The Messy Manta Ray Club

Francia hesitated before speaking again. "She didn't do much—just counted the money you left, called father, and then she was off. Later, she returned and headed straight to the hospital." A brief pause filled the air as Francia's eyes darted away. "I did overhear her saying something about you marrying an old man from overseas."

A knowing smile played on Sage's lips. Her mother's talent for weaving tales to tarnish her reputation was no surprise, but this fabrication was a whole new level.

Sage pondered her mother's motives—was it the thrill of being the center of attention or the perverse pleasure of turning others against those she despised?

Their conversation meandered for a few minutes until Francia cut it short—their parents had just arrived.

"You must stop indulging her fantasies," their mother scolded their father. "Look what's happened! She's gone and pilfered our savings. And why on earth did you give her your ATM password?"

Her accusations grew wilder. "And can you believe it? She ran off with some old foreigner because she's pregnant. I'm done with her. She's dead to me!"

"When I confronted her, she had the audacity to slap me! She's unhinged—a criminal! She belongs behind bars for attempted murder!"

Father Everest massaged his temples, weary from the barrage of his wife's outlandish claims.

The truth of his daughter's desperate pleas hit him like a wave of remorse. He felt too ashamed to face her or even speak to her. In his heart, he knew he had failed her as a father.

"Let's rest," he suggested to his wife with a patience that belied his turmoil. His features seemed to age years in mere moments, the white in his hair now stark against his weathered skin.

The family he had so fiercely guarded was crumbling. Sage was his wife's flesh and blood, yet something had gone terribly wrong. The thought alone was enough to bring on a heart attack.

If Sage ever caught wind of the slander her mother was spreading, she'd likely respond with her signature phrase: "Kill them with kindness."

*****

"Hello?" The voice of a young man answered, tinged with curiosity. "Why have you called, Sage?"

"Sim, do you want to watch our tournament?" Sage asked, securing the lock on her door before mounting her Champ motorcycle in the garage.

Silence lingered on the line before Khal'el finally spoke, a note of nostalgia in his voice. "It's been ages since you've called me by my surname."

Rolling her eyes, Sage connected her bluetooth earphones with her phone and tucked it into her varsity bag.

She was left with $51,977 after a series of cursory shopping yesterday. Other than the kitchen utensils and equipment, bedroom necessities, and cleaning equipment, she also bought herself a new pair of shoes, varsity bag, and a tracksuit. 

"I prefer it that way. You know how much I loathe small talk," she replied, keeping to herself the brief lapse in memory she'd experienced. "So, are you coming?"

"I'll be there. Where's it at?" His voice was soothing, reminiscent of a gentle dawn breeze.

"Jusdome. Just don't be late." With that, Sage ended the call and focused on the road ahead. She was on her way to pick up the Manta Ray Club members living nearby.

An hour later, Sage arrived at Jusdome with nine passengers in tow. Some of the club members that were often absent during training also hitch a ride from her. 

Grace sat beside her at the driver seat, while the others were sitting at the back. Their voices were too loud that they could replace the rooster's clucking at dawn.

Sage glanced at the Champ's tires, concerned they might burst under the combined weight of her passengers, especially that the tires, although thick, were smaller than the ones in motorcycles. 

Laughter erupted from the back as one member teased another. "Falen, why the boxer shorts?"

"I barely woke up when you all rushed me. I just grabbed a shirt and dashed out," Falen chuckled, playing along. " Actually, I forgot to wash my pants after a week of medical training."

"And you chose spongebob?" Grace's voice, small but mighty, cut through the banter.

Sage felt her head trembled. Her concentration faltered; her mind momentarily overwhelmed by Grace's loud, high-pitched voice.

Sage slowed down the Champ and blinked her eyes to get rid of the dizziness. 

"Grendel, you're making my ears bleed," Sage teased when multiple trucks thundered passed, blaring their horns.

Lyka, usually soft-spoken, couldn't help but curse and gesture rudely at the retreating trucks. "Blind b*stards!"

Their laughter mingled with the tranquility of the morning road. There were no more vehicles that accompanied their peaceful ride after the trucks passed. 

"Wow, a drone!" Grace's excitement filled the vehicle as they entered the brightly lit Jusdome.

Banners bearing the names of clubs, teams, and schools were plastered on the walls for participants to figure out their designated positions. Competitors from various regions and overseas had already claimed their assigned spots. 

The Manta Ray Club, assigned to a convenient spot near the stairs and entrance of the building, made their way to their seats. 

Brix rallied the team's spirits. "We may not be the wealthiest or known here, but remember, this is just another step in our training."

Their cheers drew fleeting glances from the other competitors, who quickly dismissed the messy looking Manta Ray Club.

Only Sage remembered how this competition would turn out.

The aroma of food wafted over, prompting a chorus of stomachs to growl in unison.

"Should we grab breakfast?" Sage proposed.

Most declined, citing a limited budget for lunch.

Brix interjected, "It's better to eat now than later."

Sage silenced the debate with a raised hand. "My treat. How long until the tournament starts?"

Uncertain glances were exchanged; only Clarke, Dylan, and their Master knew the schedule, and they were nowhere to be seen.

Sage stood, keys in hand, and surveyed her teammates practicing taekwondo. "Guys, what do you want to eat?"

Niel, the youngest, approached. "Are you buying food snacks for later, sister?"

Sage draped an arm around his shoulders. "What do you suggest?"

"Bread's good. We can swing at Master's for coffee," Falen suggested, grinning foolishly.

Sage's gaze fell on his boxers. She looked at Falen with an awkward smile. "Your legs are blindingly white, it's distracting."

Falen struck a pose, flaunting his pale legs. "Want skin as fair as mine? Try Siljic," he quipped, turning away with a wink.

Brix's laughter echoed. "Does that Siljic soap come with hair too? It's white but also hairy."

Sage's laughter echoed through the room, her hand clutching her stomach as she wiped away tears of mirth with the other. "Brix, let's head out together," she said, her voice still tinged with chuckles.

Brix rose with a yawn and stretched; his movements languid as he followed Sage out the door.

"So, when's School Maintenance Month?" Sage inquired, her tone light with anticipation.

"First week of July. Enrollment's the last week of June," Brix replied, his voice steady and informative.

Sage's smile widened, her excitement palpable. "I can't wait for classes to start. Are you still using your 11th-grade books?"

"No, why? Ah! Do you want to borrow it?"

"Is borrowing even allowed?" Sage pursed her lips. 

It was so hard to borrow a book from the senior students in her past life. Students studying in QEA were usually relatives or family friends with the alumni there. They only helped those that they knew or students with a rich background. That school had a very close culture that made newbies hard to adapt. 

"Don't worry about it," Brix reassured her. "I might not have them, but my classmate does. I've got your back."

A warm feeling blossomed in Sage's chest, a stark contrast to the cold exclusivity she'd experienced before. 

She focused her attention back on the road and summoned the system in her mind. 

"System, show me the books available in the store," she commanded.

The response was immediate, a staggering number of books appearing on the display—112,827,081 to be exact. Sage's breath hitched at the sight.

"Are these books also available in the search?"

[Yes, host. The books here include the materials from the civilization that created me. There are also books the system verified to hold 100% facts that were burned, deleted, or erased by external users. Books in the search might not be as accurate as the system shop.]

"Oh, that made me curious. Who made you?"

[Machines, host.]

"That's dumb. I mean who programmed you?"

[You might find the answer if you chanced upon a book that contains the system information from the shop, host. The system had a series or reset of the internal information during the dismantling process.]

"Eh? You should not have been able to exist right now."

[My process was disrupted when I accidentally killed you, host.]

Sage reminisced the few hours before she died. The world looked totally different from now. Maybe the one thing that did not change even in the future was partying.

"Can you recommend any elementary math books from the shop?"

Sage bought all six books the system suggested. She only used 1,200 credits from 14,951. 

Sage and Brix alighted from the vehicle after parking it. 

"What about Demsom Break?" Brix suggested, a hint of excitement in his voice.

Sage's face lit up with a radiant grin. "Let's go!" she exclaimed, though her feet remained firmly planted.

"Why aren't you moving?" Brix asked, puzzled.

Sage offered an awkward smile. "Well, I don't actually know where it is."

Despite her frequent outings for shopping and errands, Sage preferred direct routes to familiar destinations, avoiding the discomfort of crowded, scrutinizing spaces.

"I'll take the lead, just follow me," Brix said, guiding her through the turns and pathways until they arrived at Demsom Break, conveniently located near the parking lot but tucked inside the mall.

With their purchases—19 beef steak rice and 19 chao fan rice—Sage and Brix returned to Jusdome with just 45 minutes to spare before the event's commencement.

The Manta Ray Club was now complete, gathered around a sophisticated young man at the center, bombarding him with questions which he answered with a patient smile.

Sage couldn't help but call out, "Oi, stop acting like a nouveau riche!"