After a night watching the “Get Cored” trilogy—entirely to better understand the Corelands, and not for the over-the-top, nail-biting action scenes, no sir—the next morning brought Det back to the arena. With his five roommates loosely arranged in small groups chatting, or not chatting as in Eriba’s case, the six of them arriving with the other new ReSouled cadets.

  Not that Det had spent the whole night just watching the movies. A pair of ink bottles had emptied as he’d tried to make sure he was never in the same situation he’d bungled himself into before the duel the day before. They’d taken his equipment away, sure, but did that mean they had to take all of his paintings?

  Using the small flame he’d painted on the palm of his hand as inspiration, he’d gotten to work on seeing what else he could do with the idea. Unfortunately, he’d run into some roadblocks. While he could give himself temporary tattoos, there turned out to be two major roadblocks that prevented him from going full yakuza.

  And, no, his inability to paint his own back wasn’t the biggest one. First off, unlike images he put on paper, the paintings on his skin began to degrade as soon as he put them on his skin. It was like whatever energy he used to fuel his renditions was leaking out of his flesh, and half—but not quite—activating the paintings.

  This proved to be both a help and a hindrance. On the downside, it meant his images only survived thirty to sixty minutes tops, before the ink completely flaked off. As for the positive, he didn’t need to touch his paintings to activate them, since he already was. He just had to focus on the area on his body—his forearms during the practice—to activate his renditions. That could be very handy in the future.

  The second challenge was a bit more of a headscratcher for Det. Having more than two or three paintings on his body was… tiring. As soon as he finished the third painting, it felt like he was wearing a weight vest. The fourth multiplied that feeling, and also added a feeling like an elephant was sitting on his chest for shits and giggles. Just starting a fifth had him almost passing out, so he’d aborted at that point.

  Still, even with the limitations, there was potential there. Something he could hopefully work on, and work around, as he got stronger. Sage had also been generous enough to let Det try painting on him as well, but something about the interaction between their magics had immediately made the other man ill.

  That hadn’t happened with Meliza, meaning it was just ReSouled that had the reaction. Weiss let him test it as well, and the effect had been identical and immediate.

  Det offered to test on Calisco or Tena—for science, of course—but neither had been agreeable. Pity. Oh well. He’d see about more practice after the day’s classes, whatever they were. Sage still wasn’t spilling the beans on it, even as they walked together as a group. Around them, some of the other cadets were staring at them as they all entered the arena.

  “They’re starting to realize we’re not in the same dorm,” Sage said quietly.

  “Cause we’re awesome!” Calisco nearly shouted, staring down a trio who was giving her the stink-eye. “You got something you want to ask me?”

  Memories of how she’d exploded her opponent in the duel the day before had the trio quickly averting their eyes and speed-walking into the arena.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Calisco called after them, then looked at Sage. “Who cares if they figure out we’re better than them?”

  “We’re not necessarily better than them,” Weiss said.

  “Speak for yourself,” Calisco said. “Tena and me, we’re totally better than them.”

  Over the course of the movies last night, Calisco and Tena had gotten past their initial friction. While Calisco was adamant she was the only one allowed to bully Det, the two women had bonded over their superiority complexes. Healthy? Probably not, but it wasn’t like either of them were great at listening to the opinions of others.

  “Once the next tournament arc starts, we’ll show them just that,” Tena said, sharing a fist bump with Calisco.

  “Are we sure that’s not why we’re back in the arena already?” Det said, the end of the tunnel in sight, but the bright light of it preventing him from seeing how they’d set up the arena today. He’d made sure to bring his brushes and ink with him this time.

  “Pretty sure,” Sage said, his voice missing some of its usual lightness.

  “It can’t be that bad,” Eriba said quietly. She even walked up to Sage and woodenly put her straight hand on his shoulder. “Pat, pat,” she said as she did just that.

  “Yeah, man, it’s probably just…” Det trailed off as they exited the tunnel and finally got a good look at what the academy had in store for them. “I take it back. We’re screwed.”

  Where the arena field had been mostly empty the day before, to allow the cadets to duel with each other awkwardly, the sand-covered floor was almost entirely full now. With more than a hundred gallows and tanks of water. Yeah, actual gallows, completely with hanging ropes.

  “The hell is this?” Weiss asked what everybody had to be thinking.

  “Looks like everybody is here now,” the headmaster’s voice rang across the arena at the same time a clang echoed out behind Det.

  A heavy portcullis had closed off the tunnel he’d just come down.

  So we can’t run away? Oh, that’s not reassuring at all.

  “Welcome back to your second day of the academy,” the headmaster said, floating down to hover above the middle of the arena on a disc of stone. “I hope you had a relaxing afternoon after your first duels. And, though, I am sure some of you are unhappy with the rules placed on those duels—and how they limited you—I want to assure you they served a purpose. Several, in fact.

  “We have made notes on what we’ve seen, and your instructors will be going into future classes with goals for each of you in mind. Some will be magic or combat related, while others will focus more on curbing behaviors that will hinder you in the future.

  “On that note, there is something I will make very clear right now.”

  With the words, there was a shift in the air around the headmaster. It wasn’t like day turned to night or anything like that, but more a slight pressure pushing down on Det’s shoulders.

  “Consider this your induction into the Mistguard. As of this moment, you are no longer just ReSouled who have been reborn on Elestar, with the freedom and luxury provided by your superhuman bodies. You are now soldiers. Guardians. Mistguard.

  “And you will behave as such.” Another pulse doubled the pressure on Det’s shoulders, forcing him to strain to stay upright. He wasn’t the only one, either, with cadets around him grunting or bending slightly. “Up until now,” the headmaster continued. “We’ve put up with your quirks and disobedience, because we understand what it’s like to be reborn as you were.

  “We will no longer allow that. Stunts like we saw yesterday…” Another pulse of energy came out, driving Tena and several other cadets to their knees on the ground. “… or those our instructors witnessed when picking you up from your pillars…” This time, Calisco and another two dozen or so cadets dropped like flies, the pressure on them almost visible. “… will no longer be tolerated. You are all adults, and should not need to be told the rules.

  “From this point forward, correction and punishment will come hand in hand, along with the rescindment of any advantages you may have gained. This is not a game, and allowing you to continue with some of the antics I have seen is no better than killing you myself right now.

  “Something I am not above doing, if I deem it necessary.”

  The headmaster stared down at the cadets, many of them further bowing under the continued pressure on their shoulders. His threat—his promise—wasn’t an idle one. This wasn’t some wizardling school with a headmaster that would do anything to protect them, no matter how badly they behaved, in the hopes the good in them would come out at some point.

  With their power, the ReSouled cadets could be a threat to the wider world. The headmaster would put them down if he saw them becoming that.

  “I believe you’ve gotten the message,” the headmaster said, the pressure vanishing like it had never been there.

  Det’s lungs hauled in air, nearly two-hundred others gasping with him. Tena and Calisco didn’t immediately get up, their shoulders both shaking as they coughed on their hands and knees.

  If that was one of those stern talks Jeckles had mentioned, Det understood why the man had shivered at remembering it.

  “Won’t… happen again, sir,” Tena said, forcing herself up to her feet.

  The headmaster looked down to meet her eyes as she spoke, and she returned the gaze. Like when she’d apologized to Det the day before, it was clear she meant it. Her sucker-spear to his face was out of line, and this was her one warning not to let something like it happen again.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “Yeah,” Calisco said, also standing up. “Got it. Best behavior.”

  The headmaster’s glare at her had an edge to it he didn’t level Tena with.

  “Really, I understand,” Calisco said, then looked at General Vans, where he stood on the far side of the arena. “I can follow orders.”

  More of the cadets who’d been pushed to their knees likewise stood and promised to correct their previous behaviors. Swore it would never happen again.

  I guess we’ll see.

  After another minute of inspecting the cadets, as if he was searching for a hint of disobedience or weakness, the headmaster smiled and continued, back to the kind-old-man routine. “Now, I’m sure you’re all wondering what the purpose of this equipment is,” he gestured with the hand not holding his staff to the torture devices spread across the arena floor. “Perhaps, today, you expected to pull your name out of a wizard’s hat to determine which house or clan you would represent over your academy years. Or, maybe an intense class discussing the history of the Mistguard so you could figure out your place in it. Ah, or my favorite, a more practical class teaching you how to improve your magic.

  “All very good uses of time—other than that hat nonsense—and things you will partake in over the next years.”

  As the headmaster spoke, other instructors worked their way through the cadets, handing each of them what could only be called manacles. A heavy chain, only a few links long, and thick bracelets of some kind of greenish metal. Whatever the material was, just looking at it sent a shiver up Det’s spine.

  The feeling didn’t get any better when Beauty handed him his own set of chains, and just holding them felt like nails on a chalkboard.

  “What’s…?” Calisco started, but cut off with a simple shake of Beauty’s head.

  “No, today,” the headmaster went on. “And for our first week, we will do some very necessary hands-on, practical training.”

  A shiver went through Sage’s entire body beside Det, and it wasn’t just because of the manacles in his hands. No, he’d already put them on.

  “You okay?” Det tried asking Sage out of the side of his mouth. The man was so pale, Det checked to see if he’d sprung a leak somewhere. He’d clenched his fists in front of himself, like he was trying to keep his hands from shaking. It wasn’t working.

  Really, really not reassuring.

  Looking around, some of the other cadets were starting to look a bit nervous at what was coming.

  “Each of you has been given a set of siltsteel manacles,” the headmaster said. “For those of you who have already put them on, I’m sure you’ve noticed what they do. This is a very interesting material, whose origin will not be explained until third year, that has the innate ability to interfere with a ReSouled’s magic.

  “For you, at E-Rank, these manacles should be enough to seal off your magic entirely, for as long as you wear them.”

  Det’s eyes snapped to the manacles in his hands as if they were suddenly a venomous snake. Some of the other cadets even threw the chains to the ground to get them out of their hands.

  “For anybody who hasn’t put the manacles on yet, please do so, now.”

  “Why?” somebody from the crowd of cadets shouted.

  “Because I told you to,” Myrddin said, then sighed slightly. “Usually that is enough of a reason, and I believe I just told you to behave. However, as a show of good faith, I shall elaborate. This time.

  “In your last twenty years as a ReSouled, you may or may not have noticed how your minds and bodies adapt rapidly, or how parts of your personality seem bigger than you may remember. More focused on what you consider your goals to be, sometimes beyond reason, and especially when you find yourselves in danger. These are side-effects of being a ReSouled.

  “As benefits, not only do you learn skills far faster than you would have on Earth, but your bodies themselves learn. I don’t mean muscle memory—though it is excellent as a ReSouled—but the ability to resist pain. To endure beyond reasonable expectations. To bleed less when cut.

  “To require less air.”

  With the last phrase, Det’s eyes went to the gallows, and a very unpleasant thought crossed his mind. After he’d been injured fighting that thing in the mist on Radiant, Jeckles had said, here, the more you get injured, the more your body toughens up and learns to resist what hurt you.

  “This week,” the headmaster said, pulling Det’s fraying attention back to the man floating in the air. “We are going to train both you and your bodies. As for the manacles.” Myrddin pointed to the chains in the hands of the man who’d asked the question. “At first, your natural reaction will be to resist what needs to be done. Those are for the safety of your fellow cadets.”

  The safety of the others? They’re expecting people to fight back against this. With their magic, they could hurt the others. I don’t really need these, since I can’t use my magic without my ink anyway…

  Det looked at Sage, standing there with his wrists manacled in front of him, doing everything he could to keep his body’s shaking under control. Then he looked back up at the headmaster, expectantly waiting for the new Mistguard cadets to follow his instructions.

  Putting the manacles on would be giving permission—consent—to be tortured. For a week.

  Det didn’t hesitate as he clamped the strange metal around his wrists, immediately feeling something within him dim when they locked in place. Getting through this training would make him stronger. Would get him one step getting closer to home.

  Watching movies with his roommates was all well and good, but this was why he was there.

  Looking at the gallows, though, it was his turn to shiver.

  Sage had known this was coming. His uncle had told him. Now, Det understood why his new friend hadn’t given the details last night. If he’d known what was coming, he would’ve spent the entire time dreading it.

  “What if we refuse to put the manacles on?” the same man who’d spoken up earlier asked, the chains still in his hands instead of around his wrists. “What if we won’t let you torture us?”

  Impressively, around the speaker, most of the cadets had already put their own chains on.

  “What if…?” Myrddin said, his free hand reaching up to stroke his short beard. “It’s been two… no, three cycles since I’ve heard that question. Ninety-nine percent of people who make it to this stage—and listened to my speech about behaving—have the drive needed to continue. Do you? Do you have the drive?”

  “You haven’t answered my question,” the man said, dropping the chains to the arena floor in front of him. With the dull thud and clang of the metal on the ground, the cadets all around the man took a step back. “I won’t do any of this until you explain to all of us why we should.” His arm waved around at the gallows and water tanks, at which point he seemed to notice how many of the others had put their own bindings on.

  “Why are you doing that?” he asked one of the other cadets next to him. “Can’t you stand up for yourself? Why would you put yourself at their mercy like this?”

  “Because they recognize what they have to gain from this,” Myrddin said. “Pain is fleeting. Strength is not.”

  “I’m already strong,” the man said. “I proved that yesterday.”

  “Mmm,” Myrddin said. “You’re strong, you say?”

  The way the words fell on the arena like that same pressure as before had those closest to the unnamed cadet taking another step away from him. Then a second, a third. It was at this point the speaker realized he may’ve screwed up.

  “You’re a pup,” Myrddin said. “Who’s just found its bark, and thinks it a howl. So, I shall explain to you. Both what will happen if you choose not to put the manacles on yourself, and what real strength looks like.”

  The words, clearly a threat, made the cadet step back. Myrddin had warned them. A second step followed the first, but a third didn’t come. Instead, he looked down at his feet. No, at his boots, his legs and body pulling like he was stuck on something.

  “If you don’t put the siltsteel on yourself,” Myrddin said, while the manacles lifted themselves off the arena floor to hover in midair. “I will put them on you myself. After that, you will live out your life on Mount Avalon, unable to ever again touch your magic. You will be restricted to this pillar—never leaving or having contact with the outside world—until the day you die.

  “Given your fear of the offer before you, I suspect that death will be a quiet one, hiding away in your bed.”

  The insult—the clear implication of cowardice—elicited a snarl from the cadet, but little else. Whatever was holding his feet to the ground was far beyond what his attributes could deal with.

  “As for strength,” Myrddin said. “You are the pup, while I am the moon you yelp at.”

  Suddenly, there was a kind of flex from Myrddin. It wasn’t like muscles or anything else physical, but more like pure will. With it, the entire Amphitheatre of the Twin Suns rose into the air, completely separated from the ground it sat on. That alone would’ve been impressive enough, except it didn’t seem Myrddin was done there.

  Not at all, because as the stone coliseum rose higher above the mountain, Det saw that even the ground they stood on was already flying. While Myrddin had spoken, he’d torn an entire section out of Mount Avalon and lifted it into the air to float next to the peak of the pillar.

  Another flex split the ground the cadets, gallows, and water tanks stood on, giving them each their own tiny island of rock to stand on.

  Around Det, his roommates floated away from him, allowing him to—unfortunately—look over the edge of the small two-by-two block of stone to spot the ground far below.

  “This is what strength looks like,” Myrddin said. “This is what we train you to achieve. Few reach this stage, it’s true, but you will all have the opportunity to stretch for it, if you work hard in the lessons prepared for you. Today, this is just the first of those lessons.

  “And it’s not even the most difficult.”

  Below Det, he couldn’t spot any people running about trying to figure out why the hell the amphitheatre had started flying, meaning this wasn’t that unusual. At level with him, most of the cadets stayed perfectly still, so as not to risk falling the very long distance to the very hard stone below. Then again, by the slight resistance he felt in his boots and the manacles around his wrists, the headmaster was using a subtle touch of his magic to keep the cadets in place.

  That just left one man at the center of attention, alone on his own column of stone. The unnamed cadet had awkwardly dropped to one knee, though his magically pinned boots hadn’t made it easy.

  “Fine,” he pleaded. “I’ll put them on. Just… just put us down.”

  Myrddin’s head shook gently from side to side. “Every few cycles there is one of you. One who slips through whatever requirements this world puts on letting ReSouled in. Today, you may agree to put the siltsteel on yourself, but tonight we will catch you sneaking out of your dorm. Attempting to slip onto a mistship to get yourself off Mount Avalon before we notice you’re gone tomorrow morning.

  “You’ll think you’re very smart, right until you bump into one of your fellow cadets as you slink away. There, you’ll attack, and your drip of strength may be just enough to hurt—or possibly kill—the unsuspecting cadet before they can sound the alarm. In a worst-case scenario, you may even run into more of your classmates, or the civilians who live peacefully on Mount Avalon, and repeat your crimes. Your fear would cost us much.

  “I won’t allow that to happen,” Myrddin said, the manacles hovering in front of the unnamed cadet closing on him.

  “I haven’t done anything wrong!” the cadet shouted. “You can’t do this to me!”

  “You’ll find I most certainly can,” Myrddin said without mercy. Under his imperious gaze, the cadet’s left arm jerked forward. Then, like a striking serpent, the first manacle closed around that wrist. In the next second, the man’s arms both twisted around behind him, and were bound at his back. With the second click of the manacle, the headmaster above nodded.

  “While it is unfortunate you all had to witness this,” the headmaster said. “Consider this one of many lessons you will learn during your years here. There is little you can do in the face of overwhelming power, so it’s in your best interest to become that power.

  “Now then,” he continued, tapping the butt of his staff on the stone disc he hovered on. “Let’s get back to the planned lesson for today. It’s time to teach your bodies they don’t need to breathe nearly as much as they think they do.”

  With the words, Det’s eyes went from the sobbing cadet with his arms bound behind his back, to the numerous gallows and tanks of water. Suddenly, he didn’t need to count to know there was one for each of the cadets.

  It was going to be a very long day.

  Discord