code while cursing underneath his breath.

“This old piece of shit… Oh, here we go, finally.” He got the latch free, and slowly opened the box. “Are you ready, Kid?”

Ark nodded, excitement rising in his chest.

“Alright, here goes.” The lid rose up, allowing the light of the room to illuminate the elongated object within, resting on black foam to keep the weapon within suspended in absorbent material.

Seeing it, Ark felt his jaw go slack. This was not just an upgrade—it was a game changer.

“Can I really… I can have that?” Ark breathed, his mind speedrunning scenarios that this equipment opened up to him and Mino.

“You can borrow it, Kid,” Harkon said with a smile on his lip, “If you get enough out of the riftrun, I’ll let you buy it off me. I can only sell it to a certified guild member, after all.”

Ark looked at the bald quartermaster and felt a level of love for the man that he rarely afforded anyone. “Thank you,” he breathed.

In response, he got a massive slap on the back. “Don’t mention it, Kid. You just make sure you make it on to the team, yeah? I think this will be a good start.”

“It will… it will,” Ark said, looking back at the weapon within the case, “When will it be ready?”

“A few days.” Harkon ran a hand over his bald crown. “I still have some spare parts I need to source, but it should be done by the time you get back from your break, I think.”

“My what?” Ark blinked, confused.

“Your break?” Harkon said, raising an eyebrow. “You get one day a week, kid. I think yours is the day after tomorrow—you’ve got no weapon practice scheduled then. No one told you?”

“No,” Ark said, still distracted by the weapon in front of him, “I guess they must have forgotten.”

Harkon shrugged and said, “Well you get one. I recommend you take the chance to go out and look for equipment. You can source a lot from the guild, but you won’t have access to the full catalog, and some items will be less expensive on the outside.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Ark said, taking one last look at the weapon, “And thanks for this, Sir. I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it, Kid,” Harkon said with a laugh, “And call me Harkon, alright?”

With a smile, Ark left the armory. It persisted all the way through another session of getting his ass handed to him by virtual dummies. When Ark explained why he was in such a good mood to Mino, his friend could not help smiling either.

“That’s good news, Ark…” He said, contemplating, “It gives us more options. That’s you covered. Now we just need me to get useful.”

“You’re plenty useful,” Ark said, patting his friend on the shoulder, “And I’ve already thought of some ways we can make use of this. We have to keep it under wraps, though. If the others learn of this, our advantage goes out the window.”

Mino nodded. His large head bopped up and down until it came to a very sudden halt, his big eyes narrowing. “We need to talk to Doug,” he said, his voice serious.

“Why?” Ark was still running scenarios in his head, thinking on how to use their advantage.

“Because he works in the armory,” Mino said, quietly, “And he’s spying on us for Rex.”

“Oh.” Ark felt very stupid in that moment, and then he felt very worried. “That’s right.”