The Final Exam: A Prelude

With Tarik by my side, I approach the entrance of the battle environment. The spikes that had jettisoned from the ground to the archway of the entrance slowly recede into the floor. Grinding, clanking, squeaking, the barrier disappears into the ground until only the metal ringed holes betray their presence.

Foot follows foot crossing the threshold. Entering the battle environment, the mud beneath my bloodstained, tattered boots gives way, softly submerging my shoes into its wet, cold grip. Muck pours through the top of my boots, slathering bare feet in filth. Each forward march inviting more and more sodden earth to find any crevice yet unharassed by its viscous stain. Unwilling lips contort into a grimace.

I've trodden through worse. In the days spent with Father, I've trodden through much worse. Swamps infested with blood worms, caves moulded from shit and slime, temples, ruins, castles, and fortresses decorated with armies of decomposing tomb raiders. The memory of it all excites the foul odours in the back of my throat. The lingering smells collected and compiled through the years spent at Father's side bursts forth from their forced hibernation floods my senses and inspires a wave of retching.

'I know how you're feeling, but if a bit of mud is the worst they throw at us this round I'll consider it an act of Ember himself.' Wide eyes and quivering lips betray Tarik's jovial tone.

Pushing foul memories aside, I do my best at a reassuring smile. Lips half curved, eyes soft and unfocused; just like Father. Tarik bursts into laughter.

'What kind of face was that meant to be?'

'A reassuring one,' this time it's my turn to laugh.

'I think you should probably leave the reassuring to Amy.' Laughter dies in my throat. For a moment neither of us talk. The only sound to be heard is the soft squelch of feet compressing mud. 'I'm sure she's fine, you saw the way she fought! She's probably waiting at the next assessment wondering what's taking us so long.' Forcing out a noise that resembles laughter, Tarik continues. 'Right now what we need to worry about is making it through this test alive, after that, we can compare horror stories with Amy.'

We continue forward through the vast environment. Mud layers every inch of this place, but otherwise the grounds are empty. No trees, well, the grey husks of brittle wood adorned with black poisonous flakes that we call trees, no buildings, no rocks. Nothing lived here, nothing furnished the scenery save the sludge beneath our feet.

'There nothing here…' Relief evident in his exhale, Tarik scans our surroundings. 'It's empty.' As if rebuking his accusation, mud explodes from the ground before us birthing a grotesque frog-like creature from the earth's womb. A mud-toad.

Mud and a thick yellow pus streaks down its gargantuan frame. Its horizontal eyes dart around its sockets before focusing squarely on me. A thunderous croak bellows from the bottom of its mouth, producing waves of sound that threaten to blow me to the ground.

Trembling, Tarik draws a sword from his hip. Placing my hand on his vibrating arm, I hold him back. 'The skin of mud toads are extremely poisonous. Long-distance Arts are our best bet.' Bobbing his head up and down, Tarik acknowledges my words.

'I- I don't think… I think... I might be able to perform two more Arts. My Tension Resistance is only at grade-' before Tarik can finish his sentence, a thick green substance is expelled from the mouth of the toad.

Gathering the Tension in the atmosphere, I form a circular barrier of translucent energy intercepting the stream of corrosive liquid.

'Save your Arts for the next round, I can handle this alone.' Two spears of pulsating Tension manifest above my shoulders angled in the direction of the mud toad. Without a second thought, I release my hold. As if drawn by a magnetic force, the spears fly forward impacting through the eyes of the mud toad. Without time to cry out, the monster collapses and melts back into the mud, dying the ground with its viscid yellow pus.

Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a small wooden box. Unclasping the metal latch, I extract a sample tube and approach the now yellow ground the mud toad descended back into.

'Wha- what are you doing?' Turning my head, Tarik stands in place, eyes wide, mouth agape.

'The pus from a mud toad can be forged into a poisonous dagger,' I reply in a flat tone. 'By shattering the blade, you can disperse a poisonous fog. It's fairly useless against mid-tier or high-tier Tension beasts, but against mobs of low-tier beasts, it's incredibly effective.'

Having reached the edge of where the Tension beast fell, I stoop down with the sample tube and allow mud and pus to slither into the tube before resealing the top with a plug, wiping the sides on my trousers, and placing the tube back into its box.

'How do you know-'

Cutting Tarik off, I yell, 'come on, there's still one exam left to take.'

Jogging slightly to catch up with me, Tarik comes to my side. Walking side by side, each time I glance to my right I notice Tarik part his lips as if to speak, but in place of words, a low squeak escapes his throat and we return to silence.

'How are you so powerful?' Tarik manages to ask. 'I mean no offence by this, but you're nameless. It's rare for someone like you to even be able to use common Arts, let alone so many of them. Both your Tension Control and Resistance has to be at least Rank-Three. That's practically unheard of for the nameless. I'm the son of a low-tier Clan leader, and I'm only at Rank-two.'

Listening to his words, my mind flashes back to Father's lessons. Dazed in remembrance, I'm brought back to the present by a taut tug of my arm. Instinctively, Tension pools into my body. Tarik releases his hold and jumps a step back. Dispelling the accumulating Tension, I place my palms in the air in a sign of surrender.

'I'm sorry, it's a force of habit.'

'What must your life have been like for you to have picked up that kind of habit?' Dangerous. Every moment was dangerous. Terrors most can only dream about in their most haunting nightmares was a staple of my daily existence from the moment I met father… but then I was never afraid because I was never alone. Whatever dangers we faced, he was always right there and as long as he was there, I knew I was safe. He was always right there with me, until one day he wasn't.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply to quell the fire threatening to engulf me from inside, I look my friend in the eye.

'After my village was destroyed and my family slaughtered, I was kidnapped by a maverick.' Father's words stream out of my mouth. Words I would parrot daily; lies crafted to keep me safe. Willing association with mavericks is a capital offence. To admit to such a relationship would render me an enemy of mankind, and my life would be forfeit.

'He dragged me from place to place, Tower to Tower against my will.' Tarik's wide eyes shrink as he moves from abject horror to pity in the span of a few syllables.

'In order for me to be less of a burden to him,' I spit. Simulating in my tone the disgust he drilled into me, 'he taught me to harness Tension, and eventually, I used what he taught me to escape.'

Silence.

'I'm-' Tarik pauses, unable or unwilling to meet my eyes, he looks to the ground. 'I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I made you relive those times'

Silence.

We continue in silence, trudging through the muck beneath our feet until reaching the far end of the battle environment. Barrier already descended, we exit the building.

Squinting under the assault of natural light, eyes scan the surroundings.

'Where do we go from here?'

'I'm not-' A blonde girl, perhaps a couple of years older than me walks up to Tarik and me. She smiles and courteously bows.

'Thank goodness you made it out alive', she says. 'The last time I had to do this, I ended up waiting all day for two Masters that never made it out.' Catching herself, she begins to stutter. 'Of- of course, it's my privilege to serve at the pleasure of my lords. I didn't mean to im- imply-' Clearly flustered, the girl bows deeply once again while uttering her apologies for her perceived rudeness.

'Um, who are you?' I ask.

'I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, my name is Rachel VI. I'm a servant of this academy and it's my jo- honour to escort you to your final examination. Peaking her head up as if to see if it's safe, her eyes lock onto mine and she lowers herself further until her head is nearly parallel to her knees.

'You can stop bowing now, it's not necessary.'

'Of course, whatever my lords wish.' Straightening herself out until she's once again at eye level signals, she flaps her arm in a signal to follow her before bowing and apologising once again for the rudeness of the gesture.

Consoling the girl for the second time, we shadow her as she walks us towards the final test.

'You work for the academy? Do you know what the final exam is going to be?' Tarik asks as we follow behind the peculiar girl.

'I'm sorry, my lords. I'm but a lowly servant. I am not privileged to know the details of this academy's selection process, but-' She pauses, looks around and continues. 'If my lords would show me kindness I can tell you all that I do know.'

Eyes audibly roll as Tarik reaches into his wallet and unfolds a rectangular note of paper marked in regal patterns across the sides, with the words "Exchangeable for 10 silver" printed in the centre and underlined with scrawlings that I can only assume represents a signature of some kind.

'I thank you, my lord.' Rachel takes the note, promptly secures it between her breasts and bows once more. 'While the full details of the next exam are not known by your servant, I do know that the field I am to escort my lords to has four platforms. A seating area has also been assembled from which an audience can spectate. I have in the past been instructed to clean bloodstains from those platforms and so were I to hazard guess, I would say the final test is some form of fighting tournament.'

Staggering then stopping, all colour drains from Tarik's face

'My Lord?' Reaching out, I place my hand on Tarik's shoulder. Nudging him forward, we continue our trek at a sluggish pace.

'It'll be fine,' I say. 'This is the easy part, no monsters, just people.' Mercifully, the acknowledgement that some people are monsters fails to be uttered. With greater haste, Tarik and I move onwards.

Twenty minutes or so pass before we arrive at a field of black grass. As promised, four wide platforms of white concrete are arranged in the four corners of the field. Encircling the four platforms, rows of seats ascending up to five layers. In each and every seat barring the first level, different pairs of eyes gazing at the new arrivals filtering through the gaps in the audience stand.

Leading us towards empty seats at the bottom level of the seating area, Rachel invites us to sit, bows a final time and leaves the way she came. As time passes, the seats near to us are filled with familiar and unfamiliar faces.

The white-haired girl.

Gracefully, she lowers herself into the chair next to mine. Flashing the unmistakable look of contempt in my direction, she turns her body in the direction of the boy she had entered with.

All you high born bastards are the same. To them, I doubt I'm even human… Breaking my train of thought a voice carried by the wind seizes my attention.

'Congratulations to those of you who made it this far, this will serve as your final entry assessment.' The voice of the blue-haired man echoes through the field, yet the man himself is nowhere to be found.

'Your task is simple,' the man continues. 'Each of you will fight two battles with your fellow examinees. To pass, you must simply win one.' At his words, a collective sigh of relief emanates from nearly every mouth on the bottom level of the seating area. A sigh immediately undone by his next words.

'Of course, if you wish to actually attend this academy...'

'You do have to survive both.'