“Be careful, and don’t touch anything before I can check it out.”
The two nodded and split off to either side of the odd room. Justus walked to the central chair. He tried to discern the purpose the numerous mechanisms might serve. This place was easily the most advanced relic he’d ever come across. The only thing that came close were the ancient ruins he’d explored a few cycles ago.
He didn’t want to admit it in front of the two offworlders, but Justus didn’t have a good feeling about this delve. Something unnerved him about this place, and it was more than the fact that it seemed to be a vehicle designed for space travel. Ever since setting foot onto the metal hull, there had been a sense of weight around him. The feeling wasn’t quite like the pressure from a Spirit beast, but it also wasn’t like the pressure from being sensed by a high-ranking Spirit Artist. It was somewhere in between. Foreign.
But Justus had always been prone to caution. The feeling could very well be in his head. Nothing could still be alive in this place. His unease probably came from the discovery of a space vehicle itself. The theologians taught that all life came from the stars long ago, but he always imagined that had been some kind of metaphor. The existence of this ship, and proof of humanity on another planet, seemed to suggest otherwise. He didn’t like questioning these things. It was dangerous.
As he was about to study the panels connected to the chair, a sudden jolt made him lose his balance. His mind immediately thought that an eruption from the ash mother had occurred. Before he knew what was going on, he was falling. He reached out, and his hand gripped the edge of the hole that he suddenly found himself in. The silky smooth carpeting on the floor proved to be a terrible grip, however. He cursed as his hand slid right off the side.
Justus looked down. He nearly used his Blink skill by reflex but caught himself. There was no spike pit or trap waiting below. The wall tapered off, catching him and pulling him into a slide. He didn’t fall for very long before he was spat out. He rolled onto a surprisingly soft ground.
During the fall, he heard Katherine shout his name. Justus scanned his surroundings for threats as another voice echoed out of the chute.
“Yo! Are you dead?”
Justus patted his robes off, then leaned down to speak into the tube.
“I said not to touch anything!” He yelled.
“My bad!” Simon’s voice rang out a short while later. “Can you get back up?”
That figured. While Katherine could be insufferable at times, she seemed to at least take things seriously. He could easily imagine Simon pressing the shiniest button he could find just to see what would happen.
He didn’t think there was any way of getting back up. The hole was too slick, perfectly smooth, and slightly too wide to crawl up, especially for a vertical climb.
“I’ll look around! Stay there and don’t touch anything, or I’ll break your guidestone and leave you here!”
It was an empty threat, of course. He had no means of destroying a guidestone, and unless they outright mutinied against him, he doubted he would leave either of them to die. He might be tempted, sorely, but Justus wasn’t a killer. Not that kind, at least.
Justus ignored Simon’s sarcastic reply of “Aye, Captain,” and really looked around the room he’d landed in. It was small and dark. Judging by the other tubes jutting from the wall, it looked like there were more trapdoors than the one he’d fallen into. As he suspected, the trapdoor hadn’t been a trap at all, but an emergency hatch. Nearby was a bulkhead door, nearly identical to the one they’d entered the ship from. He peered inside the thick window to see a small room with a single pilot seat and console panel and ten tightly packed seats on either side. A lifeboat? It made sense to have one on a ship, though he had to wonder how that would work in space.
Justus moved on, walking down the tight corridor. It wasn’t nearly as polished as the space above. That had been a living quarter, most likely. This area didn’t have the same polish and shine to it. It looked like an area meant for doing work in, not lounging about. The floor was a metal grate, similar to the one in the room they’d arrived in, and the walls were covered with exposed pipes and wiring.
After a short time, he came across a crossroads. He first explored the right path and discovered a ladder at the end of the corridor. Unfortunately, when he reached the top, he found that it led into a room filled with machinery and a locked door he had no way of opening. He backtracked to the crossroad.
The left also led to a dead end. There hadn’t even been a ladder on that side, just two locked doors down the corridor. He retraced his steps, hoping that going straight would prove more helpful than either turn.
There was another door down the corridor, but it was different than any of the others. It was a large and fortified bulkhead that was more of a wall than a door. There was a round crank off to the side.
Having already explored the other options, Justus decided to risk trying to open the bulkhead. Even if it led outside, he could blink up to the top of the ship and enter the way they’d boarded to reach Katherine and Simon.
The crank took a lot of initial effort, but once he’d budged it, the mechanism moved surprisingly smoothly. The reinforced wall creaked and groaned, then began to split down the middle as they parted.
Once the doors were parted halfway, he moved past the bulkhead doors, which proved even thicker than he thought. It was nearly a full two feet of solid metal. Inside, he saw something that made him stop in his tracks.
The walls of the room were spherical and covered in small hexagonal pads. Each pad had a diamond gemstone in the center and was covered in the strange flowing text he had seen elsewhere on the ship. The text was engraved on the plates and shined with a metallic tint, whereas the pads themselves seemed more like clay or stone than metal. Every so often on the wall there was a long and thin metal spike, aimed towards the center of the room. The spikes looked to be lightning rods of some kind.
The grate Justus stood on was suspended with metal wires from the ceiling and acted as a bridge ending near the center of the large room. At the end of the walkway was a pedestal holding a single console. Just beyond the end of the walkway, however, was the most incredible thing in the room, one of the most incredible things Justus had ever seen.
He had no words to describe it in its totality. He wasn’t sure if it was a machine, a Spirit, or something in between. It looked like, somehow, a mind.
The thing had a core, which looked like a metallic sphere about a foot across. Wisps of light—Spirit, most likely—shot from the metal core and arced through the air. They flashed a few times before puffing away into short-lived smoke. Thousands of these tiny threads appeared and vanished every second, resembling fleeting sparks. Some of the lights shone bright, and others were dim. Some were shaded blue, others a warm orange, and some pure white. The color seemed to depend on the intensity, with whites being the brightest and oranges the most dim. The brighter the arcs, the faster they pulsed and the quicker they vanished. The whites appeared and disappeared in instants with quick flashes, whereas the oranges flickered slowly, lasting for seconds with each pulse. The smoke from the constantly dying arcs of light filled the air around and within the thing, giving it a ghostly, ethereal appearance.
As he grew closer, he noticed the space around the core shifting, as if light itself warped around it. That was proven true as he began to see himself moving around it, his shape twisted beyond recognition but following his movements perfectly.
He had no doubt that this thing was causing his unease. That feeling grew with each step until it was no longer a subtle sensation in the background, but creeping tendrils that slithered across his skin. Somehow, the Spirit that powered this ship was still alive in some way.
The panel that rose from the platform had hundreds of wires and cords running out the back, bound in thick, tight bundles that split off into the wall. The design of the panel was simpler than the ones in the control room. There was one large switch off to the side and about a dozen smaller buttons and lights, as well as what looked like a screen. There was a featureless space about a foot across in the middle, and in the very center of that space was an indent that looked familiar. It was remarkably similar to the sockets the Guild used to interact with guidestones.
Justus glanced at the emerald guidestone in his glove. It was vibrating in its harness, buzzing against the leather and into his hand. Something was pulling it. It was like an invisible river dragging it towards the socket. With a sudden lurch, the pull increased tenfold.
He gripped the railing, taking a step back. His gloved hand was yanked outward. Every muscle in his arm strained to pull the guidestone back, but the harness on the glove ripped off, and his stone was yanked away by the invisible force.
Justus let go of the railing and dove for the stone as it zipped through the air. It was already too late. The emerald slammed into the socket, and everything changed in an instant.
The thing in the center pulsed with a flash of silvery-white light, then grew so bright that Justus cried out, shielding his eyes. The whole room shook, and a wall of pure Spiritual force hit him. The pain radiated through his core, nearly as terrible as the wave of Spirit from the Apocalypse beast on Earth.
A moment later, a physical force threw him back. He was sent flying off the walkway and into the air. He opened his eyes to see the wall rushing forward. Not just the wall; he was hurtling towards one of the metal spikes. His instincts kicked in, and he reached for his skill.
[Blink]
Channel your Spirit to map out a path to a point in space you can see. Once activated, the space around you will be shifted to that location at near lightspeed, taking you with it.
Cooldown will be estimated before confirmation. You may take additional mass with you, but the cost of Spirit and resulting cooldown will increase.
Cooldown: Variable
Time slowed, the rushing spike moving closer at a crawl. It was less than a foot away, the tip pointed right at his chest. Justus created a path away from the rod. His skill didn’t change his inertia, and he didn’t have enough time to calculate and cast a spell that would cancel it out. That was the problem with using spells. They were usually too slow to be useful. They required time that you couldn’t often get in a fight. He would just have to hope that his Jade endurance would be enough to absorb the impact.
He activated the skill. The space around him shifted, carrying him in almost an instant a few feet to the right, away from the spike. A split second later, he slammed into the wall. There hadn’t been enough time to prepare for the impact, and a bright flash of pain erupted in his skull.
***
“Run Justus!”
Run. There was nowhere to run. Couldn’t she see that it was a dead end? Nowhere to run, but there was somewhere to hide. There was a pile of trash in the corner. He scrambled into the pile, squeezing into a large wooden box filled with scraps. There was a small hole in the box, and he pressed against it, looking outside. His mother had her back to him, standing with her arms wide open as the men began to pour into the other end of the narrow alley. Blood still dripped from her arm. He wasn’t sure if it was hers or Father’s.
Father. Rushing home, acting strange and looking scared, and telling them they had to leave the city, arguing with Mom.
Then the men. The monsters. Father, dead. It had all happened so fast. Justus had to hold back a sob. If they heard him, he would end up like Father. But they were going after his mother. Shouldn’t he help? Maybe she could hide with him, or find a way out of—
A pillar of stone rose from the ground beneath his mother. It shot upwards, striking his mother in the jaw. She flew into the air and landed with a heavy smack onto the dirt just outside the box. He clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle the scream that he couldn’t stop at the sight of her ruined face. Justus met her eyes, and he knew she’d seen him. She spoke one word, mixed with a horrible gurgling sound.
Justus looked past her, to the men. Only one was close, the same man who had killed Father. The man with one eye. He took a few slow steps forward, grinning. He lifted a hand, and Justus knew what he was going to do.
Without thinking, Justus pushed out of the box and ran at the man. He shut his eyes and screamed, swinging his fists. He hit the man, crashing into him. His fists thudded against the man’s stomach over and over, but it might as well have been a brick wall.
The sound of stone rumbled, and Justus swung faster, harder. There was a crunching noise from behind, wet and heavy.
The man grabbed Justus by the head and turned him around.
“See that, kid? That’s what happens to idiots like your mom and dad. You don’t fuck with people stronger than you, and if you gamble, you better have the fucking coin to pay up when you lose.”
Justus opened his eyes for only a second. He saw blood and broken limbs jutting from the rock. He shut his eyes again, clawing at the man’s hand.
The man let him go. He barked an order to his group, and Justus heard his footsteps dragging on the dirt. Justus stumbled and fell. He kept his eyes on the ground beneath him.
Something shimmered in the dirt. It was an old piece of glass from a broken window. Justus grabbed it, his hand shaking with anger he didn’t know how to comprehend. He wanted to hurt the man, like he’d hurt them.
Justus picked himself up and ran towards the man. The one-eyed man turned as Justus yelled. The glass tore through fabric as Justus brought it down on the man’s thigh. The man didn’t even flinch. He laughed. Justus felt something wet in his hand, but he stabbed again and again until the glass broke. His hand burned, sliced by the shard of glass, while the man’s skin didn’t even have a scrape. Justus screamed again and grabbed the man’s leg, biting into his skin.
Something cracked against his skull, and Justus fell to the dirt.
Justus gripped the opal stone in his fist. Finally, after cycles of meditating and doing everything the book said, he’d ranked up to Opal. He only had two skills. One let him move quickly, and the other made things easy to break. Neither was what he wanted. He wanted something that could kill a Jade. That was fine, though. He didn’t need skills.
It had been four cycles since he’d watched Books kill his parents, and it had been four cycles of working for the gang. Justus was their pickpocket. While others distracted people, Justus would search their pockets or bags. Even in this part of Talon, most people didn’t expect a child to steal from them, especially not the tourists who came here for gambling or prostitutes. Those types were always the easiest to scam.
For the first two cycles, Justus had tried to kill Books at least once every phase. He’d tried stabbing him and even poison. Poison hadn’t worked. Books somehow always figured out when Justus had tried. Stabbing didn’t work either. Justus simply wasn’t strong enough to pierce the skin of a peak Jade.
But now Justus was Opal. Now he had Spirit: a weapon. The plan had formed the day he found the book. The book taught about Spirit Arts and how anyone could use them.
He’d hidden the book and kept it safe like a treasure. The book told him to meditate every day, to work out, and to be mindful of his thoughts and body. It taught him how to train like a true Spirit Artist. Then, a few phases ago, he’d found the second treasure: an opal guidestone.
Without anyone in the gang realizing it, Justus had advanced to Opal rank years earlier than most could hope to. Even children with tutors usually didn’t advance until ten or eleven. The book said advancement was based on Spiritual growth, but it wasn’t clear about what exactly that meant. Justus didn’t really care. He was just glad to have the power.
There was more than just practice and discipline in the book. It taught the difference between skills and spells. Skills were granted by guidestones, but spells were universal. Anyone ranked could use spells, so long as they had the spirit to fuel them and could do the math to understand them. It even had examples of useful spells.
Justus pulled the book from his pillow, kept hidden in the cotton filling. The others were gone for now, and he wouldn’t have much time. He checked through the spell list, looking for any that matched his affinities: Dissolution and Movement. He wasn’t sure what the first meant, but movement was simple. Anything that had to do with moving things was something his Spirit was good at.
Keeping that in mind, Justus found a spell. The book called it Acceleration Imbuement. Again, he wasn’t sure what that meant, but based on the description, it meant that Justus could pour Spirit into something to make it shoot forward.
There was so much to the spell, though. Everything mattered. The size of the object, the shape, the weight, the volume, the material, and the speed and direction he wanted it to go. Justus would have to know all of it and adjust the formula in the book based on what he knew. If even one thing was unknown, the spell wouldn’t work. Not only that, but he had to be precise. The book said that even small mistakes could cause the spell to use far more Spirit than intended, which could be deadly.
Before, Books had spared him. He saw Justus’s attempts on his life as fiery youthful spirit that could be channeled to help the gang. That was because Justus had been powerless. Now Justus posed a threat. He was older and ranked. Another attempt wouldn’t be met with the same laughter and amusement as before. Justus would have one chance, and one chance only.
He’d planned everything. Books had the gang running their usual scams and business, but Justus had requested training. That was a bit suspicious, and Justus knew it. That was why he’d waited. This was the third time this phase that Justus had asked to train with Books. Any suspicion Books had would be mostly gone now. It was routine.
Except this time was different.
They’d just finished an hour of training together. Books was leaning against the brick wall of their base, a drink in one hand and his notebook in the other. Books always had one of his little notebooks or notepads with him. It was where he kept meticulous track of all the gang’s operations. He also ripped out the pages and burned them constantly. The man's habit of keeping notes was how he'd gotten his nickname. Justus didn’t even know his real name. No one did, as far as Justus knew.
The three large five-inch metal spikes Justus had stolen from a smithy’s workshop brushed against his fingers as he pretended to lean on a box, out of breath. He’d weighed them as accurately as he could and found out their volume using a technique with water the book had taught him. Then, using that, he’d calculated the density. He’d even found out that the spikes were mostly iron mixed with a little carbon by paying off a different smithy.
He’d spent almost a full two orbits practicing the spell with them, testing different speeds. It turned out his Spirit easily fueled the spell, as he’d hoped, so it was more a matter of finding a speed that would be lethal without creating too loud of a sound. He’d found out the hard way that if he sent them flying too fast, they would make a cracking noise like a whip. That had almost gotten him caught.
The spikes were too noticeable to keep on him during practice, so he’d hidden them in an open wooden box, covered with cloth. Now his fingers curled around them and pulled them out. Just as he turned to prepare his spell, Books spoke, his gruff voice now long familiar to Justus. He’d lived with the man for four cycles now, after all. Justus quickly hid the spikes behind his back. Luckily, Books hadn’t looked up as he talked.
“So what’s all this training stuff about, kid?”
Justus paused. Better to play things safe for now.
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
“Just want to learn how to fight,” he replied, sticking with a short response. He was usually quiet so he wouldn’t make the mistake of overexplaining and making Books suspicious.
Books huffed in amusement, eyes still focused on his book. He put his drink down and picked up a pencil nearby, scratching something on the page, then rubbing it with the eraser.
“And here I thought you were hopeless. Finally showing some initiative. Good. You’ve always had pretty sharp instincts, but it looks like you’ve run out of those guts you had. Last couple cycles, you haven’t even tried to kill me. Thought you’d given up.”
Justus tensed. Had he known the whole time what Justus had been planning today? But no, if he suspected anything, he wouldn’t seem so relaxed, would he? Justus had an urge to strike now, but something told him to hold off. Books finished writing something down, then erased it and continued.
"Some of the boys have said that you’ve given up, decided to just do what you’re told and get by. I didn’t buy it. You got some ambition left. See, any dog can do what it's told, but if you ever want to rise in a pack, you've gotta learn how to do more than just do the tricks you're told. You’ve gotta learn when to fetch, when to bark, when to bite, and when to tuck your tail in. Not just when you’re told, but whenever it’s the right time to.”
Books looked up, meeting Justus eyes.
“You get what I’m trying to say, kid?”
“I… don’t.”
Books sighed and put his notebook in his pocket.
“I’m sayin’ I see what you’re doing. You think I haven’t noticed?”
Justus fought not to show the tension that crept through him. Again, he suppressed the urge to strike.
“Going off on your own when you think you’re alone? Working out? I’ve seen the muscle you’ve put on, kid. And your form is better than it should be, more coordinated. You’ve been practicing fighting on your own for a while.”
It wasn’t a question, but Justus nodded. Books grinned.
“I get it, kid. You’re sick of being our mouser. You decided you want to prove yourself and do more than just pick pockets and act cute for distractions. I wondered how long it would take you.”
Justus was confused now, but he didn’t dare show it. He stayed silent.
“Took you long enough, too. Some of the boys have been askin’ questions. Tellin’ me you ain’t pulling your weight. That cute kid act is wearin’ out, you see? Which is why I think it’s time to tell you the truth.”
Justus frowned. “The truth?” he repeated. “What truth?”
“Come on, what else? I’m talkin’ about your old Mom and Dad. You never asked why I went after them. Hell, you never even asked why I didn’t just kill you along with them.”
“It’s because you could use me,” Justus said.
Books laughed under his breath. “True enough, kid, but do you really think I’d let a brat with a grudge onto the crew without more reason than that?”
Now that he thought about it, Justus didn’t. Books was a meticulous person. Everyone knew that. Taking in Justus had been a risk—slim as it might have been—and Justus had never known Books to be a man to take any risk.
“Exactly,” Books said, as if he could read Justus’s mind. “I ain’t that kind of pack leader. The truth is, kid, your Father and I went way back. Far back as two fellas could, really. He was my brother.”
“You killed him…” Justus said, unable to believe what Books was saying. Even as he denied it, he looked at Books again and tried to remember his father’s face. He’d been so young, but there was something familiar about Books, wasn’t there? The light brown eye, the jet black hair, and even the smile tickled something in Justus’s childhood memories. Or was he imagining it? He’d spent half his life without his father. Could he be certain his memory wasn’t playing tricks on him? Had his Father even had brown eyes?
“I did kill him. And I hated to do it. You see, your daddy, my little brother, had always been the irresponsible one. He was with me when I started this little club, you know? Was my right-hand man…” Books paused, then he coughed and spit into the dirt. “He was always shit at this life. Too reckless and too greedy. Didn’t know when to call it quits, you see? Always wanted more. He was the type to gamble and visit the whores every other quarter.
“Well, one quarter he fucked up bad and got two of my guys killed. I finally put my foot down. I gave him some cash and hooked him up with a proper job. Told him to stay out of this life before he got himself killed. And he did. But he took one of those whores with him. See, she was already knocked up with you at the time. I told him to cut her off, but he didn’t listen. She liked his type, see? Drawn to the dangerous life of a criminal like a moth to fire. Maybe he might have done fine alone, but not with her. After a little while, she started complaining, saying they deserved more; she missed the old life, back when he spoiled her with money he didn’t have. She pushed your daddy to start gambling again.
“Pretty soon, Daddy owed money to the wrong people, and he came to me. I was pissed, of course, but what can you do with family? I told him I’d get it sorted out, but we’d talk later. But when I went to talk to the fellas and cough up the money, it turned out the money he owed was more than Daddy said. Much more. The guy thought I was working with my brother to cheat him, and a fight broke out. Half my crew dead, and I lost my eye.” Books lifted his eyepatch, revealing the scarred socket underneath. He put it back, looking grim.
“I couldn’t do nothing. Word about that gets around in the underground. Reputation is a double-edged blade, and I had mine to worry about. Funny thing about reputation: everyone in these parts is just shit on the boot of the empire, but even shit on a boot starts coming up with rules if it sticks around long enough. If I didn’t do something, I might as well have told everyone that I’ll bend over and let anyone fuck me.”
Books turned around and took a swig from his flask. He kept his back turned and looked down at the flask in his hand.
“And that’s why I didn’t leave you for dead, kid. Sparring your mom and dad wasn’t something I could do. But you? Well… what can you do with family, right?”
Justus felt his hands trembling. Was it true? Was his father a criminal? And his mother… Books, his uncle? Was it possible? He could remember not always being happy with his mom and dad. Sometimes Dad would yell, and Mom would push him around. The memories were faint, but they had happened; Justus was sure of it.
But Justus remembered the sight of his mother, facing her death to protect him while he hid. He remembered her bloody face and the last painful word she had ever said to him, moments before she was killed.
“Stay.”
His hands stopped shaking. The doubt vanished like a faint scent in the face of a windy storm. Justus knew what he had to do.
While Books still had his back turned, Justus held up two of the spikes. He did the calculations he had practiced a dozen times in a second as he poured Spirit into the metal.
Books must have sensed something wrong. He turned and raised his arms to shield his face, just as the metal whistled through the air toward him. One spike that would have taken him in the neck sank into his forearm, and the other took him in the shoulder. Books grunted, taking a step back from the force of the impacts.
“Son of a bitch!” Books reached for the spike in his arm and pulled it out. He flexed the arm as blood poured from the wound for a few seconds, then the hole knit itself back together. “You little shit! Still going through with it, huh? You really are your father’s boy, aren’t you? Don’t know when to fucking quit.”
Justus felt his stomach sink as he watched the wound heal. It hadn’t worked. Books was Peak Jade. He had three affinities and five skills. The healing was the only skill under his Renewal affinity. Then there was his Circumspect affinity. One skill let him recall any information he ever wrote down. It was why Books always wrote things down, despite erasing them right after and burning the pages. No one was sure what his second Circumspect skill was, but judging by how Books had reacted, Justus suspected it was some kind of sensory skill, maybe a danger sense. That was probably how he had always seen through Justus’s attempts at killing him. And it had worked again. It was no wonder Books kept that one a secret.
The words Books had spoken caught up with Justus. Books had known. Was the story all a lie then? A trick to get Justus to give up getting revenge? Or maybe a plot to get Justus to drop his guard. But did that really mean it was a lie? Justus shook his head. It didn’t matter now. Books wouldn’t ever trust him again. Justus was a risk now, which meant Justus was as good as dead.
He half expected the rest of the gang to appear, but no one did. Were they really alone? Books might think he could take care of Justus by himself. Of course, he was right.
The ground trembled slightly. Most wouldn’t have noticed it, but Justus was familiar with Books and his specialty skill. Justus dove to the side. Two thick pillars rose from the ground and collided together with a loud crash right where he’d been standing. Justus hit the dirt and rolled, climbing to a sprint down the alleyway.
That was Books’s Coercion affinity. That was the skill that made him infamous. Or rather the skills. One was a skill that allowed Books to increase the compression of matter in an area. It wasn’t useful on things that were already dense, but it was great at making loose matter as hard as stone. The other skill allowed him to imbue natural minerals with velocity. Using both skills together, he was able to turn the ground itself into a deadly weapon with a minimal cost of Spirit. It was why he thrived in Talon’s outer districts, where mostly all the ground was dirt.
But Justus had one advantage. Books didn’t know what skills Justus had. A desperate plan began to form in his mind.
The ground rumbled under him again. Justus spun to the side, avoiding a sharp pillar that would have impaled his gut. He landed against a wooden wall leading into the base. He activated his skill.
Decay:
Imbue your Spirit into an object to weaken its integrity dramatically.
Channel Skill
Time slowed as the opal guidestone in his pocket calculated the skill. Justus could choose how much Spirit he could pour into an object. The larger the area, the more Spirit it would take. There were a lot of other factors, but from practice it seemed the denser something was, the more Spirit it took to affect. Anything harder than a soft rock was nearly impossible to use the skill on. Old wood, however, was easy enough.
Justus increased the area, and his stone highlighted the wood, showing the influence of the skill as well as approximating how much Spirit it would take. Justus pushed until the area was just big enough for him to dive through. He activated the skill.
Time sped back up, and the wall glowed. The wood withered and cracked, decaying rapidly in the blink of an eye. Justus jumped just as the ground shook under him. The wood broke like damp paper, but something crashed into Justus’s leg, causing pain to erupt in his ankle.
Justus crashed into the base, splinters from the rough wooden floor digging into his bare arms as they scraped across the wood. He ignored the pain and twisted to get to his feet, wincing and stumbling back to the ground. He wasn’t sure if it was broken, and he didn’t have time to find out. He reached into his pocket just as a loud noise rang through the base.
Two pillars slammed into the wall, causing the wood to shatter. Books stepped through, sneering. His shoulder and arm were bloody where the last spikes had landed. Justus started to lift the spike.
There was no gloating or lecture. Books wasn’t that kind of person. He was careful and smart. He was also observant and had seen Justus use two skills. Or so he thought. Books wouldn’t guess that Justus had taken the time to learn a spell.
Just as he felt the ground shiver underneath, Justus aimed and activated his only other skill.
Blink:
Channel your Spirit to create a straight path. When activated, the space around you will be shifted to that location at near lightspeed, taking you with it.
Cooldown will be estimated before confirmation. You may take additional mass with you, but the cost of Spirit and resulting cooldown will increase.
Charge Skill
Current Charges 1/2
Charge Cooldown: 60 Seconds
Justus didn’t feel himself move. It felt like the world around him did. There was a flash of white, and something struck his outstretched hand hard. He felt his wrist snap and fell to the floor.
He scrambled back, ignoring the exploding pain in his wrist and ankle. Books stood tall above him. The man looked down, the large spike embedded deep into his empty eye socket. He fell, landing hard on top of Justus.
Pain erupted in his injured ankle from Books’s weight. Justus grabbed him and pulled his leg free, then pushed himself away. He gasped for breath, shaking from the adrenaline of the fight. Justus sat there, holding his wrist and catching his breath. The reality of what had just occurred settled on him.
Tears fell down his cheeks. It wasn’t just from the pain. Books was dead. Justus had killed him. It was what he had been trying to do for half his life, but he’d never really thought it would happen. He’d never considered what would come after. The others would kill him for this. Justus had to run. Hesitantly, he reached out, shaking the corpse as if Books were only asleep.
Even if he hated him, Books had taken Justus in. He’d given him a place to stay, a purpose. Books had killed his parents, and Justus hated him for it. Justus had a new reason to hate him. Books hadn’t just killed his parents; sometime during these past four cycles, he’d replaced them. Now there was nothing. For the first time, Justus was alone.
***
Red light flashed through his eyelids, stirring him as sensation returned. He sat up and brought a hand to his head. He winced at the touch, feeling a large cut across the back of his skull. The hair around it was damp, and his hands came away wet with blood. The nightmare was still fresh in his mind, a jumble of memories he wished he could get rid of. He shook the recollections away. He was used to nightmares; they didn’t hold him back as much as they once had. At least that’s what he told himself.
Justus took in his surroundings. He was at the bottom of the chamber lined with panels. Even at the bottom, the panels were uniform and unbroken. There was seemingly no way out. That was okay, though. Justus had ways of getting about.
Something was going on. The whole room was pulsing red from lights situated between the small panels. Around the room, the diamonds embedded in the center of those panels flashed. There seemed to be no pattern to it. Some pulsed rapidly, while others didn’t light up at all. A low, powerful hum filled the air. Justus looked up and saw the arcing had ceased around the strange hovering core in the center of the room, and the light no longer warped around it. It was simply a metallic sphere, suspended in the air amidst the red and white flashing.
A rush of panic washed through him as he remembered what had caused the disturbance. His guidestone was still up there. Justus reached for his Blink skill. The system overlay appeared, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He channeled the skill and Blinked onto the walkway some forty feet above.
The emerald stone was still embedded in the socket. Justus approached cautiously, looking over the mechanism it was attached to. He had no idea which button or switch would release the emerald stone. He didn’t even know if any would. His hand hovered over the large switch, then he lowered it. No risks. Not with his guidestone on the line. There had to be someway to—
“Is that yours?”
The voice was unfamiliar, feminine and bright, its tone not matching a dangerous situation like this. It came from beside him, right next to Justus’s ear.
Justus pushed himself away from the direction of the voice. He reached into his inventory and pulled out a dagger, holding it up defensively as he twirled to face the unknown threat. No one was there. He paused, feeling a moment of confusion.
“Where did you get that?”
Again, the voice came from the side, next to his right ear. Justus moved again, slashing the air this time. Again, there was no one.
“Show yourself,” Justus said. Whoever it was must have had some kind of stealth skill. Or maybe a voice projection skill? At that thought, Justus began scanning the room carefully, wondering where someone might be hiding.
“I’m right here. Haven’t moved.”
Once more, the voice came from his right. Slowly, Justus turned his head. Something was on his shoulder, glowing faint white. It was too close to make out, and he didn’t wait to examine it. He tossed his dagger to his left hand and slashed at the thing. It vanished into smoke, which traveled like a cloud through the air, hovering in front of Justus.
“Hey! Don’t do that; it feels weird!”
The cloud collapsed into itself, forming a silhouette of a tiny woman, barely a hand tall. It wore no clothing, but her misty form flowed like a dress around its edges. The features were sharp and beautiful, with eyes that shone slightly brighter than the rest of its body. There was something like hair cascading down its head, all the way to the waist, but it was more like a constant waterfall of smoke than hair.
Justus pointed his dagger at the creature.
“Who are you?” he asked. “Where did you come from?”
“I’m not sure… Who are you?” It repeated back, its tone much lighter, almost playful. “Where did you come from?”
Justus gripped his dagger tighter and sneered.
“Stop playing games. What do you want?”
The form shifted in the air. It brought its legs up to its chest and put a hand on its chin, as if deep in thought. The movement made it rotate in the air, as if the thing were floating in water.
“Hmm… I’m not sure what I want. But you wanted this thing, right?” It moved suddenly, gliding through the air like a bird without wings. The misty haze around its form billowed as it landed gracefully on the console, right next to where his stone was still captured.
“Get away from that!” Justus snapped. He stepped forward and slashed at the thing again. It yelped and became a cloud again, floating away from the console.
Whatever the thing was, Justus wanted nothing to do with it. He grabbed his guidestone and pulled. The socket held, but he could feel its grip on the stone slipping. With a grunt of effort, he pulled harder.
“Wait! You need to—” The tiny woman yelled but was interrupted by a flash of green and a loud cracking sound.
A burst of raw Spirit exploded from the guidestone, sending Justus tumbling back. Red boxes flashed in his vision—system alerts. He landed on the catwalk’s hard grated metal, the serrated gripping digging into his skin painfully. If he wasn’t Jade, it probably would have cut into him.
He pushed himself up and brought up his fist, the guidestone still clutched tight between his fingers. With a sinking feeling in his gut, he opened his fist and looked at the stone. There was a large crack in the green crystal, with silver-white Spirit smoking out.
Justus fell back to his knees, staring at the broken guidestone. He reached out to the system, but not even an error message filled his vision. Could the guild fix it? Maybe Quintus had something that would put it back together or lead him to someone who could? But Quintus was a kingdom away, and the stone was leaking power. If it ran out, then it would be nothing more than a gemstone. Worthless. Everything stored in its system memory would be gone forever. Whatever Boris had left would vanish, if it hadn’t already.
“Oh no… that’s not good, is it?” The creature said, zipping through the air to look at the stone.
He ignored the creature. All he could do was stare in shock at the emerald. It was gone. There was nothing he could do. Only incredibly powerful Spirit Artists could repair guidestones, and the costs were often nearly as much as buying a new one. For an emerald guidestone, that would mean more money than Justus had earned in his lifetime. Tears of anger and frustration stung his eyes. For all these cycles he’d kept it safe, only to lose it like this? He slammed his fist down onto the metal and cursed. His Jade skin protected him, but he punched the ground over and over until the sharp sting of pain dragged across his knuckles.
A white cloud floated near his hand that gripped the stone, hovering across his fist. The misty cloud flowed between his fingers and across the stone. Justus turned his hand over and opened it just as the cloud disappeared inside. Before he could take his anger out on the creature for touching the stone, a light began to glow inside the deep green of the emerald.
The light was dim but grew bright around the edges of the crack. Jestus’s eyes grew wide as he watched the crystal begin to grow, filling in the crack until the guidestone looked as flawless as before. The light faded, and the cloud seeped out of the stone, condensing back into the form of the woman. Her form was noticeably dimmer, a dull gray.
“Did that work?” She asked, her voice small and frail.
Before he could find words, the woman faltered, and she fell back like a leaf drifting to the ground. Justus reached out and caught her in his hand.
“Who are you?” He asked again.
“I’m… tired.” She yawned and curled up in his hand as if to go to sleep. “Goodnight.”
Her form melted into fog, which seeped into Justus’s hand. His eyes widened, and he shook his hand. As grateful as he was, he wasn’t so careless as to let an unknown Spirit into his body.
Where the woman had sunk into him, a warm sensation spread through him, diffusing across his body and Spirit. Justus almost pushed back with his Spirit, but he paused. He felt… good. Revitalized and alert, and filled with a sense of… something. It was a pleasant and gentle feeling. Still, it unnerved him. His Spirit should have reacted instinctually to get rid of the invader, but instead it had accepted the woman into itself, as if she were his own Spirit. That shouldn’t have been possible. No Spirit beast, or even Spirit Artist, could trick someone’s Spirit like that. Even healing skills had to push against someone’s Spirit. That was why Simon’s skill had drained him so much more when he’d healed Katherine.
Justus wasn’t comfortable with the situation, but he looked back at his stone. He reached out, and his system menu appeared. He looked over its status, making sure everything was in order. It was precisely how it had been, Boris’s profile present and secure, though still locked away behind a passcode. Relief flooded through him.
Caution warred with his gratitude. Justus didn’t like being indebted to anyone, even a stranger. He wouldn’t repay her by pushing her out and potentially hurting her. He had a feeling that fixing his guidestone had nearly killed her.
Justus stood and contemplated what to do next. Whatever his guidestone had done to the ship seemed to have restored the power. There was no telling how long he’d been unconscious for. He hoped Katherine and Simon had stayed put like he’d said, and he doubly hoped they hadn’t touched anything just because the power was back on. This place had been dangerous enough without power.
This room was definitely some sort of power core for the ship. If there was a way to turn it on, then maybe there was a way to turn it off. He looked from the exit to the core, debating if it was worth turning off the power. How would he even do that? There was no way in hell he’d put his stone back into that socket after what happened last time. As he pondered, a screen appeared in front of him.
System Connection Secure
Request Authorized
Access Granted
Interface Incompatible; Generating New Interface
Complete
The box of text blinked a few times, then was replaced with a new menu he’d never seen before. It looked like a System menu, but it wasn’t one he’d ever seen before. There were configurations and settings that made no sense to him. It didn’t take long to figure out what it was. This was a System menu for the entire ship.
Justus cursed under his breath. If his guidestone system was infected with some sort of Lost Age program, then it would be confiscated and destroyed the second it connected to the Guild System. This was different than the data he collected on Earth: those were just information files in a secure databank. This was an entirely new subprogram that would show up like a beacon during a scan.
Taking care of that would have to come later. For now, he was stuck with this new menu, so he might as well use it. He scanned the contents. There were hundreds of different submenus, ranging from mundane things like ventilation to things he didn’t even begin to understand.
It was quickly clear that the ship was on some kind of lockdown. Worse, the defense systems had been triggered somewhere on the ship, and Justus had a good guess where. Simon and Katherine were in trouble. If Justus couldn’t find a way to shut the defense systems off, then this place would likely become their tomb, and his.
How will the gang escape the ship?
