Thanks to my aunt and her manic desire to hammer a bit of wisdom into me, I had good knowledge of the world. Before 2022. the world was much different. That was when the Pit anomaly appeared. It had many names like fault, chasm, abyss, and others, but what was important was that it showed up in the center of the continent and changed everything.
The world before was divided into states, and people could freely travel between them without the need to fear for their lives.
It was 2073, or the 51st year of the new calendar. The states were no more, the only things left were small city unions. You could safely say that the current world was divided into cities, where all life was concentrated, surrounded by walls and defenses that kept the outside, full of demons and monsters, out and away from the squishy innards. There were still outskirts, lawless lands where gangs ruled and people survived any way they could. There was no protection there and you could die from any number of misfortunes. Farms and troop outposts had defenses similar to those of smaller cities. Everything else was wild lands. You had a choice of living in a city, the outskirts, or in the wild lands.
We were being driven through the wild lands. The abandoned train station was in a non-residential area of the outskirts. Relatively close, about an hour’s walk, stood a protected city. Beyond its walls your life meant nothing. Even in populated outskirts, there were no guarantees you would survive your trip.
What were the wild lands? People didn’t live there, that was the dominion of monsters. And there were many kinds, from regular animals that mutated into monsters, to creatures that would emerge from the Pit. It was the same for flora. Then there were the anomalies. Pockets of reality you could end up in and be torn apart, inhale some gas, or have your skin and meat peeled off your bones. Not even the weather would spare you. Anomalous rainstorms rained droplets sharper than any knife. You would be able to hide from this in the city easily, but not in the open wild lands.
Traveling between cities was done in armored convoys consisting of reinforced trucks and trains with armed guards. I arrived in the nearby city on one such convoy. It was pricy but the trip was quiet. We got jumped only once by some mutated animals but they were quickly eliminated by the guards.
This wasn’t going to be a ride like that.
There was no way that more than two hundred traveling teenagers on a train cart going through the heart of the wild lands would reach their destination in peace.
I saw a pack of something that resembled wolves following the train. These could have been both ordinary predators and abnormal ones. They didn’t rush the train nor did they give up on following it. They would follow the trail and catch up to us sooner or later.
My mind was on the problems ahead. In the wild lands, three hundred kilometers was a lot. We would need weapons, food, water, and companions. Not everyone was smart enough to bring supplies for such a trip. There was a divide between the passengers. The thrifty ones, and ones who looked at them askance. Some acted and that resulted in a few short fights and more unlucky people being thrown off the train.
Much to the wolves’ joy. I didn’t need to see what happened to the ones who fell off the train. My imagination could easily vividly picture their bloody fate.
We trekked on. Full of optimism.
***
At some point, a blond fellow approached us. He was, for sure, from the city. His clothes were too good, as well as the rest of his equipment, his saber, down to his powerful boots. I wouldn’t refuse such a companion.
If Kalia reminded me of a snake, then this guy was a lion. One demonstration would prove his imposing presence as such.
As he was heading our way, a group of teens from the second trailer blocked his path. His pace didn’t change. Unsheathing his saber, he made three swings. Stums of bodies had not yet fallen before the saber was back in its sheath. And he, spotless and neat, continued.
“It is nice to see familiar faces,” he looked at the swordsman.
“I would not agree.”
The blondie smiled apologetically.
“Our families didn’t chat much so neither did we.”
I knew they were from kindred. Second or third generation probably? Blondie was surely third. He must’ve used gems to train.
The third generation of hereditary Divers was much stronger than the second or if you were a noninheritable third. In other words, if you had Diver parents and grandparents, and they had abilities, those would have been passed on to you in a much stronger form than to one of your relatives.
“It would be prudent to agree to an alliance or simple neutrality.”
“I’m here to learn. Do not get in my way and you will be fine.”
“I see. As expected,” Blondie chuckled, then turned his gaze to me. “Who might you be?”
“That’s Spartan,” Gats answered for me.
“Fine, you can call me Teach,” he smiled and his eyes sparkled. “Not using our real names, that is a smart choice. We are embarking on a new path, one where we start learning from the Dark Swordsman.”
Swordsman? Did he say swordsman, not master? He had no reservations calling him that. It seemed the kindred saw him differently than the rest of us. It wasn’t too surprising, to say the least.
“That’s a poor choice of a name,” Gats spoke out. “You don’t even have a beard.”
“Details, details. Anyway, would you like to join me on the other end of the train?”
Beardless-Teach turned and walked away, leaving me there to ponder how was I going to survive until tomorrow with monsters like him roaming about.
***
Nothing worth mentioning happened for the rest of the trip. When the train slowed down and stopped, we were in the middle of nowhere. Still, what awaited us was a marker, made out of a wooden shield with an arrow pointing towards a forest in the distance. There was even writing on it.
“Go this way.”
I was in no hurry to jump off, deciding to go down the middle instead so that I could grab the rewards before others. This was bound to get me into a lot of trouble, but I wasn’t worried that someone could get their grubby little hands on a gem. They were a peculiar thing, those precious stones, with many a rumor spread about them, and even more unverified legends and tell tales. Some claimed you should crush them and rub the powder on your skin, others that you should swallow them. It was all bullshit. Only a small collective knew the truth. Those who went below the seventh layer of the Pit, and their descendants.
I no longer remembered my parents. I lived with them until I was seven. After their passing I was taken in by my aunt Alicia. She took me and escaped beyond the wall. Back then, I couldn’t fathom why she’d want to live in such a place, but now, having learned more about the world, I’d say that my aunt was a dangerous woman and obviously had her reasons for leaving the city.
I never had a chance to thank her… For not only bringing me up, but also mentioning all the key features of gems in her diary that she left me. I was always wondering what my parents had to do with the gems, and her notes turned out to be rather interesting.
Anyone could hold a gem in their hands and get whatever power it offered. If it was a small power gem, your strength might increase. If it had some kind of ability, like flame manipulation, you would be able to control flames. Straightaway, without any prior training.
This was what most people knew, a surface layer of truth. That was why so many wanted them. Those naive fools that thought that if you got one you would instantly become cool and powerful.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
The truth about gems was hidden in the finer points and subtleties of how to use them. In the first few minutes, you would receive only a tiny fraction of their power, a percent or two. If you held them for an hour, you would establish a connection to them, and that one or two percent would become ten. The exact numbers were tentative, depending on the person and gem. A day would give you a few more percentages. This was when the absorption and the process of assimilation began. At this point, it was all on the user and the gem. It could’ve taken a year, two, or ten for the gem to shrink and eventually become fully absorbed by the user, and with that, the power would be fully transferred over.
The tricky thing was you had to carry the gem with you at all times. Mine wasn’t that big, it was the size of a walnut. Even with the ones that small, if you were careless people would notice and snatch it from you. If you did lose it, your strength would start to ebb away if the integration wasn’t completed.
For this reason, it wasn’t awful if someone found a gem first. You could always take it from them. The ones ahead would be hunted by others for whatever gems they found. This would go on for the first day or so. After that, the connection between the gem and user would become stronger and even a small power gem could give you an advantage and make you stronger than ordinary people.
Still, there was one more catch. This was the connection between my parents and the gems. See, those who descended below the seventh level of the Pit could “negotiate” with the gems, whatever that meant. That was passed on to their children, like myself. Hence the conclusion that one of my ancestors, parents or grandparents, managed to descend below the seventh level. That was why I said I was half-kindred. My parents would have been legends for what they did, yet I didn’t remember their names anymore, that information was erased from my memory and not even my aunt bothered to tell me why.
The pact with the gem… I knew it sounded crazy, and it was. When you took the gem in your hands, you were transported to a strange space where a much larger version of the gem resided. The details of the contract were presented above the gem. It had some points you could choose, but others were mandatory.
One I used had flexible options and somewhat simple conditions. That meant I could choose between one exercise for a month, which was the minimum, or three exercises and weapons training for two years, which was the maximum. I was suggested to take three physical exercises and one weapon training.
A fixed condition was that I had to train every day. That’s when I freaked out. I didn’t really think about what I was signing up for and I chose the maximum. The daily tasks weren’t that hard. Do a hundred push-ups, sit-ups, and crunches. Weapons training, on the other hand, was difficult. The list of available weapons was odd, there were no swords or spears. I chose a chain whip. How I got my hands on one was a separate story. And I didn’t even want to remember the training with it.
If I missed even a single day, the assimilation would fail, and I would have to start all over again. You can imagine how panicked I was when I broke my leg one day. Squatting with a fracture was a fate I wouldn’t wish even upon my greatest enemy. It happened a year into my training, so thankfully, by this point my body was much stronger and it was able to heal without consequences or medical attention.
As a result of this I didn’t receive only fifty, but got all two hundred percent. To clarify, the lessons would strengthen the body but the gem also enhanced that process, and it could take you well over regular limits. That’s why my friend, Geek, called me a Spartan. I would train every day without giving up.
Gems of rare levels could make you a commander of an outpost, a farm, or even a fortress. A legendary level one would make you a ruler of a city. A dream of any starved boy on the streets.
That was the general story of why would so many people came to meet the Dark Master Swordsman. Why they would kill, and why more carnage would ensue. The Dark Master gave the impression of a sadist who wasn’t going to make our lives any easier.
Gats was of the same mind. He calmly watched as the main group jumped off the train and rushed in the pointed direction.
Like me, he brought a backpack. What was inside was anyone’s guess, but there was food and water amongst other things. What I had was two days’ worth of rations. A good knife on my belt which the long jacket hid well. The chain was hidden in the sleeve, and in my left pocket I had a set of weights for it, a heavy, light, and bladed one. I would use this chain to knock thrown bottle caps out of the air for a bet. I could do ten in a row. There was also a disassembled mini steam-powered crossbow in the backpack, with a couple of short bolts. It was insanely expensive and only to be used in an emergency. It was not as effective as a firearm, but only the guards on the walls had those.
The rest of my equipment were a clean cloth used to bind a wound and a small bottle of alcohol for disinfection. I wasn’t expecting to have to travel three hundred kilometers. I was prepared for various dirty tricks, but I didn’t expect that the test would be delayed.
“Not killing Kalia was a mistake,” Gats spoke before he jumped down. “She survived, and is stubborn enough to catch up with us.”
“Such is life,” I shrugged.
Gats nodded, then walked away. He looked like he wanted to travel alone. Which was a little difficult since there was a wasteland ahead of us and we were all going in pretty much the same direction. Just in case, I was thirty paces behind him.
I wondered what was lying ahead. Geek was sure that I was a maniac who liked to fight, but he was wrong, I hated fighting. They just followed me through life like a bad stink. That wasn’t to say I liked taking risks, more so now in these wild lands full of deadly surprises.
It was a pity that I had a gut feeling I would lose pieces of my soul before this ended.
***
The fact that there were traps set up was obvious after about twenty minutes. The ground was dry and hard, easy to walk on. The main group was way ahead. This part of the wasteland wasn’t a leveled plain. We walked downhill then back up again, and from that vantage point we saw something terrible.
There was a round piece of land with a moat around it about a meter wide. Stakes were lined at the bottom of it, with five people already impaled on them. Some were still alive. Gats, like myself, came closer to look around.
“The supplies was trapped,” he pointed to the circle. “And these fools fought for them.”
I didn’t want to tell him how that was painfully obvious. Why else would someone so hastily rush there and not notice the trap? Someone saw the prize first and ran for it, then fell into the stakes. The rest of the crowd caught up and a bloodbath ensued. I counted about ten corpses splayed around and below, they were missing limbs, heads, and some were even cut in half. This must’ve been the work of someone from a kindred.
“H-hel…Ple-eas…” a boy below wheezed.
A stake was sticking out of his chest, and blood was coming out of his mouth in jerks.
Gats didn’t linger. I looked around and decided to move on, a little faster this time. I was going to catch up with the rest. There were some fifty people behind us and about two hundred ahead. Let’s see how many would survive by the end of the day.
“Sorry, you won’t make it,” I told the boy and followed Gats.
***
The Dark Master showed up at noon. The train ride lasted a couple of hours. Then we walked for about an hour to reach the forest. At this time, I started to ponder where I would spend the night and how would I get through the forest.
I’d only lived in the outskirts. I’d seen parks there. But what was in front of me was so much different. An abandoned park still had the shape of a park, not like the wild forest full of windfall in front of me. I didn’t notice any anomalies as I entered but my gut feeling told me I would be seeing some as I went further. Visibility was very limited and you couldn’t easily find a path. What I could see made me feel uncomfortable, I counted so many potential hiding places.
There would be more traps, I was sure of it.
Gats swiftly vanished from sight. He disappeared in the shadows just like everyone else. As I walked, I felt alone in this looming forest. That didn’t upset me much, it was better to be alone than surrounded by a group of aggressive teenagers.
The illusion of solitude was dispelled after only a hundred steps in. I heard voices, and after taking a few more steps I saw Gats surrounded by ten guys holding bats and knives.
“Hand over your weapons and any goodies you have! Then fuck off,” their leader barked.
So, this scum formed a gang to rob anyone who crossed their path. Why would you risk running into traps when you could simply take stuff by force?
Assholes. I lied quite a bit when I said I didn’t like to fight. I didn’t like meaningless fights, that was true. But beating up all sorts of assholes, that was always a pleasure.
“Is there a problem, gentlemen?” I asked as I stepped out of the bushes.
Gats didn’t even look in my direction. He just tilted his head slightly as he observed the delinquent.
Peoplelike them couldn’t imagine what kind of animals kindred members can be. I only had a vague guess myself, mostly from personal experience. Even without the gem, I was physically more developed than my peers. I also had a good sense of smell, my eyesight was sharp, and I always had a good sense of direction. Little things I took for granted until I found out it wasn’t the same for everyone else. With this in mind, I could guess that my parents weren’t ordinary people and that children could inherit some form of abilities. My aunt didn’t mention this in her diaries, but she hinted at it.
Furthermore, when I tried to investigate her murder, I collected all sorts of rumors about what Divers were capable of. But these losers clearly didn’t care about that. The Pit was somewhere far away, as well as the members of the kindred. Other powerful people lived behind a wall, so why think about them?
Idiots, they were idiots who didn’t see anything beyond their avarice and greed. They didn’t even register how strong Gats had to be to be able to carry around a shovel sword, a metal monstrosity that weighed around thirty kilograms.
“You! Drop your backpack!” they were glad to see me.
I knew this type. They couldn’t be negotiated with. They understood only one thing, the language of strength.
I was going to release the chain, but then I noticed Gats swinging his arm. He drew the blade as it weighed no more than a feather. The punks didn’t have time to realize what happened. A swipe and the leader of the gang was split in half, from head to toe. Blood sprayed like a fountain as two halves slid over each other and fell. Gats swung his sword and shook the blood off the blade, then gave the group a cold glare. They took the hint and ran away.
Surprisingly, they weren’t all idiots.
“I don’t need your help,” Gats spoke irritably.
“Hey, I wasn’t here for you, buddy. I just saw some assholes that needed to be taught a lesson.”
“And why did they need that?”
“Because I don’t like assholes.”
Grunting, Gats took out a cloth, gently wiped the blade, and put the sword back into its special sheath on his back. Then he went through the forest, alone and angry that we crossed paths once again. I, on the other hand, turned and went in a different direction so that I wouldn’t meet this arrogant bastard again.