Chương 22

Alex blinked. The station was gone, vanished. The two teams were still there, standing in lines two dozen feet apart; between them, 1-0 WINNER! floated in the air, followed by a list of usernames. In this phase, their usernames were also displayed above their respective heads. Silence. Alex was still gasping, heart going, but it was entirely mental. His body felt as good as new—maybe because it was. He touched his throat, where he still felt the phantom sensations of the steel.

The other sensations—his arm shattering under Force mana, a dagger carving up his left hip—were still fresh in his mind.

"You were right," he said, trying to calm himself. He said it to Archer-guy, who'd been teleported beside him.

"What?" said Archer-guy.

"Dying does suck." Archer-guy looked incredulous. Alex side's healer, and kal, the warrior, were also glancing his way.

"We were so close!" said raingirl. She seemed excited.

"If a few more things went our way—maybe we could've won?"

"I don't know," said kal.

"Seems kind of weird." At Alex's questioning glance, he shrugged.

"If you could do all that from the start, seems weird not to tell us," he said. His body language was more standoffish; Alex was taken aback a bit.

"I didn't know I could do that from the start."

"Okay, dude."

"Why are you like this?" said raingirl.

"It wasn't intentional."

"I suspect," archer-guy chimed in.

"He thinks our friend tyrion here decided to withhold a little of what he could do, so he could flex on all of us, and the Templars, at once."" What?" said Alex, flabbergasted.

"If I were being uncharitable, it kind of looks like you didn't tell us about your powers," said archer-guy.

"Then positioned us around and sacrificed us so you could be the star of the show, and have your little one-versus-two on the ice. Like in those 'secretly OP teammate' TikToks. If that was the goal—congrats, it worked! You did look cool." Alex was speechless.

"And you also believe this?" It sounded insane to him, as an accusation. What TikToks? People actually do this?

"I'm not sure what to believe, honestly," said archer-guy, shrugging.

"But I doubt it. I saw you against the Templar, you don't strike me as a man who can act."

"I'm new to this," said Alex.

"I'm not sure what to say to convince you, but I promise you this wasn't my intention. At all." It wasn't all that important to him that he convince this guy, but up until this point he'd thought they were cool. He felt kind of bad.

"Okay," said kal again, looking away.

"It's fine, it's just a duel."

"He's telling the truth." It was the Templar archer; the rest of the Templars were walking over.

"It is your first week fighting," she said.

"Isn't it?"

"Something like that, yeah." She nodded slightly. She held her hand out to Alex's side's healer.

"Kennedy," she said, like she was introducing herself to a new classmate.

"Good fight." The man looked bemused, slightly dazed, then quickly shook her hand and said it back. The Templar warrior was up next for the healer, and Kennedy moved up a spot to the next person in the line, which was Alex. They exchanged ' good fight's,' and she paused briefly. Her eyes flickered above his head. He wasn't sure if he expected her to say anything else, but she simply went onto Archer-guy. The Templar warrior did say something.

"Pure cycling techniques," he said. He paused, gave him a thoughtful glance—"Also, Force cycling techniques."

"Pardon?" The Templar warrior's eyes glimmered.

"You asked why we could move like we could. I said we'd speak after, remember?" It'd totally slipped his mind.

"It's a way of reinforcing your body with mana," said the warrior.

"I'd search it up." Cycling was a term Alex had seen before, but it hadn't seemed a priority at the time. Suffice it to say, he was a little more curious now.

"Thanks," he said, nodding.

"Sure thing." The Templars returned to their side after, and a 30-second countdown had begun in the center of the arena. A few Templars exited the station early; they simply vanished. The vibe felt a little weird after that. Alex seemed to be getting quite a few glances.

"Should we exchange contact information?" said raingirl suddenly. She glanced at all of them—"In case we want to party in future?" The rest of his side seemed surprised at the ask.

"Sure," said archer-guy, with a smile that made Alex think he didn't think it was very likely. Which made sense—teams in Solo Queue were probably made and dissolved all the time. It was probably likely he'd never see any of these people, or those Templars, again. Still, archer-guy indulged it—"Why not?" If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. They were halfway through their exchanges when they were timed out, and his teammates vanished.

The station began its reset, and Alex went back to the walkway bench, vaguely reflecting, and also wondering what that third ping! he'd heard was—he only knew what the first two pings! were; the third felt like a mystery. He'd have to check his notifications. It was when he sat down, and summoned a little water, and before he could, it struck." Fuck…" At first he thought it was an adrenaline dump. And it probably was. But it was clear, very quickly, why he felt like his soul, his mind had been wrung like a towel.

Merely imagining summoning a ball of mana brought up a wave of mental resistance; he winced. Wasn't today supposed to be a freaking recovery day? To prep for the rift in like— he checked the clock. Thirty-six hours? How did I even— What? He very clearly remembered promising to himself he'd chill. And then one thing led to another, and… Fuck. Man, he thought, recalling the sheer bursts of joy he'd felt when he'd heard those pings!

—and also the way he'd felt in the final seconds of the fight—the way everything felt perfectly clear— This stuff is dangerously addictive. Okay. Tomorrow—full rest day. And I mean it. It was an hour until closing time, and the Training Hall had cleared to maybe a quarter capacity. He was aware of a few folks in the adjacent walkways staring at him as he sat there—maybe they'd seen his fight? He hadn't been paying much attention to his surroundings, for obvious reasons.

They dispersed within a few minutes, leaving him to his recovery.

If an Outworlder were shown an image of the Manhattan skyline, they'd immediately notice several new additions. A few proud, new skyscrapers towered over the skyscrapers of the big banks, and the finance sector, and world-class museums, and the pencil-thin residential skyscrapers of the ultra-rich. One such skyscraper was made of steel and a glass whose exterior was darkly tinted. The second-highest floor of this skyscraper was cleared out.

Two vast dueling stations, twice the standard dimensions—Olympic-sized dueling stations—were installed across its length. The floor-to-ceiling windows were glass, and from them you'd get breathtaking views of the City—the lesser skyscrapers, in their uncountable numbers, sweeping across Manhattan, the city's landmarks, Central Park and the Chrysler Building, and all the rest serving as glimmering atmospheric backdrops to the dueling that was the purpose of the floor.

It was partly for these views that the five newly Awakened talents were on that floor, at this hour. Two of them, a mage and a swordsman, had been flown into the city less than twenty-four hours ago. Flown in on private jets, then chauffeured from the airport by serious-looking men with sunglasses and suits.

Twenty-four hours before that, they'd been anxiously waiting—the mage in his bedroom, the swordsman with friends at a frozen yogurt place, trying to take their minds off the circumstances, when they'd gotten the call that, after three highly selective rounds of trials, they'd been accepted as Templar Guild developmental program recruits. A. K. A., 'Templar Guild fast-tracks,'; A. K. A., 'Templar Chosen.' The swordsman had cried into his yogurt. It'd all happened very fast.

They'd received letters in the mail telling them they could be Awakened; they'd gotten their Awakenings, and received high talents; they'd applied to the Templar Guild, nervously, expecting nothing, since they were totally normal high school or college students living their lives, with no real inkling of what it took to be an Awakened. Before this week, the mage had never flown in an airplane. Before this week it'd been a vague bucket-list goal of the swordsman to fly business class one day, if he was ever rich.

When they were paired into their orientation groups, the mage had gushed about the experience—'they let you order unlimited steaks on the plane, it's literally free!' —to the amusement of Kennedy and Adam Devereaux, who, by virtue of who they were, hadn't flown economy once. It was also this reaction that gave Kennedy the idea to take them up here.

"The penthouse stations?" said the mage.

"Aren't they restricted, to, like— way stronger people?" said the healer, who, like the Devereaux's, came from a background of Awakened.

"They're usually for top duelists, and they get priority," said Kennedy, smiling.

"But any fast track can reserve the floor if it's not in use." She'd wanted to give them a little extra joy in this little orientation week of theirs. The look on their faces, seeing the sights from up here, was priceless. The camera crew—who'd been filming a video for Templar Youtube essentially documenting the new recruits' reactions to all the shiny new facilities—had tried to follow them up the elevator, but quickly backed away when she gave them a hard glance.

She'd wanted to do this because she was very aware of what was coming. After these bi-yearly breaks ended—after Selections season, across all power levels, fully concluded—true Guild training would begin, and their lives would be given schedules, and precise rules and objectives; they'd be given world-class amenities and support, but they'd also be ranked against one another, evaluated, and—if found wanting—ruthlessly culled from the roster. In freshman year, 30% were cut every six-month 'semester'.

Your friends could be your competition for the biggest dream of all their lives. She'd seen, very personally, what it did to people. Some thrived, others didn't, and it was impossible to tell, from their starting point, who'd make it in the end—impossible to know what people would find within themselves. She didn't tell her new teammates this. It wouldn't have helped.

"Holy shit," said the mage; he couldn't stop saying it. The swordsman had stared wonderingly for almost a minute; he seemed very pale, almost sick.

"Are you alright?" said Kennedy. Her brow creased. I should've asked if any of them had a fear of heights. But it wasn't that, when she asked about it.

"What am I doing here?" said the swordsman.

"Take a breath," said Adam, coming up.

"You're good, we're with you." The swordsman shook his head.

"No, I'm serious, what am I—" He almost seemed in tears.

"I'm not who you think I am." They all waited, slightly awkwardly, and then he elaborated.

"I shouldn't be here," he said.

"I'm not like you. I'm not—I wasn't meant for this, it was all some kind of coincidence, I applied because a friend dared me to, I didn't think I'd—""Hey," said Adam, putting a hand on the guy's arm.

"Deep breath. In, out. There we go. You're good, dude." She felt terrible. Imposter syndrome. The mage was so excited—but she realized why the swordsman was so quiet all this time. She'd thought he was just a quiet person. It has to feel so alien to him. And all I did, taking him up here, was remind him of that, like he doesn't belong. The swordsman took a step back, steadying himself. The sound echoed through the empty floor. She and Adam exchanged a glance; she could tell they were thinking the same thing.

"I guarantee you almost everyone in the program will feel this at one point or another," said Adam.

"It's totally normal."

"Yeah. And if you don't believe in yourself," said the mage.

"Who will? It has to start with you, right?" She knew the mage was only trying to help, but by the swordsman's reaction his tone clearly wasn't helping. Adam wasn't just saying that. With the caliber of talents you'd be seeing on a daily basis, it was almost impossible not to feel imposter syndrome at some point in the Templar fast track; sooner or later, she knew, the mage would also face this, run into the kind of talent that'd make you question your place in the program. Your place in the world, even.

The only advantage she had was she'd had years of experience dealing with exactly this.

"The selectors know what they're doing," she said to the swordsman, trying her best to sound soothing.

"They saw something in you that made them think you could succeed in Templar." The swordsman nodded, and then again.

"I'm fine," he said.

"I'll be fine." He smiled weakly.

"I swear I'm usually not such a—a wimp."

"I didn't think that about you at all," she said, which was honest.

"I'm kind of hungry, gang," said Adam cheerfully.

"Anyone up for a late-night pizza? Joe's should still be open."

"I'm down," said Kennedy quickly. She glanced at the swordsman; she knew Adam had said it to do him some good.

"I'm not that hungry, but I could eat," said the swordsman, and Kennedy had to suppress a fist pump.

"Wait," said the mage, bewildered.

"We're leaving?"

"We can stay a little longer if you like," she said.

"No, I mean—we're on the penthouse dueling floor, and we're not, y'know—isn't this supposed to be that tech, like, you don't even need a v-pod? You can just step on, step off?" He was just excited; it took another second for the mage to realize.

"Oh—I mean I'm totally cool with getting pizza. If that's what everyone wants to do."

"I feel like a duel could be fun," said the swordsman, surprising her.

"You guys haven't done a team duel yet, have you?"

"Are you sure you're up to it?" she said.

"I'm fine," said the swordsman.

"Really—it was just—like, a moment of vertigo. I'm good. I appreciate the concern." Adam shot her a glance. She supposed it would be good to help build some confidence. And she believed what she said—she did genuinely believe the selectors saw something inside him. He just has to find it.

"Let's give it a try," she said brightly, and the swordsman seemed… relieved? They stepped onto the dueling station; she felt the moment it virtualized her as she stepped across the station's edge. It was also her first time on this step-on, step-off system—she knew it had other simulation capabilities as well, not just that feature, and she felt a prickling of curiosity. She'd explore it another day. Match found! The station changed to display an icy lake.