Cloudy. 10mph winds blowing northeast. Seventy-one degrees fahrenheit. No rain is expected.

The combat class building matched its appearance on print—short, only the essentials, and with an unassuming exterior. The windows were shaded, but warmly-colored light poured out from beneath the front door. The building was sandwiched between other buildings in a mostly unassuming strip mall not far from the school. After taking in their surroundings for a moment, Azer and Grif opened the door and stepped inside.

Azer was shocked by the depth of the building—from the outside, only its width and height were visible, which were modest at best, but the combat class facility extended a long way in, leaving ample room for the numerous students scattered around. And the students weren’t just kids Azer and Grif’s age—some of them appeared to be twice as old. While the inside was welcoming, warmly-lit, and filled with lighthearted chatter, the oppressive stench of stale sweat was ever present.

Grif placed crumpled money on the counter beside the door and then approached Delvin, who was standing on the mats beside a group of other students—two dozen or so, it looked at first glance. Seperate groups of students with their own instructors were deeper into the combat class room, each group standing on different colored sparring mats. As Azer looked at the other groups of students deeper in the building, he noticed that the students seemed to get older as they got further from the building’s entrance, going from kids roughly Azer’s age, to scary-looking teenagers, to students who looked college-age. In the group closest to the front Azer recognized Milo, Torbe, and Copycat, along with some other kids he saw in his school on his first week. Upon seeing Azer and Grif, Delvin motioned for them to join the rest of the group.

“And this should be just about everyone. Welcome to the beginner level combat class. If this is your first class, don't worry, students of all combat skill levels will be accommodated. You’ll learn the basics of all types of fighting and refine any skills you already have. Now, I don't like to be the kind of person who spends too long on introductions; I believe it is due time to get started with the lesson.”

Delvin pulled a small device out of his pocket and flicked something on its side.

“Please step off the mats for a moment.”

Everyone obliged, slowly walking away from the mats. A loud rumble and a clank came from the floor. A circular portion of the mat, ten feet in diameter, twisted in its place slightly and then slowly lifted into the air, mechanical clanks vibrating the floor for the entirety of the platform’s ascent. Ladder-like divots, aged and worn, donned the sides of the cylindrical rising platform. By the time the cylinder stopped moving with a clunk, its top had risen to well over Azer’s height. Beside him, Grif gulped.

“Your first lesson is to spar with a randomly selected partner. The best way to learn is through practice, and today that is what you shall do. Do not worry, you will be fighting students of your age group. The results of each fight will tell me where each of you are in terms of fighting skill and how to proceed for further lessons. Excuse me a moment while I grab cushions. The practice fights will begin very soon.”

Delvin walked into a large closet and returned with large cushions, placing them around the base of the cylinder, prompting the whole group of students to whisper amongst themselves.

“We’re gonna be fighting on that thing?” Grif whispered.

“I guess so.”

“This guy is the real deal. I thought our first few lessons were just going to be introductions or icebreakers or something. I had no idea we were already fighting each other!”

Delvin called the name of two students who Azer didn’t recognize and led them, both looking unsure, to the top of the platform. They glanced at each other apprehensively.

“There is never one true perfect method to fighting—depending on who you are and what your Vals are, any fighting style might be right for you. Fight the way that feels right to you in these matches, and we will work on perfecting your techniques in future lessons. But I must stress, if you have Vals, you must use them to fight in some way. There is no such thing as learning without risk.”

“Now, the goal is to push your opponent off the platform and onto the cushions below, and you may not injure your opponent to do so! Ready?” He paused. “Three, two, one, fight!”

As the two began to fight, the rest of the class watching in awe, Azer noticed that Grif had a mortified look on his face.

“Uhh oh,” Grif said.

“Yeah, I know. I don’t even think I have a Val. How am I supposed to do this?” Azer seconded. “Not to mention, this scar on my side hurts every time I twist and turn…”

“No, not that. Well, all that too, but I think I can help you out—I just meant that I have a terrible time controlling my electricity Val,” said Grif.

“Really? It didn’t seem like that when you showed me the first time.”

“That’s ‘cause I only made a tiny bit of electricity. If I make too much electricity and try to control it, it just goes boom.”

Azer cocked his head to the side.

“No, literally ‘boom!’ I always short-circuit and the electricity just explodes in my hands. My control over my Val comes and goes, and truthfully I’ve never had to really use it much before. Much less on another person…”

“Seems like we’re both in the same boat,” Azer said, watching the students on the platform show an eye-opening display of their flashy Vals. “You can do it. I doubt those guys started out being really good with their Vals.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll give it a shot.”

Azer let his focus drift for a moment as he watched the two students fighting on the platform.

“I think I have a different problem, though, I don’t think I have a Val at all…” he said.

One of the students—the one who seemed to be losing—suddenly curled back his fingers and jammed his palm into his opponent’s nose. Immediately, Delvin’s raised voice broke out over the scuffles of battle, accompanied by a pained yelp from the other student. The hurt student grabbed his nose and stumbled backwards.

“Stop the match! Geraas, that is a forbidden move!” Delvin shouted, immediately grabbing the attention of every student in the group. “You could kill him if you did that any harder or hit his nose at the right angle.”

Geraas, the offending boy, looked at Delvin with terror, and then at his injured opponent. His opponent’s eyes were watery from the strike to his nose.

“I’m so sorry! I thought that was just a stunning move, I saw it in a movie-”

“Be careful not to injure your opponent!” Delvin interjected impatiently. “Now, if your opponent is up for it, resume the match.”

Geraas apologized to his opponent, who nodded understandingly, and they resumed.

“About you not having a Val and all,” Grif started, turning back away from Delvin and facing Azer again, “I think you’re already using your Val, but just unconsciously. Before we met on the bus, I saw you jump over a car. And I think I saw some kind of strange mist coming off of you then, too. If I could guess, your Val is like some kind of super-boost to your body.”

Azer recalled the many times in his life he had performed extraordinary physical feats. At the time, he had just assumed it was a normal thing anyone could do. But Grif had a point; when Azer jumped over the car on his first trip across a busy street, he had felt a strange energy fill him, a burning sensation in his veins like liquid vitality was flowing through his body. Was that his Val all along?

There was a loud “oof” from the platform, and Azer turned his head just in time to catch one of the students falling off the cylinder and onto the cushions below. The other students cheered, and the winning student atop the platform jumped in celebration.

“Well done,” said Delvin, helping the fallen student to his feet and the winner off the platform. “Now, will Copycat and Milo come to the base of the platform?”

Milo and Copycat split off from the group and made their ways to either end of the cylinder. They climbed to the top, and by the time they saw each other across the platform, Milo looked noticeably more intimidated than Copycat did.

“Three, two, one, fight!”

Immediately, Copycat walked towards his opponent, and as he walked, perfect duplicates of himself seamlessly emerged from his back and walked alongside the original. And in a sick moment of realization, Azer recognized the back of Copycat as the same person he saw walking away from him after his legs had been swept out from under him the previous day. Rage boiled inside Azer.

Grif appeared to have come to the same conclusion. “Hey, isn’t that…? That looks exactly like the one who-”

“Yeah, the guy who kicked out my legs yesterday,” Azer finished, anger tainting his voice.

“He must have cloned himself—one of him talked to you during the tour, pretending to be your friend, while the other knocked you over! I knew there was something up with him!”

“He wasn’t my friend at all,” Azer growled.

Copycat and his clones lunged mercilessly at Milo, who flinched. Out of Milo’s sleeve came a twisting root that grew into a flimsy shield, which Milo used to guard himself. It blocked the punch of the first clone, but the other Copycats promptly destroyed the shield and sent Milo flying off the platform. Victorious, Copycat put an arm in the air and turned around to face the group, which was cheering loudly. Copycat looked at Azer with a smirk.

“You’ll be able to get back at him soon enough, I’m sure of it,” Grif reassured.

Azer hoped that was true.

“Next,” Delvin announced, helping Milo up, “are Saa and Grif. Come to the top of the platform and fight on my go.”

Azer gave his friend a silent nod as he left, which Grif returned. The girl Grif was about to fight climbed up the ladder onto the platform, and Azer recognized her as one of his classmates. Her face was multicolored, the color of her skin split down the middle—the right half of her face was a pastel pink, and the left was a bluish-green, the hair on either side of her head matching the split colors. Grif shook out his arms and legs and they shook hands.

“Three, two, one, fight!”

Grif came in for a punch, a harsh electrical crackle filled the air, and alarm filled his and his opponent’s face as she ducked. In an explosion of electricity, with Grif’s fist at the epicenter, Grif and Saa were launched backwards, skidding almost to the edge. Frightened murmurs filled the crowd of students. Delvin looked shaken.

“I’m sorry!” Grif said to his opponent and to Delvin, still panicked.

Now it was Saa’s turn to attack. She moved her hands together and pointed them towards him, prompting Grif to leap out of the way. Neither of them knew what her Val was yet, or even if she had one. It seemed as if Grif didn’t want to take his chances. Seeing an opening, he went in for another attack, attempting to push her off, but his shirt suddenly burst into flame.

Grif yelped and scrambled to put it out, but still didn’t look half as mortified as his opponent.

“Easy! No injuring your opponent, either of you!” Delvin yelled.

Flustered and surprised by her unexpected combustion and Delvin’s warning, Saa let down her guard. Grif took this opportunity to rear back his leg for a kick, and the familiar crackling filled the air once more.

BOOM! Just in time, Saa leaped out of the way and a blast of powerful electricity arced between Grif and the platform. Shrieks and screams erupted from the crowd again and Delvin stepped forward.

“I’ll stop the match if neither of you can control your Vals! The goal is to push your opponent off the platform, not to injure!”

“I’m so sorry!” Grif said to Saa after recovering and realizing his mistake. She didn’t respond, a look of pure fear plastered on her double-sided face.

Grif didn’t resume the fight immediately, trying to gain his composure, and eventually he saw Azer among the crowd. Azer gave the same nod as before, and then Grif looked back at his opponent, a renewed determination in his face.

Saa was now trying to ignite the ground under Grif to make him lose his balance. Grif danced around the attacks with growing ease, until he weaved under her punch and straightened himself in front of her. He extended an arm away from her, another behind him, and a massive crackle and boom shook the air again. Azer expected the worst at first, but then realized it wasn’t an attack at all—it was a distraction. Upon hearing the explosion, Saa flinched and instinctively let down her guard. Grif swept Saa’s legs out from under her and continued his attack.

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He stomped both of his feet to the ground and another crack split the stuffy air. Small craters had been carved under his feet from the explosions, and Saa, surprised, couldn’t duck in time. She was shoved further off the edge of the platform, then slipped, fell, and now was hanging on by her forearms.

Grif backed up to the other end of the platform and ran towards his opponent at full speed, electricity tracing his body. Azer noticed something new—the electricity didn’t have the uncontrolled crackle this time. Unconsciously or not, Grif had his electricity in balance, not using too much or too little.

Mid-sprint, he tripped over the craters he had made in the platform just moments earlier. The determined look on his face was wiped away and turned into wide-eyed surprise as he soared over his dangling opponent and into the cushions beneath.

A moment of shocked silence, and then—

A mass of loud, slightly confused cheering. Saa, realizing her victory, accidentally slipped down onto the cushions as well. The two fighters hauled themselves off of the cushions and shook hands. Grif made his way over to Azer, a proud grin on his face.

“I was so close! I totally forgot about the craters!”

“I know! Did you see what you did at the end there, though?”

Grif’s smile lessened and he cocked his head to the side.

“You had total control of your electricity. You probably didn’t even realize it.”

And then Grif’s expression became excited again. “Really? Awesome! I totally did it!”

As the next few battles passed, Azer felt an increasing foreboding as his turn grew closer. He had a scar on his side that hurt when he twisted, but that was the least of his worries now—what if he couldn’t match his opponent’s abilities? Even if he could fight well, would it even matter if he couldn’t use his Val? He’d only ever used it unconsciously before, like a heartbeat. How was he supposed to harness it enough to be effective in battle?

“Next is Azer and Torbe!” announced Delvin.

Azer’s anxiousness spiked as he began to walk up to the platform, and he could feel acutely the gaze of the other students watching him. As he climbed up the ladder, Azer could see his opponent on the other side. Torbe’s face was intimidating, but without malice.

“You ready for a good battle?” Torbe said, smiling.

“Y- yeah. Let’s do it.” And they shook hands.

Azer got into his best battle stance and, without hesitation, tried to focus on the feeling that he experienced before when he unconsciously used his ability. He tried to remember the desperation of watching the car hurtling his way, and the ease at which he had jumped over it…

But nothing helped. He wasn’t fighting a car. And while Torbe looked like he was going to put up a fight, Azer wasn’t at risk of dying. So, for now, Azer would have to rely on his non-Val fighting skills. It has to come back to me at some point, he thought.

“Three, two, one, fight!”

Torbe came at him with a kick, his long legs giving him incredible reach. Azer ducked, but saw around him that a strange, large bubble was forming, translucent and floating in midair, distorting the air and half as wide as he was tall. Was this Torbe’s ability? Azer dove underneath Torbe, using his opponent’s height to his advantage, and the bubble fully materialized just as Azer rolled out of the way. It was between him and the crowd of students now, and through it, the view of their faces and figures were distorted and warped. Torbe turned around to face Azer, clenched his fists, and the bubble vanished as he lunged.

Although Torbe was very large, and equally as strong, Azer’s relative size made dodging a lot easier. However, if he were to fail to dodge, he was sure that the attacks would be damaging.

After weaving around Torbe’s kick, Azer backed up and readied his counterattack, a fake kick and then a punch. But only moments later, another bubble was appearing in the air in front of him. Azer’s momentum carried him forward, and-

Azer’s top half entered the bubble, and he felt an incredibly strange sensation—as if his torso was pulling uncomfortably on his waist, tugging as if he was about to snap in half.

He reached an arm outside of the bubble and immediately regretted it. His fingers, once leaving, tugged painfully behind him as if someone was tightly gripping the portion of his fingers that were outside the bubble and holding him back. His arm dragged behind, twisting his shoulder painfully. He worked to correct himself, trying desperately to pull his arm back in, nearly falling over due to his legs lagging behind in time.

That was it: time.

But as he made this realization, Azer saw the long leg of Torbe flying in slow motion towards Azer’s exposed chin. And before he could stop it—

A jolt of pain seized Azer as Torbe’s leg hit the bubble and sped up, impacting Azer’s chin with astonishing force. He was knocked out of the bubble and fell down in a heap, rubbing his throbbing chin. Everything seemed to move normally again. Torbe leapt into the air towards the bubble and pulled his legs into his chest. Torbe entered the bubble, which rapidly sped up his movement, and he landed in front of Azer far faster than expected.

“Do those bubbles speed up time when you’re in them?” Azer asked.

Torbe grinned proudly as Azer had figured it out.

“And they can slow down time, too.”

Torbe reached out a hand. Azer took it and Torbe helped him up.

“Ready to continue our fight?”

“Yeah,” Azer responded, a new confidence filling him.

“Show me your Val,” Torbe said, returning to his battle stance. “I want to fight you at full strength.”

For Azer, it wasn’t just about winning anymore—he’d fail completely if he didn’t figure out how to use his Val.

He tried yet again to focus on the sensation he had felt before when he jumped over the car, but in the heat of battle, he couldn’t recreate it. And the pressure of avoiding Torbe’s time bubbles didn’t help, either.

Torbe, on the other hand, was perfectly adept with his Val; possibly even more so than any other student Azer had seen. He’d summon a time bubble in the air around Azer to throw him off or force him to dodge, and then Torbe would enter it in just the right moment to make his attacks frustratingly unpredictable.

After dodging a particularly fast punch, Azer took a moment to rest on the edge of the platform opposite his opponent. Torbe’s size and superior battle prowess were exhausting him, and while Azer was able to dodge most of Torbe’s attacks, he couldn’t land any of his own.

The damage had already been done. Azer’s moment of hesitation caused him to find his head in another slowing bubble, with the sounds and sights outside the bubble sped up to an unnatural pace. Torbe, in a quick motion, jumped into the air and kicked Azer square where his face should be. Azer flew out of the bubble again, his skin tugging painfully as it left the bubble’s borders, and barely caught himself on the precipice of the platform. Torbe clenched his fists again and charged after Azer, and the bubble disappeared.

But just as Azer regained his balance and was steady on the platform once more, he felt the distinct feeling of entering a bubble, again with time slowing. But before Azer could even get a chance to try and escape, a distorted leg crossed through the bubble and struck Azer in the side where his scar was.

The pain struck him faster than the kick did, and seemed to double by the millisecond. His vision and surroundings changed abruptly, and he saw and felt himself in the dark fleshy chamber he had dreamt about. He was utterly alone, floating aimlessly and unable to move—his surroundings, Torbe, the platform, all had disappeared into nothing. He tried to call out for help but couldn’t talk. He was completely helpless.

But he wasn’t completely distant from reality. He still felt the jabbing pain in his side, and looked towards it to see a horrible sight—the thin, metallic rod that had ended his dream before was stabbed into his side, exactly where the kick had hit.

Despite the fact that his mind was now desperately racing, he was still completely immobile. He couldn’t wriggle away from the rod, which extended all the way from the edge of the chamber into his skin.

And then, in a brief flash of searing pain and a burning sensation in every vein of his body, something began to spread rapidly inside his nerves and arteries, coming from the point where he was stabbed. Something was flowing into his body and circulating around, as if replacing his own blood, and then…

The burning suddenly stopped. The rod left his side, retracting back through the wall of the chamber, and an immense, almost godly strength filled him. The force in his veins no longer felt foreign or unwelcome—the burning had transformed into an energizing warmth.

The chamber shook slightly with the rumbling of a deep and distinct voice. It said, slow and booming:

“S…”

“R.”

Azer felt himself snap back to reality, his feet grounded beneath him, the kick just having impacted his body. The pain in his side was gone, and Torbe’s leg was still hanging in the air.

But something had stayed. He still felt that warm, liquidy substance inside his body. The energy that flowed through him made Azer feel intensely awake. It was as though he’d been asleep his whole life up until this moment. His heart was pumping furiously, circulating energy through every extremity.

After his mind had stopped racing and his stance evened, Azer realized…

He was fast. And it wasn’t because he was in a time bubble, either.

His movements came with a flowing ease he had never felt before. It was like his limbs were being controlled not by his muscles, but by his mind alone. His legs stepped with impossibly little resistance, and the strength he was feeling came with no fatigue.

Azer ducked to leave the bubble and avoid Torbe’s next attack. He had gone from standing to crouched so quickly, he hardly recognized even performing the action.

As Azer gazed at his own hands and arms, he noticed a dark mist rising off of him, like his skin was alight with a translucent black flame.

Torbe had noticed Azer now, crouched below his attack, the dark fire emanating from his body. It seemed as though Azer’s awareness had sped up, too; he could watch Torbe’s expression change to shocked amazement.

Azer sprung up from his position, hitting Torbe in the chest and tackling him. Torbe was sent flying from the impact. Azer was about as shocked as Torbe was from the strength of the attack. Torbe cleared most of the platform before landing near its edge, looking worriedly at the cushions below. Azer knew he’d have to restrain himself from using his full power, or he could accidentally injure his opponent.

The time bubble disappeared as Torbe got back up, fists clenched tightly. And Azer made another revelation—Torbe’s time bubbles had a trigger: his hands. Opening his hands let him create a bubble, and clenching his fists destroyed them.

Azer’s opponent came at him again for an attack, both hands open now. And, right on cue, a time bubble materialized behind him. After it fully appeared, Azer swiped his hand through it—a slowing bubble. Just what he was looking for.

Torbe locked hands with Azer, trying to push him into the bubble. Torbe’s larger size made Azer’s feet skid on the platform as he resisted. He let Torbe push him closer and closer, approaching the edge of the platform, the bubble’s strange time-bending effects beginning to warp around the back of his head. And then, using his now monstrous strength, Azer swung around, gripping Torbe tightly and pushing him into the bubble instead. Torbe’s expression grew panicked as his head slowly entered the bubble. Azer mustered all of his newfound power to push Torbe further and further, the time bubble slowing his movements more and more.

Azer felt Torbe’s hands tighten, trying desperately to escape Azer’s grip to close his fists and destroy the bubble. But Azer only resisted more, prying Torbe’s fingers apart.

And then, with a great heave, Azer pushed Torbe off the edge of the platform. Torbe fully entered his own bubble and fell slowly onto the cushions below with a thud.

The crowd erupted into a deafening cheer, and Azer felt his heart rate slow as his Val began to fade and the strength left his body. He leapt off the tall platform and onto the mats, reaching a hand towards Torbe to help him up.

Upon seeing this, Torbe grinned widely. Without the extra strength, Azer could now properly feel the weight of his opponent and the tiredness of his own muscles. He walked off the platform next to Torbe, and joined his cheering classmates, pride filling his spirt like the strength had filled his body.

“What was that?!” Grif exclaimed, looking more proud than even Azer felt.

“S.R.” Azer answered. “That’s what I think my Val is called.”

“Where’d it come from?”

He paused, thinking, and then answered:

“That’ll have to wait until after class.”

----------------------------------------

Azer sat in a comfortable chair at Grano’s, watching the sunset-dyed clouds outside. He was gripping his stomach with paralyzing hunger, unsure why he felt so hungry in the first place.

“Ugh…” Azer groaned.

“You know, you’re probably so hungry from that Val of yours,” Grif pointed.

“What do you mean?”

“It looks like your S.R. boosts your physical functions to the max. You’re probably using a huuuge amount of energy.”

“Yeah… I guess I’ll have to be careful.”

“And by the way, from all the things we’ve found out, I think we need to stop The Shades.”

“What? How?” Azer was incredulous.

Grif leaned forward in his comfortable chair, glancing briefly at the other customers in Grano’s as if he was afraid of them listening in.

“Think about it. We know that something really horrible happens down here during The Shades, like that girl who disappeared eight years ago. Every single time The Shades happens, everyone has to be evacuated but some people get left behind and disappear. We’ve gotta do something about it.”

“But how?”

“I dunno, but it has to be possible!”

“I think The Shades is just a type of weather we don’t know anything about. You can’t stop the weather, Grif.”

Grif gave him a look, and then looked down at the menu.

“Hey, they have a breakfast menu. Huh…? Pancakes? What the heck are pancakes?”

Just then, the plump and jovial figure of Mr. Grano came into view, holding a steaming dish in his hands. Upon seeing Grif, Mr. Grano’s face became immediately pleased and surprised.

“Ah! This must be the Grif I’ve been hearing about?”

“That’s me,” Grif smiled.

“Well I’ve got you two a hot and steaming plate of Grand Soman, freshly baked. But be careful, Grif, Azer can really put it down! Get some before he eats it all!”

Mr. Grano placed the dish on the table. Azer’s stomach growled yet louder.

“I see why you wanted to bring us here,” Grif said, hardly able to divert his attention from the food.

“Yup.”

Grif took an indulgent bite of Grand Soman and found himself even more pleased than he had expected. After he got down the first slice of Soman, he asked Azer:

“So, if you don’t think we should stop The Shades, then what should we do?”

“I think we should start smaller. We need to find out more about The Shades first, especially that missing girl Haise.”

“Mm! How about we break into the Battle Academy?” Grif mused.

“What?!”

“You heard me. We should break in and see if they know more than they’re letting on. And I definitely think they know more than they’re letting on. That Dr. D guy you met has got to know something.”

“But he already told me everything he knows!” exclaimed Azer.

“You sure? You said it yourself, that Haise girl is a sensitive topic.”

“But we just got into the Battle Academy! You already want to start breaking into it?”

“Relax, I’m not saying we should break in now. We need at least a few more weeks or so before we break in. We’e gotta make a plan and everything, and we’re gonna need some time to get more familiar with the school anyway. And it’s not like breaking in is gonna hurt anyone, not if we do it right.”

Azer wrestled with himself, trying to find a way to talk sense into Grif. But Grif had a point—breaking in might get them the information they wanted. Azer finally relented.

“Fine, but I’m only helping if we do it right. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Awesome. And, hey, I had a cool idea.”

Azer ate another slice of Soman. “Yeah?”

“You said you sleep in an abandoned house, right? Why don’t I move in with you? We could have our own house, all to ourselves, with all of our favorite stuff in it!”

Even without a face, Azer felt like he had just cracked the biggest smile in the world.