It was time for evening cultivation; the squad and I moved from our academic lesson, still bickering, all the way to the training yard. We parked ourselves down and sat next to each other in rows. We were usually indoors for this training, but for whatever reason, we had to do it outside this time.
The entirety of barracks 7 sat down in the open field, all of us facing our supreme cultivation instructor, Kael. I had to suppress the urge to walk up to the man, punch him and demand an explanation for what the hell he was doing here. But that could wait until after I gave my decision to the Tiernans.
I sat near the back with my squad. The evening air carried a faint warmth from both the sun and the ambient Ether cycling through twenty people at once. The breathing produced a heat that had nothing to do with temperature, but felt warm all the same.
I closed my eyes and opened the interface, focusing on the 'Fractured Anamnesis'.
[FRACTURED ANAMNESIS — AVAILABLE]
[MODE SELECT:]
[■ HAND-TO-HAND COMBAT — AVAILABLE]
[■ MECH VARIANT — LOCKED. AWAITING FIRMWARE INSTALLATION.]
[INITIATE? Y/N]
The mech mode is greyed out, huh? Seems like I'll have to wait until the end of the week before I can start those up.
I selected hand-to-hand and mentally selected Y.
The training yard faded away from around me, reality blurring at the edges until all that remained was copper.
It was sharp, metallic, and thick enough to coat my teeth and the back of my throat. From the periphery of my blackened vision, there was light that carried a warm tint, amber at the edges, and deepened towards rust where the echo stood waiting.
He was taller, larger, yet he still possessed my face. His weight sat centred, his feet placed with a relaxed readiness that I lacked. His guard was up, loose and easy, hands at the right height, elbows tucked, shoulders level. Everything perfectly aligned.
He looks almost like how Father did during his deployments.
[FRACTURED ANAMNESIS — INITIATED]
[PROJECTED LEVEL: 25]
[PROJECTED GRADE: A-GRADE]
[DURATION: UNTIL DEFEAT OR VICTORY]
A-Grade? What?!
He came at me quick, almost as fast as Jin in the midst of her burst activation. The echo halted its momentum with a singular step around about a meter ahead of me and settled into a familiar stance, Rotation 4.
The hell—
It started with a wide swing, and I prepared myself for the direct counter I'd been perfecting for months. I lowered my centre of gravity and moved myself just below the trajectory of the swing. Then it changed.
The wide strike followed through, and the next thing I knew, the echo carried the momentum of the swing into a wide kick that slammed into my side, knocking me completely off balance and sending me sprawling to the floor.
It can manually switch between rotations and a formless style? What the fuck is this thing?!
The echo didn't relent and leapt towards me, bringing down a foot that slammed into the ethereal arena. I felt the rumble of the ground as I barely rolled away in time. I quickly pushed myself to my feet and reset my stance, ready for its next strike, and before I could even register an attack, I felt the sting of a punch envelop my face as I stumbled backwards.
I threw up my guard once again just in time as the echo threw out a combination of jabs, straights and hooks that left my arms numb and burning.
Is he using Ether to empower his strikes? Shit, he even has skills!
My arms tingled with the familiar sensation that only Ether brought.
Maybe I can—.
My thoughts were once more cut short as a fist connected with my ribs. The phantom impact of Ether layered over blunt force trauma, sharp meeting dull. I stumbled back, and he pressed, flowing through combinations I recognised.
The copper deepened with every exchange. The amber tint had darkened to saturated rust. Everything carried it — the echo's skin, my own hands, the light itself.
I fought on the back foot for what felt like an eternity, getting bullied left, right and centre, unable to land a single blow as my echo tore apart everything I threw against it. It seemed to read every counter, every feint and every strike I pushed out as if it were psychic.
It even used rotations beyond anything I'd ever witnessed so far, from the prep-academy to the exhibition. The cycle timings were so ridiculously short that I didn't even have time to comprehend where one rotation started and where another ended.
It was a complete and utter decimation that all ended with a single haymaker that shimmered with Etheric might. I barely threw my arms up in time to catch the blow, but the Ether rebound that came was far beyond any strike I'd ever experienced.
I hit the ground. The copper crashed through me. My skin buzzed, and pressure threatened to burst my head open.
I raised my hand.
[FRACTURED ANAMNESIS — SESSION COMPLETE]
[DURATION: 42 SECONDS]
[XP GAINED: 42]
[CONNECTION POINTS GAINED: 7]
[CONNECTION THRESHOLD: 5.92%]
The training yard swam back into reality. The packed dirt and evening air hit me almost as hard as the echo.
My ribs ached, the exhibition's damage and a new phantom pain layered together, old bruises and copper sharing the same tissue.
I just got torn apart, right… Well, at least it gives me a goal to move towards. But seriously, that was ridiculous.
I sucked in deep breaths of air as I tried to process what just happened to me.
So let's think this through. He can use rotations and can fight without them. It's a lot like how Lydia used to fight. Alright, let's go into the next rounds knowing what he can do. I should get used to his movements, eventually.
I sighed and started the process again, sinking deep back into Fractured Anamnesis.
—
—
—
Soon enough, cultivation practice was over, and I managed three separate rounds against my echo. All of them ended in the same total domination, and I felt no closer to beating the thing. But I did get close to reaching level 18.
This 'A-Grade' Marcus is a monster. Is that what I would have been like if I were to test A-Grade? Shit, that's a bit disheartening.
"Practice is over, go get your evening chow and get ready for lights out, recruits. Tomorrow you're getting put into the simulations. Get plenty of rest, you're going to need it."
I stood from my seat along with the rest of my squad. The evening sun was now low, casting long shadows across the concrete pathways.
"Ready, guys? I'm starving." I said.
"Sure am, let's go get some delicious depression paste," Tomás answered.
But before I was about to retort with some funny and witty remark, I caught Osei beckoning me over.
"Osei is giving you the eyes, Marcus," Sato said.
"I ship it," Jin cut in.
"Give me a moment with Osei, I'll catch up with you at the mess hall."
I headed off towards Osei, leaving the rest of my squad to go to the mess hall. I stopped just before him as the rest of the barracks funnelled off for dinner.
"Tiernan."
"Osei."
"You've had time."
"Time for what?"
"Don't play dumb, you know what." Osei said, "I'm filing the independent platoon proposal at the end of the week. Fourteen of mine, eight of yours. My coordination on the macro, your squad on the micro." He looked at me. "I need your answer by Friday."
"You said it was an alliance."
"It is."
I stared at him for a long time before speaking, "My squad is going to want specifics on what that looks like in practice."
"Then bring them. I'll answer whatever they need answered." He paused. "But the proposal has a deadline, Tiernan. Platoon assignments are soon, and I will file with or without your squad. "
"Alright, just give me until after dinner."
He nodded and walked away.
After the brief talk, I headed off for the mess hall to reconvene with the team. I found them already sitting down at our usual spot. I stepped into line, got my food and sat down next to them.
"So?" Tomás asked.
"Osei's filing the independent platoon proposal. He needs an answer by Friday."
"He's actually going through with it?" Tomás said. "I wondered if the post-exhibition shuffle would change his plans."
"We— stay together?" Sato said, "Together, ape strong"
"All of us. Full squad, plus Osei's fourteen." I said, chuckling.
"What's the command structure?" Tomás asked.
"His coordination handles the macro, large-scale positioning, force distribution, and strategic objectives. We handle the micro, how we fight within those positions, internal squad tactics, engagement decisions."
"Define 'handles macro,'" Jin said, crossing her arms. "It's supposed to be an alliance, right? And alliances have equal standing. Macro coordination sounds like a chain of command."
"The macro calls are positioning and distribution. Where we go, how the platoon deploys. The micro calls are ours — what we do when we arrive, how we engage, our internal tactics. At least that's how I think it will work, or how we will make it work."
"And if we think the traffic direction is wrong?" Hsu said.
"She's right," Tomás said. He set his pencil down. "What if there is a fundamental disagreement between Osei and us? Will there be something in place to mitigate that? Will it come down to a vote? Can we even do something like that in the midst of combat?"
"Osei's deviation gives his network something we can't replicate," I said. "We either accept that gap and work within it, or we take standard platoon assignments, and the squad might get scattered."
"Those are the options?" Jin asked.
"Those are the options."
"I'd rather operate within a squad I trust than at full efficiency with strangers," Tomás said.
"Same," Park said.
"If it keeps us together," Sato said.
"Ren?"
"Yes."
"Andrew?"
He looked up from his paste. "Will they have better food?"
"Probably not."
"Still yes."
"Hsu?"
She looked at Jin, then at me. "Sure, whatever. Sounds good."
"Jin?"
"I want a condition," she said. "If Osei's macro call puts our squad in a position we collectively assess as wrong, we have the autonomy to override. As a squad."
"I'll raise it with him."
"As a requirement, Marcus."
"Arlight, it's settled. I'll tell Osei tomorrow," I said.
Iterational Index: 5
Shadows on the wall.
The flame asks nothing of them.
Turn, or remain still.