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The Theory of Science
Theory 4: Ageing Process

Theory 4: Ageing Process

'Again! Harder this time!'

Beads of perspiration ran across my face as I stared down my opponent, who was definitely in a much worse state than I was. Strong though he was, I was quicker, and I had more battle experience.

I was having sparring matches today. Many of the Institute cadets had to go through their close-fighting orientation, and since I had no missions scheduled today, I agreed to help the instructors out.

Since I was an Unattuned, I could only attend theory classes and combat trainings. The Institute saw no point in sending me for scientific power classes since I displayed no aptitude for it anyway, so I could only make up for it by pushing my physical abilities to the limit.

But unfortunately the reality was that I would be disadvantaged no matter what when I cross swords with any Scientist.

For now though, my opponent was just a young boy in his teenage years, barely wet behind his ears. And his instructor had oddly paired him up with a long sword that he was hardly able to lift.

The boy lunged again with a wild arc, but I sidestepped him easily again. In all honesty, I could have given the boy pointers so that he could perform better, but the Institute had unspoken, but strict rules about mentorship; only the assigned instructor could give feedback about the training of cadets. Even the most experienced sparrers were not allowed to describe the cadets' form.

He swung wildly again, and I sighed. I saw the attack before it came, and to give the cadet some morale, I decided to fend the attack instead. The greatsword clanged harshly against my dagger, and while the boy was hardly a fighter, a dagger wielder knew that it would be suicide to take on a greatsword wielder, no matter the situation.

But this was a young boy against a fully-fledged officer.

True enough, though the impact was strong, the boy's attack was unrefined. After deflecting his swing, I quickly weaved downwards into the opening he left, and swung up with the butt of my dagger against his chin. It was an attack to stun, not to kill. With the boy in a daze, I shoved him back and he fell on his back.

'No! Too slow! Get up! You let someone like that attack you? GET UP, I SAY!' The instructor roared as he pushed me aside and forcefully brought the boy back on his knees.

Someone like that, huh...

Words like that used to sting, but I was immune to them already. In the eyes of these instructors, I should be the punching bags for these young cadets so that they could boost their morale, but instead I was sending their precious Scientist recruits flying onto dirt or disarming them in one or two strikes, leaving them in shame.

It was a world in which if I lost, they would say I deserved it and if I win, they would say I cheated.

The boy held up his broadsword like a baseball bat and I sighed, knowing fully well this form would only leave his right flank completely open the moment he took a swing.

True enough, he swung horizontally from right to left, and I ducked swiftly and pounced to his right. The fear was evident on his face when he saw how closely I got to him with such ease. I quickly struck a blow to his elbow and he let his sword fall. I took it and handed it back to him.

The boy's eyes were wide with surprise as he took his sword back gratefully. I flashed him a wide smile. The tremble never left his hands even as I handed him the sword.

I walked back to my original standing position, poised for him to attack again. But the instructor had enough. His expression was livid as he bellowed, 'ENOUGH! You obviously did not learn anything from me!'

The instructor strode furiously over to the boy and grabbed the greatsword roughly from him. There was a fury in his eyes as he turned to face me. 'Watch this and learn, cadet.'

Whenever a cadet did something wrong, or if he failed to live up to a certain expectation, the blame would always go towards the cadet's instructor. The shame was apparently doubled if the cadet went against an Unattuned and lost in a fight.

Which happened twice this time.

The instructor was very quick, despite the years of drinking having taken a toll to his abilities. He closed the distance between us in a second and I readied my feet, but I did not move. I have never engaged this particular instructor before, so I did not know his fighting tactics. Most greatsword wielders preferred to attack with clean sweeps, as did this guy. He threw a wide slash, and it would have cut me in half had it connected. Luckily, I was prepared and I boosted myself backwards with a jump. Though the attack missed me, I felt the wind of his attack.

The instructor gritted his teeth, but I knew he had not given up his senses to quick anger yet. He switched his grip on his sword and this time, he threw a thrust horizontally towards my waist. Though the attack was fast, I was faster. I quickly avoided the attack, and angled my body to the right. With a sidestep, I was right next to him. But he twisted his body accordingly as well and he attacked me with his elbow, which I managed to block with my crossed arms. I leapt back instinctively too, which was lucky of me; the cleave of his greatsword was the only mark of his attack.

Both of us stood our grounds, staring at each other while heaving. The boy was watching in terror. The hostility in the air had gotten even to him, a bystander, too. I fiddled with the grip of my dagger; it would be likely that our next engage would be a clash, which was not something I was particularly looking forward to.

Suddenly, I felt the air constrict around my throat, and I could not breathe. I gasped and choked as I felt forwards onto the floor, tiny lights dancing in front of my eyes.

'Listen here, you little cunt. I could kill you right here and now and call it an accident. And there's nothing you can very well do about it. So if you want to live, you better learn your place, boy.'

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And with that, I could breathe again. I coughed as I clutched my throat, struggling to breathe to make up for the lost oxygen. That ordeal had brought tears to my eyes as I looked up; the instructor had already left the room with the boy.

A Blaise Pascal follower definitely.

The instructor had controlled the pressure in my windpipes, constricting them while manipulating the air around me to create a vacuum. Both attacks had cut off my entire air supply.

It was the assembly bell that I had to give thanks to; I would have turned into a lifeless corpse otherwise. I got up, and left the room.

The assembly hall used to be a grand cathedral, before where people had used to worship the Prime Beings, the ones who gifted humans with their scientific powers. But ever since the Great Siege many years ago, it was a time of persecution and mass killings. Most of these worshippers were culled, and all of their teachings had been discontinued. Religion was just not a viable faith to turn to in these times.

The assembly hall had retained much of its original architecture; stained glasses surrounded the entire hall and worn-out long benches lined up from the back of the hall all the way to the front. There were evwn candle holders, from a time back when light was not provided for by electricity.

And at the very front of the entire assembly sat members of the Institute leaders, or otherwise known as the Twelve, for there were twelve seats in this council. The Twelve were also the ones who invigilated the entry tests and yes, they were the ones who let me in. Every council had a chief, and so did this one too, but the last chief had died peacefully a month ago, and they had yet found a replacement. So only 11 members were present today.

I walked in through the giant front doors, and quickly found a seat next to Case. Val was next to her, but her tightly folded arms told me silence was still her preferential treatment. There was a shuffling sound, and the entire assembly rose in unison. I followed suit.

Eyes darted back to the entrance of the assembly hall while a slow march was being played. It was the song of farewells, one commonly played for send-offs. But the low monotonous tone told me this wasn't just any farewell song.

It was meant for Tyson Delta.

The entire assembly was gathered here for the funeral. To send off Tyson. In actual fact, I was the only one who loathed Tyson, and that was because of his constant attempts to eiher kill me off or get me expelled from the Institute. To the others, he was a man of talent, and he already had 5 missions completed under his belt. Most people at his ranking had only 1 or 2, and those were group assignments, which meant the junior officers would only be in charge of recon support.

As I watched the coffin being hoisted away, my mind drifted off. I thought of the day where I myself would be in that coffin. Would there be coffin-bearers? Would I have these many people sending me off? Would I even get a funeral?

The coffin was placed at the front of the assembly, on a bed of flowers of every colour. The entire assembly sat down and we followed as well. With religion abolished, funerals were now a simple affair. People who knew the deceased personally would usually speak words of the deceased's valour and his other qualities.

Quite a number of people went up to say their words, and after the first speech, my brain had already switched off. Most of these people were Tyson's own cronies when he was still alive, and the words 'good friend' and 'brave person' came out again and again.

The last person to speak was a young boy, and on closer look, I realised he was one of the people who had tried to ambush me yesterday outside of the medical wing. In all honesty, I was surprised to see him up there and pricked my ears open for his speech.

The boy was clearly nervous. Even as he spoke, he was stuttering.

'T-to the T-Twelve, t-to all of our h-h-honoured guests, to a-all of my gathered brothers and sisters, t-today is a day of grief and sadness.' He paused a moment and looked down, and when he resumed speaking, he had finally managed to calm his nerves down.

'While we are gathered here to honour and remember the great acts of a man I have been great friends with, I am here for a different purpose. Tyson Delta had always been a very strong man, and he personally saw to my upbringing and training here in the Institute. It therefore brings me a lot of pain deciding whether to come here to speak tonight. I am torn between restoring justice for a fallen brother, or to protect another from persecution.'

His words drew bated breaths everywhere, mine included. The boy had basically just declared that he knew the identity of Tyson's murderer, and that murderer was someone from the Institute as well. The hall grew extremely quiet. Everyone was staring at the boy, and he did not even bat an eyelid.

His steely eyes looked straight, towards our direction. Slowly, he raised a finger.

'On the day I came into the Institute, this was to become my second home. But now, I feel that even my presence here is threathened. And that threat comes from none other than Major Jax.'

An uproar followed after his words and everyone in the hall stood up. Everyone was trying to say something but nobody was trying to listen.

And then the sound of a large cannon blew in the room. Everyone fell silent as they looked at the source of the sound. It had came from the Twelve. One of them had stood up, and his hands were folded together with smoke coming out of his arms.

'SILENCE!' He yelled. The assembly quitened down instantly but there were still murmurs in the hall. He turned to look at the boy, who still staring fiercely in my direction. There was no one I loathed more than him that day. Jax was my best friend and I would never let anyone harm him or his reputation.

'Cadet Rockery. Those are serious allegations you have just made. Though you do not accuse Major Jax directly, your words have vehemous implications.' He turned to look at the other members of the Twelve and they nodded their heads.

'We shall proceed with the funeral. Let Science be the witness of the ceremony from henceforth.'

The funeral ceremony proceeded with less drama after the cadet's accusation. It ended late into the evening, and after the coffin was laid, all of the Institute members broke up into their own member groups and went back to their common rooms. A lot of eyes were on Jax as we returned back to our common room through the gardens. We were silent throughout until we stepped back into our home.

Jax dropped himself like a bomb onto his favourite bean bag, and switched on the TV. Case and Valera headed into the kitchen, probably to warm up the leftovers from last night. I chose the bean bag next to Jax and slumped into it as well.

Jax was flicking with the remote control, and the channels kept changing. One moment it was a cartoon, followed by a documentary about crocodiles and then a movie about spies.

Jax was troubled, that was for sure. When he was in one of his moods, he would subconsciously fiddle with things in his surroundings, occasionally electrocuting something accidentally. I noticed he was looking at the TV but I was willing to bet he wasn't actually watching. I got up, and took the remote control from him. He looked up, momentarily dazed.

'Still troubled from the afternoon?' I asked, switching over to the cartoon.

Jax did not immediately answer; he leaned his left arm onto the coffee table next to him and rested his head on it. When he spoke, it was with carefully chosen words.

'Troubled, no. But I fear this will not be the end of it.'

'What's the Twelve gonna do? Listen to him and hang you for it? C'mon they gotta be smarter than that!'

'The Twelve are no fools. They would definitely investigate this matter proper, but that doesn't mean they will not have their eyes on me. It's gonna make all my midnight excursions a bitch from now on.' Jax's phone lit up suddenly, and he glanced over the screen. He groaned.

'And yup, it's begun. They want to see me tomorrow.'

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