Yarlo rhythmically drummed his fingers on the ornate wooden chair. Inlaid with ivory and rubies, it was nothing but a work of art.

His attention was elsewhere. His father sat on his throne, graying hair on display like a mane – he was growing weaker by the day. He didn’t know how much he still had in him. Even the best healers couldn’t put him all together. In Yarlo’s mind he was still the gallant youth he remembered being, fierce and proud. Now…

He furtively glanced to his left, at Yister, his raven-haired sister. As expected, she noticed him snooping and gave a small nod – his heart ached a little bit at seeing her expressionless face again. Her calloused and ruined hands stood out on her petite frame, giving her a gruff appearance. Yarlo looked at his own. Pale gray skin, chipped nails, thick wiry fingers and calluses bulging out like meaty bubbles dotted almost every possible growable part just like tumors. He closed his powerful grip, and he could feel the power contained in his own forearms. If only I could –

His train of thought was interrupted by the king himself. The burned smell of ash filled his nose as flaming pieces of paper disappeared into the air in tiny particles.

He felt him shove his own Echo forward like a spear, but never detaching from his body. It left the room and pushed toward one of the corridors, and more. That was the extent of what Yarlo could follow. He only hoped he could achieve such a level of competency within his lifetime. Yister’s brow was scrunched in a scowl, probably trying her best to follow the Echo’s trail herself. She was a monster, so he didn’t doubt that she’ll succeed given ample time. She resembled the second, Ryan, in that regard.

His brother, Yao, flailed and twitched on his seat as his red hair whipped the air, seemingly unable to stay still. His dear mother, Mary, held his hands in an iron grasp. He couldn’t be allowed to leave until all of this was over. He trailed his younger brother’s gaze, and he scowled. Up on the sides of the massive room stood a mezzanine, overlooking them and the few who could be allowed to be within reach of the royal family. A ball was currently taking place there, with food, fun… and women. He could hear their squeaks and fake laughs as they measured themselves with the false interest only the lowest rungs of nobility still clung to. It was all they had. He couldn’t believe they hadn’t been escorted out, he didn’t know what his father was thinking. His brother almost knocked out a teacup on the ground. The powerfully built young man’s eyebrows knit together as he bared his teeth at him. “Yao.” His growl pierced his nonsensical blabbering. “Behave yourself.” He looked at him dead in his eyes, and his little brother audibly gulped. “Sorr – I apologize, brother, I’ll contain himself.” He finally stopped moving, but Yarlo rather believed his brother was the incarnation of a Queen himself before he regarded his claim as truthful.

His father finally retracted his Echo and gasped. Such a maneuver was undoubtedly tiring no matter how much he faked it, but to be this exhausted after a single application of it…

Without knowing, unaware to themselves, both brother and sister vowed to advance as quickly as they could so they could be deemed worthy to take reign of it all.

His sharp focus returned as he heard knocking on the rusted door. After two knocks, nine figures stepped out into the room. He focused his entire attention on the first three. The first, and one he most familiar with, was his uncle. Tall and broad shouldered, he was the opposite of his dying brother. The butler stepped in with royal confidence as his gait took him in front of them, just under the stairs, and bowed. He had briefly glanced at the cacophony of sounds above, but hadn’t said anything, typical of him. The young man had momentarily pondered if he should greet the man, but ultimately stopped. His brother held no such qualms instead and spread his arms wide as a bird and tried to shout. Everyone ignored him as the second figure, and arguably the most powerful shaper in the whole history of the red line, snapped his fingers. Yarlo immediately recognized the chantless spell as a soundproofing bubble only due to his extensive studies. It encircled all sixteen of them from Ur’s starting position in a heartbeat and cut the latter half of his brother’s scream. Yarlo was beginning to hit a wall with his echo, so he had decided to switch to raw mana manipulation exercises, but he was far from adequacy. The being who had erected such a barrier stood tall, easily two persons tall and six people heavy. His magical muscles threatened to rip the black draped fabric from his simple movements alone, and his brass mask gently spoke in its musical tones. Yarlo still found it strange how a mage that could protect himself alone from calamities had such a crude… taste. The guest, which he guessed was the fourth Pioneer of his species, donned a lady’s red dress with such nonchalance that he might’ve been born with it. It always shocked how close to Gaians Human beings looked. The hem of the dress was bloody and torn at the sides, and his right strap hung on by a thread on his shoulder, revealing a caved in crater one might call a chest. The rose hued corset on his was as tight and taut as he had seen on any woman, let alone a man. Is this really a Pioneer? A hero? He looked beyond malnourished.

Something was wrong about the man. He narrowed his eyes as his uncle talked under them – he had it up to his neck with pleasantries. His sister was also observing him, so he activated Panther’s body and channeled it into his pupils. As they split into vertical slits like those of a cat’s, his vision tunneled and it took all he had to not revert his entire upper body at once. Without months of mana manipulation this would’ve been unthinkable. Within his enhanced vision, nothing escaped from his sight as the world slowed, giving him time to think. He could see dried blood on his weak, trembling hands. His crooked fingers seemed unable to stretch to its full length, as did his entire joints. He was hunched over, back raised and knees bent. The restriction bracelets on his body glowed an unnatural gold, stealing his vision for but a moment before he looked elsewhere. An ugly, scarred and rough patch of red skin on his bald head displayed the mock caricature of a… wheel? It matched the shape of his long earrings. What really set apart everything was his gaze. Putrid and empty, his maroon eyes seemed dead while his animated expression took everything in the room from the stairs to the bearing pillars on the sides. Yarlo’s instincts screamed again and he looked even further. It should’ve been impossible to see such features from the distance he was in, but his Skill allowed it.

His vitreous eyes seemed blank as he swirled his head around, but he wasn’t focusing on anything. His pupils remained fixated on a single spot, unmoving. On closer observation he also wasn’t blinking. Was the fourth… blind? He dismissed the thought as soon as it came, that couldn’t be it.

His brother sneered at the state of the man and silently pointed with a pristine finger at him. A silent slap shut him up real quick.

His father slammed his cane on the ground, and it reverberated even through the soundproofing bubble, reaching the balconies above. His transformed eyes came undone as his chest heaved from the strain. He would’ve been momentarily deafened if he had transformed his face – and subsequently, his ears, to peer at his guest.

The incessant jabbering stopped from their bewildered faces, and his brother clapped his hands futilely. Embarrassments of the red line, all of them.

He directed his attention downward as they started talking in earnest. It seemed all pretty standard, with his father using his usual charisma and natural likeness to slither through the hearts of people. Occasionally, he burst his Echo forward. Had Yarlo been slacking with his training he might’ve missed the subtle intricacies he performed to derail a conversion or keep one on track. Yister’s gaze faltered as she tried to do the same, biting her lips and gripping her suit under her back. Yarlo smiled.

His father engaged with her, snapping her out of her stubborn ardor. He had asked her to keep track of the number of questions the king owed him the next time they met.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

The man was good at politics, alright.

Without looking at it, he knew his brother would be red on his face due to the “affront” of it all. Yarlo performed the subtlest working of echo he could manage and coiled it around his mouth and neck like a snake. Each person had its own intricacies in their aura. His was slithering and serpentine, always moving and hard to control.

Or maybe he just lacked the talent.

Before Yao had the time to open his mouth, it was already covering his holes. He looked ravenous as he glanced at him with red eyes and a barely contained fury. Yarlo was pushed back for a moment but he grit his teeth and let his own rage flow through the channels. Within a few heartbeats his mouth was properly closed, and he pushed even further. His mother noticed it but she ignored it, continuing to caress his brother’s frail hands gently.

Yister’s hands furiously scribbled down questions as the conversion went on. She had her focused face back on, but this time it was a healthy one. The king asked something and went still a moment after. The Pioneer had just shared to him his status screen. So it is true! It wasn’t something he even thought possible, but here it was. The rigid posture of the king was proof of that. He had masqueraded it well into thinking he had to drink a sip of tea. Although, from this up close and behind him, it was all clear.

Just when his brother was about to pass out, he slowly let go, not letting him the chance to inhale sharply and make any further noise. The soundproofing bubble had expired moments ago.

He focused again on the man himself. His voice sounded hoarse and strained. He had heard plenty of languages in his life, especially after the transfer to Thoum – he was just a kid back then. The young man’s tone and language sounded completely different from anything he had ever heard, even counting Ryan’s and Samuel’s languages, which weren’t based on any he had a point of reference on. It was almost like a high-pitched whistle, designed to make sound travel at long distances, simply to be heard. That the system could translate such gibberish was a marvel in and of itself. And also terrifying.

They continued to exchange small talk, and Yarlo was becoming more and more convinced that the fellow was, in fact, blind, when he had been given the opportunity to tell his story. This was a classic. Faced with such a decision, most people would’ve shut up, but the genuineness of his father made it work.

After a moment of hesitation, the young man below started telling his story. He briefly recounted the events prior to the tutorial, as if he didn’t want to remember them, and recalled with a drooping of his face the happenings inside his own trial. He heard how he had been ripped away from his family – which he could sympathize with – how he didn’t even know the system existed before all of this. He continued with the tale, saying it had been ten long years in a damp, seemingly endless maze of coral-like tunnels and water chambers filled with the scariest monsters he could imagine. After years of survival alone, he had finally found some means – which he didn’t explain – to turn everything upside down, and he had become the hunter instead.

The first found anomaly was the time spent in one such trial. Granted, they didn’t have a big pool to pull information out of, but the System often stayed consistent. Ryan, the second best of the humans, had cleared his own “tutorial” in around a month, and had appeared in Thoum some twelve months ago, give or take. And yet, despite the absurdity of that claim…

His father went still, before again feigning to drink his tea. It was a tactic he should start to employ, too. He wasn’t skilled enough to verify the claims of the Pioneer, Brian, but he could read his father’s echo which foretold if the young man had told a lie or not.

The story continued to twist and become increasingly more impossible to follow. The people above the mezzanine had long ago returned to their drinking and chatting game, interested more in making connections. Some were looking down with a bored expression, while the minority seemed interested. What were they expecting? A meet and greet with the king? Some with the mentality of the old regnant held a clear animosity at the current royal family but didn’t dare voice their opinions.

Finally, he had stopped. His chest heaved up and down, out of breath. The golden bracelets raised up along with his arms as he let some of the sweat get absorbed by the fabric.

The king made a proposal, one both Yarlo and Yister yearned to see with their own eyes. Using his aura so many times to check the lies of the pioneer had been extremely taxing on his father’s body, he could see it by the tiny droplets falling down his neck and dampening his dark clothes. Even those were arranged with that color to cover this potential outcome, as well.

He had asked if he could show his prowess in a bout, something he had asked every human he had met so far to gauge their level of expertise and let them assign the best teacher for them. With the pretense of a busy schedule, he asked to delay it for a few hours’ time, but Yarlo knew it was but an excuse, as his father was barely holding himself together. Only his pride allowed his decaying body not to buckle. Thankfully, they had the second’s manacles, which were the only things that rendered this strategy as viable as it was.

Yarlo smiled. He genuinely yearned to spar with him.

The proposal was met by a condition. A reasonable one, too. But, since Yarlo was focused on the pioneer with every fiber of his being, he missed Yao’s throat bulging. He had stayed calm for too long. So this was… the reason.

A shout resounded through the hall. Some of the heads above turned and looked down, their predatory gazes fixing on them. His sister trembled.

“Father, I’ll be his opponent! Please, let me teach him a lesson!”

Yao then proceeded to giggle maniacally and coughed on his own spit.

The six retainers and apprentices of Ur raised their heads behind his massive body, incredulous.

His father’s smile strained at the sides, but he composed himself rather quickly, a clear dichotomy to the hatred his daughter displayed on her usual emotionless visage.

He could only nod. “So be it. My second son will be your opponent. Rest assured, I will act as referee and confirm he won’t use any of his abilities. If he does, it’ll immediately be considered his loss.”

Brian nodded and his brother grew even fiercer, but Yarlo had enough. He pushed his aura with such intensity he felt some of his channels tear. He kept a straight face, too. Nothing gave away his doing, not even a squeal. He had pushed it in. Where it was the most painful. In a few seconds, his brother’s back was more drenched than that of his ill father.

Being an embarrassment at such levels of importance in the status quo was not only an outright embarrassment, but also a danger veiled on everyone around the idiot.

“Then, Alain, dismissed. Thank you, everyone, for your time.”

Alain’s eyes contained the barest hint of disdain for his nephew, and he nodded to Yarlo and Yister with a faint smile, before he left the room, trailing the whole entourage with him behind him. As soon as his blazing red hair left the room and the door closed with the thunk of a century, his father’s bloodthirsty red eyes turned to his left, expression as rigid as the fucking sun itself. Yao sat there, mouth agape from the pain, and a second burst of aura lashed out, this time aimed for his head.

Yao passed out on his mother’s arms without uttering a single thing.

“As my second son has unfortunately passed away, we’ll take him to the healers. Sadly, I don't think he would be able to participate in the bout, regrettably. I will let Yarlo and Yister, my own blood, pick the one they deem the most suitable for such a task.”

Eager as Yister was, she agreed to it without delay.

The guests were cheerfully dismissed, and that was that. Yarlo didn’t want to be in the hall for a second longer, and got up. His imposing stature dwarfed even his father in his prime.

A powerful, yet weak hand placed on his tall shoulder, and he stopped. His father’s prosthetic leg clanked in the open as he pointed in the direction of his private chambers.

“We need to talk, son. Now.”

The moment he dreaded had finally arrived.