Iron Prince: A Progression Sci-Fi Epic (Warformed: Stormweaver Book 1)

by Bryce O'Connor

  Which was—he imagined—precisely the point.

  “With all of that in mind—” Captain Dent’s voice cut through the quiet again “—it is important for each and every one of you to realize that some among your number are stronger than the others. I do not say this to discourage anyone, but rather to urge you to watch those cadets in your class who are excelling, who are closer to chasing down that which you all desire. It is from your instructors that you will learn your lessons, but it is from those standing over you that you should seek your drive to improve, to climb higher. Considering this, the other heads and I have put together a demonstration, partially to celebrate your Commencement, and partially to open your eyes to what is expected of you in the coming weeks. Of the 128 first years, sixteen were invited to Galens two months early, to participate in a special training program designed specifically to give them an edge in the coming months.”

  There were a few cries of surprise—as well as protests—from the cadets, followed by a buzzing of angry conversation, but the captain silenced them all with a raised hand.

  “You’re disapproval is noted, but it is also not unexpected. You will be pushed at this Institute. More than physically. More than mentally. Those with greater ability will—by that nature—earn themselves greater opportunity, while those with less will be pressed to make themselves better, to make themselves stronger, and gain those advantages as their own. The sixteen who partook in the summer program were selected from this year’s CAD-assignees with the highest Device Rankings, and were therefore granted the highest opportunity to prove themselves.” She dropped her hand, glaring up into the stands as though daring anyone to contradict her. “You will learn that I will not be a ‘fair’ instructor. I will not be gentle, nor kind, nor giving. My responsibility is not to spare your feelings or address your desires. It is to ensure that you leave these next three years as the best CAD-Users you can be. On that note—” she looked over her shoulder, gesturing towards one of the figures seated behind her “—let me present to you the first example of what it is you should be chasing down.”

  As the person stood, Rei realized that she was not, in fact, an officer. Indeed, as the girl strode silently forward to stand beside Valera Dent, he saw the grey on the band of her left arm, distinct to the captain’s white.

  “This is Aria Laurent,” Dent announced, indicating the cadet. “She is a first year, like you all. A Phalanx-Type User.” The woman paused, and Rei wondered if the hint of the smile he’d seen was an illusion in the line of her prosthetic. “She is also the only C-Ranked assignee among you.”

  That caught the gathered attention of the audience, and in dramatic fashion. More than one “What?!” of surprise called out from the stands, and in the rows before him Rei saw several people exchange astounded glances.

  He didn’t remotely blame them, staring as he was himself at Aria Laurent.

  A C-Ranked first year?! By the end of their first term there should certainly have been a few among their number, but to be entering the semester as a C-Rank?! It was astounding. Jack Benaly and Lena Jiang’s D8s had already been more than impressive, with Logan Grant’s D9 being downright staggering, but a C-Rank? There couldn’t have been more than a handful of first year cadets in the whole of the ISC at that level. The Galens Institute was a premier institution, but it was still incredible that they’d managed to recruit one of probably a score of new Users with that sort of potential in the entirety of the settled systems.

  Willing the focused window of his NOED to shift focus to the girl, Rei took her in initially with energetic curiosity, then with more… acute… interest. She had a slender build—athletic and supple—with long arms and legs that could only do wonders for her reach, especially if her Phalanx-Type was presenting with a spear rather than a sword. Under the brim of her cap Aria Laurent’s eyes were a brilliant shade of green that sparkled like the shifting glass shards inside of a kaleidoscope. Her hair was designed as well, a deep, vibrant red that—while obviously not genetically organic—was still not so far gone from the standard spectrum as to be jarring. Her skin was clear, with a number of attractive freckles crowning each cheek, and Rei didn’t miss the flush of color despite the girl’s rigid, well-rehearsed posture.

  She might have been a C-Rank User, but she looked about as pleased to be standing there on display as Rei might have been to be tossed naked into a public fountain.

  Something scratched at his thoughts, then, and at first he had trouble placing it. There, at attention in the sun beside a legend of the SCT world, Aria Laurent looked… out of place. He found himself wanting to see the girl in a different sort of light, one where her ability spoke more than her specs. He wondered how he would feel standing there being gawked at, with empty accomplishments being touted before having the chance to prove one’s worth.

  Abruptly, Rei could feel the pressure of Shido’s weight on his wrists, and it hit him then.

  Some part of him, some deep—possibly masochistic—part of him, wanted to fight Aria Laurent. Not to best her. Not to challenge her, or put her to the test.

  No. Rei wanted to fight her so that he could witness first-hand what a User like her was capable of, and find out just how far he still had to go.

  “Whoa…” Viv mumbled, so quiet Rei wondered if she’d meant to speak aloud. “She is gorgeous…”

  Catcher, on his other side, seemed to be thinking the same thing, because his yellow eyes were far away even behind the bilateral frame of his neuro-optics. Rei, suddenly feeling embarrassed by his level of scrutiny, snapped his focused window back to Valera Dent, though he couldn’t help his natural gaze from flitting to Laurent several times before the captain started to speak again.

  “As I mentioned, a demonstration has been prepared in order for you all to start developing an understanding of what is going to be expected of you in the coming months. Of the sixteen who spent the summer training here at Galens, fifteen of them will be splitting into three groups of five for a Team Battle match. You’ll have the opportunity to observe them, to study what the strongest currently among you have already spent much time learning, and perhaps approach your courses tomorrow with a bit more fervor and intent.”

  Dent smiled again, and there was something like a wicked sort of amusement playing across that grin.

  “Before that, however, one of you will be taking the field against Aria Laurent.”

  Rei was on his feet like lightning, hand in the air before any other person in the crowd around him could so much as think to beat him.

  “HERE!” he yelled, the word echoing a dozen times back in the stunned silence that followed.

  CHAPTER 13

  “Cadet!” the nearest of the two supervising officers snapped in Rei’s direction. “Sit down! The captain will—”

  “It’s fine, warrant officer.” Valera Dent’s words were quiet, but still carried over the augmentation provided by the Arena.

  The man’s words cut off, and his eyes flashed away from Rei as he resumed his silent attention at the base of the stairs.

  Dent was looking at Rei with an odd expression. Her NOED had flared across her brown eyes, and when she’d caught sight of him she seemed almost… satisfied.

  “I said those of you who sought advantage would earn them. I won’t be made a liar.” The script in her frame shifted, and she started reading from his profile. “Ward, Reidon, of Grandcrest Preparatory Academy. User-Type: Atypical. Rank—” she paused, but where Rei expected her to look surprised, the woman appeared distinctly pleased “—E3.”

  “What?!”

  Immediately the whispers started around Rei as he brought his arm down from where it had still be flung in the air like a signal flag.

  “She said E3, right? E3?”

  “No way. She must have misspoken. Someone look it up.”

  “What the hell? It’s true! This guy’s a friggin’ E-Ranker!”

  All around Rei neuro-optics were blazing into life
as the other cadets who had turned to face him pulled up the ISCM database. There were snorts, along with some outright laughter, but he only had eyes for Dent and Aria Laurent. The captain might have been looking smug about something, but even without focusing his frame on her he could see a frown marring the C-Ranker’s face.

  “You’re stealing a little of my thunder, Cadet Ward.” The Iron Bishop addressing him by name sent a tingle down Rei’s fingers, particularly when Dent graced him with a crooked smile. “Not that I mind. If you want to fight, get down here. The warrant officer will show you the way.”

  “Yes, ma’am!” Rei shouted back, an electrical excitement rushing through him as he started to make for the stairs.

  “Rei, are you sure—?” Catcher hissed as he passed, but his question was cut short when Viv, smirking, put a hand on the Saber’s arm and shook her head.

  She could do nothing, however, about the others.

  “Wait, he’s seriously going to fight her?”

  “An E3 versus a C-Ranker? Is he suicidal?!”

  “He’s an E! What the hell is he even doing here?!”

  It wasn’t just the students, either. As he reached the steps and started for the waiting warrant officer, a figure got up from his chair on the floating projection to approach Captain Dent. Rei couldn’t hear their conversation, but it was obvious that the exchange was heated, if brief. In the end the man—an older staffer with a shaved head and deep-set eyes—apparently walked away defeated, returning to his chair stiffly where he proceeded to glare at Rei with distinct displeasure.

  “Follow me, cadet,” the warrant officer said curtly, and Rei fell in at the man’s back as he was led along the railing, leaving the mutterings and confusions of the other first years behind.

  The way down to the Arena floor, it transpired, was simple enough. A number of small passages Rei hadn’t taken note of when he and Viv had first arrived were set here and there into the slant of the stands, leading down into a series of looping underworks. The walls were of some white, polished stone, but sheeted with what was obviously more smart-glass, because images flicked into life in the panels as the warrant officer led Rei south again along the tunnel. Some were announcements, old postings from the summer session that hadn’t been updated yet, but most were moving frames of Galens graduates who’d gained fame in the highest levels of the SCTs. Rei assumed this second part, basing the guess on the fact that he recognized several of the names—and the A- or S-Rank Devices—of many of the Users.

  Serena von Bor, “the Ivory Shield”, slashed at invisible opponents with her curved sword, her Phalanx-Type CAD a rare solid white except for lines of brilliant yellow at the intricate joints. James Wicky, who had fought under his real name, flicked twin, slender blades in complex patterns only a Duelist could master, his Flechet a blur of black and silver in both hands. The famed Dalek O’Rourke was next, Galens’ Intersystem Champion, Cerebyx taking the form of two red pistons of solid carbonized steel about his forearms, rams that “the Gatebreaker” had used with his Brawler’s speed and power to devastating victories. There were more, too, dozens more, but Rei wasn’t given a chance to fawn over the history of the Institute as his escort turned right, leading to a set of grey doors that slid open quickly after the man put his palm on a reader beside the frame. A short ramp extended slightly upward, then the pair of them were out in the sunlight again.

  The warrant officer stepped smartly aside, letting Rei proceed, which fortunately required no explanation. The projected platform had been lowered and recalled, and the gathered heads of the Galens Institute were in process of clearing the field, leaving only two figures in the perimeter of the Dueling space. As soon as the rest were beyond the silver line, one of them—the taller of the pair—approached him calmly, and Rei had to remember to breath as Valera Dent came to a stop in front of him, just outside the field markers, the cut of her brown hair falling over one side of her face.

  “You’ve got balls, cadet,” she told him with a smirk. From up close, the synthetic skin that formed most her jaw and nose was flawless, marred only by the black line of the full-frame that had probably saved her ability to speak. “You sure you want to do this?”

  Beyond her, on the far side of the field, the other figure waited silently, having already stripped out of her regulars until she stood barefooted in nothing but her white shirt and black slacks. Aria Laurent had bound and looped her red hair into a bun at the back of her head, and her green eyes bore into him like jeweled daggers.

  Rei swallowed at the intensity of that gaze, but nodded. “Yes, ma’am,” he breathed. “It’s like you said: I want to know what I’m chasing.”

  Once more that strange look of satisfaction passed across the captain’s face, but she offered no explanation.

  “Are you familiar with SCT Dueling rules, or do I need to brief you?”

  “Thirty-yard field with a hard perimeter.” Rei answered promptly this time. “Phantom calls only. Fight ends when one or both fighters get marked as Fatal Damage Accrued, are otherwise incapacitated, or either yields. Excessive combat avoidances as judged by the arbiter earns a penalty. Two penalties and it’s a match loss.”

  Dent nodded. “Textbook. Good. You can leave your cap and jacket with me, then step into the field whenever you’re—”

  “May I keep them, ma’am?”

  The captain blinked, apparently not used to being interrupted.

  “What?” she asked, like she wasn’t sure she’d understood the question.

  “May I keep them?” Rei asked again, though he did start unbuttoning the front of his uniform. “The cap and jacket?”

  The captain continued to stare at him for a moment.

  Then she chuckled dryly. Without telling him otherwise, she waved at the silver lining that was the border of the field. “Go.”

  Throwing her a quick salute, Rei stepped quickly into the perimeter—leaving his own boots on, given no cause to remove them—joining Aria Laurent within the boundary as he finished undoing the front of his jacket.

  5 yards from the other side of the Dueling field, the girl was still watching him, the frown from earlier having not fallen from her face. She stood empty-handed, but the even confidence in her bearing was enough to give Rei a thrill.

  Whether it was anticipation or terror, he wasn’t sure he knew.

  Along the north side of the field a man stepped out of the crowd of presenting officers—a major, judging by the insignia on his breast. Glancing at him, Rei realized it was the same officer who’d clearly not been thrilled about his volunteering to take on the new class’ prized C-Ranker, likely thinking whatever Rei could bring to bear wasn’t worth the demonstration. The shaved sides of his head gleaned in the sun under the edges of his cap, and his deep eyes moved between the two combatants steadily, lingering on Rei a little longer than was comfortable.

  Still, when the major spoke, no hint of his annoyance was distinguishable in his voice.

  “Combatants, take position.”

  A body-length to Rei’s right, a glowing red circle about 3 feet wide appeared, and he moved to step inside as indicated. Across from him, Laurent hadn’t had to move, having knowingly already placed herself exactly within the starting boundary.

  “This will be treated as an official Duel,” the major stated clearly. “It will therefore be subject to regulation ruling. Once the field is formed, you will be ordered to call, then engage. Premature Device manifestation will result in a penalty. Premature approach, attack, or the like will result in a match loss. Is that understood?”

  Rei nodded, watching Laurent do the same. She still hadn’t looked away from him, and he couldn’t get a read on whether she was impressed by his gall, annoyed at his recklessness, or just a bit too comfortable with staring.

  Any further consideration of the matter was interrupted as the Dueling field came to life around them.

  Projections were typically instantaneous. They were, after all, solidif
ied conglomerations of light, and therefore could be summoned up at the speed of their atomic parts. For the purposes of CAD-fighting, however, the process was a little more drawn out, largely for the theatrical value of letting the audience watch the battleground piece itself together for them in dramatic fashion.

  The floor came into being first, dusty concrete rising up beneath Rei and Laurent’s feet as the simulation started to lift them off the ground. By the time old steel crates marked as “Supplies” began to shimmer into being, stacking on top of each other as obstacles, the two of them had been lifted 5 feet of the standard 10. A ceiling formed overhead, rusted tin sheeting that dripped dirty water, holding up several worn-out cranes suspending grimy chains to hang some few yards above them. The walls came last, the same corroded paneling as the roof, and barely a dozen seconds after the projection had begun to form Rei found himself coming to a halt to stand on one end of a warehouse that looked like it had seen better days some years before.

  “Field: Abandoned Depot.”

  The Arena’s voice was smooth and mechanical. Rei felt his hands shaking, and hadn’t realized how unsteady his breathing had become.

  “Cadet Aria Laurent versus Cadet Reidon Ward. Combatants… Call.”

  “Call,” Rei echoed, focusing on Shido’s bands. With a glimmer of light the black steel grip with its white-and-blue strike-plating was in his right hand. At the same moment, he brought up his NOED, pleasantly surprised when a notification flared for him immediately.

  Field presence detected. CAD-call detected.

  Reprioritizing all processing to combat functionalities.

  Well that’s useful, Rei thought. One less thing to mess around with.

  Then his eyes fell on Aria Laurent, and his mouth went dry.

  He had heard Dent list the girl as a Phalanx-Type, but the base awareness of that information did not register a fraction as strictly as witnessing the C-Ranker in all the glory of her Device. In her right hand a spear some 6 feet in length shimmered, a simple head of gold joined to a red shaft by a patterned loop of green vysetrium. On her left arm, an irregular shield of the same colors hung, mostly flat at the top, but tapering to a blunt point along its bottom edge. Plated greaves covered Laurent from the knees down, the pattern of the Device simple and fluid, but imposing nonetheless. The armor shifted and gleamed as the girl brought herself low, lifting her shield to the bridge of her nose and bringing the spear overhead like the striking tail of some mythical beast.