“Now approaching Tidegate Central,” said a staticky voice from the intercom.
Akari pulled her gaze from the window and hurried toward the doors. Tidegate was just an hour from her foster home, but an hour was a long time on a crowded train. Especially when your stomach threatened to mutiny from two missed meals.
Dozens of other passengers filled the narrow space. Most were high-school students like her, with bronze and silver badges hanging over their uniforms. She even spotted a cluster of Golds lounging on the padded benches, taking up twice as much space as they needed.
The Golds wore the same school uniform as everyone else, but theirs fit them just a little bit better. She’d once heard a Gold say ‘off the rack’ in the same tone you might say ‘the bottom of the dumpster.’ That was really all you needed to know about them.
A few seconds more passed as the train slowed to a halt.
“Stand clear,” said the voice from the speakers. “Doors opening.”
Another pause, and the mana-powered doors slid apart on their steel tracks. Bursts of autumn wind struck Akari’s face as she stepped onto the platform. She grabbed the hem of her hoodie and pulled up the zipper, covering the bronze badge that hung from her neck. Badges were required in most public places, but not where she was going.
Where she was going, all this badge and rank bullshit wouldn’t matter.
She clung to the railing as she shuffled down the concrete staircase toward the street below. Most people were headed back to the suburbs at this hour, so she had to move against the crowd. For a short Bronze like her, that was about as fun as a mana Missile to the face.
Akari looked both ways when she finally reached the sidewalk. A line of cars sat bumper-to-bumper all the way to the stoplight, and the fumes of burning mana crystals stung her nostrils. The scent was a bit hard to describe. Sharp and metallic, but also sweet, like a strike of lightning in a summer storm. It always made her nostalgic, but she couldn’t guess why. Akari had lived her whole life in the suburbs, far from the crowds and busy streets.
Meanwhile, Tidegate was the second-largest city in the Archipelago, home to tens of thousands of people. The buildings stood well over ten stories tall, and she pulled out a crudely drawn map to orient herself.
To her right, a plane of bright blue mana dominated the horizon, taller than any building.
The city’s namesake.
Then again, it was more of a wall than a gate. So why did they call it ‘Tidegate’? Did they think ‘gate’ sounded cooler or something? Regardless, the mana wall sat on the city’s eastern coast to protect it from the Inner Sea with its storms and tides. That meant she’d have to go the opposite way.
The buildings got shorter as she walked, and fancy condos became rundown apartments. Great. Hopefully, things wouldn’t get too shady. She’d looked at a map online, but a map was just a bunch of colored lines, and it could only tell you so much about a place.
Would this be like something out of a dystopian movie? Some dark street filled with brawls, hookers, and soulshine dealers? Akari had never liked those movies. She didn’t want to see some depressing world where everything sucked and nothing mattered. It was even worse when the stories centered on some ragtag band of kids who overthrew the government with the power of love and friendship.
No . . . she liked the old-school mana arts movies. The ones where the heroes changed the world through hard training, and the power that came with it. That was the type of hero she wanted to be. That was the reason she’d come to Tidegate today.
Akari found her destination squished between an old Cadrian restaurant and a cheap elixir store. She climbed a short stone staircase and pushed open the door. A bell rang above her head, and a Shokenese stepped out from the back room. He wore a simple black T-shirt with tight-fitting sleeves. It was the sort of thing a bouncer might wear, and his massive biceps completed the look.
“You lost, kid?” His tone was insultingly earnest, as if she really were a kid who’d taken a wrong turn.
“No.” Akari stood straighter as she approached the wooden counter. She cleared her throat and tried to sound confident. “I’m here to pick up my order.”
The man raised a dark eyebrow. Shit. Had she messed up the passphrase? Gotten a word wrong? She’d rehearsed this thing over two dozen times. It should be right. Then again, what if she’d had the wrong phrase to begin with? Her palms started to sweat, but she resisted the urge to wipe them on her skirt.
“What color was your order?” the man finally asked.
Akari let out a breath of relief. “Blue and yellow.”
He shrugged, then gestured a thumb over his shoulder. “Take a right, then head down the stairs.”
“Thanks.” Akari hurried past the counter before he noticed her shaking knees. She opened the first door on her right and crept down the creaking staircase. At first, everything was dead silent. But when she reached the bottom step, a dozen explosions hit her eardrums like a train.
She spun around and gaped at the staircase. A sound-suppression Construct? She couldn’t see anything, but some mana Constructs were invisible. Especially aspects like sound and air.
The antechamber was a well-lit room with a polished wooden floor and a cushioned bench on either side. The sliding door hung open a few inches, so Akari shuffled into the dojo beyond.
Here, half a dozen mana artists trained in the vast space. Two women sparred on her left, attacking each other with blasts of fiery mana. Unlike the sound Construct on the stairs, these techniques were visible to the naked eye. They soared back and forth like blazing meteors, and they painted the walls with bright shades of orange.
The men on her right shot their Missiles at a row of training dummies. Their attacks were white and silver, and the collisions sounded almost metallic as they struck their marks.
Akari’s heart raced at the sights and sounds. She’d seen her share of mana arts, but she’d never seen people train up close and personal like this. Her school had a mana arts program, but they only accepted Silvers and Golds. Even then, the classes happened in a private part of the school, far from watchful eyes.
No one approached Akari, so she kept scanning her surroundings. The room had floor-to-ceiling mirrors against two walls. Probably so the fighters could check their forms. Either that, or this room used to be a dance studio at some point. Maybe both. Graffiti covered the other two walls, but the colors were faint in the dim lighting.
The two women on her left kept sparring. One had the pale skin of an Espirian, with her blond hair tied back in two braids that bounced against her bare shoulders. The other woman was part Shokenese, like Akari, and her black hair was pulled back in a tight knot.
“Who are you?” a gruff voice asked from behind her.
Akari spun to face a brown-haired Espirian man. He was only a few inches taller than her, and he wore a pair of dark-framed glasses that matched her own. Still, despite his non-threatening appearance, this man was older than anyone else by at least a decade. He must be Magnus, the guy who ran this place.
“I’m here to pick up my order,” she said.
Magnus waved a dismissive hand. “You already got through the front door. Just tell me what you want.”
“Oh.” She drew in a deep breath. “I want to learn mana arts.”
He chuckled. “How old are you?”
“Old enough to pay you in silver right now.”
“Uh-huh. But are you old enough to drop the bullshit and answer a straight question?”
Akari winced. “Sixteen.”
He squinted at her as if staring directly into her soul. Akari resisted the urge to look away, shuffle her feet, or fidget.
“Sorry,” he said. “Can’t help you.”
“What? Why not?”
“You’re a Bronze.”
Damnit. How did he know? How did people always just . . . know? Her badge was hidden beneath her hoodie, and nothing else should have given her rank away. Then again, it could be a simple deduction on his part. A Silver wouldn’t bother hiding her badge, and a Gold wouldn’t come here in the first place.
Oh well, no point in denying it now. Even if she claimed to be a Silver, he could demand proof. That would only make things worse.
“Didn’t know you cared about those rules,” Akari retorted.
Magnus furrowed his brow as he stepped back into the waiting room. “How did you hear about me, anyway?”
Akari followed him out. “One of your students goes to my high school.”
“And this kid told you about me?”
“He told someone else in a school email. I read it when I hacked his account.” She’d already prepared for this question and decided the truth was easiest. ‘Hacked’ was a strong word, though. Technically, he’d never changed his default password, just like ninety percent of her clueless peers. All she needed was his date of birth, then she was in.
Magnus’s scowl deepened, and he pulled out a pocket-sized notebook. “And what’s this kid’s name?”
“Tristen Stowell.” She had no problem throwing a stuck-up Silver under the bus. Especially one who’d been harassing her since elementary school.
Magnus jotted the name down, then pocketed his notebook again. “It’s not about the rules,” he finally said. “Bronze bodies can’t take this kind of heat. A Missile from a Silver could kill you.”
Speaking of bullshit. Everyone said Bronze bodies were weaker than Silvers and Golds, but they failed to point out a real biological difference. She’d been hit by a Silver’s Missile before, and it wasn’t much worse than a punch to the face.
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Still, his internal logic made sense, and her slender frame wouldn’t help her cause.
“Okay,” Akari said. “How about you just teach me the basics? I’ll watch and learn, but no sparring. I’ll practice alone, and—”
He shook his head. “Sorry, kid. Not worth it to me.”
“Why not?”
“You know why not.”
She did know, and despite Magnus’s blunt tone, he was too nice to say it. Having a scrawny Bronze in the dojo wasn’t good for business. But if she didn’t learn mana arts here, she might never get another chance.
Akari’s gaze shifted back to the dojo where the other students trained. The Espirian woman had moved out of sight, while the other had joined the men. They took turns forming shields around their bodies, and their Missiles sounded like gunshots as they broke in midair.
Talek. She wanted this more than anything in the world. Her life might even depend on it someday.
“Fine.” Akari slumped her shoulders. “How about I pay you full price for one private lesson?” She held up a finger. “Just one.” Eight silvernotes were supposed to pay for several weeks, but she didn’t have a choice. Maybe if Magnus taught her how to sense her mana, she could learn the rest on her own.
“Nope. I’m not giving private lessons to a minor.”
“I wasn’t lying about my age!” She was lying, of course, but she’d be sixteen in a few months.
Akari’s outburst caught the attention of a larger man in a sleeveless gray shirt. Sweat glistened on his bald head, and a web of tattoos covered his massive arms.
“Everything good here, boss?” Despite the man’s muscular frame, his voice was anything but deep.
“Yeah,” Magnus replied. “This young lady was just leaving.”
The larger man loomed in the doorway with raised eyebrows.
Akari clenched her fists as she turned to go. She’d spent the past month preparing for this moment, and now it was all over. Her rank shouldn’t have mattered here, but it did. Not because of the laws, but because these fools actually believed the state’s anti-Bronze propaganda.
Worst of all, she wouldn’t get a chance to prove them wrong.
“One more question,” Akari said, “then I promise I’ll go.”
Magnus crossed his arms and waited. It wasn’t a promise to answer, but it also wasn’t a dismissal.
“Is there anyone on this island who might train me?”
“Probably,” he said. “But you’d need a lot more cash to convince them. We’re talking goldnotes here. Even if you had that kind of money, I wouldn’t waste it on fighting lessons.”
Akari ground her teeth and looked away. His advice was probably good. Even a few goldnotes could buy a car, or a year’s worth of rent in a cheap apartment. Still, Magnus was wrong about one thing: mana arts were so much more than ‘fighting lessons.’
Once Akari turned sixteen, she’d be a legal adult. She’d be kicked out of her foster home, forced to live on the street. When that happened, no amount of money would keep her safe.
But with mana arts, she could actually move up in this world. She could get a decent job, attend a university, or join the military.
Maybe they’d even be forced to call her a Silver instead of a Bronze.
Oh well, no sense in dreaming about that now.
Rain fell from the sky outside, and Akari quickened her pace toward the train station. This street had been crowded during rush hour, but now the sidewalks were almost empty.
She barely made it two blocks before someone shouted from a nearby alley. It sounded like a young woman in distress.
Akari kept walking as if she hadn’t heard. She didn’t know much about Tidegate, but she knew this wasn’t her business. Getting involved was a good way to get herself killed.
“Help!” the same voice shouted again. “Someone!”
Memories assaulted her, suppressing her fear with a primal rage. Akari might not be a mana artist, but she could still make a difference for someone else. Besides, did the heroes in movies wait around until they had their power? Hell no. They took action, and the rewards came later.
She stepped toward the alley, tilted her backpack to the side, and pulled out the S17 Missile rod from the front pocket. The weapon was about as long as her forearm, with a simple handle and trigger on one side. A mana battery sat between the shaft and the iron sights, with enough power for two shots.
A Bronze couldn’t buy a weapon without a permit, but Akari had gotten this one from a rich Silver when she’d fixed his grades.
A few more steps brought her to the alley’s mouth, and she raised her weapon. This might be the stupidest thing she’d ever done, but she didn’t care. Magnus’s rejection had left her blood boiling, and her muscles yearned for a fight.
Shadows covered the scene ahead, but she caught a flicker of movement near the dumpster. Akari stepped lightly as she approached, keeping her finger on the trigger. Better to shoot first and talk later.
A few heartbeats passed, then the young woman emerged from behind the dumpster. Her blond hair reflected the dim street light, and she wore tight-fitting combat clothes.
Akari kept her weapon raised. “Who was screaming?”
Before the woman could answer, two more figures stepped into the alley’s mouth behind her.
Talek. This was a trap. Who even fell for a stupid trap like this? Akari was more reckless than most, but how would they know that?
“Hand over the money,” the woman said. Her tone was calm, almost reasonable.
Akari forced out a laugh. “You think I’d be dumb enough to carry notes around here?”
“Yep, I think you would.”
“Well, sorry to ruin your plan.” Akari lined up her shot with the Missile rod.
“Don’t.” The woman’s voice came out lower this time, more menacing. She held up her hands, but it looked more like a threat than a show of surrender. “We’ll settle for eight silvernotes right now. You can keep your weapon, and anything else you’ve got.”
Akari squinted through the rain and finally recognized her attacker’s face. This was one of the women from Magnus’s dojo. Damnit. She should have seen this coming. Magnus didn’t seem so bad, but his dojo would attract its share of shady students.
Her gaze darted left and right as she chose her target. Blondie was alone, so she seemed like the obvious choice. Then again, she’d seen the woman make a shield Construct back in the dojo.
Akari turned to the two men instead. Unlike Blondie, they wore jeans and dark leather jackets, so they clearly hadn’t come from Magnus’s place. They might not even be mana artists at all.
“Or what?” Akari’s voice came out calm despite her pounding heart. Even her hands were shaking less than they had back in the dojo. Funny how that worked.
One of the men held out a hand, and an orange Missile sprang to life between his fingers. He held it in place for several heartbeats, and Akari stared at the hypnotic sight. It was like gazing into a fractal with its endless patterns swirling around a glowing white nucleus. All the while, the edges crackled and danced like flames, and the light revealed the man’s pale Espirian features.
“Fine.” Akari took a few steps toward Blondie and reached into the front pocket of her hoodie. Once they stood a few paces apart, she narrowed her eyes and glanced past the woman. “Who’s your friend?”
Blondie fell for the ruse and looked over her shoulder. Akari didn’t waste the distraction; she aimed her Missile rod straight at the woman’s feet and pulled the trigger. Most amateur fighters knew how to defend their heads and torsos, but they never thought about their feet.
The weapon vibrated in Akari’s hand as a Missile of pure mana pulsed out from the business end. Pale blue light filled the alley as the attack whistled through the air.
Blondie spun back to face her, releasing her own mana on instinct.
Akari darted to the side, catching herself on the alley’s brick wall. Blondie collapsed on the ground, and Akari rushed past her.
Two more techniques sliced through the air as the men attacked. One singed Akari’s ear as she ran. The second hit the back of her thigh, and the impact sent her staggering into the dumpster.
Akari spun around as she fell, pulling the trigger on her rod. The Missile hit the fire artist square in the chest, and he stumbled into Blondie. Akari didn’t fare much better as she slammed into the concrete. Warm blood trickled down her forehead from where she’d hit the dumpster, and a few drops clouded the lenses of her glasses.
Still, she scrambled to her feet, running out of the alley and into the road. Several cars honked and swerved, but no one got close enough to hit her. Her breaths came out hard and ragged by the time she reached the other side. There, she cut through a parking lot and squeezed under a wooden fence.
The fence groaned behind her as her attackers vaulted over it.
For Talek’s sake. Why didn’t they give up?
Akari raced up a set of stone staircases toward the train platform, passing more Silvers in business suits as they left their office jobs. She crested the stairs and spotted a pair of security officers farther down—a pale Espirian man, and a dark-skinned Cadrian woman. They wore matching blue uniforms, and they each carried a firearm and Missile rod on their belts.
Speaking of Missile rods, Akari was still clutching her own.
One of the officers met Akari’s gaze, and she backtracked down the stairs. She’d rather take her chances with the thugs at this point. They might rough her up, but they wouldn’t kill her.
“Hey!” the female officer shouted in her direction.
“Stop!” the man bellowed as he broke into a run. “Police!”
Akari stopped on the landing and hurled her Missile rod over the railing.
Blondie appeared at the bottom of the first staircase, while the two security officers loomed on the platform above.
Surrounded once again.
“Stop that girl!” Blondie shouted from below.
Akari’s breath hitched as she faced the two security officers. If she were braver, she would have played the part of the victim. With the right words, she might have even convinced them. But more memories assaulted her when she saw those blue uniforms—dozens of quick flashes—too painful to face head-on.
The pair raised their hands in eerie unison, and Missiles of pale blue ice shot out from their palms. This technique moved slower than ordinary mana. Slower, and even more hypnotic. The first Missile coiled around Akari’s wrists, wrapping them together like a snake strangling its prey. The second bound her ankles, and the third hit her core.
Icy numbness spread through her body. Akari lost her balance and fell face-first on the stone landing. She twisted to the side at the last second, just missing a broken nose.
The security officers stepped down the staircase, and the woman put a hand to Akari’s head, pressing her cheek to the floor.
“This girl stole my wallet,” Blondie said through several ragged breaths. “I had eight silvernotes in there.”
“You jumped me!” Akari shot back. “You and your friends.” The two guys had cleverly kept their distance, but they must be hiding nearby.
“I jumped you?” Blondie shot back. “Then how come you’ve got my money?”
The male officer ignored them both as he unzipped Akari’s backpack and dumped its contents on the ground. Her school blouse fell out first, followed by a notebook and several textbooks. He emptied the smaller pockets one by one, but there wasn’t much in there. Just lip balm, some pencils, bandages, and her glasses case.
“Search her,” the man told his partner.
Akari flinched as the woman patted down her pockets, but she screwed her eyes shut and endured it. They wouldn’t find anything in there, anyway.
But the woman just kept on searching. First, she yanked off Akari’s shoes. Then she unzipped the front of her hoodie.
“Fine,” Akari said through gritted teeth. “I have some silvernotes, but I didn’t steal them.”
“Where are they?” the woman asked.
“Let me loose, and I’ll get them.”
After a short pause, the male officer waved his hand, and the ice mana loosened around Akari’s wrists. She raised a shaking hand and pulled the wad of silvernotes from the front of her shirt.
The woman snatched it and began counting. “Eight silvernotes.”
“I didn’t steal them.” Akari gestured toward Blondie with her chin. “She heard me haggling with someone. That’s how she knew.”
“Enough,” the male officer snapped. He took the wad of notes from his partner and glanced down at Akari. “Where’d a Bronze come by this money?”
Akari bit her lip and looked away. She could have said her parents gave it to her, but they might ask for names and phone numbers. Her foster parents didn’t know about her hacking, and things would get even worse if they found out. She could have told them she’d earned the money, but she was only fifteen—too young for a job.
No doubt she would come up with a dozen convincing lies later. But for now, she was still shaking like a leaf, and her mouth struggled to form the words.
The officer glanced at Blondie and sniffed, probably inhaling the scent of mana from her hands. His gaze drifted to Akari’s bleeding forehead, then he surveyed the street below.
For a moment, Akari dared to hope for justice. Attacking someone with mana was a serious crime. Even if Akari had stolen from her—which she couldn’t prove—it didn’t justify lethal force on a public street.
“Yeah . . .” the officer said. “I think you’re both full of shit.” And with that, he pocketed Akari’s silvernotes. “Now get going. Unless either of you wants a real investigation.” A short silence followed, and he nodded. “Didn’t think so.”
And just like that, it was over. They released their ice mana from around Akari’s body, leaving her with pins and needles in her limbs. Blondie made her way down the staircase without a word, and the two officers stepped back up toward the train platform.
Akari lay there for several long moments, struggling to feel her legs again. She was down eight silvernotes—several months’ worth of work. Not to mention her Missile rod, which Blondie’s friends had probably snatched up by now.
If she’d been born as a Silver or Gold, then things would have been different. Silvers and Golds didn’t get mugged in alleyways. They weren’t restrained without cause, and no one questioned where they got their money.
More importantly, they had mana arts, and all the power that came with it.