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

by Bryce O'Connor

  It was Aria who worded it first.

  “Uh… The Bishop’s in a combat suit…” she breathed.

  And so she was. It qualified, certainly, as a strange sight, and Rei understood at once why the buzz of noise that he hadn’t initially noticed was louder than usual, coming from the already-gathering bodies of 1-A. It wasn’t like it was the first time he’d ever seen Dent in a suit, of course. He’d caught plenty of her matches during her time on the circuits, and watched the records of those fights probably more frequently than any other User. Still, it was the first time she’d dressed for a fight in class, and this fact came with a tingle of anticipation up Rei’s arms as he realized it.

  “Oooh…” Viv crooned giddily. “It’s about to be a really good day, isn’t it?”

  “Looks like it…” Rei and Aria said together, grinning at each other before moving with Viv to join the rest of the class.

  Their anticipation was very clearly shared by the other students of 1-A, the regular groups clumped here and there around the usual gathering area just outside the east quarter of Field 3’s silver perimeter line. Sense and Leron Joy caught sight of the three of them before they’d crossed half of the floor, with the bald Brawler waving them over excitedly, a broad grin splitting his face.

  “Kay got a fight?” Viv asked once she and Rei and Aria had joined the duo.

  “Yeah,” Sense nodded, though he waved the question away as he did. “Another Lancer I don’t know, from 1-D. We’re not worried about her. More importantly…” He leaned in to whisper eagerly to the lot of them. “Did you notice?”

  “Dent’s suit?” Aria asked equally quietly, her voice barely audible over the buzz of conversation from the others all around. “We did. Anyone know what’s going on?”

  “Nope,” Leron Joy grunted. He appeared to be trying to hide his own excitement, frowning at Rei in what was a clear attempt to make it known his was a dissenting opinion when it came to their gathering up.

  Sense rolled his eyes. “No, we don’t,” he answered a little more fully. “We asked around, but no one knows what’s up. Selleck sounded pretty confident we’re going to be having matches against the instructors.” The Brawler jerked his head towards the south end of the gathered class. “Seems to think we’re gonna have it demonstrated to us how best to take on a stronger opponent as a group.”

  Rei exchanged a glance with Aria and Viv, suspecting they were probably thinking the same thing he was.

  If they could glean any sort of coordinated advantage on how to take on Christopher Lennon when next they saw him…

  Then again, Rei had his doubts. As much as Valera Dent stressed the importance of preparing them for the front lines as opposed to the SCTs, they were still in their first year, still learning the ropes. Finding themselves in a match where an enemy squad had a member that would be multiple tiers higher in ability than your own wasn’t a likely occurrence in the standard fighting formats, and Rei was pretty sure the captain was still more concerned with making sure they got their baseline down before broaching any theoretical combat against the varying strengths of the archons they’d only made a passing study of so far. Indeed, it seemed the broader point of their entire first year: to get them up to speed on their CADs before anything else.

  Rei looked around, in the direction Sense had just indicated, and it only took a moment for him to find the blond head of Mateus Selleck, turned with his back to them. In Rei’s opinion it was more likely Dent was planning to start working in-person with the individual Type-groups, and had just dressed for the part. More exciting, of course, was the possibility that the captain was going to show off for them a bit, maybe with a study of her CAD, Kestrel, or with a couple exhibition matches against—

  Rei blinked, losing his train of thought as he found his attention drifting from the back of Selleck’s head to a pair of darker, red-tinged eyes he hadn’t noticed until that moment were looking his way. As his gaze locked with Logan Grant’s, he was surprised to find the massive boy frowning at him. The two of them hadn’t really butted heads for weeks—not since Warren and Emble’s backstabbing in the elevator lobby—but all the same the few times they’d caught each other’s eyes the Mauler’s expression had never failed to translate his usual sentiments. Annoyance. Disgust. Anger.

  And yet, now…

  Then, though, Grant, looked away, resuming a conversation he looked to have been having with the Phalanx Leda Truant. Rei continued to watch the boy for a while longer, not paying attention as Viv and Sense kept on with their discussion until Aria stepped to stand beside him and whisper in his ear.

  “What’s up?”

  Rei shook his head slowly, unsure of how to answer.

  “Don’t know,” he said after a moment. “Grant was just looking at me.”

  Aria started to make a sound of annoyance, but Rei brought her up short.

  “No. No, it was nothing like that. It was weird. He looked… confused?”

  “Confused?” Aria repeated, sounding like she didn’t understand.

  Which was fine, since Rei didn’t either.

  Before he could say as much, however, there was motion on the elevated Field 3, and as one every 1-A cadet turned inward to watch Valera Dent approach the edge of the platform, the sub-instructors right on her heels. The tall woman smirked as she came to a stop to look them over, obviously amused by the sudden silence that had fallen on the class despite any lack of instruction to settle down. Her short brown hair had been set tight about her head with flat pins, and her eyes were bright as they swept across the eager faces of her students. Her combat suit—the red-on-white of all the staffers’—bared her arms and much of her legs for observation, and though no wound Rei had ever seen would match the black line of the prosthetic that made up most of her face, the numerous scars that marred her pale skin were not lost on him. They lined her limbs in crossing patterns, maybe some twenty in all, marking her lithe figure like a battle-worn statue that had only barely survived a warzone. A few exceptionally brutal ones stood out in particular, including a thick line that practically bisected her right leg, and a circular band of healed tissue above her left elbow that was unmistakably the remnant of a surgically reattached limb.

  “Holy hell…” Sense could be heard to mutter, and Rei had to agree.

  All of a sudden, his own scars felt like nothing more than the unfortunate reminders of a moderately-tedious childhood.

  “Yes, take it in,” Valera Dent said with a nod, spreading her arms out for them in a motion that said she wasn’t the least-bit surprised by their fascination. “If you think the rearrangement of my face was the only wound I walked away with, then you should educate yourself on the reality of war, cadets. I was an S-Ranked User in a fight that has too-few fighters of my caliber even now. I was sent to the parts of the front line where the blood spilled was the thickest. You have been provided great power, all of you. It comes with great responsibility.”

  She smiled then, looking around at them as though she’d just shared some grand joke.

  When no one laughed, the woman sighed and dropped her arms with a shake of her head. “Kids these days…” she grumbled. “No interest in the classics when there’s CAD-fights to watch.”

  There came a polite cough from behind her—Claire de Soto’s—and Dent mumbled in unintelligible annoyance before continuing.

  “It’s come to the attention of the Institute that in the last two weeks, extracurricular attendance by first year students of the East and West Centers has gone up nearly sixty percent. I don’t know whether to praise you all for your newfound enthusiasm, or point out that perhaps a good number of you might have been well-served with a few more extra hours of training a week than you were previously partaking in.”

  This time a light roll of laughter came from the class—as well as a sharing of sheepish glances from several cadets whose cheeks were brightening to red—but the captain kept on before anyone got too embarrassed at the call
out.

  “Regardless, it doesn’t matter. The only conditions you are required to meet are those you partake in class. If you’ve elected to prioritize other activities outside that time, I can only hope it is in study, or at the very least something of such exquisite delight it will be worth your own future potentially covered in scars.” She made a small gesture with both hands to indicate her body, the red-and-blue steel of her CAD-bands gleaming with white as they shifted about her wrists.

  That cut off all amusement, and the class went quiet once again.

  “While every one of your instructors is pleased with this uptick in taking advantage of the resources the Institute has provided you, we also have our concerns. Training is good. Conditioning is good. Pushing yourself and your bodies and your Devices is good. However… Without direction, there can also be consequences.” She looked around at them all for a moment before settling on a face. “Cadet Hinks, can you tell me why—before you arrived at this school—individuals undergoing solo-training had access only to basic combat simulations and protocols?”

  Rei felt his ears going a little hot, recalling the weeks he had spent stealing into the classrooms of the Grandcrest gym to use the projection tech to face off against just such holographic opponents. Before he could wonder too long on how few of his fellow students had been limited to such meager opportunities to train with, Emily Hinks’ nervous voice spoke up from somewhere to his left.

  “To avoid the development of bad habits, ma’am.”

  “Correct, but elaborate, if you please.”

  Hink’s words came stronger now that she knew she was on the right track. “It’s discouraged for new CAD-assignees without a sanctioned instructor to attempt to teach themselves. It’s too easy to develop bad form, poor technique, and improper instincts that would then have to be stripped away before proper combat education could be applied.”

  “Yes. Exactly.” Dent turned her attention back to the class as a whole. “You have spent months, now, within the walls of the Institute. For most of you, your basics are solid, and the rest of you are well on their way. You are trusted to know the essentials of right from wrong on the field, trusted to know how far you can push yourselves, and how best to do so. This is why you are allowed to train on your own. However, with this spike in Center usage it was decided by myself and your Type-instructors that some small additional direction might be best. A little light on the path to help guide the way. For that reason, rather than live combat we will be focusing this week on technique review. Combat suits will not be required Wednesday or Friday, though I believe Major Reese still intends to hold regular conditioning during your squad-based training days.”

  The sound of the excitement draining from the 1-A cadets was quite literally audible. Many students—including both Viv and Sense—let out groans of disappointment that were quickly stifled, but not before the combined dissatisfaction of the class rang loud.

  The captain, though, wasn’t finished speaking.

  “Oh? Do you not want to see me put the beatdown on your Type-instructors, then?”

  Immediately the enthusiasm returned as gasps of surprise and anticipation, and Rei knew he couldn’t have been the only one to feel a thrill tingle up his spine.

  Exhibition matches? Were they about to witness exhibition matches between the Iron Bishop and some of the strongest officers on the Galens Institute staff?

  Dent might have been the only S-Ranked fighter in the room, but not a single among her sub-instructors was a pushover by any means. Every one of them was an A-Ranked fighter, and Michael Bretz—according to a recent ISCM profile update Emily Gisham had shared with Rei and Sense not a week past—had joined the Phalanx-instructor Catori Imala as an A9 fighter, only a single level from being Ss themselves.

  “It’s about to be a really, really good day,” Aria mumbled in awe, repeating Viv’s earlier words.

  “Now then—” there was a flash in Dent’s eyes, and the raised floor vanished to plain projection plating, dropping her and the other officers to the steel gently “—if you would all spread out around the field, we’ll get started.”

  Rei, Aria, Viv, Sense, and Joy had happened to be standing near the center of the gathered class, so they largely had only to wait as the other students swiftly began moving to scatter in pockets along the perimeter. So eager was everyone for the demonstration to start that it wasn’t more than 15 seconds before Grant’s group finally settled on the west side of the field, opposite Rei and the others.

  “Good. Sit.”

  Everyone took a seat, Rei at the end of their gathered five, and as he eased himself down he realized that his hands were shaking. Christopher Lennon had been impressive enough. The awesomeness of the Lasher’s demonstrated ability in the first week of the Intra-Schools had been matched only with the disappointment that none of them but Catcher had been able to catch his fight the previous Friday, with Rei, Aria, and Viv prevented by classes.

  But this… This would be the first time Rei would have the opportunity to watch an S-Ranked fight from up close…

  “Today we will be reviewing high-level Brawler and Saber combat.” As Valera Dent started speaking again, she indicated Field 1 and 2, then 3 and 4. “Wednesday will be Lancer and Duelist, and Friday—” she pointed to 5 and 6 “—we’ll wrap with Phalanx and Maulers. I will be making commentary as the fighting takes place, but if you have any questions over the course of the combat, raise your hand and one of the other instructors will see you get an answer.” With that, she gave a dismissing flick of her wrist, and Claire de Soto, Allison Lake, Liam Gross, Imala Catori, and Kayla Johnson all made their way swiftly out of bounds, spreading out as they did.

  In the end, only Michael Bretz was left standing as he’d been, at ease a pace behind the captain, chin held high and gaze on the far wall at Rei’s and the others’ backs.

  “Everyone all set?” When no one answered to the contrary, Dent nodded. “Good. Then let’s give you a better view, shall we?”

  Once more her NOAD blazed, and at once a 5-yard band of plating all around the field began to glow the same white as the combat zone, extending into the buffer between the perimeter and the west entrance behind Grant and the others. Dent and Bretz began to rise, as usual, but not faster than the class did, the ring that was their seating area lifting until they were a good 9 or 10 feet above the two officers. As they did, the captain and chief warrant officer moved swiftly to the twin red starting circles that had appeared for them, gaining their positions just as Rei felt the ring slow to a seamless stop.

  In the end, the class was looking down from a perfect vantage as the S-Ranked Knight faced off against her A9 subordinate.

  “Captain Valera Dent versus Chief Warrant Officer Michael Bretz,” the Arena’s smooth voice announced. “Combatants… Call.”

  Neither combatant, of course, required an oral command to summon their Device. With nothing more than a thought the paired CADs came into being, the bands dissolving from their Users wrists to take the forms of their phantom-calls. It was in that blink of time that Rei realized he had never actually seen Michael Bretz’s Device. The sub-instructor had taken a hands-on approach to his Brawlers’ training often enough, but he—like Christopher Lennon—had never actually called on his CAD during classes.

  It was something of a pity, because it turned out to be a rare beauty to behold.

  Bretz’s Device was a pearlescent white that seemed to ripple in a mirage of colors in the subbasement lighting. Looking closer, Rei realized that instead of a true mother-of-pearl sheen, the armor was actually comprised of what looked to be hundreds of tiny steel plates, almost like scales, alternating ivory and purple to give the metal its deceptive shading. Broad at the shoulders and narrower at the waist, the entirety of the armor was accented with a stunning symmetrical pattern of black vysetrium centered around a small, solid circle of the stuff in the middle of Bretz’s chest. From there the dark lines extended in all directions, even
climbing up his plated neck to connect with a trio of black viewing lens set in a vertical line up the center of an angular faceplate, which formed the front of the man’s curved helm.

  His weapons, though, were even more impressive.

  A Brawler-Type through and through, Bretz’s Device had no hands to speak of. This might have been a disadvantage in more than one situation, but Rei suspected the pros outweighed the cons in many ways. Where fists and fingers should have been, a solid piston of white steel was capped with 6-inch point of smooth, black vysetrium. Further frightening still, these appendages were certainly more than they appeared at a glance, because as Bretz brought his arms up at the ready Rei realized that the vysetrium was actually shaped into a pair of curved hooks, their foot-long lengths nothing less than short scythes that flashed like sharpened onyx in the light. In any other situation, Rei would have found himself having a hard time breathing, then, so amazed would he have been by the impressive site.

  Instead, he only found Bretz’s incredible Device a brief distraction from the real star of the show.

  Though he had seen it so many times before, Valera Dent’s CAD was something altogether different to behold in person. Unlike the chief warrant officer’s scaled, heavier armor, Kestrel was actually more blue under-layering than red steel, the protective plating it had limited to shielding the essential bulk of the captain’s tall form. Fitted metal pieces layered her chest, thighs, and shoulders, with smaller partitions studding her abdomen, arms, and lower legs and feet. Her helmet was a slim, oblong thing not much larger than Dent’s actual head, and the white of her vysetrium cut two bright viewing ports horizontally across the red of her faceplate, as well as shining in lines and pockets all about her body. In her hands the captain held two long, red sabers, blades edged with glowing ivory, and to the uninformed eye many would have been quick to call the woman a Duelist.