by Aaron Oster
The guard posted at her door was standing stiffly at attention, his back straight, feet planted together and his arms at his sides. A shadow fell across the open front of her cell, blocking out the dim lighting of the early morning, as well as the luminescent plants that were abundant in the Lighted Fields.
Her guard bowed at the waist, dipping into a near-ninety-degree angle. It took Aika’s eyes less than a second to adjust, but what she saw didn’t make her feel any better. Standing before the man was a tall woman dressed in slightly finer robes than the man standing guard. A small silver badge shone on her left lapel and a Blue-Belt with a single slash of purple was tied around her waist.
This was not good at all. Before, she may have had some small chance of busting out and rescuing Roy, but with a Blue-Belt in the mix, that all went right out the window. No matter how strong of a Green-Belt she was, there was no way she could overpower someone a full stage ahead of her. The woman ignored the bowing man, turning her gaze on her appraisingly.
“Open the gate and fetch me a chair.”
Her voice was strong and commanding. She was clearly one who expected to be obeyed right away and without question. Sure enough, the guard immediately pulled a small key from his pocket and opened the cell door, then dashed off, presumably to fetch her a chair.
Aika did not move. She was a prisoner, so the woman could do whatever she wanted with her. There was nothing she could do against her on a physical level, but she knew Martial Artists like this one prided respect above all else. And she wasn’t about to give it to her. Not after the way she’d been treated.
The woman stared down imperiously at her, her nose turned up either in annoyance, disgust, or maybe a bit of both. She did not say a word, merely stared her down until the guard came running back with the chair, placing it carefully behind her. And, when she sat, he moved it forward so as to allow her the maximum comfort it afforded.
“Leave us,” she said, and the guard did so, disappearing from view even faster than when he’d gone to fetch the chair.
The staring contest continued, the woman sitting stiffly and primly in her seat, while Aika sat slumped against the wall, glaring back at her. She wasn’t sure what to make of this woman, but she knew she was being tested. The woman was probing for weakness, for signs that she could be pushed around or trodden underfoot. Aika wasn’t going to give her that. If she expected her to begin groveling at her feet, she had something else coming!
Finally, after the light in the sky had brightened significantly, and the sun began to be visible on the horizon, the woman spoke.
“I am Itachi Joan, commander of this outpost. I see that although you do not lack in power for one so young, you do lack in respect. Not to worry. Under the strict rules and regulations of the Itachi clan, we’ll soon have that stubborn streak beaten out of you.”
“Oh yeah?” Aika said, cocking an eyebrow. “And what makes you think I’m going to join this little clan of yours?”
The woman’s reaction wasn’t what Aika would think it to be. She’d been expecting the woman to grow annoyed, or even outright angry. Instead, she only smiled, though calling it a smile would be generous. The small upward twist of her lips and the cold look she got were enough to turn one’s blood to ice.
“Oh. We’re not giving you an option. You’re going to join the Itachi clan, whether you like it or not!”
13
“Really? What makes you think you can make me do anything?” Aika asked, feeling her cheeks flush in annoyance.
“We have our ways,” Joan replied, her expression cold and composed once more. “Don’t get me wrong. I’d rather if you cooperated willingly. It would make things so much easier and save us all a lot of pain and time.”
“And what about my friend? What have you done with him?” Aika demanded.
Joan’s lips curled in disgust at the mention of Roy. So, it seemed she’d been right. They viewed him as little more than filth, due to his cultivation rank.
“A weakling like that has no place in the Itachi clan. In fact, he should not be allowed into any clan at all! He will be turned out into the wilds for the Beasts to take care of. I doubt he will be willing to take his own life, though the option will be given, and my men will not sully their hands with the blood of one so pitiful.”
Aika clenched her teeth in anger, having to physically restrain herself from attacking the smug and self-important woman.
“He’s much more powerful than you might think.”
“He’s a Yellow-Belt,” Joan replied simply. “Though you’re about average for your age, a Green-Belt means that you have the potential to reach Blue or, if you’re extremely lucky, Purple. While you won’t add anything major to the clan, you can still contribute. Someone like him will reach Orange at best before his Path fails him.”
Aika had known that the world outside the Crater was vast, and the Martial Artists were stronger and far more fearsome. But for this woman to say that a Blue or Purple-Belt wouldn’t add much to a clan was ludicrous. A Purple-Belt was enough to sway the course of an entire battle in The Crater!
“Now, all I want to know is your name and where you have come from. I have never seen your robes before and do not recognize them as belonging to any clan.”
Aika had a hard time believing that. The Crater was less than four hours from here. There was no way this woman didn’t know her clan!
“I am Tonde Aika,” she said, drawing herself up and glaring at the woman. “I am the granddaughter of Grandmaster Tonde Irusaru, under the protection of the Supreme of Torrential Storms. Now, you’re going to let both me and my friend go, or you’ll face the wrath of my entire clan!”
Joan stared at her for a few long moments, her face inscrutable. Then, she rose, turned, and left the cell, closing the door behind her. She half-turned, looking back at her out of the corner of her eye.
“I’ll be back in a few hours. And when I return, I hope you’ll be more willing to speak the truth.”
Then, she left, leaving Aika stunned into silence.
***
Roy sat with his back to a similar cell, just four rows down from Aika, though with his Spirit Sense not seeming to work, he may as well have been a mile away. His shoulders were slumped, his gaze listless, and his hopes of any future plans were dashed.
He’d lost his connection with his Essence somehow. It had started right before they’d been captured by this mystery clan and he’d been unable to do anything since. He could still hear Geon in his mind, but that was it. He could already feel his right leg beginning to pain him as the joint deformed, twisting into its old, grotesque shape.
Though he was exhausted, both physically and mentally, he found himself unable to sleep, watching as his body reverted to its previous state. His Belt had started to fade when he’d been captured, and it had all but vanished at this point. The forged Essence was transparent, barely visible around his waist, and he knew that in less than an hour, it would vanish forever.
“Why is this happening to me?” he asked, raising his eyes to stare through the bars of his cell.
They hadn’t bothered leaving a guard, simply dumping him in here and leaving to parts unknown.
“I…don’t know,” Geon responded, serious for the first time in a long time. “Your Essence is still all here. It hasn’t gone anywhere, so I don’t know what to say.”
“It can’t be,” he replied dumbly. “I can’t feel anything. My Belt is nearly gone, and my leg is once again deformed. I won’t even be able to walk without the assistance of a crutch or brace. I’m regressing to the cripple I’ve been my entire life and I can’t seem to stop it.”
“Come on, Roy. It has to be in your head! Your body is full of Essence, just as much as you had before. Just concentrate, use your cycling technique. I’m sure you’ll be able to feel it.”
But Roy could not. No matter what he did, his Essence refused to obey. His cycling technique didn’t work, and all he managed to do was run out of breath trying t
o breathe according to the scroll’s instruction. Then, when his Belt had nearly gone, the worst came to pass. Geon’s voice began to fade as well.
“You have to…down! …can help…hold on! Don’t…”
“Geon! I…I can’t hear you!” Roy said, feeling his depression turning into full-blown panic.
While he’d still been able to hear the Dungeon Core, he’d still held out some hope that he might one day – with a lot of backbreaking work – regain the use of his Martial Arts. But with Geon’s voice gone, it would truly mean the end.
He called out several more times, both out loud and in his mind, but to no avail. Geon was gone and he was truly alone.
Hours later, when the sun was high in the sky, his cell door creaked open. Roy didn’t even have the will left to look up, but he did when a harsh voice reprimanded him.
“Get up, worm!”
He looked up, his eyes half-lidded and despondent, and saw a tall woman dressed in a blue and gold robe, with a 1st Dan Blue-Belt tied at her waist. She seemed to grow annoyed when he did not immediately respond and snapped out once again.
“Did you not hear me, filth? I said, get up!”
The shout shook Roy from his stupor, sending a spike of fear deep into his very soul. He cringed, trying to shuffle back from the woman, but seeing as his back was literally against a wall, it was impossible. Finally, not wanting to anger her further, he lowered his head, feeling the familiar beaten mentality he’d held his entire life coming back all too quickly.
“I…must apologize, honored Blue-Belt, but I cannot get up.”
“What do you mean, ‘you can’t?’” she asked, sounding annoyed. “I know you are only a Yellow-Belt, but surely you can stand.”
Roy let out a bitter laugh, then pointed down to his waist and then at his twisted leg.
“I am afraid you have been misinformed. I am not a Martial Artist. Just a cripple.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, then something seemed to sweep over him.
The woman’s Spirit Sense most likely, Roy thought.
After a minute, she stepped back, looking perplexed.
“How strange. My men said you were a 3rd Dan Yellow-Belt, and I do not know them to be ones who make mistakes. Yet my scan indicates that you are truly without any Essence or a Core altogether. So, I can only make one conclusion. You have mastered suppression of your Essence to a point where no one can sense it, meaning you are either even weaker than you first claimed or far more powerful.”
Her eyes looked calculating as she scanned him once more, taking extra care when examining his leg.
“Since it is impossible to fake a Belt higher than your current cultivation, I would assume you had to be more powerful. But seeing as your friend is a Light cultivator and my men didn’t examine your Belt, I think you’re even weaker than you first claimed.
“As such, I will give you one of two options. I can either allow you to take your own life and die an honorable death, or I can turn you out into the wilds, where you will be devoured by hungry Beasts. So, what will it be?”
Roy looked up at the mention of Aika, a small spark of hope kindling in his chest. Perhaps she might be able to help him? Even if he was a cripple once more, Aika had been kind to him. Maybe she would still like him, even without his Core?
“What about my friend? What are you going to do with her? And what about my ferret?”
“The girl and the Beast will be staying here with us. The Itachi clan is one of the great clans of the Chikurin Empire, and we can make use of both of them. I have already spoken to her and she’d agreed to join us.”
“Did you tell her what was going to happen to me?” Roy asked, sure that Aika wouldn’t abandon him to die.
“Of course,” the woman replied, her lip turning up in disgust. “She agreed that a weakling like you would only be holding her back. And that you would be better off dead.”
Roy felt his heart sink at those words. He felt what little left of the Martial Artist he had been, just hours before, be whisked away.
“Wait,” he said, holding on to one last scrap of hope. “Why should I believe anything you say? You clearly want me gone, so you’ll obviously say anything if you think it’ll help you!”
The woman snorted, a very unladylike sound, and removed a small, flat disk from her robe pocket with a round white crystal set at its center.
“Do you know what this is, filth?” she asked in a tone that suggested that she was sure he didn’t.
When he shook his head, she continued.
“This is a recording construct. I can accurately record conversations to be played back whenever they need to be.”
She dropped the disk to the ground, and a small projection of Aika sitting at a low table appeared, floating over the device. Something else clattered to the ground next to it, but Roy’s eyes were fixed on the illusory image of his only remaining friend.
“The gate will be left open. I will be returning within the hour. If you are not dead or gone when I return, your death will be a slow and painful one.”
Roy barely registered the threat as the recording of Aika began to speak.
“Yes. I am aware that he is quite weak…weaker than you might think, actually.”
“Really?” – This voice belonged to the woman who had just left – “And what would you have me do with him?”
The projection of Aika shrugged, a disgusted look coming to her face.
“I honestly don’t care. All he’s been doing is dragging me down… needing constant watching and protecting. It would be better for everyone… if he just disappeared.”
There was an odd crackling sound every few words, making them sound somewhat distorted, but Roy understood everything she said quite clearly.
“So, you would be fine if we turned him out into the wilds to die? You wouldn’t hold it against our great clan?”
Aika smirked, shrugging once again.
“Like I said…I don’t care either way.”
Roy stared blankly ahead as the image faded, vanishing back into the clear crystal. His mind was numb with shock. Out of all things he’d expected to happen, this was not one of them. He’d had no idea Aika had hated him this much. That she had thought so little of him.
A small gleam of light caught his attention and his eyes moved away from the crystal. A small dagger sat on the ground, reflecting the afternoon sunlight. He stared at it for a few long seconds, then reached out with trembling fingers.
The world had abandoned him once again, and everyone he’d thought he could count on had left him to rot. He was a cripple, a freak, and a failure, so why go on living? He clutched the dagger handle in a white-knuckled grip, slowly raising it to his neck. One swift cut and it would be all over. All the pain, misery and suffering he’d been forced to endure his entire life would be gone.
The Shah had hated him, his old teacher had hated him, Geon was gone, and the only human friend he’d ever had didn’t care whether he lived or died. The dagger trembled in his grip as he placed the icy cold blade against his throat. Life was cruel to those who were weak and by taking his own, he would be ridding the world of his presence once and for all.
He sat there for a long while. How long, he did not know. Despite wanting to do nothing more than draw the blade across his throat, the human instinct for survival was still quite strong. The pure, animalistic need to continue going on living, despite all hardships, was something ingrained so deeply that he was having a hard time overcoming it. And the longer he sat there, the more he hated himself for his weakness.
Growling to himself, Roy pushed the dagger harder to his throat, feeling the blade biting into his skin. A warm trickle of blood welled up around the shallow cut. Roy took a few deep breaths, preparing himself for what needed to be done. Tears streamed from the corners of his eyes, highlighting his misery.
His muscles tensed and a series of visions flashed in his mind’s eye: Shah Koya, framing him for attacking him. Shah Lynn, docking
his pay and sentencing him to starve. Shah Koya, standing over him in the Dungeon, laughing over the shattered remains of his leg. Irusaru, calling him a freak and turning him out. And finally, Aika, saying he would be better off gone.
Rage the likes of which Roy had not felt in months came flooding back all at once. Anger at the fact that everyone seemed to hate him simply for his deformity. Anger at the fact that no matter what he did, nothing ever seemed to work out. Anger that after all his hard work, his Martial Arts had vanished, leaving him a cripple once more. And anger at himself for being so weak in the face of it all.
Roy removed the dagger from his throat, instead, using it to cut a few strips from the bottom of his robe. He wound one around his waist, in place of the Belt that had once sat there. The others, he tucked into his pocket for later. He then thrust the dagger through his belt and pulled himself onto his stomach. Then, he began dragging himself forward, using only the strength of his arms.
He had allowed his resolve to waver, allowed doubt and fear to cloud his vision. No matter if he was a cripple or not, he still had goals, dreams, and many other things to accomplish in his life. Right then and there, as he dragged himself from the cell and across the open ground to the edge of the camp, Roy made himself a promise: he would never again contemplate taking his own life.
The ground under him was full of cervices and sharp stones that dug at his chest and stomach, but he ignored the pain. He might have to flee for now, but he would be back here someday to take revenge on those who had wronged him. And cripple or not, he would find a way!
14
It took Roy longer than he would have liked to finally reach the edge of the small camp. It was marked by a line drawn in the dirt, and as Roy crossed it, he felt a shiver run through his body. It seemed that the line did more than mark their territory. If he guessed correctly, it would also alert the people here as to anyone crossing over.
Anger still coursed through him, hot and furious, pushing him on. He could feel that his palms were slick with blood and knew that the front of his robe would be torn and muddied, but he didn’t care. The glowing tree line was just forty yards away, and once he reached it, he could rest.
