Abarith
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Chapter 51: Under Pressure
🕑 Added 2024-12-05 21:33:01 +0000 UTCJeremy sat on the floor of his suite, his back pressed against the edge of the couch. Silence hung in the air, broken only by the dull thud of Andrew's fist as it met the wall again and again. Each strike echoed louder, reverberating off the walls. Jeremy swallowed hard, trying to push down the wave of nausea tightening his stomach.
Across the room, Andrew's hands trembled, his knuckles bruised and red. His face was flushed, jaw clenched, eyes blazing with anger—anger at their mother, at their powerlessness. He stood there, breathing hard, his fist hovering above the wall before he slowly lowered it. He looked at Jeremy, his voice almost a whisper, "We have to do something."
Jeremy watched his brother, seeing the strain in his eyes. He pushed himself up to his feet, stepping closer. "We can't just sit here and do nothing, Andrew. Luminaris is already gone. Marcus's parents are gone. We can't change that." He shook his head, his voice steadying. "But we can still make sure the Essence is put to good use. We have to get stronger, faster. We need to look out for each other, and our friends. If we become strong enough, we can protect the people we care about."
Andrew nodded slowly, the anger in his face softening, replaced by a grim resolve. He clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. "Alright," he said. "We do it. But we need to be careful. Really careful. And we get stronger—together."
Jeremy stepped closer, placing a hand on Andrew's shoulder. "Together," he echoed. His thoughts briefly drifted to their friends. Telling them everything wasn’t an option—not yet. If they knew the truth, they might freak out or pull away. They couldn't risk that. They needed their friends now more than ever. He would help them get stronger, but without revealing what really happened. Not until the time was right.
The next morning was a blur of forced smiles and strained conversations. Jeremy could feel his mother’s visit pressing down on him. But he and Andrew had made a decision, and they had to act like everything was fine. At least for now.
In the common area of the academy, the familiar faces of their friends greeted them, all gathered around a low table scattered with books and half-empty mugs of tea and hot chocolate. Marcus looked up first, his eyes immediately narrowing on the brothers.
"You guys look like you've been run over by a stampede of slimes," Marcus said, his voice concerned.
Jeremy forced a smile. "Just... tired," he said, hoping his voice sounded steadier than he felt. "The dungeon really took it out of us."
Marcus studied him for a moment longer, then nodded, though the doubt lingered in his eyes. Jeremy could feel Marcus's gaze on him. He tried to shake it off, focusing instead on Mia, who was in the middle of an animated story, her hands moving dramatically as she spoke.
Despite his best efforts, Jeremy could feel himself slipping. His eyes kept drifting to Marcus, a tightness building in his chest each time he looked at his friend. He knew what happened to Luminaris, to Marcus’s family, and every smile felt like he was lying to his friend.
Perci nudged him lightly with her elbow, a teasing grin on her face. "You look like you're about to fall asleep standing up, Jeremy. Didn’t get enough beauty rest?"
Jeremy tried to laugh, but it came out hollow. He rubbed the back of his neck, forcing a smile. "Guess I’m not as tough as I thought," he said, his voice lacking its usual energy.
Perci's smile faltered. "Hey," she said gently, her voice dropping the teasing tone. "You still not feeling right after yesterday?"
Jeremy looked at her, the concern in her eyes making the guilt twist tighter in his chest. He wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to let it all out—the truth about his mother, about Luminaris. But he couldn’t. Not yet at least.
So instead, he forced another smile and nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Just a lot on my mind, with the war and all."
Perci studied him for a moment longer, then gave a small nod, though her eyes still held that hint of worry. "Alright," she said quietly. "But we're here, you know? Whatever it is."
Jeremy's smile softened, a real one this time, even if just for a second. "I know," he said. "Thanks." And as he looked around at his friends, he felt the tiniest spark of hope. They weren’t alone. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.
Jeremy and his friends walked across the academy grounds, the chill of the early morning air biting at their faces. Their instructors, Hendrikson and Mira, were already waiting. Hendrikson stood with his arms folded, his posture rigid and serious. His eyes darted from one of them to the next, reading them like an open book. Mira stood slightly to the side, her sharp gaze giving the impression she was calculating their every move before they made it.
"Are you all ready for today’s challenge?" Hendrikson asked, his booming voice making everyone stand a little straighter. He didn’t smile—he rarely did—but there was a glint in his eyes, almost as if he was daring them to prove themselves.
Jeremy swallowed hard, and beside him, Andrew squared his shoulders, gripping his mace firmly. Today wasn't just a test—it was the start of something bigger. It was their first real glimpse of what they’d face outside the academy.
Mira stepped forward, raising her hand, and the air around them shimmered. Before them, a towering image of something alien appeared—humanoid, yet distinctly wrong. Its skin was pale gray, and its eyes glowed a harsh white. A long, wicked-looking weapon was strapped across its back, and its movements were unnervingly precise, every twitch and shift of its limbs deliberate and calculated.
“This,” Mira began, her voice cutting through the cold air like a knife, “is your first enemy. A glimpse of what lies beyond these walls. Study it, understand it—because it will not hesitate when you face it for real.” The alien figure shifted, showcasing its weapons, its stance, the way it almost glided across the ground. Jeremy felt a chill that had nothing to do with the weather.
Mira’s eyes locked onto each of them in turn. “The civilization you see here is known as the Xelarians. They come from a Tierless world called Vexar Prime—a place where the atmosphere is thick with poisonous gases. As a result, the Xelarians live in enclosed habitats, massive domed structures built from metal scavenged and repurposed over centuries. These habitats are a blend of advanced technology and crude necessity—some parts are intricately designed, full of sophisticated machinery, while others are patched together, barely functional, and clearly repaired countless times. The Xelarians' entire way of life revolves around their ability to adapt and endure these brutal conditions.”
“Life on Vexar Prime is defined by scarcity. Food, water, and Essence are all in short supply, and the struggle to obtain these resources dictates every aspect of their society. The constant scarcity has created a culture that values efficiency above all else—waste is not tolerated, and every action must serve a purpose. Brutality is a natural byproduct of this environment; weakness is not just a liability but a death sentence. Those who cannot contribute are cast aside or worse—repurposed in whatever way the community sees fit.”
She gestured towards the image, which moved with eerie grace, demonstrating a series of combat maneuvers. Jeremy watched, his eyes widening at the fluidity of its movements, the way it transitioned from one stance to the next without hesitation.
“Once, they were a single unified polity, and were about to take their first steps towards the stars. But after exhausting all the dungeons of their world, rather than look for more in the universe, they believed that they were the only planet in the universe ‘blessed’ with Essence. Their society split into multiple factions, each hoarding Essence and competing for dominance. As such, the Xelarians have developed a rigid caste system that places warriors, those deemed worthy of possessing Essence, at the very top.”
“To supplement their limited supply of Essence, their warrior caste, known as the Vexari Guard, are enhanced with bio-technology that makes them faster and stronger than any normal Xelarian. Their armor is grafted directly into their skin, wired into their nervous system. They do not fear death, and they have no concept of mercy. They are precision incarnate—every movement, every strike, is calculated to kill or maim.”
Mira continued, “Vexar Prime is a world of harsh survival. The Xelarians believe only the strongest deserve to thrive, and their entire culture revolves around this principle.”
Jeremy clenched his fists, feeling his stomach twist as he stared at the alien figure. He knew it was just a projection, but it felt too real—the way it moved, the coldness in its glowing eyes. Jeremy had fought monsters before. But this? This was different. Could he really do it? Could he take down something that thought, something that felt fear, just like him?
He glanced at Andrew, who was staring straight ahead, his face set with determination. Andrew always seemed so sure of himself, like nothing could shake him. Jeremy wished he felt the same. Even Marcus looked eager, ready to prove himself.
Jeremy tried to push the doubts away. He had to be ready—everyone was counting on him. But deep down, he wasn’t sure if he could do it. It wasn’t about whether he was strong enough. It was about facing another person and knowing they might not walk away. Could he really go through with it when the time came?
Mira’s expression hardened as she scanned the group. “Today’s training is simple. You will split into groups and simulate a city raid. Each group will enter a different simulation of a Xelarian city. Their planet is littered with these cities—some housing a few thousand, others with hundreds of millions of inhabitants. For the sake of practicality, we will be simulating cities with only a few thousand. Your task is to go in and eliminate all Xelarians in your designated simulation. There will be no holding back. Hesitation or mistakes will cost lives out there. The Xelarians won't hesitate, and neither should you.”
Hendrikson stepped forward, his stern gaze sweeping over them. “I'll be cloning myself, and Mira will be casting an illusion over my clones to make them appear as Xelarians. Remember, this is your chance to prove you have what it takes to survive. Treat this as if it were real, because next week, it will be.”
Jeremy took a deep breath, steeling himself. This was it—their first true test. There was no room for fear, only action.
