“Now that you’re technically adventurers,” Kane’s deep voice rumbled throughout the broad elevator chamber where Val and her new squad stood. Calling it cramped was a severe understatement. The seven stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the tight space, heedless of the floors blurring past the see-through panels in favour of keeping to themselves. “Premises that you were once barred from are now open. That includes IBR rooms, a popular facility that is incredibly hard to sign out if one lacks prestige, authority, reputation, and just about everything you all seem not to have.”
“Ouch,” Jesal laughed, and Caro’s grin widened, despite fully knowing the remark included her as well. I mean, the blow does hit harder for others in the group. The tall Striker piled out the shaft first, and the group pooled together afterwards in the carpeted space right outside the threshold.
Magus Kane assumed the lead, and they turned to follow him down the barren hallway. “However, IBR rooms are not the purpose of today’s trip.”
The rug beneath dampened their footfalls, intensifying the serenity of the empty hall. A crafter—most likely an artisan, judging by the nuance and depth—carved bolded letters into the painted room, drawing the Hammer Squad’s gaze.
“Tactics Territory,” Caro read as the sign passed them by.
“Correct.” Magus Kane opened one of the several doors in the corridor, gesturing them inside with a jerk of his head. Caro took the invitation quite literally, and the rest of the team streamed in behind her guide. Val squinted at the sunlight flooding what looked to be a conference room, dying the neutral tones throughout the area with bright yellows. Pushing through the discomfort, she laid sight of the tactics territory’s view—and with it residing on HQ’s highest floors—it effortlessly stole her breath away.
Rows and rows of congested streets tangled together in a disorderly manner that, once gazing upon it for a minute, carried a sense of sequence. The afternoon’s humidity blurred the distance beyond, leaving the faint shadow of the Inner Wall scarcely visible. Only once she had her fill of Atera’s impressive skyline did she pull her attention inwards. A long, metallic table stretched out in the rectangular space, home to a dozen of office chairs. She spotted a few vases carrying conventional plants, if only to balance the sterileness that stubbornly hugged the air.
“From now until the end of summer break,” Magus Kane began, remaining standing as his students grabbed a seat of their own, “all things strategies, we’ll talk about here in our shared study.”
“Does that mean…” Val’s head swept the area. “This room’s ours?”
“Yes and no.” Kane double-tapped the metal desk, eliciting gasps from the group—Caro, Otis, and Val specifically. The grey surface warmed to a blue colour, emitting particles that resembled starbugs lost on their way home. Eventually, though, they found themselves, and the bits of light congregated together, thickening—solidifying, more like—themselves into legible text.
IBR connection establishing…
It hovered in the air much like the scripts of the Rookie Competition’s final exam, so faint it felt like it could fizzle out any second, and yet able to demand their undivided attention. The white script brightened, causing Val to flinch in confusion. That’s not right. Her gaze flitted about, and she discovered Magus Kane by the floor-to-ceiling windows, swiping down two fingers along its clear pane. The room’s lighting followed its motion, dimming to his will and his timing.
His tablet appeared in his hand while he turned to face his squad, and he wrestled off a smile at their impressed expressions. The glow of the IBR-connected table caught on hair rings in his dreadlocks which, Val noticed, grew to reach past his ears.
“Every team, either assigned and sponsored, or even temporary and impermanent, is allowed a place in these halls. By the time orientation ends, it is under your captain’s control. Now.” He lifted his device. “Allow me some time to prepare the next item on our itinerary.”
And with that, the Magus completed his introductory speech, leaving the six teenagers to stare at each other in the high-tech room. Caro coughed into her hand, unable to bear the silence. “So, the competition this year isn’t looking weak.”
“That was always obvious.” Opposite the table, Nightingale’s bored blue eyes roamed the study, as if in hopes of finding some form of entertainment on the walls. “The Twenty’s never had this many young mages in one cohort in generations.”
“Well, the wars are gone now,” Jesal offered.
“War seems to be a constant in every country,” Otis said, on the cusp of a sigh.
Nightingale turned to the boy to his left, utterly eclipsed in height. “You’re not from here?”
“Does that mean I look the part?” Otis tugged at his straw hat with a small smile. Earlier on, Magus Kane permitted them their civvies at the end of the two-hour drill once content with their level of weaponry. After a heaven-sent shower, they were off and away to what Val now understood as their personal study. She would’ve taken it as a sign to ease off the gas, to prepare for a laidback affair. Unfortunately, her time around the metal mage had never been short of training, and she suspected their visit in the tactics territory would be no different.
“Looks can lie,” Caro quipped, and she chewed on her lips, like she was hesitant on speaking any further. Don’t say it, Val pleaded, registering the four Novices' curious looks as she closed and opened the ends of her sunglasses. Clicking them back onto the neckline of her shirt, her resolve firmed enough to spit out the words she tried to retain. “So can status.”
Nightingale’s eye twitched. “Clarify, if you will.”
“Oh I’ll clarify,” Caro said. “ You all talk like the Twenty is where it's at.”
“That’s simply because it is,” Nightingale fired back. “You’ll see soon, once we start using spells.”
“Sorry to disappoint, but you’re looking at a duelist, bud,” Caro smirked. “If I ever start shaking in my boots because of you—which I won’t, by the way—the last thing causing it will be your spellcasting. Second last is your height.”
“I’ve never heard a more absurd claim all year,” Nightingale got out through gritted teeth.
“It seems that maybe,” Kane cut in, “our first strategic topic will be a team bonding experience.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Nightingale grumbled.
“If I am to send this team into a rift in a fortnight, yes it is. The last reason Hammer Squad should fall is because of strife.” The finality in Magus Kane’s silenced the pair’s bickering.
For two seconds, that was.
“Anything but ice-breakers,” Caro added. “Please, I’d rather not learn what fun-sized over here does in his day-to-day life.”
“What did you just call—”
“No one should stress,” Magus Kane interjected. “I’m not that evil.”
A faint smile flickered on Val’s face, washed away as the table grew a mind of its own. A holographic advertisement streamed above, showcasing different shops, of few of which Val recognized from Adventurer’s Market downstairs.
“It’s customary,” Magus explained the sudden transition to commercial with an exhale, resigned. “In the meantime, gather on one side, Novices. Push away the chairs, too. You’ll need the space to stand.” Hammer Squad huddled along the edge of the metal desk—the object long enough to leave ample space for all six—with their backs to the windows. Magus Kane sunk into the chair at the head of the table, sliding across a digital pen. Its white colour struck a sharp contrast to the metal, allowing Nightingale to snatch it in a blink. The ad then disintegrated into particles of light, distracting anyone from questioning the Hunter.
“Three minutes, Novices.” Magus Kane tapped his wrist. “Get to it.”
Pixels congregated to form hollow letters under the time limit, and those letters weaved themselves into a question. A blinking underscore levitated beneath, begging for an answer each instance it winked in and out.
All aether creatures are fitted within the four main categories, namely: beast, elemental, chimera, or spectral. How come spirits aren’t found under any of the four and why are they different?
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(1) word left
_____
“One word left?” Caro cursed under her breath, shooting cursory glances in the Magus’ direction. “Be actually for real.”
“It’s a puzzle,” Jesal scratched his forehead. “One we should probably solve before our clock runs out.”
Val gnawed on the inner linings of her cheek. “I can’t help on this one. My knowledge on familiars is very, very limited.”
“That is no trouble.” Nightingale twirled the writing utensil in between his fingers and leaned in, about to press it onto the underscore—
Caro grabbed his wrist, and Val winced as her iron grip squeezed the guy’s forearm. “Aren’t you going to tell us what you’re writing first? Team synergy and all that jazz?”
Again, energy funneled into his arm’s aether channels, permitting him to yank his hand away without difficulty. “The answer’s clearly compatibility. The main difference between aether creatures and spirits is their abilities to become familiars.”
“That’s because of their form,” Jesal emphasized. “Aether creatures are connected, but spirits are a different form of the gates itself.”
“People say the same about elementals and spectrals,” he countered. “Not spirits.”
Otis stepped in between. “Lads, this is a topic studied in university. Neither of you is going to figure out the complexity behind spirits in the next three minutes.
Nightingale bristled. “So what do you propose, then?”
“Allow me,” Otis stuck his hand out. “I know a lot about this stuff, more than you think.”
“What makes you any more—!”
Lenson plucked the pen out of the Hunter’s grasp mid-sentence and placed it gently in Otis' open palm. The striking height difference demanded the Bulwark dip his head to the person no taller than his chest, eyes wide as the little Support gave him a sharp nod and crossed her arms. This decision’s final, her body language relayed, further supported as Jesal spoke.
“Alright, Kylee. We got the message crystal clear,” he huffed a handful of amused air. “Before anyone argues, I need a firm reason why we should dismiss a diviner’s choice in the matter.”
In the ringing silence hovering over the group, Jesal gave the Bulwark the all-clear. “Otis, you’re up. Quickly. We’re down two minutes already.”
Otis hurried on over, drawing out the word in a scribbled mess. “You two were on the right track. In the end, though—” he gave them space to see his answer “—unity is the deciding factor.”
At once, the question turned green in approval. "Unity, huh," Val mumbled.
A slow clap drew their attention, and they swiveled around in the dim room to find Magus Kane lightly smiling. “I didn’t choose the order of this questionnaire. Even this activity is telling you guys to organize yourselves, and so am I." His smile vanished. "I do not care if the height difference in this room is noticeable. I do not care if you are highborn, midborn, or an international student. You’ll remember I said as much back in Janos.”
Nostalgia overwhelmed Val as his words, said all but six months ago, came to mind. We must accept our differences and work to enhance what we have.
“Unity isn’t found in sameness. A spirit is, after all, as far from human-like as you can get.” He brought his hands together, fingers interlocked. “It’s a mesh that, even while being different, fits like a charm. It’ll happen to this team in time, I trust. However, until it does,” his eyes blazed, emitting a force that pressed down on Val’s shoulders. “Act like the mages you are.”
“Understood, sir!” came the raspy response of the team, and he relaxed his aura in response.
“Good,” he pointed to the center of the table. “Your next question is up.”
As Val guessed, their time in the study was one spent on rift-related scenarios, magic-based trivia, and just the tiniest bits of ice-breakers, drilled into them like their livelihoods depended on it.
----------------------------------------
Val idly tapped her feet to the background music of the Kidraan restaurant, the funky percussion able to pierce the girl's intense concentration on her phone. Hammer Squad's lively Striker—Caro, of course—cordial Bulwark, Otis, and friendly Anchor, Jesal, managed to convince the remainder of the group to a late lunch out. Traditional Kidraan cuisine routinely held a high preparation time, and the wait for this particular afternoon rounded up to over an hour. So, she busied herself with reports of cured Aetherial Vessel Abnormalities.
She knew, for the most part, these articles bordered on fiction rather than fact. However, living a life as roundabout as hers, she struggled not to look everywhere she could, even if “everywhere” was a place deemed nonexistent.
Jesal hummed, sipping at the chilled glass in his hand. “I was thinking about getting some catering for our next training session. Does pizza work? I know a place, and their pineapple pizza is simply amazing.”
Val half-scoffed, half-sighed, and jabbed a finger at the magma mage on her right. “She couldn’t stand a smoked scorp’s leg from Darkshaft, and you expect her to eat pineapple pizza?”
“Girl,” Caro hissed and whipped around. “Pineapple on cheese and sauce does not compare to freaking scorpion straight out of that dank place!”
“Darkshaft,” Nightingale repeated, uncrossing his arms and sitting up straight. “You don’t mean the Dark Mineshaft, do you? Our first dive location?”
Caro blinked. “Is this the part where I say yes, or can you put two and two together?”
Val nudged the girl’s shoulder in warning as she watched the Hunter’s already scowling face darken further. “That’s right. We’ll be there in two weeks from now.”
“Only those who’ve been inside call it Darkshaft, though.” Smiling, Jesal set aside his finished drink. “I knew Magus Kane wouldn’t send us there for ourselves without some kind of catch.”
“A terrible catch, in my opinion,” Nightingale said, flopping back into his seat. “Their experience is not as beneficial as carrying our storage rings would’ve been. I cannot fathom what evil spirit possessed him to deny us such basic needs.”
Leaning over, Caro stage-whispered Val’s ear. “Did he just call storage rings basic?”
Obviously hearing the badly-hidden questtion, Nightingale stiffened where he sat—Jesal as well, to an extent—suddenly looking away. Val could make out Otis choking down a chuckle with his iced soda, and she too worked to wipe off the smile creeping onto her face.
“They are basic enough in Atera.”
It would so happen that none of Hammer Squad would be free of discomfort, as it was the Strikers’ turn to go rigid. The familiar voice sent the cogs in Val’s brain spinning as it fought hard to remember the way the newcomer’s words were often just short of a growl and never far from a threat. It couldn’t be, Val thought, realizing that her mind wasn’t fighting off the haze of a fuzzy memory.
It was fighting off disbelief.
“If it isn’t Isik!” Nightingale leapt out of his chair, a bright grin on his face, to greet the broad-shouldered Kidraan hovering near their table. The all-too-happy Hunter guided him down the aisle of the restaurant, one hand patting his back, the other in front to emphasize whatever it was the Hunter wanted to convey. Isik, on the other hand, glanced behind the shoulder, and Val could see the solid ire in his blue-eyed gaze right as they turned the corner.
One thing was certain—he remembered them, and he remembered them well.
“What’s he doing here?” Caro asked, downing the bottled water nearby.
“Atera is the Tamaan’s family home base,” Jesal answered.
She nearly spat out her drink. “He’s part of the Twenty? That guy?”
Jesal simply nodded.
Caro clicked her tongue. “Tamaan, Nightingale, Rhodes—” Val could’ve sworn she saw Lenson’s head snap toward the magma mage at the third name “—I feel like all the Kidraan families are gonna end up hating me.”
“You don’t look bothered in the slightest,” he pointed out.
Caro’s forlorn expression settled in a frightening grin, one that spoke of verdant hunger to fight, and one that seemed, if only by the smallest margins, shaky. “More people to fight.”
Val’s gaze bounced back and forth between Support and Striker, the former due to curiosity and the latter a growing cause for concern. Before she could get a grip on her still-spinning gears, though, Nightingale returned in a manner far-off from his Path. It was loud, unhurried, and obviously an attempt to gain the table’s attention.
Retaking his spot beside Jesal, he glowered at their end of the compartment. What was new, at this point? Something must’ve set off Caro’s defensive measures, though, since she took it upon herself to address and smoothen out the unspoken wrinkles amongst the team.
“Whatever he told you, Ekon, it—”
“Nightingale,” he interrupted.
“Gale,” she amended without missing a beat, waving a hand at his silent protests. “I think I have an idea of what Isik said and they’re probably all wrong. Anything he could’ve told you definitely has another side to it, so don’t go basing your thoughts on us using him.”
He twirled a cup around, watching the clear liquid spin. “Why should I trust you instead?”
“Maybe because I’m not the massive di—” Val kicked Caro’s leg under the table “—dude, pardon me, that had thirty-something participants forced to be at his beck and call. You said it yourself. We’re midborn. We were there, in his trial. You weren’t.”
Nightingale tightened his hold on his glass, waiting for the drink inside to settle. “I think I’ll take Haldar’s advice. I’ll observe, and we’ll see just who is right in the Dark Mineshaft.”
Dark Mineshaft. The trip back to the rot-filled labyrinth came with both dread and anticipation in equal parts. Ever since the secret evaluation Rick and company pulled over her head, Val felt landlocked, unable to dive into a rift no matter how many times she passed the request board.
Yet then again, the Dark Mineshaft was no happy place and she couldn’t shake off the downright icky feeling that came with its memory. If she’d barely survived the Lifemonger and the Speartailed Scorpion with the help of experienced companions and unknown forces, what might happen to six, fledgling Novices?