The ashes of the past was a popular movement spread by the public.
The movement was an act of preservation toward what they had lost toward the beginning of the shift.
Individuals who had lost their loved ones and placed those they cherished into the depths of the incinerator, weren't always able to let go of the past so easily.
Some people leaped into the flames themselves or used one of their hands to gather as much ash as they could.
These brave members of the public nonetheless were burned by the endless flame and weren't left the same.
Ivory sat in a generic black dress while staring with an empty expression toward the crowd.
Her lips trembled and her eyes had been puffy from how she had been crying the other night.
She laid on the floor at some moments of the night in the inn while looking toward the ceiling.
In short it was a night spun from hell.
Ronan sat next to her. He didn't bother to change out of his jarring cloak and mask.
This didn't surprise her however.
The mysterious man never took it off despite the occasion.
His outfit wasn't some kind of cosplay or costume but a statement to society was her theory.
What that statement was is still up for interpretation.
The people around her all murmured and chatted about the incident.
Iris says to Byron in a hushed whisper, "Kian severed the rope and… well Vincent cracked his head open."
Byron matches her tone, "Shit. I haven't seen Kian. Where is he?"
Iris shrugs, "No clue but when I saw him yesterday… let's just say he was out of it."
Ivory could make out what Byron and Iris had been talking about.
After the incident, Kian hadn't shown his face.
Maybe he thought it would be disrespectful to arrive at a funeral of a man he murdered?
The cold man was at least sensible.
The chats all simmered down within the clap of a hand.
Ivory could hear the fans on the roof of the underground city working to insulate the facility from the sudden eerie quietness.
How quickly could someone be proven wrong?
Kian strode into the funeral wearing a basic black suit, a white dress shirt, and a pair of black pants.
He had mismatched socks and most of his clothes were unironed, giving off an overall disorganized demeanor..
The messiness of his style screamed to everyone around him that he didn't care about killing an innocent person.
Ivory let the thought sit in her mind for a moment.
Multiple other questions quickly entered her mind upon seeing who was behind Kian.
An old man with a bald head, olive skin, and tired brown eyes walked behind him, weakly holding onto him with his bandaged arm.
He wore an ironed white dress shirt and a pair of grey pants.
That was a step up from Kian but the old man didn't wear a suit.
He laughed loudly despite his tiredness.
The old man says, "Oh Kian. You know how to make me laugh don't you? Why don't you come sit with me at the front…"
Kian grits his teeth and guides the old man to the front of the aisle.
Ivory looked toward the old man's free hand and noticed an urn.
Wait, was this a relative of Vincent? The urn… did that contain Vincent's remains?
How was the old man able to retrieve his remains?
The old man exclaims loudly, "Oh what a momentous occasion. You have so many friends, Kian."
Kian mutters under his breath, keeping his hands in his pockets. He sinks down onto the seat next to the old man with dissatisfaction.
What was Vincent's relative's relationship with Kian?
Had they been closer than Ivory imagined?
Kian says politely but with obvious signs of disinterest, "Ray… this is a funeral for Vincent. Your grandson."
Ray laughs, "Yeah, burned to ashes right? You're pulling my leg."
Kian doesn't utter another word.
The members of the crowd sat silently for several minutes before each of them had gotten up to leave.
Ronan got up to leave and waved bye to Ivory.
Ivory mimicked the gesture and after he had left. She let out a long sigh.
How unfortunate..
So many were gathered to be here for someone who could never be seen again.
Not even in the frame of a family portrait.
The shift had made creation practically impossible and that involved taking pictures.
Funerals had evolved into small gatherings to remember the deceased similar to the event preceding a funeral or a wake.
How long people would remember a deceased person was another good question.
Often you would notice in this world how quickly people liked to move on.
This young man was erased from existence.
There was nothing else to do about it.
In fact, an exercise for today was structured to happen after everyone attended the funeral.
Didn't Lyra have a heart? Couldn't they have had a day off to process their emotions revolving around Vincent's death?
If Ivory hadn't thought about it too deeply, she would have thought in the same way as everybody else.
This act was clearly strategic. The older woman had wanted to normalize the idea of death to them so it wouldn't hold them back on the field.
She allowed everyone to attend the funeral as an act of respect first and second a preservation of their humanity.
Ivory rises from her seat.
This world was full of subliminal messages for those that read between the lines.
The old man laughed loudly while Kian rose from his seat, holding onto the old man's hand, guiding him away.
The old man clearly had a case of Irregularity. A mental illness she was quite familiar with and was quite common during this age.
The brain tries to protect itself thoroughly by focusing on pleasure and locking out any ideas that would generate discomfort in the body.
Hedonism had in turn begun to rule the world through the spread of Irregularity.
The more she thought about it. Hedonism always played a part in this world's development.
Ivory wandered from where the funeral had taken place to a familiar muddy terrain she had "loved" to visit.
Upon being instructed to do so, everyone arrived directly after the funeral and didn't waste any time heading home.
Besides Kian, whatever was going on with him…
Everyone gathered together around Lyra. She was waiting for everyone to arrive before she made her announcement.
Lyra held onto the collar of her military uniform with a small black mic attached to it.
Lyra scratches her chin, "We're missing a few… Doesn't matter. I'll let them into room 101 after I get an alert that they're waiting from below."
Iris says with disgust, "Lyra… can we change? I don't want to fight in heels and in this black and white dress…"
The thought completely left her head.
The tournament started today.
She had so much on her mind recently that the thought walked right out the door after Vincent died.
Today would be the day in which everyone would be able to test out their skills against another sunburn user in a new subsequent room 101.
Lyra sighs, "Yes, you will have time to change. There are locker rooms for that…"
Lyra says, "Now where was I? Yes, the tournament starts today. You will all go one by one against an opponent from the roster I have curated for each of you. This will be a great time to gain combat experience."
Byron interjects, "How do you think this will go… In the last exercise, a sunburn user died."
Lyra raises her voice, "Quite interrupting me you brats! I'm getting to that."
Lyra scrunches her eyebrows, "You will be given a special suit to both absorb force and calculate the values of the hits you're pummeling onto each other. If one of the suits reaches a score of 10,000, you will automatically be considered incapacitated. This concept simulates a real battle."
Byron asks, "In other words if we reach 10,000 points we lose?"
Lyra nods her head in agreement while fidgeting with her glass display.
A light bulb almost appears in front of Lyra's head.
Lyra says, "It's important to realize that the backpacks you used last time and the suit are one and the same. The backpack after its slung over your shoulders can be worn over your clothing and activated with the press of a button."
The term backpack had created a ripple of anxiety that spread throughout the crowd.
Ivory herself didn't like the idea of using the bag that failed to protect Vincent.
Lyra shakes her head from the sudden fear erupting from a mention of the backpack, "Enough chatting. I'd say it's about time we go."
Everyone immediately got transported into multiple locker rooms placed outside of the main arena.
Each of the lockers were given a digital name tag for each of the participants.
Ivory walked in circles attempting to find her locker and eventually found it in the corner of the room.
She pulled the handle of the compartment and opened it. She stopped in place however and gazed toward the backpack.
The young woman had almost closed the door instantly out of her own discomfort.
This was the device that couldn't save Vincent.
How would it be able to protect any of them?
She retrieved the backpack with shaky hands and slung it around her black dress.
The bag was cute but how would it turn into a suit?
Ivory looked toward the mirror and noticed a small circular button placed toward the side of the orange and white backpack.
She pressed the button quickly as the backpack elongated and wrapped around her.
The bag transformed into a white and orange light mechanical suit.
Ivory felt utter amazement from seeing this piece of machinery.
Ivory mutters under her breath, "Wow."
She strikes one of the ridiculous poses the Ambassador would act out in one of the poster's in her old room.
The faceless would take one step forward, preparing to sprint, and arrogantly left an open guard.
Iris puts a hand toward her shoulder at that moment causing her to jump.
Iris says, "Hey Ivory, having fun?"
Ivory flushes and freezes in place, "Yeah.."
Iris stood next to her in the same white and orange suit but she wasn't half as amazed as her.
She had played it cool, something the young woman wished she had done.
Iris stares toward the mirror and copies Ivory's awkward pose.
Ivory puts a hand toward her face, "Stop."
Iris laughs, "You'll get used to all of this."
The two of them walked out of the locker room and took a few seconds to analyze their surroundings.
In the path toward the arena there were large rectangular white and black led lights floating on the ceiling.
The lights had reminded Ivory of piano tiles.
The led lights created an effect of blinking and sending waves of light toward the arena.
Around the ring, rows of maroon chairs were placed to seat as many sunburn users as possible.
The center stage or the arena was wider than any boxing ring she had ever seen.
The arena was incredibly wide and contained long grey ropes toward the edges.
The two of them walked further out and found everyone huddled around the ring.
Lyra says, "We will give it a few more minutes. Everyone needs a little bit more time to suit up."
Lyra looks toward her glass display, "Looks like a couple of people are late. I'll let them in."
In a flash, two individuals were transported into the space.
Kian in his messy outfit accompanied an old man with brown skin, a white cowboy hat, and a sly grin on their face.
Ivory pondered for a moment. Wasn't that the drunk old man from the bar?
Sam created a strong current of water that condensed into a small blade-like shape.
Sam hovers the blade near Kian's throat, "Lyra… It's time you end this training camp. Wouldn't want more of your students to die now, would we?"
Sam wore the same orange and white suit as all of us.
Ivory turns to whisper to Iris, "Where the hell did he get that?"
Iris had however already disappeared beside her and frantically was running toward the enemy.
The older woman swiftly had used one of her hands to hold onto the younger woman's shoulder, preventing her from engaging with the attacker.
Lyra scoffs, "You're an idiot. You really think you have the capability to beat someone like me? You're far more washed up than I am."
Sam kicks Kian forward while Iris almost trembles with murderous intent.
Sam yawns, "Yeah… That's why I came out here in the first place."
Lyra rolls her eyes, "Enough with the dramatic entrance. You're not drunk. You wouldn't be able to take a life even if you mustered up enough courage to attempt it."
Sam points toward her with conviction, "As much as I like to use empty threats. You have a point, taking lives would defeat why I'm here."
Sam says, "The tournament starts today so why don't we give this audience of yours a show. We spar and if I beat you, this training camp ends. If you win, I'll stay out of your way from now on."
Lyra smiles sinisterly, "Fine… It'll give my students a good idea of how this tournament will be structured."
Ivory watches as Sam and Lyra walk toward the entrance of the ring.
What the hell was even happening?
Why did it feel like she was witnessing something so much bigger than she could imagine?
Iris rushes toward Kian who slowly rises from the ground while letting out a dry cough.
All of Lyra's students made their way to their seats.
As each of them sat down, some individuals began rapidly placing bets on the outcome of this match.
A young woman to Ivory's left says, "I'd give a bowl of soup from Go-Go-Groceries that Lyra wins this easily."
The man to Ivory's right says, "I'd give two bowls that Sam wins. This fight is going to be awesome to watch."
Ivory watches as Lyra and Sam stand at opposite sides of the ring while glaring at each other with murderous intent.
This fight would determine if she could continue to participate in the training camp.
Please win this Lyra.. I still have a lot I need to learn about my abilities.
I need a chance to speak with Abigail again.
The two of them in the blink of an eye rushed at each other with a ferocity that no one had seen before.
The audience was left in utter disarray of what may come next.