2030, America, Underground
Nicholas tore the list from the bulletin board. He ignored the protests from the other kids as he stomped away toward the coach’s office a short distance away.
His steps on the metal floors echoed through the cylindrical-shaped bunker tunnels that had been home for as long as he could remember.
The wind rustling the amber waves of grain beneath the wide, blue sky was only a story told by the older people. The ones that had walked through that world before the spires and the monsters had driven them underground.
For the good of the country.
So that its leaders could emerge again one day to take it back from evil.
He knew the words. Said them everyday as part of the pledge.
Remember what the world once was, so that you can set things right.
Bring the country back to what it should be.
One nation under God.
He barged through Coach Broderick’s door and slammed the crumpled paper on the bull-necked man’s desk.
“God damn it, Nicholas,” the man said flatly.
“My name’s missing,” he said quickly.
Rage ran hot in the boy.
Got him in trouble.
It was hard to stop himself when he started seeing red.
The coach scowled.
“You ever stop to think about what I’d do to you if you weren’t my brother’s son? Really stop? No of course not. Saint Nicholas they call you… cause of the way your face gets as red as jolly old Santa’s clothes.”
“I’m the best fighter in my class,” Nicholas crossed his arms and puffed his chest.
“Debatable. Maybe overall. I’d say George’s got you beat technically, Betsy’s quicker, Samuel’s craftier,” Coach Broderick ticked off names on his fingers. “But you know that has nothing to do with why you’re not on the list. You don’t have a class. No matter how good you are… you’ll just be fodder for the others in the proving grounds.”
“It’s not my fault!” he whined. “I passed the test. I killed the monster. It’s not my fault the stupid spire didn’t give me anything!”
“No one is saying that it is. Listen. Just, breathe. It’s not that big of deal—”
“But if I do well in the proving grounds then I can be part of the first expedition outside the bunker!” he snapped.
“Don’t take that fucking tone with me!” Coach Broderick snapped back. “I just might decide to forget you’re my nephew. I’ll have you run laps all weak between stints in waste composting! Do you want to shovel shit?”
“No sir!” he straightened reflexively.
The coach sighed. “I spoil you.”
He kept his mouth shut.
The rage melted away. He had forgotten himself and his surroundings again. Taken advantage of his relation to the coach. He knew that he wouldn’t have talked that way to any of the other coaches.
“As I was saying,” the coach smoothed his blond hair back, “we’ll try to get you a class in a few weeks. For whatever reason, it wasn’t your time.”
“But it’s never happened before.”
“First time for everything,” the coach shrugged. “What I’m telling you is that this isn’t an all or nothing situation. There will be other proving grounds and eventually, depending on what the situation looks like above ground, everyone that wants to will get to go outside. I’d bet we’ll need all capable hands to get the shitshow fixed. Get this country back and running properly.”
“But—”
“You’ll miss out on the glory and clout of being one of the first?” the coach snorted. “Tough. This isn’t about getting to pat yourself on the back. This is bigger than the individual. We all need to act as one.”
“I know that,” he said through grit teeth. “It’s just that since I’m the best—”
“You need a class. I hate to say it, but it’s the reality now. Your impact will be limited without one.”
“But—”
“That’s enough. I’m busy. Get out of my sight before I changed my mind about composting duty.”
The finality of a bulkhead door thudding into place cast a deep shadow over him.
He snatched the crumpled paper off the coach’s desk and saluted before turning smartly on his heel.
“Put that back. The others need to see if they made the cut.”
“Yes sir!”
Nicholas did as he was told ignoring the glares his classmates shot him.
He trudged off toward the training chambers as he always did whenever he had free time or when he was angry. Both things tended to occur concurrently especially over the last six months.
If only he had gotten a class like literally everyone else over the 10 plus years since they had taken refuge in the expansive bunker complex from the monsters.
Then he wouldn’t have to deal with extra bullshit.
Three weeks until the proving grounds.
He’d have to pester one of the coaches to take him out to try again.
Kill a monster.
Get a class.
Take his rightful place at the head of his class.
Probably not his uncle though.
Time passed in the blink of an eye.
Classes continued regardless of the impending challenges.
They needed to learn more than just how to fight.
At a minimum, they had to learn the basics in multiple disciplines. Math, science, history, sociology and so on and so forth.
Rebuilding proper American society would take more than strength. It’d take things like diplomacy and conflict resolution. Admittedly, not his finest subjects. He still struggled to grasp them.
No one knew how things outside the bunkers had changed since the spires had appeared.
It had likely devolved into a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Where monsters and madmen ruled the land. A once united land fractured into thousands of petty warlord-ruled domains.
The teachers speculated as much.
Community shrunken down into hundreds, maybe a few thousands where the strong ruled the weak.
They likened it to old prisons.
He had no concept of the things. Had only their stories to go by.
They sounded like terrible places. Full of the scum of the Earth. Evil getting stronger by devouring weaker evil.
It made sense to him.
Only the strong could survive and thrive in the world of spires.
The day finally came.
He had sunk into a deep depression as all his efforts to gain permission to go beyond into the wild tunnels had failed.
His uncle had seen through him.
And so he stood in the large chamber where the first event of the proving grounds was set to take place.
The multiple classes stood at attention arrayed in perfect rows as the president gave her address.
He ignored the woman’s words.
All he could think about was the moment when she finished.
He pictured it.
They’d lead him out of the chamber to watch along with the rest of the losers that weren’t good enough to qualify.
Everyone would know that he was the weak link.
Useless.
“You are our future! You will do us proud!” the president finished.
He followed the girl in front of him as they filed out of the chamber to get ready.
His classmates would don armor and pick their practice weapon of choice.
Coach Broderick stood with the other coaches.
They were having an animated discussion with a woman in a pristine suit.
He recognized her. One of the president’s aides or something.
He stood awkwardly, unsure of where to go now that his part of the ceremony was done.
Did he just leave?
He was spared when the conference broke off and his uncle hurried over.
“Fucking bullshit,” Coach Broderick muttered.
He remained silent. Hope started to bloom in his chest.
“What the fuck are they thinking? Shit! Fuck! Alright… you got what you wanted.”
“Huh?”
“You’re in the proving grounds. The president’s people didn’t like the optics,” he spat the word, “of one bright star sitting on the sidelines.”
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
He smiled.
“God damn it, kid! Don’t think that they’re doing you a favor. Remember you don’t have any Skills or spells!” the coach snapped. “Listen. The first round is a free for all—”
“I know.”
“Don’t interrupt me— it’s anything goes. Healers are watching closely and you’re using training weapons, but you take a Power Strike to the back of the neck and you’re never walking again. Kids have died before.”
That dampened his excitement for a moment.
“Listen. Just try not to get killed or maimed. You’ve got skills so use them to minimize and mitigate damage. No shame if you get knocked out of it early. No one will hold it against you. After, I promise I’ll take you out everyday to kill a monster until you get a damn class.”
“Yes sir!” he snapped a salute.
“Alright, go get geared up,” the coach waved him away.
He rushed over and quickly got into a brigandine with help from one of the attendants. A pair of steel greaves went on next. Then he grabbed an open-faced steel helm and a round shield.
He hustled to the weapons area. As one of the last kids his choices were limited. He settled on a long spear and two short ones. He took it as a sign of luck. Those where sort of his signature weapon.
He cast around for a group to join up with.
At least at the start.
George shook his head when they locked eyes.
“Sorry, Nicholas. You’re a liability without a class. Not fair, I know,” Betsy shrugged.
“Yeah,” Samuel agreed. “If you want I’ll tap you out. It’ll be a real knock out, but not fatal. I doubt any of the other classes will be as nice.”
“Fuck you guys!” he snapped.
“Suit yourself,” Samuel shrugged.
George strode over. Tall for his age. Imperious. “This’ll be good for that attitude,” he said in a low voice. “I sincerely hope you don’t get too badly hurt.”
“Fuck. You. Too,” he whispered.
George shook his head.
“I don’t know why you thought you’d find a team with that attitude,” Betsy snorted. “This. Is. A. Lesson.” She punctuated each word with a clap. “I hope you learn something from it.”
He stewed in silent anger as they were led back out into the large chamber.
Fifty kids from different classes.
Those deemed the best in combat.
All with a newly gained class except for him.
The president smiled and preened.
The coaches spread them out along the lines that demarcated the battlefield.
The huge space was about the size of a football field.
A fact he only knew from his uncle’s stories.
They all knew the rules.
Namely that there wasn’t much beyond no intentional killing or maiming and stepping out of bounds took you out of it.
Everyone knew that was the coward’s way out.
He had no team so he tried to move away from the others.
A small team from one of the other classes eyed him with undisguised eagerness.
The price of being the best for so long had painted a huge target on his back. Especially, since everyone knew that he lacked a class.
It didn’t matter.
He’d show them.
“Children… begin!” the president smiled down from the high platform.
He darted across the line toward the closest group. His only chance was to force the others on the back foot and not allow them to surround him.
“Magic Missile!”
A bright little marble arced at him.
He blocked it with his shield.
At this level it couldn’t burn through the wood.
He aimed his blunt wooden spear at the girl mage.
“Taunt!”
At the last second another girl drew the thrust to her own shield.
He cursed at the jarring impact and tried for the mage again.
“Power Strike!” a large boy brought his hammer down on the spear shaft knocking it out of Nicholas’ hand. “No offense, kid, but you shouldn’t be out here without a class.”
He glared as he feinted pretending to reach for the spear before drawing and throwing one of the short spears from his back in one smooth motion.
“Fu—” the large boy’s curse was silenced by the thwack of the blunt tip against his helmet.
Talking during a fight was stupid.
Nicholas picked up the long spear and lunged with a thrust.
“Parry!” another boy slapped it aside with a wooden sword.
“Power Strike!” the large boy growled as he slammed a mighty blow that Nicholas barely raised his shield in time to block.
The Skill enhanced impact was shocking. It was just like taking an unenhanced strike from one of the adult soldiers.
“Lands different, don’t it?” the large boy sneered.
A second blow knocked him to the floor.
He was only dimly aware of the other fights going on around him.
Skills and spells flew with abandon. There was more enthusiasm than technique on display to the mild disappointment of the coaches.
Childish excitement at getting to play with new toys tempered by the underlining deadliness to it.
It wouldn’t be long before they’d be using them against monsters.
“I’m going to knock you out now,” the large boy said.
Nicholas tried to thrust with his spear but another kid kicked it aside.
The large boy stepped on the shield pinning it to his chest and him to the floor. “Or you can admit you’re my bitch and I’ll let you crawl out of the arena without a broken jaw and a concussion.”
Nicholas struggled with futility.
The large boy raised the hammer.
It wasn’t fair.
He wasn’t especially gifted or more talented. The coaches had deemed him as average.
He had worked harder than everyone else to become the best. He had stayed longer in the gym, on the mats, in the ring than the rest. He had studied film when the others rested and relaxed. He didn’t deserve to be the best. He had taken the mantle through countless hours of blood and sweat. Puke and tears.
And now he was going to lose and be shamed just because the stupid spires didn’t give him a class like the rest.
Fuck them all!
The fires of rage swelled within him.
The coaches had always been on him to control it. To apply it with proper direction.
They watched from the stands.
He saw them out of the corner of his eye.
His uncle.
The rest of the coaches.
Everyone else that had enough status to attend the proving grounds in person.
He knew that almost everyone else in the bunker complex watched on monitors.
His entire world watched him be defeated and humbled in less than a minute.
Loser.
It was as if he could hear them all jeer.
The rage swelled and swelled until it finally crested over the dam.
Strength flowed into his limbs.
He pushed the large boy off and sent him flying.
He kipped to his feet, armor, shield and all.
Move while the enemy was caught off guard, stationary. A sin in a fight.
He leapt and somersaulted over their heads to land in the middle of their formation. Their front line fighters behind him. The back line, mages and such, in front of him.
He whirled the spear over his head cracking helmeted heads.
Most of them dropped like puppets without strings.
He didn’t know his own strength anymore.
Oh well.
The proving grounds was a harsh place. They all knew that. They all entered willingly.
“Sandbagging motherfucker!” the large boy snarled. “Power Strike!”
This time, Nicholas properly moved and angled his shield to deflect the blow rather than absorb all of it.
The large boy was off balance.
Bad footwork.
Nicholas thrust his spear between the large boy’s legs and flipped him like a practice dummy.
He sensed an attack from directly behind him. He couldn’t explain how he knew. He just did.
The wooden blade slashed just over his ducking head.
He spun and lashed out with his shield.
The other boy screamed as Nicholas heard the crack.
He didn’t have eyes on the boy but again, somehow, he knew that the boy went flying several dozen feet to land in a crumpled heap outside the boundary.
Too strong.
Oh well… the healers would take care of it.
If they didn’t?
Well… not his problem.
Everyone joined the proving grounds on their own free will.
That meant they accepted the consequences. No matter what they turned out to be.
He turned back to the large boy.
“What the hell?” the large boy said.
Again, Nicholas knew attacks were coming at him from where he couldn’t see them.
He darted forward kneeing the large boy in the face.
Teeth flew.
A blunt arrow skimmed just past his ear while a dart of flame licked across his backside.
He didn’t have eyes on either projectile but he was certain.
How?
He scanned the battlefield.
The other kids moved slowly.
He saw them all.
Even the ones behind him.
Well… he didn’t actually see the latter. Just knew where they were and what they were doing in relation to his position.
Confusion dampened the rage.
His mind cleared.
He looked for the next best target to knock out of the fight.
Perhaps his classmates?
“Cadet Broderick!”
A voice crushed his plans.
He thought to object or ignore. Pretend he hadn’t heard.
“Get off the proving grounds, now!”
The fight left him like the air out of a balloon.
He couldn’t go against the voice’s ironclad authority.
His uncle stared at him.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“My office.”
He followed his uncle down empty tunnels.
Everyone was watching the fight.
“You can’t have a class. We would’ve known if you had snuck out to kill a monster and go to the spire.”
“I don’t.” He stared at white knuckles, at veins popping out the back of his hands. “I didn’t.”
“Then what the hell was that?”
He forced his hands open and gripped his knees. “I don’t know…”
“Well… at least you didn’t kill anyone. Just broke a bunch of kids, but anything’s better than dead,” his uncle shrugged. “You really have no idea where that display of superhuman strength, quickness, coordination and what looked like 360 degree awareness, came from?”
“I swear…”
“Okay, I believe you. You’re going to get a full check up. Medical and magical. Then a debrief. It’s going to suck.”
“They won’t… do stuff… like experiment on me?”
“No. Yes. Nothing bad for you. You’re an asset. You seem to be the first we’ve got in this complex. NORAD has a couple, so we’ll need to let them know and see if they can help with the assessment.”
It took a moment for Nicholas to register his uncle’s words through the swirl of conflicted emotions in his head. “Wait… what’s a ‘norad’?”
“A different bunker complex, like us, but in a different part of the country.”
He blinked.
“There’s another—”
“Top secret… on a need to know basis. Congratulations, you’re now one of those people.”
His uncle gave him a mirthless smile.
He didn’t know how to respond.
The knowledge that there was another place just like his home somewhere out there led him to wonder what else didn’t he need to know.
“You might as well go shower and get changed. Once the first round of the proving grounds is done we’ll get you started on those tests.”
A worrying thought entered his head. “The proving grounds— I failed…”
His uncle snorted. “Depending on what you’re capable of those rules don’t apply to you anymore.”
“Yes, sir!”
Nicholas stood and saluted.
He pretended not to hear his uncle’s sigh as he pulled the door shut on his way out.