Transcendence, page 32
part #6 of The Beginning After The End Series
“It looks like I have quite a ways to go before I try to take on another retainer, let alone a Scythe,” I muttered to myself. I hated to admit it, but, with the appearance of Seris, I had completely lost my will to fight. It had been a while since I had felt so helpless. It wasn’t a good feeling, and this time was no different.
When I had enough mana gathered, I attempted to use magic—but my core churned, sending me in a fit of agony. The mana burned as I channeled it through my body, but I was finally able to encase Uto’s body in ice.
Despite having almost died just moments ago, a sense of calm surrounded me. There were things I should’ve been doing right now—helping Aya if her battle hadn’t already ended, informing Mica about Olfred’s betrayal—but right now, I couldn’t. In my weakened state, I couldn’t help them even if I wanted to, so I gave in to my body’s demands and rested.
I leaned heavily against Sylvie’s body, her rhythmic breathing almost therapeutic. I usually never let myself fall into daydreams or wistful fantasies, but right now, I felt like I deserved it. Letting my thoughts drift, I allowed myself to imagine my life after the war. I let myself have some happy thoughts, even if they wouldn’t necessarily come true.
Thoughts of myself, grown up—maybe even sporting a beard—with a family of my own. Tess’s face popped into my mind, and I immediately felt the urge to abandon my reverie. But I deserved this little fantastical break.
So I let the scenes continue. Tess looked older—more mature but still dazzlingly beautiful. She smiled brightly at something I’d just said, her cheeks coloring with just a slight tinge of red. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear before glancing upward at me coyly. She took a single step toward me, and then suddenly we were chest to chest. Tess raised herself up on her toes as she closed her eyes. Her blush deepened and her long lashes quivered.
Just as she pursed her lips to kiss me, Tessia was suddenly ripped from my arms. I was surrounded by darkness, but I could vaguely make out the figure standing in front of me, just a few feet away.
It was me. The former me.
What makes you think you can have this happiness—that you deserve this happiness? The former me spoke, his voice echoing through the void.
After what you did to them, do you think you can just forget and move on? They died because of your choices. They paid the price for your selfishness.
Whether you’re King Grey or Arthur Leywin, you can only exist alone.
Whether you’re King Grey or Arthur…
… Grey or Arthur…
… Arthur…
“Arthur!”
I jolted awake. In front of me was Aya.
Her expression immediately relaxed and a flicker of relief shone in her eyes. “You wouldn’t wake up no matter how hard I shook you. I was beginning to worry something had happened during the fight.”
“I’m just a bit tired.” I mustered a smile to reassure her.
Aya nodded. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
Staring at the elven Lance, I saw that she was much paler than normal, but she had no visible wounds. “How did it go on your side?”
Aya’s expression darkened. “A few of the Alacryan soldiers were able to escape. As for the traitor, I executed him.”
Traitor. Execute. I mulled over the elf’s choice of words. She was distancing herself from the fact that she had killed a former comrade. I couldn’t blame her; Olfred’s death left a bitter taste in my mouth too, but Aya had worked alongside him longer than I had.
“What about Mica?” I asked.
Aya shook her head. “I came here straight after finishing my job at the Alacryan’s hidden base. I thought you might need my help, but I see that it was unnecessary.”
For a brief moment, I thought of telling the Lance about Seris and how she had helped me, but I chose not to. There was no hard reasoning behind it; I just wanted to know more about Seris before saying anything. “It was a hard battle, but with Sylvie’s help, I was able to defeat him.”
There was a flash of doubt in Aya’s eyes, but she immediately recovered with a curt nod. “I’m glad you both got through this in one piece. We’ve won.”
“Thanks,” I said, stroking Sylvie’s body. “It doesn’t feel like we won though. We managed to bring down a retainer, but at the cost of a member of the Council and a Lance—maybe even two.”
“I think it’s safe to leave it at just one Lance,” Aya replied, staring idly at Uto, whose frozen body I had left upright.
“So Mica wasn’t a part of it?”
Aya shook her head. “She still needs to be questioned, but I highly doubt it.”
I rested my head against Sylvie’s body, grateful for that bit of news, at least. I could feel my bond in my thoughts again—a mixture of the emotions she was feeling in her dreams.
“With Rahdeas’s arrest and Mica’s questioning, along with this retainer’s interrogation, it’s going to be hectic when we get back to the castle,” I said, more to myself than to Aya.
“It definitely will be, so get some rest here while you can.”
I smiled weakly at Aya, thinking there was too much on my mind for me to relax: what to think about Seris’s actions; how to utilize the horns to get stronger; how to explain the recurring nightmares about my past life. But in the battle between my body and mind, my body prevailed, and I succumbed to the compelling lure of sleep.
Chapter 39
Greying Glimpse
GREY
“Next! Cadet Grey, no surname. Please step onto the platform,” said the researcher on the other side of the glass. He wore an immaculate lab coat, and his half-closed eyes never left his clipboard. “Please place your dominant hand on the globe and wait for further instructions.”
I did as instructed, broadening my shoulders and puffing out my chest—as if my posture was somehow going to help me on this test.
“Now, Cadet Grey, the globe is a sensor that will measure your ki level. Please imbue ki into the sensor until you are given the signal to stop.”
Taking a deep breath, I siphoned the ki from my sternum and let it flow up and through my right arm into the glass sphere. My ki looked like droplets of ink in water as it swirled and expanded in the sensor that was measuring it. I saw the researchers jotting down notes with looks of disappointment.
Barely a minute had passed and I was already sweating profusely, my hand trembling on top of the globe.
“You may stop,” the same researcher said through the intercom, his voice sounding even less impressed than it had before. “Please proceed to the training grounds for the final part of your assessment.”
I walked out the same door I had come in through, taking a peek back as the researchers discussed my score behind their glass window. The one who had given me the instructions was shaking his head.
Walking down the brightly lit corridor, I stopped at the back of a line of cadets waiting their turn for the final portion of the assessment.
“Hey… do you know what the last test will be?” asked the bulky young man in front of me in line. He seemed nervous.
“We’ve been through the tests to measure our mental acuity, physical strength, and ki. Just by process of elimination, this last one can only be that.”
The muscular teen’s eyes lit up in realization and he grinned smugly. “Oh… that! Haha! I’m good at that.”
I let out a small laugh at the simpleton’s change in attitude. It was the same for me—I was also good at that.
The line started moving again, and we filed into a large auditorium with a ceiling at least a hundred feet high. There were already a fair number of cadets gathered in designated locations, with an instructor leading each group. I scanned the area in hopes of finding Nico or Cecilia, but I couldn’t see either of them.
Another instructor stood at the front of our line, guiding each of the new cadets to a different group. He pointed to his right, toward a crowd of nervous cadets near the far corner, and the bulky boy in front of me confidently swaggered to his assigned group.
“Cadet Grey, no surname,” the instructor read.
I stifled the urge to scowl every time a faculty member pointed out the fact that I had no family name. Why did that matter here?
“Proceed to Group 4C, halfway to the far left corner of the auditorium. The floor is marked for your convenience,” the instructor said, pointing in the appropriate direction.
I gave him a curt nod and walked to my group, which was a hodgepodge of approximately a dozen young men and women of all different sizes and builds. A petite girl who looked to be around my age stood confidently with her arms crossed. She was purposely leaking traces of her ki so everyone around her could feel it. A toned boy with neatly cropped hair and an arrogant smirk stood tall, placing himself near the front of the group. Judging by the crest pinned to his chest pocket, he was from a military family. No doubt he had been raised to be a prominent member of the military—perhaps even a contender to challenge for the position of king.
In the middle of the group was our instructor—a heavyset man who looked to be in his forties, his mustache better groomed than his thinning hair.
“Cadet Grey?” the instructor asked with a raised brow as he read off his clipboard.
“Yes, sir.” I nodded respectfully. No point in being brusque with the man responsible for determining my status inside this military academy.
“Okay! Looks like everyone’s here then,” he said, tucking his clipboard under his armpit and clasping his hands. “Hello everyone. You may all refer to me as Instructor Gredge. Before we begin, I’d like to say a few words.”
The cadets in our group shuffled around him in a circle so everyone could see.
“As many of you have guessed, this last portion of the entry exam will be practical combat. I have the ki level results here for everyone in this group, and while I will not disclose anyone’s level, I’ll tell you now that they all differ. Practical combat means that you will not always have the luxury of being able to fight someone with the same level of ki as you. Sometimes you’ll be lucky and face an opponent who can barely strengthen his fist.”
A few cadets in our group snickered at that.
“Other times, you will be in situations where your opponent has a much larger ki pool than you do,” the instructor continued, holding up his clipboard once more. “Regardless, you will be judged on your ability to adapt accordingly and, most importantly, prevail.”
We exchanged glances with each other. Then a scrawny teen, who looked a few years older than me, raised his arm and spoke. “Are the rumors true—that cadets can die during this test?”
Instructor Gredge scratched his beard. “Highly unlikely. The weapons are blunted and softened. Also, I’ll be carefully monitoring the fights and will intervene when necessary.”
A few cadets in the group were still anxious despite the instructor’s reassurance. I couldn’t blame them. The difference in ki levels made a huge difference in strength and agility—enough so that even a softened weapon could be deadly.
The instructor cleared his throat to get our attention. “As you all know, the entry exam is important for determining and securing a cadet’s future in this academy. Those who do well here will be well-supported by the academy and be given resources to further their skills, while those who do poorly will be neglected and eventually expelled. It’s unfair, but it’s also the way of life. I’d ask if any of you have any questions but we’re short on time, so let’s begin.”
Our plump instructor waved his hand, motioning for some of the cadets to get out of his way. He then dug out a key from his pocket and inserted it into the wall. That was when I noticed the faint seams in the ground.
“As this is an exam and not a class, we will not be debriefing you on these matches. You may choose to speculate amongst yourselves, however,” he said. As he spoke, the wall slid open to reveal a weapon rack, and at the same time panes of glass-like material rose from the thin seams in the ground. Within seconds, an area roughly thirty feet on each side was enclosed by the clear walls, which rose dozens of feet high.
“First up will be Cadet Janice Creskit against Cadet Twain Burr. Select the weapon of your choice and enter the arena.” Instructor Gredge motioned at the door and the panes slid open.
The small-framed girl who had been flaunting her ki picked out a blunted spear, while the scrawny teen who had just asked the instructor whether it was possible to die carefully selected a shield and sword. They followed the instructor into the enclosed area, the panes closing behind them.
“Glancing blows will be ignored; I will determine whether the match will stop or not. Until then, fight to your heart’s content.” Our instructor placed himself in between Janice and the anxious Twain. “Begin!”
Twain jumped back and immediately fell into a defensive stance, holding his fiberglass shield up while keeping his blunted sword close to his body.
Janice, on the other hand, lunged at her opponent. A muted thud resounded as her spear clashed with Twain’s shield, but she didn’t relent. With no regard for her own safety, she let loose a wild set of thrusts, pushing Twain back with each one.
The petite girl lashed out like a cat, quick and agile, but too reckless. Although his knitted brows showed uncertainty, Twain seemed to realize her weakness and timed his next block to parry away Janice’s spear.
She staggered just a step, but that was all Twain needed. He quickly swung his sword, striking her square in the shoulder. I expected her to writhe in pain, or at least recoil from the direct hit, but a translucent layer of ki warded off the worst of the blow.
With a smug grin plastered on her face, Janice smacked Twain’s sword away with her hand and tackled him with the same shoulder that had taken the blow. Twain buckled. Janice followed up by swiping her weapon at Twain’s legs, sweeping him off his feet—literally.
The scrawny teen fell to the floor and Janice raised her spear. But before she could bring the weapon down into Twain’s face, Instructor Gredge grabbed it and intercepted her.
“Match over. Both cadets return to the group,” he said unceremoniously, releasing the spear.
There was a moment of silence as our instructor jotted a few things onto his clipboard while Twain and Janice walked out of the arena.
“Cadet Grey and Cadet Vlair of House Ambrose. Select the weapon of your choice and enter the arena.”
Murmurs went through our group at the name ‘Ambrose.’
The toned, good-looking boy—who also looked about my age—walked over to Janice.
“May I use the spear?” he asked, holding his hand out.
The girl, who had just fought like a feral cat, suddenly turned tame as she handed him the blunted spear. “Sure.”
I picked out a sword about half the width of the one Twain had used, then walked into the enclosed area.
“That’s it, Cadet Grey?” Vlair asked with a raised brow. “The type of sword you chose is usually paired with a brace or another sword.”
I shook my head. “I’m fine like this.”
“Suit yourself,” Vlair said with a shrug.
“Begin.” Instructor Gredge signaled with a wave of his clipboard.
Unlike Janice, Vlair took a much more neutral stance with his spear. I wasn’t too familiar with the forms for that particular weapon, but just on instinct alone, I knew he was much better trained with it than Janice was.
I tightened my grip on my sword but kept the blade low. Vlair’s eyes narrowed, almost as if he was insulted that I hadn’t taken a proper stance.
My opponent made the first move, lunging forward. His weapon became a blur, but I already knew where it was going to be. I dodged his first thrust with just the slightest twitch of my head, and ducked underneath the quick swipe that followed.
The match continued, with Vlair unable to land even one blow. I knew that a single hit would probably be the end of me for this duel, but I had to save my limited ki for when I could actually attack. Meanwhile, Vlair had a consistent aura of ki enveloping his body and weapon, which was impressive. The previous cadets had been able to protect themselves with ki to a certain extent—Janice more so than Twain—but Vlair’s ability to extend his ki into his weapon was something that came from both talent and hard work, especially at our age.
His blunted spear whistled past my cheek with practiced precision, but I allowed my body to do its work. His movements were blurred and he seemed to be using a technique that bent and curved his spear for a wider range of attacks, but he was still slow—at least to me. He lacked the fear-inducing ferocity that the attackers who had tried to kidnap Cecilia had possessed.
I had gotten more used to this sensation over the years, but it was still odd the way my body moved seamlessly with my thoughts. I was glad for this talent, as it served as a way to even out the playing field, considering my shallow ki pool.
Cadet Ambrose kept attacking, and his precise combination of attacks soon became laced with emotion. Frustration and impatience took over, dulling his attacks and leaving his body more open. I took advantage of that fact and went in. Strengthening the ball of my foot with ki, I redirected his spear up, so his ribs were exposed on his right side, and darted forward.
I swung my sword, hitting him cleanly just below the armpit. Vlair reeled with the impact, but I could tell by the sensation that it hadn’t done much. The rich layer of ki protected him.
“Enough. Match over,” Instructor Gredge declared.
“What? That barely tickled! I can still fight,” Vlair retorted, anger in his eyes.
“There is no victory in these matches, Cadet Ambrose. I have seen enough from both of you, which is why I’m concluding this match,” our instructor said, annoyance evident in his tone.
Vlair glanced at me. “I disagree that you’ve seen enough. The kid just landed a lucky blow.”
Instructor Gredge shook his head. “The ‘lucky blow’ was made after you failed to land a single strike for exactly one minute and eight seconds. Now before I dock you even more points, please make your way out of the arena so the other cadets can have their turn.”
