//

  9:41 A.M. // 4 - 28 - 2020 // The Institution For The Gifted

  Featuring Gwen Olynn, Avil Daniase, ???, ???, Cedrance Manamune, Reyenal Ato and Aythe Siena

  //

  [User input:] ? [Access//Guide]

  [User input:] ? [Memory]

  [Accessing core memory of Avil Daniase] ?[Randomizing keyword]

  [Keyword chosen!]

  UNKIND

  =[Beginning core memory]=

  The classroom wasn’t very chatty as Gwen’s hand ruffled inside of the box of papers. She took a glance into the crowd of ascending seats, students filling each one, and was met with eyes turning away in mutual feeling.

  Avil met her eye in the very back, and immediately both looked away.

  “As long as I get either my shield buddy or my bow boy, I’ll be fine, man.” Huy nudged him from behind. “Otherwise, my practical grades are absolutely cooked.”

  “Can’t be as bad as mine,” Salem rolled his eyes. He absently scratched at the eczema patch at the area underneath his chin and said with a wary glance at the still-occupied box, “You pulled an all nighter miracle last year. It might just happen again this year.”

  Huy yawned. “Jeez, what’s taking her so long?” He pulled a hand through his hair, which fell back into its place stubbornly. “That kid’s been going at it for a while already. Just, swirling her hand in the box.”

  “Her name’s Gwen,” Avil said sharply.

  The murmuring only grew as she shuffled her hand inside the box, an almost-distressed look on her face.

  “Hey, hurry up and choose already,” Salem called out, surprising both Avil and Huy. Classmates all around looked up at him as he leaned over Huy’s shoulder with an elbow. “You’ve been at it for 30 seconds now. Get on with it.”

  “What, Salem—”

  “Shddup!” Avil hissed, a surge of fresh embarrassment crawling over him even as attention slid back towards Gwen. “Man, who is this guy? I don’t know him, so he can’t be my friend. I’m not associated with him at all, does he even go to this school?” His head stayed looking towards the left side of the classroom as Salem snickered from behind.

  Huy began playfully, “Surprised you didn’t yell out first—”

  “Reyenal Ato.”

  Avil cast a surprised glance back to Gwen. A flurry of emotions bit at him, and he looked away once again, back to Salem. This time he felt an uncanny sense that someone was watching him as he resumed his conversation with the other two boys.

  Soon it was Avil’s turn to go down to the box. He waded through the clusters of people, hearing low conversation.

  Reyenal Ato this, Reyenal Ato that, seriously has to be Gwen Olynn, why not me?

  He bit his lips.

  Avil reached into the box and pulled a slip out without much hesitation and read the name on the paper.

  “Cedrance Manamune.”

  As if an overcast of pineapple clouds and peanut butter rain had just been forecasted, the whole class went into a brief moment of shock.

  It was an astute quietness where Avil spotted the dazzling bit in the crowd, near the middle of the right side. Beautiful dark blue hair, an even more handsome face that bordered gorgeous, a perfect midway between bulky and lean yet muscular all the same that would baffle any decent biologist or growth expert, top of the class. A nonchalant look on his face as he raised his hand, both guys and girls around him drooling at his handsomeness.

  That Cedrance Manamune?

  Huy and Salem gaped at Avil.

  Avil stared at Cedrance.

  Gwen looked away.

  …

  “What’s the golden standard like?” Two cafeteria trays plopped down in front of Avil. His hand was preemptively out as Huy slid a juice box to him, which he promptly stabbed with a straw.

  “Mr. Perfect?” Avil rolled his eyes. “He’s such a nothing-person.”

  Salem mused, “I never actually got to sit close to him. Can you now say why the girls act like that around him?” He spooned in the cheesy pasta from the black plastic box and scrunched his face distastefully.

  Huy added as he tore open a small and clear bag of grapes, “Ever had a gay spot in your life? How about now?” Avil promptly squirted juice at him, making him holler.

  Huy was about to say something before Avil put his hand up, cutting him off. “Bro, don’t even. I said hi, and he just… sorta looked at me. Then he looked back to the front. And then all of the other girls around him, like, stared at me after. It was creepy as hell.”

  “That f***er ignored you, huh?” Salem pushed his pasta aside. “That is gross, Americans and their cheese.”

  “What are we supposed to do about that? Get angry? Not even.” Huy scrubbed at his Institution uniform with a couple napkins, deciding not to say anything about the now crushed juice box in Avil’s hands.

  “Insane that you got the number one, though.”

  Avil scoffed, “I don’t care about that. My grade’s not even bad, so I couldn’t give less of a s*** about who I was partnered with. I mean, I do. Man’s got zero personality.”

  “Who the hell actually likes him though?” Salem’s mouth was annoyingly full with garlic bread as he spoke and chewed at the same time. “All he’s got is a pretty face.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him make any other face than that blank cardboard look.”

  “Huy… yeah, you’re right.”

  The cafeteria became even louder as more kids entered through the doors. Avil spotted Gwen and Reyenal side by side, both of them ignoring each other, the smaller one with a much more uncomfortable expression.

  “God, it’s so annoying.”

  “What kinda name is Cedrance anyways? And Manamune?”

  “Because of him, no girls give me a chance.”

  “Womp womp, bro. Just look better, I guess.”

  “Really though, who would actually be sad if he just happened to die?”

  “Not us, and those girls would find another somebody to slobber over within the next year or two. We are preparing for Arc, of course.”

  “Unless my dad’s jewelry business gets good.”

  “Yeah, or if my mom gets elected for the House. Wait, I’ll still probably go to Arc.”

  “But there’s no way we can compete against Cedrance.”

  “He has it all: strength, looks, smarts, and I don’t think he even studies that much.”

  “What are we? A Viet dude whose dad runs a jewelry place, a half-Libyan half-Jew whose dad don’t even exist anymore, and our fellow Napoleonic conqueror.”

  Huy snorted.

  “Shut up.” Avil rolled his eyes.

  “Brooooo,” Huy coughed. “You’re actually special for that.”

  “Shut up,” Avil repeated, this time with his eyes tentatively locked onto someone behind them.

  “Hey man, I get it.” Salem raised his hands in the air in surrender. “Being short is tough. I mean, not like I’d know. Ask Huy—”

  “I said, shut up, guys,” Avil hissed, making Salem stop in confusion. “If you’re this loud then he’s gonna hear y—”

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “Hey, can I sit here?”

  Huy and Salem turned around to see the angel-sculpted body and addicting gaze of their topic of conversation.

  “Cedrance?”

  Behind him stood Gwen’s small and pale figure.

  Reyenal Ato sat at a different table next to Aythe Siena.

  …

  Loud, loud, loud!

  “LET’S GOOOOOOO!”

  “WOOOOOOOOH!”

  Lorelei’s voice boomed over the announcer comms. “The crowd goes wild as Derik dives forward! A swing, and a miss. Nate responds with his own flurry of assaults, but can Derik block them?”

  —Bang!

  —Clang!

  —kkkkLAANnng

  The fighters leaped backward as Derik sweeped out recklessly with his spear, Nate avoiding the slash. With the advantageous moment of clarity Derik moved in with the range advantage against Nate’s broadsword. Each stab was parried and dodged one after the other, but Derik never let Nate get within his area of disadvantage, a spear’s strength.

  Nate, growing frustrated, growled loudly and twisted past a stab, his sword brutishly swinging from almost all the way behind him yet with such amazing strength that the lack of technique was made for a considerable speed. Derik, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to counterattack, hopped backward earnestly.

  They paused for a moment, the sun beating down on them, sweat dripping all over the ground. The crowd was heaving with anticipation as the two boys panted out their lungs. Nate tensed again.

  “And with this quick and necessary respite, Nate jumps back into action with a never-before aggression! The audience craves to see blood as Nate slices in! Please no blood. Derik deflects it, maneuvers around and looks to stab at the ankles as Nate brings the sword down on Derik’s upper guard, but no!”

  The crowd exploded as Derik swiftly feinted back, his attack faked. Nate, still recovering his sword up from the brutal swing down, was in no position to fight back as Derik’s spear hit the chest guard. There was an audible flinch from the audience as the pain mitigator did its job, zapping Nate from top to bottom.

  “And the winner is Derik Corvel!”

  Seconds later the crowd was clapping, clamoring, and Derik’s name was chanted high above clouds of joy and praise. His friends were the loudest of all.

  “DERIK! I KNEW YOU WOULD WIN!”

  “CONGRATULATIONS, MAN!!”

  “DAAAAAAMN!”

  “THAT WAS AWESOME!”

  Derik himself managed a smile as he waved to them, his movements sagging from tiredness. Nate, on the other hand, stayed on the ground both in shock from his loss and the pain mitigator.

  Lorelei continued with her after-commentary of the fight as the noise of celebration and frustration overwhelmed the crowd.

  Avil’s hands politely clapped.

  Reyenal watched on with feigned interest.

  Gwen shifted in her seat, wary of the girls beside her.

  Cedrance pulled on the pain mitigator.

  As the two fighters were escorted off, Lorelei raised her voice again. “Alright everyone! Our next fighters have just finished preparing.” The audience perked up. Their interests were completely piqued, knowing what match was bound to be up next. “A highly anticipated match between two powerhouses. Our fighters, well renowned throughout the Institution, have both achieved numerous feats throughout their two years here, growing from a fledgling to possibly some of the greatest fighters the Institution has ever produced!”

  She cleared her throat, and everyone in the audience readied to burst into cheer.

  Lorelei sucked in a breath. “On the left we have our first contestant. The dual wielding illustrious swordsman who has but one equal, a famous protégé of Wings of Justice and the king of the Battle Club, it’s the one and only…”

  Reyenal’s face was completely blank.

  “AYYYYYYYTHE SIEEEENAAAA!!!”

  From the left side of the stadium, Aythe Siena strode out with a confident but casual gait, the lightly dimpled smile on his face undeniably bright and charming. The two swords at his hips gave him a definite intimidation factor that the girls seemed to absolutely love. Aythe’s pain mitigator was strapped to his body forcing it to cling to his shapely and defined muscles. His speckled hair glittered in the sunlight as he pulled out from the shadows to the center, looking straight ahead at his competition out of sight.

  “OH MY GOD AYTHE, YOU’RE SO COOL!”

  “LOOK AT THOSE BACK MUSCLES!”

  “TAKE A PICTURE, NOW!”

  “HE’S SO BAAAAAD!”

  “KYYAAAAAAA!!”

  “LOOK AT THOSE SWORDS!”

  Another interruption from the announcer. “And on the right side we have our popular choice to win the whole tournament. The proclaimed rival of Aythe himself, and consistently ranking first in both practical and written exams, we have…”

  Gwen winced as the girls around her began screaming in a frenzy of excitement.

  “CEEEEEDRANCE MANAMUUUUUNE!”

  Coming from the right side from the shadows of the large opening, Cedrance’s dark blue hair, eyes, and face made him a beautiful and handsome gem to behold. A sapphire radiance that blinded even the sun as his presence filled the whole stadium, walking out with a single unsheathed sword in hand. His expression held no smile, only a single-minded objective of victory. Similar to his rival, Cedrance was in no way lacking in the body, each muscle a continuous struggle for space beneath his smooth and light skin.

  “CEDRANCE!!! I LOOOOOVE YOOOOOOU!!!”

  “SMILE FOR ME!”

  “I WANNA MARRY YOU!!”

  “HOW CAN SOMEONE BE SO HOOOT?!?!”

  “I BELIEVE IN YOU!”

  “UWAAHHHHHHHHH!”

  Both boys—guys, stared at each other, one sizing the other one up with a cocky grin while the other kept his face plain as day.

  Both guys—men, wanted an absolute victory, one that was so certain the other would simply be too embarrassed to life their head ever again.

  “Please shake hands! We will start once both fighters are in position!”

  The audience was crazy loud, the announcer barely heard over all of the splendid excitement. The handshake was as unsavory as expected. Both fighters stalked back to their position.

  “Let us start on a count of 3!”

  Finger whistles were blown, screams all about, the excitement was at an all-time high.

  “Three!”

  The echoing of the crowd boomed. Ced and Aythe remained still.

  “Two!”

  Reyenal Ato watched them warily. Gwen Olynn cried out in pain from being squeezed in all sides.

  “One!”

  Avil Daniase glanced at the empty seats beside him reserved for Huy and Salem. Neither had come to see the tournament as promised.

  “Let the battle begin!”

  Both Cedrance and Aythe immediately dashed towards each other, swords out.

  The crowd went wild.

  //

  1:31 P.M. // 11 - 6 - 2023 // Arc

  Starring Zendolyn Ato

  Featuring ??? and ???

  //

  There was something deeply pleasurable about wearing the mask.

  The campus was quite empty, other than a couple people who didn’t have classes right after lunch. Even so, the precautionary mana barrier inside my backpack hummed with power as I walked fearlessly through. A person here or there may have felt the disturbance in mana and turned my way, but with the amount of mana in the thing it might as well have been an invisibility cloak—that was its current setting.

  Mana barriers were indeed quite a powerful thing. Wikipedia surfing had done me some good, for once.

  Chilly air blew, but I was mostly warm with the nondescript black sweater and relatively baggy jeans, black performance gloves pulled over my hands to hide every last bit of my skin. Visionaire’s iconic lycra bodysuit was, in my humble opinion, too revealing and too cold to wear outside. Fancy grey headphones over my ears and the hood over my head, a thrumming in my heart with every cadence of music I stepped to, the Visionaire’s extraordinary beats playing back to me. By no means was I poor anymore in terms of points. That’s what diligence and hard work had gotten me.

  My ongoing theory for the sudden turn of weather and temperature was that Arc either had a powerful weather mage or the sky above Arc was just a large domed roof controlled by mana.

  Either that or the author just needed the weather to change for one reason or another.

  I felt no urge to bite my lips, only a feeling of exhilaration that I didn’t understand nor felt the need to.

  From the moment I had put on the mask to go outside, this unexplainably positive feeling in me made me certain there was no way an in-person meeting could possibly go wrong, no matter which way I sliced it. No, not even as I entered Club Streets and towards the grandiose Square’s entrance.

  The cameras hidden in the ceiling and all around the Square were surely watching me diligently through the cloud of mana that shrouded me, but I along with all each performer and director had a visitor’s pass. We could conduct business at Arc without any interference nor identity check, and security would have to assume I entered and exited through the portals to and from Arc with my group. Unless they looked further in, which went against their code of privacy, my identity was mostly safe, so long as no one sought to pull it off or no Arc students wandered out from class and found me within the mana barrier.

  I had never personally been on the stage before, but the basic layout that had been emailed to me was enough to get me through.

  All the way to the left, past the stairs that led up to the seats and through the authorized personnel door, which was left unlocked. Through the inner layer that circled the whole arena called the Preparation Zone, where different Arc-standard weapons hung on racks on the walls, where seats were lined up in rows facing wards a large screen that probably displayed the stage, through the open area for warmups and exercising… And through the large tunnel that opened to the open arena, an elevated square stage in the center. Now I could see the many, many dancers on the stage in a black uniform and masks very similar to my own through the slits of my mask, and through my headphones was the sound of synchronized stomping of feet and clapping of hands. And mostly my own music.

  I flipped the backpack to my frontside and reached in to smack the mana barrier. The humming power through my hand made me shiver, and the glowing blue slowly fizzled out with a soft hissing noise.

  A zip of my backpack caught the attention of a woman standing to the side of the stage.

  “Visionaire?” She said something to the man next to her who also turned towards me with a measured sort of surprise on his face.

  Of all the dancers, those two were the only ones not wearing a mask and a lycra uniform. Instead they had on white t-shirts, jeans, a black hat, and a mic around their ears most likely to talk to the stage, lighting, and sound operators.

  “Yes, that is what I go by,” I said to them as calm and collected as I could ever be and extended a gloved hand to them. “It’s nice to see you both in person. Brian and Allison.”

  Almost as if on cue, the music quieted to the confusion of the dancers. Some kept on going, tapping alone to their own internal rhythms, while those that turned to look at the directors spotted me. Or, I think they did. It was hard to tell beneath their masks.

  The sound of murmuring coming from the stage 100% confirmed that my presence had been noticed.

  Yet the mask made me feel no worries. I extended my hand as I approached them.