Taslin's back was tense. He was staring at a white marble statue of Nero who came to be known as the gentle mother. Beautiful and stately. A Lightbearer. Dressed in a black toga and red sash over her slim, curvy body. The hair on her head was pulled in a tight bun. Her nose and face spoke of a profound Indian heritage but greatly noble she was even in the moment in the white marble garden. Taslin had read her biography. Here and now, she stood in stone. A bluebird was looking out of place and also feeling it from where it sat on her left shoulder.
It took a special sense of self to commit war crimes and act honourable like the Lightbearers did. They were all remembered as heroes. Taslin stood for a while before pocketing his hands with a sigh and saying. "History is full of pleasant lies." for he knew the Lightbearers were more than noble. They were Machiavellian and fixed on a goal that never came to be. Whatever that was. He would never know.
The hostel was a sight to behold with its marble walls and floors. Taslin calmly acknowledged the aesthetics but moved on quickly. The competition was fierce and had already begun. The next stage of human evolution was monsters. People becoming near monsters was always the natural progression. Most were too busy making friends to realise their friends may not leave Elzar with them. Taslin entered his room and opened his bag and removed his books, beddings and other belongings. He needed to sleep but decided to journal quickly, his first entry was on his newly acquired Intel on each future opponent. His work had already started.
***
"Magic is the manipulation of elements in reality," High Councilor Prateron said. The pale tall man was the High Councilor of Reola and hard to please. "Most of you in this class will never join the Trinity. You may never be an Admon to the Admonistrium. You may never be a Councilor to the High Council or even serve as a Kaatar-Imperator and most of you don't have the will it takes to join the Sun temple's faith." Prateron said, as he paced in his dark suit and overcoat, his dark curls falling in front of his eyes. A Kaatar-Imperator wasn't just a general, it is a new type of human. Each possessing a unique set of skills and power. The sun temple was for the religious zealots of Reola. The state religion was built around the Sun Emperor and his benevolence. Taslin believed them to be overly self indulgent and a secretive cult that believed that the Sun-Emperor was a deity. To Taslin, he was their ruler. Taslin served the Sun. The Sun-Emperor, like them all, was its Envoy.
"Most of you will die before the school year ends," High Councilor Prateron said, eliciting a gasp from the classroom of thirty students. "It is the truth." said High Councilor Prateron calmly after the noise had subsided. His stare was very pensive, two sapphire eyes burning with intensity.
"As if, it is all rumours" Lucius said. He was resting his arms behind his head and slouching. His blonde hair combed backwards as he flashed a grin of pearly whites. Taslin quietly watched all this unfold from the backseat. Taslin loved the back seats; it wasn't a place for overachievers but it allowed him an unobstructed view of everyone within the classroom.
"What is your name, young man?" High Councilor Prateron asked. He was intrigued by the boy's bold attitude. He knew of the Satin house and regarded the blond man seated at the middle row of the classroom from the podium. "Lucius Satin, sir" he replied, as he sat upright. His Navy uniform creased around his torso.
"Why do you disagree?" High Councilor Prateron said.
"I just don't believe it is that bleak. We will be trained and prepared." Lucius said. Silence stretched for a moment in the classroom before it was broken.
"The Atmos tournament is never easy," High Councilor Prateron said. His words solemn. He understood them, he was in charge of turning this class into Kaatar-Imperator or at least potential Admons or Councilors but they were unprepared mentally. Yet he could sense something different about Lucius. The boy was different, he had a carefree attitude towards everything but knew what lay ahead. He could be talented. Most were but incredibly dull and slow, Lucius appeared sharp and fast.
"We are obviously going to be trained in every mage and martial act, Lucius—our Vosla training would be quite different from what I hear though, but that doesn't mean it will be easy," Nephla Zord said. While she eased into her seat at the front. Her hair as white as snow with olive skin and grey eyes. Thighs fighting to stay within the confines of her skirt. She had no other choice but to be perfect. Her grey eyes were as striking as yesterday when Taslin saw her.
"How strong is your will to power?" High Councilor Prateron asked, with a smile which quickly vanished as he continued. "Humanity stumbled in the dark for so long. We could never have known that we would ever leave the Old Earth. Our society is so fragile and yet layered. Most cultures throughout history did not condone violence and wars because it signaled an inflection point. But there was and always will be war. Imagine how the history of our species should have been—what do you mean you may ask? Think about it, from the earliest days Humanity began to fight for new lands and horizons as you will find were never enough to satisfy our ambitions. The end of one great war did not announce an end to all wars. Laws and frontiers did nothing to separate us from our nature. And like an itch, war was always waiting inside us. No matter how hard we tried to bury it, to delay it—war just fought with anger to get out. It always got out and the result was always gore and progress—at least for the victors." High Councilor Prateron said, as he walked down the stairs of the podium and went to stand in front of Nephla Zord as she squirmed in her seat, he regarded her then the rest of the class. Zet Vassar—a handsome brown-haired boy with a hard jaw exchanged glances with a friend.
"This is the roar, the reality. And through trial and error we came upon the inkling of our own salvation. A sign albeit small. At least there was hope. A torch to light the way. But we also found something along with the inkling. The clues of our own destruction, there were many sacrifices. Before Reola emerged like a beast from its dark home. The will to power or at least the will had always existed, but it wasn't focused. Humanity was trapped in a loop, an inescapable circle filled with hate, hunger, hot metal and endless conflict and pointless cruelty that altered our way of life forever and nearly killed the Old Earth. And while our existence revealed few answers to us, it was more than ready to beset us with new questions. There has always been one harmonizing force that brought all of us in Humanity's history together. Whether it be a speech or cry that would always draw us together against the arrival of a common enemy. Almost ironic isn't it" Prateron said, while shaking his head. "Humanity who had splintered off into different cultures and faiths, who had called one sliver of land, home. A home that they would kill to protect—were united, if only for the briefest moment against a great adversary they all shared. They were united in their need to survive and as they fought together, they stumbled together into peace. We had reached that point of integration where the parts that make up the whole vanished and over time we looked up from the wars within ourselves and from the sands and from the loops we created for ourselves to the…stars. It was a new point in history, Humanity was now united towards a quite ambitious cause. We had realised that our planet—the Old Earth was now too small for us. But unlike the Former King of Macedonia, Alexander the Great, we Reolans didn't lament. So, we sought other worlds, worlds where we were able to escape our addiction to destruction, worlds that satisfied our desire for more—sparing the Old Earth of our wrath." High Councilor Prateron said. The High Councilor seemed to allow his monologue to hang over the classroom before another student filled the silence.
Zet Vassar raised his right hand to make an assessment. "That is a very romanticised version of Reolan history." he said, apparently not under the spell. The class was swallowed by murmuring and gossip almost immediately. Taslin stayed quiet.
Calmly, Taslin observed Zet from where he sat. The Noble had the power to command flames. Fire generation was rare but so was apportation, Zet had been born blessed. Apportation was an ability that saved five million people two decades ago. Taslin had read the news, Kaatar-Imperator Tallis had performed the feat in Tweston. The city was on the brink of collision with an asteroid that managed to evade planetary barriers and headed straight for Reola. Its trajectory was to terminate at Tweston, ground artillery could have fired at it but it would only transform a huge threat into an uncontrollable rain of metallic rocks. There was no time to evacuate the city, it was a feat born from desperation. Kaatar-Imperator Tallis said so himself that he didn't believe it would work. It was a twist of fate. The only thing he was sure of was that he too would perish with the people of Tweston, a small price to pay if he failed. He had intercepted the asteroid and sent it into the Ocannis sea. Saving the city couldn't have been possible without a lot of factors that were so far from each other in possibility.
Taslin had always turned on it in his mind, Kaatar-Imperator Tallis wasn't even aware he could perform apportation, he had been a Kaatar-Imperator for years serving the Sun Emperor. But the mystery of how the asteroid had managed to evade Reola's defenses coupled with the orbital shields enveloping Reola built by brilliant engineers and even the foresight of the Sun Temple not foreseeing such a tragedy had shaken the Reolan Empire. Statisticians had only one hypothesis, humanity was not alone in the cosmos. There was intelligent life, like us.
Apportation was extremely hard to pull off and Zet knew how to do it, the skill didn't happen naturally in just anyone and wasn't hereditary as well. Taslin wasn't sure how to counter it. He made a mental note to research on how to stomp it. All Taslin knew is that the potential for the skill was rare. A father could have it but a son may not. It could vanish off a family map for six generations and appear twice in the lineage and vanish once more. A true random symptom of the evolution of science and magic in human eugenics.
"What is your praenomen?" High Councilor Prateron asked.
"Zet." he said.
"History is nothing but lies. Order and chaos are both expensive. It isn't always about right, Zet. Recall from our history, being right didn't shepherd humanity out of the Old Earth." High Councilor Prateron said. "It was a cluster of like-minded individuals that didn't share the sentimental attachment with the others."
"I see," Zet Vassar said. High Councilor Prateron just watched Zet for a while before continuing.
"Will is the fuel of augmentation. It is the conscious and determined effort to produce tangible outcomes. It embodies a person's inner drive and commitment to act according to their deepest convictions, despite challenges or obstacles. The will is the force that bridges the gap between intention and manifestation. It's the resolute intention to align one's actions with their vision and overlay that vision into reality." High Councilor Prateron said, as he continued walking to the back of the classroom till he reached Taslin's desk. Taslin exhaled, feeling the High Councilor's gravitas and presence, after steadying his breathing, he remained calm and collected.
"Magic, on the other hand, generally refers to the manipulation of our augments to achieve desired effects, often in ways that defy natural laws." High Councilor Prateron said. And with just a finger and the slight flare of his blue eyes. Stabbed his finger through the wall. Taslin regarded him. The walls were solid granite and concrete.
"Yet none of this means we are untouchable. Along the tapestry of the Sun temple, our war cry and call to victory is just two words—Reolo Imperio—that we are the flames that will burn away the darkness. But flames require something to burn. What will we be, when there is no more darkness to burn?" High Councilor Prateron said, as he stood between Taslin's desk and the desk of a girl—Bluries Chinti. Taslin didn't know her even even though she sat beside him at the back. High Councilor Prateron was enjoying the mental stimulation that came from engaging an eager audience.
"It interesting because fire is the most divine form of elemental expression. It appears from nowhere. Entropy born out of nothing but friction. If you asked me, I believe that the nature of fire is closer to creation than the rest of the other elements which simply uses what is there. Sadly I wasn't born with that ability. I was born with the strength augment but I can always dream. That is by the way but I believe our ingenuity allowed humanity to leave the Old Earth in metallic components of engineering called rockets for the stars but it didn't build us up to where we are. Diseases, statecraft, power and even colonization of other planets only had our will to rely on. No augments. Don't forget the foundations. The game is played not with a switch but a dial. Class dismissed" High Councilor Prateron said, as he left his place at the back and moved to the front. Taslin stood. High Councilor Prateron wasn't going to lecture them again for the school year and the next time they would see him was at the Atmos tournament. Today were introductions to the term. The main class was where Taslin was headed—Practical Paranormal warfare with Rebecca Varrich.
***
Taslin made his way about the grand halls of the academy, he was heading for the Marghot. The place where their Practical Paranormal warfare classes would be held. He had with him his star-dev rifle, slung over his shoulder. Taslin was humming a tune along the wind with his hands in his pockets. A smile on his face. He came upon a garden roundabout of orange Arrianas with a barefoot white marble statue of Kaatar-Imperator Nero, a slim Indian woman with a sleek-tight bun and the most calming smile, clothed modestly only in her black toga and red sash over a feminine body that inspired lust even though it was stone not her flesh. She had been one of the Lightbearers. To his left, was a corridor with a brown haired student of European descent, probably the first son to a rich off world magistratus, hunched over a younger student that bore the same resemblance in ancestry. The brown haired student was repeatedly punching the other one beneath him in the face with his right hand and holding on to the neck with his left. Behind him were three other of his friends, more like evil henchmen. All handsome, beastly, and crooked despite being dressed in their academy livery. Taslin's smile didn't phase at all. In fact it grew. He would stay objective. Many times people want to believe that brutality was a thing of the past but it was always there, always waiting to show itself. Taslin turned and stared forward. Then he heard the boy cry out to him.
"Help!"
Before a wet sound came after a punch silenced the boy's cry. Taslin just stood. Waiting. He did not turn.
"Keep walking." the bully called out.
Taslin wondered. He had to stay objective. But how could he? It was easy to be objective when napalm wasn't being dropped on your head. When you weren't the one cycling in and out of consciousness beneath a man that would kill you if the law allowed it. When you were millions of kilometers away from the nightmare that was war. Taslin was still smiling. Most times he couldn't afford to care. "Not my circus. Not my monkeys."
"What was that?!" One of them yelled out as he stomped his way to Taslin's back. He went to his knees once he grabbed Taslin's right shoulder. Apparently he didn't see the blow to his neck. The bully rose from his victim. "Salutations, Taslin."
"Salutations, Zet."
They stared at each other. Zet and Taslin crossed paths. Their aura fields sparked at each other, threatening to ignite and engulf the very room they stood.
"What is this?" Zet asked.
"Call it the geometry of fate," Taslin replied. It appeared that Zet was the reason Taslin was starting to believe in things like fate.
"What now?" Zet spat. Itching for a fight but cautious.
"I need to take him to the clinic," Taslin said, pointing.
Zet frowned and snapped his finger and his crowd of yes men carried their colleague from the ground. "This isn't over,"
"It is. Oh, and Zet," Taslin said with a smile, when Zet turned. "Walk faster when you see me,"
***
Taslin watched the young man on the medical bed for some minutes in silence. Before he spoke to the boy who he now learned was named Kipling. "So you stood up to Zet. Best to get strong before making plays like that. In our world, weak things become meat and strong things eat that meat." He stepped out of the clinic, leaving Kipling to contemplate his place in the hierarchy. Taslin was walking when he came across a tall handsome man in a black suit and even blacker trenchcoat. He looked Caucasian. His jaw was squared. His eyes were a spectrum of deep blues. His black hair sleeked back over his head to reveal a strong hairline. His skin was palely radiant and his smile was hypnotic. "You did the right thing."
"You were there?" Taslin asked.
"Yes," the man said.
"Why didn't you do the right thing?" Taslin asked calmly. Eager to know.
"I just didn't, that is life. Those that fail to fight, die. Those that surrender are bound with chains. If they are lucky they are brought before a court, to accept whatever judgement for war crimes that both sides committed. If that doesn't happen. They are thrown into the arena of a circus, before a screaming crowd of men and women eating cake-breads and told to kill each other…"
"Who are you?"
"It isn't important, you have a class and I have delayed you enough. You may go now,"
Taslin nodded and began to walk. The strange man walked in the opposite direction but Taslin turned to look at the man one last time before he went into the office of High Councilor Prateron. Still wondering who he was.
***
Prateron was sitting before a desk of smooth and jagged iron in a well-lit room, the desk faced the entrance, with a bookshelf to his right, large windows to his left and a grand portrait of the Reolan star system behind him along with the red Reolan flag with it's golden design. There were statues everywhere depicting naked women of different human races, slim and the closest thing to perfection in the room all in different seductive poses. They were life-like with prominent facial development and full lips. Almost pornographic despite being aesthetic. Their nakedness was another, the curves of their waist to the hairs on their privates, to the nipples of their breasts appeared soft and inviting as though they were just women who decided to stand still. He was dressed in a black suit and was typing with mechanical accuracy on a keyboard and writing in a notebook. The door came open and the stranger walked in. Prateron rose calmly and walked from behind his large metallic desk, past the shelves adorned with accolades and trophies and skulls of alien and xeno life he had gained over the years. Prateron moved into the cone of reverence that the stranger exuded and bowed deeply at his waist. With his face opposite the ground and his arms tensed at his side. "All Hail the Sun Emperor."