Adamant Blood

Mark ended up being a loner.

He never intended this. He wanted to fix this.

Social anxiety was a problem, and Mark was tired of shutting down for any reason.

… Though people connecting him to his ‘brother’, which Addashield’s Dragon had named himself, seemed like a reasonable thing to get upset about.

When Mark walked around the academy of Citadel Freyala, or if he ran around the wall, people would notice him sometimes and then actually notice him, and give him a smile or a thumbs up. A few people had even tried to invite him out to a bar to buy him a beer, but when they said something about how amazing it was how much Addashield’s Dragon was doing for the world, Mark politely declined, well. Everything.

Or at least he tried to be polite.

It had been over a month since that day, since the Tutorial, since Mark found out Addashield had killed his parents at the behest of the demon Kanda. Addashield had joined Kanda, becoming a dragon at the end of Mark’s Tutorial, instead of facing his crimes.

And then Addashield’s Dragon had started killing kaiju all across Earth and gifting the world adamantium. A lot of it. Enough to make up for the 10,000 people ‘Addashield’s Dragon’s father’ had killed in Addashield’s near-Fall?

Enough to make up for killing Mark’s parents, too?

The world had done some basic cost-benefit analysis and decided that 10,002 dead was an acceptable loss to solve global adamantium needs for a decade, and maybe forever. Mark had done a different sort of analysis before his Tutorial, before he knew just how bad Addashield’s near-Fall had been. He had wanted to bring a Hero of Humanity back to humanity, and he sort of did, but the loss of his parents would never stop hurting.

Mark was having distinct trouble being called ‘The High Dragon’s Brother’, too.

He might have blown up at a few different people who called him that.

And now people sort of stayed away from him, but they still gave him thumbs ups.

Some people from Nigeria had even introduced themselves and then bowed to him, telling him that they were thankful for ‘his brother’s’ gift of an ocean wall, like the one at Orange City. That had been tough. Mark maintained as much poise as he could when those people spoke to him about that, but their words rang so hollow in Mark’s ears that he really couldn’t remember much of what he said to them in turn. All he really recalled was that the Nigerians smiled a little, bowed again, and walked away.

Or maybe Mark walked away.

He wasn’t sure.

He couldn’t even recall where, or how, that meeting had even taken place. Had it happened in an actual meeting room? Maybe it had. Maybe it had even happened in the main building of Citadel, where the leaders of all of the Freyalan Church met to discuss worldly problems in the same room.

But Mark couldn’t recall any specifics about that.

And so, Mark needed to learn how to handle this problem.

Other parts of Mark’s life made more sense.

Inside of his room, Mark studied a few college courses and found his eyes opened. Two courses in particular seemed the most important, for now; Understanding Curtain Protocol and Two World Geography and History. Those were the ones Mark took. Those two courses were more than enough. It was amazing what had been hidden from him, like how migration worked at the poles, through Endless Daihoon, to Daihoon or back, and just how much dragons had always been involved in Daihoon’s governing structures, up until the Reveal. That last part, how dragons controlled the world of Daihoon, made it more reasonable to Mark, in a small way, why Addashield’s Dragon had been ‘accepted’ as much as he had been.

Except, Daihoon had thrown all the tyrant dragons out with Earth’s help, after the Reveal and the remaking of the System of the Veil.

Mostly, Mark discovered places he wanted to go, once he was done with his 8 months of ‘are you a demon’ observation, here at Citadel Freyala in France.

He wanted to visit the Settlement of Xerkona, over on Daihoon, on the ‘other side’ of Russia and China. Xerkona culture was everywhere on Earth, and Mark wanted to see the culture that had allowed Earth and Daihoon to work together during the Reveal, and which had also allowed Daihoon’s empires to survive the monsters and the dragons for so long.

Other than that, he worked out twice a day, just because he needed to move in order to feel alive.

But Mark did not want to be a loner.

He did not want to have any social problems at all.

And today was August 3rd, 2048. Here at the Citadel, it was the start of a new round of Brawny Sparring 101. It was a good day to start fixing this social problem.

Maybe, if he was truly lucky, he could find a small group of people to make friends with, like he had almost had with Raoul, Jacob, and Svea, back in Non-Brawny Sparring 101. Those three had moved on with their lives, so they were gone. That was normal. Most people, fresh off Tutorial or otherwise, only stayed at Citadel Freyala for a few months, though some people stayed here for a lot longer than that.

Mark was going to make at least one friend today.

Or at least he would talk to new people and not zone out when talking to them.

Some other loner. Some other outsider. Someone who might stick around for a little while.

There were sure to be some of them in this massive crowd.

The coliseum in Citadel was the normal place for people to train in combat. Non-brawnies got the side rooms and smaller spaces. The main rooms, the massive arena floor and warehouses of space around the western side of the large coliseum, were all for the brawnies; the ‘normal’ sort of people produced by Curtain Protocol. The physically strong ones. 90% of all Tutorial takers.

Mark walked out onto the main arena floor for the first time.

The sun angled into the coliseum at a steep angle. It was early morning and small crowds of men and women were everywhere on the sands of the arena, in groups of 3 or 5, though there were a few duos and singles. Most of them wore the white of an acolyte. Some wore basic sand-brown, like Mark. Almost everyone looked maybe 18 or 19, like Mark.

Over on the far side of the arena floor, in the western skybox, were some instructors. It was a bit far away, but Mark easily recognized Instructor Charms, sitting on the far left of a group of 5 chairs, set in a line.

Charms was a huge woman, a ‘half-giant’, though not really that at all. Mark had done some studying on various Talents, now that he was beyond Curtain Protocol, so he could tell that Charms’ Talent was probably Giant Strength. She might have a weird variant, but Giant Strength —or ‘Giant’s Strength’, as some people called it— was the Talent that most often made brawnies big. There were a few other half-giants in the crowd of brawnies on the arena floor; they were easily noticeable because of how much bigger they were than everyone else.

Charms looked like she was tapping away at a screen in her hands.

Other people walked around the instructor skybox, chatting with each other or poking at screens of their own.

Mark had left his phone in a small locker back in the hallway in front of the arena, and now he walked in just his clothes upon the sand. The layer of sand was thin. Most of the ground was wood, providing some safety against falls that pure concrete could not, though there was concrete beneath that wood. The wood below the sand looked like a solid piece of wood, without seams or otherwise. It might even have been grown there by a Plant Whisperer, or maybe a Tree Speaker. Maybe even someone from Domain of Okuana. Those guys from Daihoon were the best plant mages around, and Citadel Freyala could easily afford their services, so they probably had.

Or maybe there was some home-grown Natural who made the wood under the arena floor feel so comfortably solid underfoot? Probably. Mark had practiced in a few arenas like this before, but this was definitely the nicest. The walls were maybe two meters tall, with plenty of access points from the arena floor to the stadium seating above. The seating was all strong stone, and mostly white but with grey striations. Probably marble-covered concrete. It was pretty easy for a stonekinetic or even an earthkinetic to do something like that, but the arena here had Freyalan accents on everything; Stone swords raised high, light rays, stone wings. All of that stuff.

This was a really nice arena.

A good twenty people sat in groups upon that stadium seating, near the instructor skybox, just chatting away, or working on something on a tablet. They were all healers, easily noticed because of the silver edges to their acolyte cloaks. They’d all be necessary today for basic training and the threshing of the new crowd. Injuries were the norm when it came to untested power against untested power, and this was a brawny class, so there was bound to be some accidental usage of power. Hopefully no one got killed, though that was very unlikely.

There were a lot of ways for a Union healer to minimize the injuries of others through protection-based workings. Mark hadn’t gotten to do any of that with Inquisitor Lola in her lessons, yet, but—

A short man whom Mark recognized as Instructor Badger walked into the center of the instructor’s booth, grabbed a tablet off of the main seat, and pressed the tablet.

A gong rang out.

Mark knew sort of what to do next, and so did a whole lot of other people. He found an empty spot and stood at attention. Everyone did the same, and quickly. Some people were already at half-attention, so all they did was stand up straighter. Not a single person was truly slow on the uptake.

Mark was almost impressed. Standing at the ready was usually a thing that sent some people stumbling, but then Mark realized that his previous interactions with people in these situations had all been before the Tutorial, in Tutorial-prep class back when he was 15 and 16. Everyone here had gone through the Tutorial and succeeded, so they already knew about standing properly. In some ways this was graduate-level studies, but in others it was basic remedial.

Instructors either walked into view in the instructor booth, or they stood up, like Charms, in front of their chairs. Only four of them, though; the middle seat remained unoccupied in the booth. The center seat was probably reserved for Freyala, or rather for the idea of Freyala.

Mark knew the instructors, because he had researched them when he signed up for the class almost two weeks ago. All of them had real names, of course, but those were private and unavailable to the public. They used their call signs instead.

Instructor Charms was the half giant, and Mark already knew her well enough from non-brawny sparring 101. She was furthest left. Mark hadn’t even realized that her name was a call sign and not her real name until he had researched that.

Instructor Badger was second left, and he had been the one to press the button. He was a short, hairy man.

Instructor Nifty was second from the far right. He looked like a normal brawny; just overall big. Pretty normal american-ish features.

Instructor Medley was furthest right. She looked like an islander, with brown skin and curly, long hair.

The healers in their silver-rimmed cloaks set down their tablets or they stopped chatting with each other, as they came to attention, too. They had their own instructor, it seemed; a woman in a full silver cloak who stood in the instructor booth, to the sides of the others, in their chairs. Mark didn’t know her.

Instructor Badger spoke, his voice easily reaching the whole group of students.

“Today is the start of another Brawny Sparring 101 Club. We’ve got 189 of you. This is going to be a confusing 10 minutes here at the beginning, but it’s pretty standard for rapid deployment orders out in the field. If you’ve ever seen those then you know what’s coming. The rest of you keep up as best you can.

“Up here with me, your left to your right, we have Instructor Charms, Badger —that’s me—, Nifty, and Medley. We are your rulers for the next 2 hours.

“Repeat our names to me!”

Like a storm rumbling, with some people rumbling faster than others, the students called out,

“Charms! Badger! Nifty! Medley!”

And then Mark gasped, as an invisible bolt of lightning shot through the arena.

… Except that’s not what happened at all. No one felt what he had felt. No one saw what he had seen.

Mark felt a thrum of power in the unity of their voices, and he knew, instinctively, that they had been gathered into a cohesive unit, in some way that was more than physical, or social. This was a Union. He looked at the unnamed healer instructor in a silver cloak, and wondered if she had brought them all together under Union.

… Probably.

Mark would have to consider that more some other time.

The lightning was gone, and all that was left was… Well there was something there. Mark couldn’t see it, but he felt it, and—

Badger’s voice reached them all, “I hope you know your ratings and you’ve been Scanned well, because this is the confusing part. I don’t care about your tier!” He started calling out orders, “Strength modifiers over 10-times or anyone with a rank S Power! To the front! Stand here under the skybox!” He pointed near the front of the arena, right below him.

That was when Mark truly realized he might be very outgunned in certain areas.

Mark’s Body Talent was Healthy Body. It was rank F.

People in the crowd rapidly moved, avoiding everyone on their way over. Some people were very careful about not touching anyone, which was to be expected for a times-10-rated brawny Talent. Strangely enough, one of the half-giants walked all the way to stand near the instructors, which made Mark’s stomach drop a little bit more. Giant Strength was an A or B Talent, depending on the variant. Looked like some guy had gotten an S version. What was that? Like times 50?

Maybe 30 people moved to stand under the instructor's skybox.

Holy crap!

That’s a lot of S ranks!

Mark wasn’t the only one to be surprised. Almost everyone around him started reevaluating their position in life.

Badger called out, “Rank A! Over there!”

People moved as orders went out.

Mark rapidly got shunted all the way back to the entrance of the arena, back to where he had come in, to stand with 11 other rank F people. His individual grouping was the smallest there. Rank A had the bulk of the people, with maybe 50; Mark wasn’t sure. Rank B had 40ish, with C, D, and E each having 20-ish people.

Badger called out, “Good! Now everyone with a speed inclination of any sort —stay in your rank group!— and move to your right side! Everyone else move to your left! And stay in your grouping!”

The speedsters turned out to be a minority of people, maybe 20 people total. Most of them in S, A, and B, and about evenly spaced between those ranks. A handful in C and D. There was 1 speedster in each of E and F, and both of those people looked worried about calling themselves speedsters.

Badger called out, “What I am seeing is INCORRECT! I know your Talents! They’re part of my briefings! Let’s try this AGAIN! If you have a speed rating over 1x then you are a speedster! Dexterity is the most common low level variant, and that’s still a speedster!”

The few wary people moved back into the main rank groupings, and a few people in the rank groupings moved over.

Mark kinda wondered at Badger’s classification, though. A speedster at anything over 1x? That seemed rather… wide of a field.

This proved to be a rather true thought, as the speedster camp became something like 40 people. Most of them were still in rank S, A, and B, but now ranks C, D, E, and F all gained a few more ‘speedsters’.

Badger called out, “Speedsters are expected to learn how to deliver messages and to organize troops. This is a sacred responsibility! I don’t give a FUCK if you don’t like this responsibility! You can choose how you fight when you have earned the right to call your own shots! But for now, here are your orders, speedsters! Talk to your group and organize your grouping from your left to your right based on Power Level! Not tier! The full number!”

What followed was controlled chaos.

People called out numbers. People yelled at others. Anger flowed and speedsters moved fast. Maybe too fast. Mark was pretty sure he heard someone smack into the very air itself and then bounce away. Everyone turned toward when a cloud of dust erupted into the air. Mark saw someone lay on the ground and the air around them shimmer.

Badger called out, “I said TALK TO YOUR GROUP! Don’t move them without their permission! Now GET UP!”

Someone had used their speed to move someone? Holy crap! That was… That was bad! Who the fuck thought that was good idea—

The chaos returned.

A short, blonde guy in F group had become the organization speedster and he pointed at Mark now.

Mark said, “Body 8!”

He was already moving next to the guys who had called out ‘Body 8!’ or other close numbers. Most people on the entire arena floor had their Body stat as somewhere between a freshly-Awoken, at 5, and those who had had a few weeks as Awakened. Almost everyone here was a brawny, so they focused on their Talent exclusively, and they were at 13-ish Body. Mark was rather low on the totem pole there, too, because he had 3 Talents to work on.

F Group finished organizing first, but only because they were the smallest at 11 people and the organization was pretty simple. They were a line of people from left to right with the people at left being the 5s and the person at the far right being an outlier at 17 Power Level. Almost tier 2.

The blonde speedster guy slotted in beside Mark, just to his right.

D group finished next. All the other groups took a while longer. Aside from the size of the groups, Mark saw a few other problems with organization. Some people were scared to get anywhere near others, probably due to their strength or speed being so high. But a higher rank Talent usually meant a person was comparatively more resilient, so an S around an S shouldn’t have been that worried about hurting each other.

Badger probably organized people like this so that they didn’t have to tip-toe around each other. Maybe those guys were still jumpy, though, which was to be expected. A rank S brawny without any control over their power could easily break… well.

Anyone.

A rank S brawny could break just about anyone.

They’d be working on developing Tactile Telekinesis though, so that they would not break the world when they touched it. Many of them probably already had developed that. Pretty much any brawny from rank S to C would achieve some level of Tactile Telekinesis eventually—

Badger called out, “Not all Talents are equal, but if you have a rank S Talent, then you can usually go up against a rank S Talent. If you don’t feel that you belong with the group you are in for whatever reason, like perhaps you have a Body Talent that doesn’t grant you any actual physical power at all, then move to an appropriate group! Otherwise, stay where you are! Some Body Talents are weird, like morphers or otherwise that don’t fall into the strength-versus-speed general categories. Morphers! You do not move! You are fully capable of sparring with the people at your rank!”

Huh. Mark didn’t know that nuance.

Some people were really, really happy to move to a lower grouping. Some people looked distressed.

Group F gained no new people.

Badger said, “Over the next two weeks, half of you will be told to move to a side-gym, for you will be too weak to keep up with the big group. This is not shameful. It is the way of things. Focus on what you’re good at; not what you cannot do. Not a single person in F group is going to be able to punch out anyone in S group; that’s the Tyranny of Talents.

“Deal with your emotions of inadequacy on your own fucking time.

“Everyone else will either be sticking around for the next round of Brawny 101 because they still can’t fight for shit, or they’ll be graduating to the higher clubs, 102, 103, etcetera.

“The average stay for a newly-Awakened at Citadel is 4 to 6 months, but you graduate when you graduate, and not a moment sooner. The main criteria for you higher rank brawnies to graduate is the development of Tactile Telekinesis in some form. Other than that: Take this course as many times as you want, or need! When you enter the Chosen System, or if you get kicked off of the main floor, then—” Badger gestured to the side, at the healers. “You can join the Healing Club and work on Union and develop yourselves in that way. These healers are here under the instruction of Grand Healer Badaira. These fine folks are who will be keeping many of you alive through mistakes made on the fields here.

“But this is SPARRING! Not killing!

“We expect emotions to run high, for such is the nature of battle. But if you cannot control your anger to a manageable level then you’re out of the club. COFR is watching your anger issues a lot closer than we are! Expect emails about your conduct in this club later.

“Instructor Nifty over here is a speedster and he will remove you from your fights if you look out of control. He has researched your capabilities and faults, and COFR has helped him to see those of you who might become problem cases. This means those of you with too much strength and not enough Tactile Telekinesis control. If you feel yourself disengaged from a fight, do not restart the fight!

“As a reminder: This is a CLUB and not a CLASS. This is applied fighting! If you do not know how to fight, then take the CLASS!

“And that’s it for basic instruction!

“Everyone pick a partner directly next to them, and get distance from everyone else! And then square off! Fists and feet only! No grappling!”

“Fights begin in 30 seconds!”

Mark’s attention focused back down to himself and the people right next to him—

Blonde speedster stood in front of him, saying, “You and me.”

Mark went with it, saying, “Sure!”

They separated—

Instructor Badger called out, “BEGIN!”

The entire arena devolved into three kinds of fights; Fights between sort-of-equals, utter one-shots that laid people onto the ground, and people too scared to really hit each other.

Mark wasn’t sure where he fit with this other F rank.

The guy came in with a right hook to Mark’s midsection. Mark guided the guy’s fist wide with a quick angle of his own right arm, opening up the guy’s midsection for a mean kidney punch—

But the guy pulled away, suddenly wary.

Or actually, he just moved fast.

In a real fight, Mark might have grappled with the speedster, but Badger said ‘no grappling’, and for good reason. Grappling made it harder to keep both combatants safe from each other, for hands could crush and tier differences would exacerbate the issue.

Mark advanced, and through a series of exchanges that were way faster than Mark had ever experienced before, Mark ended up on the defensive, using his forearms to angle away strikes that got pulled back and aimed again. Faster and faster the guy sped up, but Mark rallied and rapidly acclimated, falling into a flow of footwork and strikes.

The other guy breathed hard, his eyes focused on where Mark would be, and not where he was. The guy was an accomplished martial artist, for sure. Maybe his Talent was ‘Martial Speed’, or something. Mark was only passable with hand-to-hand stuff. If Mark was ever caught without a weapon, then he’d be kinda fucked, but it wasn’t like martial arts were useful against monsters anyway, and eventually Mark would never be without a weapon, thanks to Adamantiumkinesis.

In a real fight Mark would be using Union, too, but Mark breathed evenly, making sure not to use Union. This was a body-only contest.

It had been 13 days since Mark’s last spar with someone, and though he had advanced from Body 5 to Body 8 through normal exercise and growth, he had mostly advanced in Union as much as he could, though he was still only at a 9 there, which was up from 5 since back then.

Adamantiumkinesis was at a 6. So up from 5! But also not really up at all. He had only been able to get to the adamantium he had ‘brought with him’ to Citadel twice so far, and both times were a hassle. They had stored the black powder in a place called the Vault, and Mark needed to schedule appointments to visit the lockbox that carried it. He was only allowed to spend 30 minutes in a private booth with the stuff, too.

He could just take it out of the Vault, but he also absolutely didn’t want it stolen at all. He trusted the people around here not to steal it, but also he didn’t know many people here, and most of them knew him already, so it was a liability, pure and simple, to walk around with a fortune that he couldn’t even lift yet, while everyone else knew him on sight.

He had other stuff to practice on, anyway.

Mark blocked another blow from the blonde guy—

The blonde guy suddenly stumbled, breathing hard as he fell onto his ass, his eyes unfocusing.

Mark almost stumbled too as he fell out of the flow of battle. He breathed easier, using a bit of Union to clear away his own fatigue. He would have done the same for the guy on the ground, but he still didn’t know how to do that, exactly… or rather, he had been told not to do that. Not yet. Mark chose to listen to Lola’s command.

But Mark did extend a hand down to the guy, asking him, “You okay? You kinda crapped out there.”

The guy breathed out, looking angry at himself. He took Mark’s hand and got up to his feet, saying, “Thanks.”

He didn’t seem willing to talk about whatever had happened, so Mark didn’t press. Instead, he looked out at the rest of the arena. Maybe half the people were still fighting. Others were standing around, or sitting on the ground—

“Five minutes to finish your fight!”

Mark saw at least one person get suckerpunched into a loss, because they stopped to listen to the instructor.

Mark wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Who was more at fault; the person for throwing the punch, or the instructor for distracting them like that? And yet, it was the instructor’s prerogative to distract. So… Yeah. Bad on those guys who suckerpunched.

… Mark was still mad at Badger for not making the bout limit clear at the beginning, though, and then interrupting the flow halfway through.

… Mark chewed on that thought for a little while.

Mark felt disillusioned with the world at only 18; he knew this, and he hated it. The people in charge were no better than anyone else. He couldn’t believe that he had thought that adults knew their shit, or that they could keep his parents protected, or that Addashield wouldn’t tear though those protections to get to them, or… or any of that, really. He had always imagined that adults were adults because they knew what was what, and they were able to protect those underneath them.

But, no.

The simple fact was that everyone grew older, and the world was lucky if a person also grew up.

Mark could already tell he was going to have a great big problem with authority going forward. He had never considered himself that kind of person, and he had often looked down on others in these sort of training yards that couldn’t follow orders from superiors, but Mark saw the writing on the wall.

He wasn’t sure how to fix that, or how to fix his social anxiety. The social anxiety was an actual problem, though. Difficulty with authority? Well that was just seeing the world for what it was, wasn’t it. High Priestess Julia Garin had even told Mark that she sent people to their deaths every day, hoping that they would survive, but knowing that if they didn’t, that they had given their lives for the lives of everyone else.

All of that made Mark angry in a way he wasn’t quite sure how to handle—

Ah. Look at that.

Mark watched as some people showed off their own anger problems.

Up ahead, in what was B group, two pairs of people had somehow gotten tangled up together and now it was a real fight; a total brawl. Blood flew and so did teeth. Four very angry people snarled and grappled and yelled and punched.

Mark glanced up at Instructor Nifty, still standing by his chair up there in the skybox—

And suddenly the group of four guys were separated.

Mark hadn’t seen it happen at all. Nifty never moved from his spot— Or maybe he moved so fast Mark couldn’t see… Yeah. That was it. And the four guys fighting were all ten meters away from each other and glaring at enemies that were no longer where they were looking. One guy finished a punch and struck only air, tumbling to the sands and then standing up fast in surprise.

So Nifty was really freaking fast, eh?

Mark tried to catch sight of him on the field, among the other fights—

“Time’s up!” Badger called out.

Every single fight ended in that moment, though some of them definitely would have continued on for at least a few more seconds, if people were still standing where they had been standing.

Holy crap Nifty is fast.

Mark maybe saw Nifty move. Maybe. The man flickered where he stood and every single pair of people still fighting got forcibly separated, to stand meters away from each other.

Mark saw several people still laid out on the ground, but many of them were getting up already. Some of them gasped for breath and lurched to sit upright. A glance up at the healer group showed that many of them were breathing in unison. Looking at the crowds, watching for Union yet knowing he missed most of it, Mark saw the invisible wave of healing pass through the people. Faces healed. Blood vanished. Wounds closed. A broken arm reset fast, the woman it belonged to gasping as her limb flexed into position and the pain went away. Mark only noticed the truly bad cases, though. He was pretty sure—

Mark felt his breath taken from him, as his breathing lurched and bellowed briefly, and then the wave passed him by, letting him go, for he was already healed. The blonde guy’s chest expanded in a deep breath and then faded away, and Mark was absolutely sure the guy didn’t even notice he had breathed hard.

Did anyone notice they had breathed hard?

… Well yeah? Probably. Some people did, for sure. Maybe most people?

Badger called out, “And now, I reveal the full nature of Sparring Club 101! When I am done speaking, I will give actual instructions.

“Every winner from every bout will remain standing after every win! Every loser will remain seated! Every winner pairs up with a winner and every loser pairs up with a loser! You will then separate from others, and prepare to go in another minute! Every bout lasts 10 minutes or less. We get another minute for healing. And then we go again with different partners!

“S group stays on this side of the field, and F group stays over there by the entrance. The nature of this type of fighting means you will move up or down in the general area of fighting based on your performance. Let me repeat that in another way: You will not be fighting people in your own rank this whole time! You will be fighting people above your rank if you’re good, or you’ll keep moving down if you’re bad. The top few people who remain in the arena, and don’t get moved to a higher room, will be exchanging blows right below this instructor’s booth for the next 4 weeks.

“It is entirely possible for an S to move all the way down to F, but the reverse is not going to happen. I still encourage Fs to try and move up in a responsible manner. Dexterous Body will not overcome basic Brawn, but you should certainly try.

“This is the nature of Sparring Club, and this is what we do here! We will not be giving you private fighting lessons! We are here to prevent you from killing yourselves or others! If you want fighting lessons then you will need to attend Sparring Class. Not club!

“Also!

“This is Body-power only time! The only exceptions are personal uses of Union, if you already qualify for that through the Chosen System. Heal yourself if you can! Save our healer squad some effort.

“NOW!

“Every winner stands! Every loser sits! Winners find each other first and make spaces for yourselves, and the losers get what is left. Spread out to the edges of the arena if you can!

“GO!”

Mark remained standing, the blonde guy sat down, and Mark spotted a guy further up, in E group.

The guy spotted him at the same time.

Mark walked his way, and the guy rapidly tried to find someone else—

Mark almost burst out laughing. The guy didn’t want to fight an F ranker! How fucking weird…

Or maybe he recognized Mark as That Mark.

Okay. Whatever.

Mark turned and found someone else. He was a cocky looking guy. Mark wasn’t sure the guy’s rank, only that he was here with a smirk and ready to go—

Badger called out, “Losers pair up! Everyone square up!”

Mark and his new temporary friend squared up.

Five minutes later, Mark stood over a guy who had been pretty strong but his footing had gotten all screwed up and it all went downhill from there.

Mark held a hand down, saying, “I’m Mark. Nice to meet you.”

The guy sighed as he slapped away Mark’s hand, saying, “And I lost to an F. Fuck me.”

So not a friend there. That was fine—

“Gods,” said the guy, as he glared up at Mark, “What is your Talent anyway? You can’t be a fucking F.”

“Healthy Body and Union,” Mark answered, nice to know that some people still didn’t recognize him...

… Wait.

He had forgotten to use Union in that fight, didn’t he. Badger had said he could, though, right?

The guy looked like a weight had fallen off of him anyway. He collapsed onto his back, chuckling. “Okay. That’s not a bad loss. Nice to meet you, Mark. I’m Sammo. Just a Tough Bo—”

“Winners pair up!” Badger called, “Losers pair up!

Mark used Union to heal himself this time, but he still lost the fight. His opponent was a girl who had to have been a D rank speedster. It was over before Mark even knew it, too. A punch to the face, chest, and then stomach, all at once, and Mark was on the ground and someone was breathing for him for a brief moment. He laid there, his lungs working under someone else’s control, and then he breathed easier, and he was back to doing his own active breathing.

He couldn’t keep Union going 100% of the time, but he could do it for a few hours a day, and with constant breaks.

Mark looked up at the girl who laid him out. “Hello. I’m Mark. Nice to meet you. Never fought a speedster before. It was very enlightening.”

The girl looked down at him with a grin. “I’m Harriet! Nice to meet you, Mark, and you managed to get your fists up! It’s more than most people.”

Mark gave a strained, “Haa.”

Harriet grinned. “All this ain’t gonna be your full strength anyway, right? You got that black metal thing going on.”

… Ah. She knew who he was.

Mark stressed himself to his limit and tried to be personable, “Still gotta give it my all, you know.”

“With any luck, that dragon will turn out to be a good guy and then we can all just live happily in the cities! Course that won’t be nearly as fun as exploring the world.”

“… Haa, yeah,” Mark said, looking down.

Okay. So. Yeah.

Mark kinda dropped the ball there, but in his defense, Harriet was hitting a weak spot.

Harriet squatted down so she could look at him directly. “I’m having a lot of trouble with it, too. Addashield killed a lot of people as he Fell, and then he never actually Fell! My brother was one of his victims. I’m still coming to terms with it, but you look like you’re screwed up about it a lot more than I am... Which is reasonable, uh, now that I’m thinking about it… Uh.”

Mark felt floaty. He kinda disassociated from the situation, saying, “I thought I was helping him so he could turn human and atone. Not for him to gain more power. But was that really my reason for doing it? Or because everyone told me I had to? I don’t know.”

Harriet got a worried look. “… Er. Sorry, dude. I didn’t mean to… I’m an oversharer… I, uh, I just meant to thank you for mitigating the dragon’s… uh. Uh… Sorry.”

Mark was back on solid ground again. He said a normal thing to say, “Addashield is gone and the dragon turned out okay. This was the good outcome.”

Harriet grinned. “Yes! That’s it! Right. Uh!” She laughed off herself, standing back up. “Yes. This was the only possible good outcome! Demons are freaking nasty! Can’t believe anyone contracts with them at all!”

Mark probably nodded and said something else.

And then Badger called out for a switch.

Mark walked away from the instructors, in the direction toward the entrance. He found another guy who had lost a match.

Mark beat the everloving shit out of the guy—

Mark stopped after maybe punching the guy too hard, because the guy collapsed backward into the sands and someone else started breathing for him. Mark almost panicked—

The guy’s lungs inflated as the healers breathed deep for him, and then he blinked and woke up and breathed on his own.

Mark instantly told him, “I’m so sorry for hitting you that hard.”

The guy chuckled and spoke in a thick Great Lakes accent, “Hit a fella that hard and he might think you like him!”

Mark couldn’t help but smile. “I’d go out for drinks, but not as anything more than friends.”

The guy laughed and sat up. “I’m always eager to make new friends. Cedric.”

“Mark,” Mark said. “Really sorry about pushing that hard. I was… Uh. Angry at something.”

Cedric grinned. “I’m rank C Strong Body, 11/100. How about you?”

“Ah. Rank F Healthy Body, 8/100, and Union.”

Cedric’s eyes went wide as he breathed out “Fuuuuu...” He breathed out, and then shook his head. “I mean. Like. You got a great set of fists on you and that Union is an endorsement from Freyala, but slap me in the face! I fell that far down? To F rank! Shiiiet. I’m so damned bad at this fist fighting. Guns and swords, my man Mark! Guns and swords! Man were meant to use our brains to fight not our stubby little hands!”

Mark smiled. “I’m partial to spears. Swords are great, too.”

“I hoped to damned we get to use some proper weapons tomorrow—”

“End round!” Badger called out. “Move along!”

Mark was already walking, saying, “Catch you around, Cedric!”

Cedric waved and nodded, and then he got up and went and found another loser.

The total arena field was maybe 200 meters in diameter, so with 189 people all fighting, there was still plenty of space. Mark had started on the eastern edge of the arena, at the F group area, while the instructors and S group were all the way to the west.

By the time Badger called out the end of the club for the day, there had been 10, 10 minute rounds.

Mark had won 6 rounds and lost 4, and ended up a lot further north than when he started, rather than simply west, which was still well into what had been the C-rank area. He was bleeding, just like almost everyone else on the field, but he was able to heal up that bleeding rather easily, and so the blood was mostly just on his clothes; same as everyone, but in a different sort of way. He was still feeling quite strong, which was not the same as everyone at all. Healthy Body mostly gave endurance and, well, a Healthy Body, which was the very basic function of most Body-based Talents, but Union gave him energy to spare.

Because of that staying power, Mark had made most of his strides westward in the second half of the club meeting, when most people were getting really tired.

Badger spoke above the crowd, “No major incidents today, which is fantastic. Aim for that every day! And now for the evaluation. Look where you are. If you started at a lower rank than where you are right now, and especially if you’re an endurance based fighter, then you should consider starting tomorrow further east. But other than that, where you ended up is where you should be. I’m gonna turn on some indicator lights and they’re going to light above a few people. If you get a light, then you come over here for a talk and get in line. Everyone can leave after I turn on the lights!”

Badger did something on a tablet and golden light danced in the air above several people, forming an indicator glow above them. A lot of people nearer to the instructors got lights on them, but there were a few lights far out in the arena, indicating people here and there.

Mark did not get a glow.

Badger said, “Good showing everyone! Dismissed!”

Mark bowed to the instructors, but only a few people did that and Mark felt kinda weird for bowing. He righted himself and walked out of the eastern entrance with all the rest of the crowd, taking his time because the crowd was thick and talkative.

On his way out of the place Mark saw people talking with other people and making friends, or looking discouraged and furious at themselves. A few people looked his way, but most did not…

There was Cedric, the rank C brawny who liked guns.

Cedric fell in step with Mark, smiling, saying, “Hey! You’re just about the only F that kicked a whole lotta ass today!”

Mark scoffed, even as he grinned. “Rank isn’t everything. I think I saw almost all of the morphers move pretty damned far up the ladder.”

A few people around Mark and Cedric looked at them, and then they evaluated Mark. They rapidly moved on, though, because everyone was listening to everyone else. Or maybe that’s not what happened at all. Mark knew he was, perhaps, hypersensitive to that sort of thing right now.

Cedric asked, “You gonna join the sparring class? Get more lessons?”

“Nah. I have way too much to do and not enough time to do it, so I’m just doing the brawny club because I need to for personal experience and… well. And fun. How about you?”

“I’m thinking I need some tutoring, so the class is gonna happen. I hope to Freyala I’m never without my guns, but shiiiit that was bad news today. I didn’t think I was that trash.”

Mark grinned as he walked out into the sun, alongside Cedric. “There’s so many more S ranks than I thought possible. There’s freaking— over half of everyone there was either S or A— When you add in a bit of B, I guess. This is top Talent, isn’t it? Like you’d find at Endless Academy?”

Cedric snorted. “No way. The Citadels are all about throughput; churning out as many people with Union as they can, as fast as possible. Everyone needs healers. They give us enough training to get real experience and save lives and then tell us to move the fuck on.”

“Citadel Freyala is still top talent.”

Cedric grinned. “I suppose that’s why you’re here, instead of at Endless Academy? They’d take a Tri-Talent up there in a smash, yeah?”

Ah.

He knew who Mark was, too.

Mark made a choice to be as personable as he could, saying, “I’m under demonic-influence observation, so this is where I am. It’s a pretty nice place, though.”

His voice probably came out stilted and broken.

Cedric paid it no mind, saying, “It is a nice place! I was thinking of doing Freyala Academy, but the Ecclesiastical Center in Citadel is all I really need. Four months and qualification for Chosen and I’m out on a team in Daihoon, being a healer and a gunner. Taking the actual doctor learn’n would be best, but I got a team waiting for me to get Chosen.”

“Do you have an assignment already?”

“Some provincial thing in a new settlement from the Aluathan Empire, across the Veil from Chicago. Just the normal sort of fortifying stuff, but it’ll be near home, so I love it.” Cedric broke off down a different path, and paused. “I’m this way. Nice to meet you, Mark.”

Mark said, “Nice to meet you, too.”

Cedric rapidly admitted, “I joked about getting drinks and I try to take it easy, but I’m loaded busy, too. Catch you in club, though.” He was already walking away, saying, “Or if you ever get to the gun range!”

Mark smiled. “See you around.”

“We’ll both be shooting little bits of metal around eventually!”

Mark chuckled to hear that, but he wasn’t sure why.

Cedric was already down the way, walking.

Mark went the other direction, to Building 5, to take a shower before he went to his next destination.

… Could Cedric be a friend? Maybe.