Sometimes Sera felt her gift of thought to be more of a curse than a gift.
She watched as crates of her fellow Magikoi were dumped into the lake, fed to the waiting jaws of Liberions and Paraeels. She held no sympathy for her feral siblings, but it hurt knowing that she was barely better than them, even after all these years.
Back when she had first been awakened, the world had seemed so bright to her. Words, thoughts, emotions, feelings and experiences that she never even knew existed. The sentience she had been granted allowed her to truly enjoy life, in a way that simply wasn’t otherwise possible.
But as she learned and experienced the world, she realized how weak she truly was. Her species was prey, and there had never been examples of them being anything else. While other species of soulbeast could train and grow in power, even the strongest of her kind were nothing but slightly more nutritious meals.
As she grew, Sera learned to hate. She hated her father for granting her sentience just to make her a better pet. She hated the other awakened of her species, for accepting their fate and learning tricks and stories to be more entraintaining. She hated the fighters of her ranch, for their growing strength and dreams of becoming legends.
And most of all, she hated herself. Hated her own weakness that never went away, no matter how much she trained. Hated her own fear, the way she instinctively shrank in the presence of higher species. Hated her own mind, for knowing that her ambitions were impossible, for telling her to give up and accept her fate.
“Hey Sera!”
Sera dispelled her dark thoughts in a practiced manner. She had long since learned that her true feelings were not welcome among either humans or soulbeasts.
“Hello Sophia.” Sera spun her body and turned to face the one that had swam to her little corner of the lake.
Sophia was a Liberion, publicly acknowledged to be one of the top water type combat species. Amphibious and light enough to fly with minimal effort, Liberions had a history of becoming some of the strongest creatures on land, air, or sea. Unlike her feralborn self, Sophia had come from a long and specially bred line of combatants, with sharp claws and gleaming sawed teeth. Long tendrils flowed from the back of her head, framing her body of corded muscle.
“Sorry you had to see that.” The predator sent. “We would have waited for you to leave if we knew that you were here.”
Sera quashed the small thread of fear that sprung up and forcefully projected happy, bright feelings. “No no,” She humbly denied. “Its my fault for not saying anything. I’m sorry for troubling all of you.”
Sophia laughed, sending out thoughts of ringing bells and soft warm winds.
“No trouble at all. I always have time to help an admirer. Have you come to watch the spars?”
“Yes! I love watching all of you train! You’re all so strong and cool!”
Sera had learned that most of the combat soulbeasts in the ranch were vain things. Lavish them with compliments and they would be willing to bend quite a few rules for you. It was an easy way to get them to accept her presence while watching their spars.
She stamped down on her jealousy as she felt the power of their clashes ripple through her. One day, she would stand above all of them. No matter what it took.
***
How boring.
Carmine commanded the Warphound to feint to the left, letting the attack of its opponent uselessly crash beside it.
“Bite it’s ankles, then blink up and claw its eyes out as it turns.”
The soulbeast did as instructed, drawing blood from the enemy Silverarm and blinking upwards to avoid its retaliatory attack. Even without an empathetic link, Carmine could feel the panic rolling off the opposing trainer as his soulbeast was blinded. Had he been a better trainer, his opponent could have sent his own vision to his soulbeast, letting it continue fighting in third person. Carmine knew that he wasn’t that good though, and simply watched in slight amusement as the Silverarm jerked around like a schizophrenic, trying to follow its trainer’s panicked commands without vision.
“Power Punch to the left! No, not that left, the other left!” His opponent had even resorted to yelling out commands like a child, trying to salvage what he could of the situation.
Carmine played around a bit, letting his soulbeast take a few grazing hits and teasing his opponent with the hope of victory. It was fun, watching the emotions play out on his opponent’s face as victory fluttered in and out of reach. Most people didn’t bother controlling their facial expressions, not knowing that they projected emotion as well as any telepathic broadcast.
After a few minutes, his teacher caught on and called the match in his favor.
“What did you think you were doing?” His teacher called out to him after the match. Ms.Oak had always been a stick in the mud, criticizing him for every minor, meaningless infraction. Carmine put up with it, both because she was a relatively competent instructor, and because he felt some pity for the washed up trainer. He knew it must be frustrating to teach a younger student that was already more skilled than you, and was managinous enough to allow her little ego boosts.
“Sorry ma'am.” He apologized, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”
She grabbed his shoulder and pulled him to the side.
“The sparring match!” She hissed through gritted teeth. Her voice was low, angry but not wanting to cause a scene. “Why did you let Percy get hurt like that!”
A humoring smile stretched across his face.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. It's only natural to get slight injuries during combat exercises.”
Oak loomed over the youth and poked him into the chest, pushing him further into the wall.
“Don’t play innocent with me. I know you let Percy get hurt during that match, and if you don’t tell me why I swear that I will do everything in my power to swing the decision on your trainers licence.”
Carmine put his hands up in surrender. Teachers didn’t usually have the power to affect the licencing process, but he was a special case due to his early age. No need to risk running a sure thing.
“Alright, alright, I was just having a bit of fun. The match was kind of boring so I gave my opponent a few openings to see if he would do better. Percy was having fun too.” Probably because he was working with an actual trainer instead of the usual bumbling fools. And it wasn’t like the injuries were that serious. Soulbeasts had amazing recuperative abilities, so the warphound would have been fine after a night’s sleep.
“And what if you had messed up?” Ms.Oak questioned, clearly still angry. “What if Percy had gotten crippled, or even killed? Purposefully putting your soulbeasts in harm's way is dangerous, even in a training environment.”
“That wouldn’t have happened.” Carmine claimed with absolute confidence. “If you trust that I have enough control to win without getting hit, trust me to keep my soulbeasts from getting killed.”
Oak glared at him, trying to find any trace of doubt on his face. She found none.
“Fine,” She reluctantly admitted “But don’t ever do that again. If nothing else, playing with your opponent is disrespectful.”
Carmide nodded in agreement, thankful that the matter ended there. Official punishments would have been annoying.
***
“Hey kid. How was class?”
“Hi Celine.” Carmine greeted, climbing onto the Pharrow’s back. “It was fine.I got into trouble with Ms.Oak for playing around during a training match, but nothing happened.”
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
The avian soulbeast laughed as she took off, sending a series of sharp shrieking sounds through the air.
“Playing around? Aren't the other students more than three years older than you? I would have smashed my head in if that were me.”
Carmine grinned and nodded in acknowledgement. “Yeah, being untalented must suck.”
The two of them laughed together as they flew home. Celine was one of the few people that Carmine could honestly say that he trusted. The old soulbeast had practically raised him, always taking him on flights and offering an ear to complain too. Being a feralborn and having lived through two wars, she didn’t care about the common human niceties, letting Carmine vent his feelings without fear of rejection.
Landing on the roof of his apartment, Carmine fed Celine a few treats and sent her back to the birdhouse. The inner city was too crowded for soulbeasts to live there, so most people rented space along the outer walls.
Upon entering his room on the 5th floor, Carmine was enthusiastically welcomed home by his parents.
“Congratulations!” They yelled, popping a few sticks of graffiti as he stepped through the door.
“Did it already come?” Carmine asked, already knowing what the celebration was about.
He father nodded and handed him a letter from the national trainers league.
“Yeah. I found it in the mail when I came home today, so I rushed to get a little celebration together before you came back from classes.”
He pointed at a little store bought cake, a large, proud smile on his face. A little piece from the side had already been carved out, which explained why his little sister wasn’t here.
Carmine did his best to enjoy the little party that followed, though he didn’t really see the need for celebration. Getting his trainers licence was a simple matter of course. Celebrating it was like celebrating him passing school. It was really more of a lack of failure rather than a success.
Eventually, his sister was forgiven for stealing a bit of the cake, and his neighbourhood friends joined the celebrations as well. Carmine forced himself to smile and sit through the congratulations, shaking hands and taking pictures. It was an annoying thing, but he understood the need to maintain social connections. By the time he went to bed, he found the party to have been more tiring than the licence exam itself.
***
It was the yearly Unity Festival, two weeks after Carmine had received his licence. Hundreds of new trainers were running around, 20,000 dollar grant checks burning a hole in their pockets. Every ranch, breeder, and training house in the region had set up a stand, showing off their strongest soulbeasts. Carmine didn’t bother checking out any of the sideshows. After all, why settle for the rest, when you could have the best?
Making his way to the center of the fairgrounds, Carmine saw the stage of the Pinnacle Institute. Founded by the son of a former Champion, the Pinnacle Institute was nationally famous for their research into soulbeast combat and training, regularly releasing papers on new skills or regimens.
Every year, they held a round robin tournament for their test subjects, no trainers involved. The top five rankers would have their contracts put up on auction for the Unity Festival, constantly growing their prestige and influence. ‘Surpassing the peak’ was their motto, and that showed in their results, with each year being stronger than the last. One of their graduates was the current Champion’s Mixcoutal, the most powerful aerokinetic in the entire nation of Onyx.
The difference was evident even in their advertising. While other stands were attracting attention through loud music and dramatic mock battles, the Pinnacle Institute distained such things. Their stand was silent and without decoration. A screen was above each graduating soulbeast, silently playing their former battles. Each screen had a counter below, displaying the current bid price, ticking up every few minutes. The cheapest price, for the 4th rank Bogwalker, was currently at 152,000. 5th place was a Liberion, a much more versatile soulbeast, which demanded a price of 177,500.
Carmine checked the screen of the first rank soulbeast, a purple and blue Zan currently going for 411,200. He wouldn’t be surprised it went over a million before the end of the night.
The Zan fought with speed and precision, like all others of its species. What made it exceptional was its energy control, displaying skills from a wide range of elements and types. It would pull enemies into position with Vortex Palm, pierce through their defences with Air Drill, then ignite the gathered oxygen with an Electro Flare. A combo which displayed triple elemental mastery by itself, and it was far from its only one.
Its match against the 5th rank Liberion played on the screen.
The water type started the battle by launching a circular web of Waterjets at the Zan, an attack that carved into the walls as it closed in. The Zan within the web rippled and faded away as the attack passed through it, revealing itself to be an illusion. Its real body appeared beside its opponent, an electric claw slashing across the Liberion’s body.
Liberion threw itself out of melee range with its water cloak, a stream of red flowing out of its side. It spread out its water across the ground and walls, gathering bits of stone and dust from its earlier attack. It sent out the particle filled water in a giant ball of spinning mist, forming a tornado like effect. Zan glowed and spun, deflecting the storm of water and stone with a Revolving Heaven, then transitioning the defensive move into a pair of Sword Beams. Liberion dodged, only to fall to the ground as the two Sword Beems spun around and boomeranged into its back. Zan capitalized on its mistake and quickly trapped it against the ground with its talons, attaining victory.
The entire fight lasted 40 seconds. Zan were burst fighters with low stamina, but such a display was impressive, even for the Pinnacle Institute. All its other fights were won with the same speed and ease. In fact, its only loss was against the 2nd rank Pharrow, which took advantage of its flight and metal type defences to eek out a win after 4 minutes.
Perfect.
Carmine smiled and walked to the front of the stand. He had no way of affording the Zan’s contract, but when you were part of a telepathic species, there were ways around such problems.
He blasted a message of Supremacy as he walked forward, daring anybody to challenge his claim.
The mutterings of the crowd went silent as everyone turned to look at him. The local trainers glanced away once they recognized him, having already acknowledged the truth of his message. None of the older trainers were willing to embarrass themselves to challenge somebody of his age, leaving only the younger out of towners to stand in his way.
One of them stepped out to meet him. A pampered rich girl, judging by her dress and accompanying baby Quetzal.
“Who the fuck are you?” She asked out loud.
Carmine didn’t bother to respond, simply slipping through her mental defences and pushing as much fear into her as he could.
A few seconds later and she dropped to her knees, panting and breaking out into a cold sweat. He was impressed that she didn’t just piss herself. Her soulbeast hissed fire at him, but it knew better than to get involved in human matters.
He met the eyes of each potential challenger, promising to do worse if any of them stepped up.
Nobody else stopped him as he continued forward.
The Zan looked at him as he approached.
“You think you are strong enough to claim me through force?” It publicly broadcasted amusement.
“I know I am.” Carmine broadcasted in response.
He reached out with his mind to form a link, and the Zan accepted his challenge. Its mental defences were much stronger than the average human’s, having been well trained to defend against such things by the institute. Not that it made a difference in the end.
Carmine was the best for a reason, and the league didn’t give him a licence three years early just for fun. 20 seconds was all it took for him to forcefully link their minds and from an empathetic bond.
The Zan felt the little human’s unwavering confidence, built upon years of proven superiority and casual victory. Carmine felt the soulbeast’s ambition and desire for growth, the joy in reaching its limits and going beyond. Both of them radiated approval.
“How old are you?”
“13.”
“Are you going to the peak?”
“There’s nowhere else to go.”
It laughed, both telepathically and physically. The Zan waved its claws at the representative trainer from the Institute.
“Kevin. Give this boy my contract.”
The older man hesitantly shook his head.
“I can’t sell you for less than 200,000.” He didn’t want to anger their star graduate, but orders were orders.
“How much money do you have?” Zan asked the human.
“60,000.” Alongside the 20,000 grant given to all new trainers, Carmine also had an additional 25,000 from various other grant and sponsorship funds, with an additional 15,000 that his parents had saved for him.
It nodded and stared back at the manager.
“You heard him Kevin. Give the child my contract. I know you have prewritten ‘loan agreements’ for this kind of thing.”
The two of them stared at each other, discussing something in a private channel. Eventually, Kevin sighed and went back to grab the two contracts.
“4% monthly compounding interest.” He told the boy, holding out the loan agreement and a pen. “Minimum 50,000 downpayment, and we have exclusive sponsorship rights for as long as the loan lasts.” That means that Carmine would have to wear their logo everywhere and announce his affiliation at events. Potentially more of a benefit than a cost, considering the institute’s reputation. Sill, the boy had already displayed his talent, so hopefully it wouldn’t be too much of a loss.
Carmine nodded and signed whatever he needed to, trusting that such a prestigious organization wouldn’t bother screwing him over on a minor matter.
The last contract would need two to complete, and the Zan stepped up to do so.
It used a claw to cut into a joint of its exoskeleton.
“Strength for thought, as it has always been.” It recited the traditional pledge.
Carmine poked into his thumb with a specially prepared pin, rubbing the blood all over his hand.
“Thought for strength, as it has always been.”
The Zan rubbed its bloodied claw on the paper.
“This pact sealed in blood. I swear to cut through all that stands in our way, bringing us to new heights.”
Carmine pressed his hand onto the paper, letting their blood mix.
“This pact sealed in blood. I swear to push you farther than you’ve ever gone, through journeys across new horizons.”
Each of them saw the world through two pairs of eyes as their visions overlapped, both of their souls singing in harmony.
Note: This site eats my formatting. Might be janky.