Adamant Blood

Mark woke, ate gruel, and tried to move some.

He managed to get out of the bed on the second day, but only because Dad was there to help him get up and around. It was mortifying. Mark wanted to take a shower, but he couldn’t stand up in the enclosure on his own, and he didn’t want Dad in there holding him up. They had needed to do that for grandpa when he was getting bad, and Mark was having nightmares about that happening to him.

Mark got a sponge bath instead, thanks to Mom and her cleansing waters.

Mark tried to complain, but Mom shut him down.

“Oh please. I cleaned your bum when you were a baby and for the last few months! Ain’t nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Mom.”

Mom just laughed, and then she said, “Lift the arms!”

Mark couldn’t lift his arms.

Mom lifted them for him.

Dad moved a television screen into the room, along with two chairs, so that they could all watch television together in the evening. It was nice. They had apparently ‘watched television with him’ a lot, like this.

Mark mostly fell asleep through the shows, though.

- - - -

“I was so present with the archmage, though,” Mark asked the nurse, on the third day, as she was sitting with him. “How come I’m like… like this?”

The nurse’s name was Molly and she was a healer for the Church of Freyala, so ‘sitting with him’ was more like ‘actively healing him’. Mark still didn’t understand what she was doing, exactly, and he tried not to think too much about it and thus ruin his chances at a good Tutorial. He still wanted actual power, perhaps now more than ever, though none of this felt real.

Molly spoke without looking up from her book, “The Archmage demanded we heal you well enough for a good talking, and that’s what we did. He’s a right bastard for doing this to you, but I guess you forgave him, eh?”

“… I didn’t… tarnish his reputation, or something like that, did I?”

Molly raised an eyebrow and looked at Mark. “He did that himself, and yes, there was a… tarnishing. What he did fell under baseline-meddling anti-experimentation laws. The fact that you agreed to it doesn’t matter…” She sat back in her chair. “But it does make it easier on him that you dropped all charges. Or at least that’s what he told everyone, and they believe him.”

“Did one of the other…” Mark lost his words. “One of the other… student people? Make it? Tutorial?”

Wow, Mark’s words were fucked up.

Molly said, “Not to my knowledge. I can find out if you want.”

“Please.”

Molly took out her phone and started typing away.

Mark whispered, “Thank you.”

Mark closed his eyes.

News of the other pseudo-apprentices escaped him.

Addashield had another month before he needed to put people through the Tutorial though, right?

Maybe.

Mark’s memories were fucked up right now.

- - - -

A week after waking, Mark managed to stand in the shower himself, though he did have to hold onto the rails that they had installed for grandpa, and he had to sit on the thick bench that was there for much the same reason.

He got to relax under the warm water and feel it wash away the grime from his body. Sponge baths were a stopgap measure. This was where real cleanliness began.

As Mark felt the water wash down his face, he felt almost human again.

He stayed there for a while. Eventually, Dad called into the bathroom, asking if he needed help. Mark couldn’t shut the bathroom door because he was a fall risk, so Dad stood just outside of the door to talk to him.

“I’m good, Dad. I’m just enjoying the water.”

Dad’s voice sounded happy as he said, “Good! Let me know if you need help.”

“I’m good for now, Dad. Thanks.”

It was a struggle to raise and lower his arms, and to bend over to clean himself up, but he managed well enough. A sponge on the end of a stick could solve a lot of problems. When he was done, he tried to dry off, but that simply wasn’t happening.

That’s when he called for Dad.

After some more moments of embarrassment, Mark gripped his walker in his hands and shuffled down the hallway, to the living room. It was too soon for physical therapy, but maybe next week. Mark was eager to get back to it, but he wasn’t sure what ‘it’ was. Rugby season was gone and so was school; Mark had missed almost all of it. Half of his classmates were either studying for finals or they had taken their GED tests and either gone through Tutorial or went right to arcanaeum.

Sally was already on Daihoon, and Mark still hadn’t been able to contact her properly.

The split between childhood and adulthood was the largest divisor in the world. On one side, you had the Curtain Protocol, intended to give kids the best chance at making a good future for themselves, and on the other side you had the Open Magic policy, which was where people didn’t guard their words for fear of ruining their children’s futures with mana impurities. That split wasn’t so solid over on Daihoon where it was impossible to keep magic from kids, but it was an entrenched policy here on Earth, and Mark was very much a child in the eyes of society.

Sally had moved on.

To hear Mom talk of it, Sally had shown up a few times when Mark was in a coma. She had written letters for him to read when he woke up, too, and Mark had read them, but Sally was firmly an adult now and Mark was still a child. Mark needed to catch up before they could share anything real, ever again.

He missed Sally.

He missed rugby, too. Adam, Chase, Voshon, Cody. The other guys on the team.

Gods damn, he missed running, and picking up his spear, and grabbing the ball. He missed training. He hadn’t bothered to look at the Tutorial statistics for this year, but he wanted to… And yet he didn’t. Only 10% of the student body went through the Tutorial, and the survival rate was not 100%. Mark didn’t want to know who had died this year.

Mark sat at the dinner table, looking down at a pile of mush that was rice and finely chopped vegetables and meat, and wondered about his life choices.

He was not invincible.

Mom had told him that many times before. It had been drilled into his head by his Tutorial instructors, at the school, mainly Instructor Gravel. Mark had never believed it, though. Not until today.

Dinner was good.

Mark managed to keep his emotions in check as he hobbled back to his room, gripping the railing in the hallway and his walker, feet shuffling and his body not moving how it should move at all.

He crashed into his bed, his legs still on the ground, his body sprawled on the side of his mattress, unable to rise and get onto the bed itself.

That’s when he lost it, truly lost it.

Mom and Dad were there and they helped, but not really. The healer, Molly, was gone now; they couldn’t afford to keep paying her because the boat had needed big repairs and all of the rest of Mark’s treatment was costing them too much money. Mom had refused to use Addashield’s drop of adamantium to pay for anything, and Dad had agreed. So it was just Mom and Dad and Mark, and Mark was inconsolable.

“I’ll do the Tutorial eventually and pull adamantium out of me and pay for things,” Mark said, through the tears and the sorrow.

This was the wrong thing to say.

Mom held him tighter, crying, saying, “No no. Honey. No. Don’t do that. No—”

Dad was at Mark’s back, saying, “We’ll sell Addashield’s cube.”

“No. We can’t take that bastard’s—” Mom began.

Mark said, “Sell it, Mom. Just do it. It’s enough adamantium to save lives. Do it.” He didn’t have the energy to tell her how it could save lives, but it was enough.

Mom let the argument drop.

Three days later, at dinner, Mom and Dad sat down with Mark, like usual.

Mom said, “We can’t sell the cube. We’d be kicked off of Basic Income and become ineligible for it for the rest of our lives, because that will be a $4.5 million windfall. What we can do is donate it to the city and we’ll be upgraded to full citizens, eligible for free-everything from the government and a bunch of assistance in… in a whole lot of ways.”

Mark said, “Love it.”

Mom kept explaining in an attempt to get Mark more on board with the idea, or maybe to rationalize it to herself, but Mark had already agreed and he could tell that she and Dad had talked at length about this. Mom continued to talk about about free physical therapy and boat repairs and even assistance with fixing up the house, but eventually she ran out of things to say.

Mark said, “Love it. Let’s do it.”

Mom frowned a little, saying, “It’s a whole lot less money than what we could have gotten.”

“The important thing is that the adamantium gets to people who can use it,” Mark said. “That tiny cube is enough to coat…” Mark struggled with the words for a moment before he found them. “Enough to edge a sword that can kill a tier… tier 6? Monster? Not sure what that means. Addashield said something more about a half of a kaiju-blade or something, but I forget.”

Dad breathed deep, his eyes going wide. “Holy shit.”

Mom breathed out, “Okay.” She was resolute within a moment, adding, “Okay. Yes.” She turned to Dad. “Can you take it to the Hero’s Quarter tomorrow—” She changed her mind, “Tonight? Not tomorrow.”

“I kinda want to make it into a fish—”

“No!” Mom said, “Absolutely not!”

Dad raised his hands, saying, “Okay okay! I was trying to make a joke.”

Mom calmed down as much as she could. She was stressed, though.

Dad ended up going on his own to the Hero’s Quarter with the little cube of adamantium tucked away in his shoe. Mark had never been to that part of Orange City, but he had hoped to go there after his Tutorial was done. Wherever it was Dad went, they were open 24 hours a day.

Mark went to bed before Dad got back.

When he woke up in the morning, Dad was there to help him get out of bed.

Mark asked, “It’s transferred, then, or whatever you did to it?”

Dad smiled as he helped Mark stand with his walker, saying, “We’re now first class citizens, and you’re already signed up for physical therapy. It’s gonna be great, Mark.” He whispered, “I haven’t told your mom that you’re signed up for PT yet. She’s going to freak. You gotta help me with that.”

Mark nodded. He stood as solid as he could, holding onto his walker. His task of the day lay ahead of him now; don’t freak out Mom too much.

Mom freaked the fuck out.

“You can’t go to therapy yet! You can barely walk!” And then Mom got furious. “As soon as you’re good enough you’re going to try the Tutorial, aren’t you? Fucking hell! We almost lost your father in the monster attack and—” She froze.

Mark’s eyes were wide. His breath shallow. “Monster attack?” He connected a few dots. “The broken boat-thing while I was in a coma?”

Dad was quiet.

Mom was quiet, too.

Mark asked, “Trace and Devon are okay, right? I saw Devon but… I haven't seen Trace yet?” Mark rationalized, “But I never see him around the house outside of holidays anyway?”

Silence.

Dad said, “Trace lost a leg and an arm, but now that we’re first class citizens I signed him up for reconstructive magic, through the employee benefit program.”

Mark felt dizzy—

He realized something profound, and yet normal as fuck.

Mark said, “It’s almost June. Kaiju season starts on June 15th. I need to be better before that, at least. Just in case.”

Mom and Dad were silent.

And then Mom said, “Physical Therapy is a good idea but… but only if you’re ready for it, honey. Orange City has survived decades of kaiju seasons so far without us needing to evacuate, and we can survive one more just fine.”

Mark had another concern. “Addashield was always one of the archmages present for kaiju season. Has he finished with his apprentice obligation yet?”

Dad shook his head, saying, “I don’t know, son.”

Mom restrained her anger. “I’m sure… he’s fine. He’s a 300 year old archmage. He’s fine.”