Abarith
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Chapter 23: Shadows of a Plan
🕑 Added 2024-11-22 05:57:13 +0000 UTCJeremy sighed with relief as he stepped inside his suite. It felt so different from the library—no busy shelves or the weird intensity of talking with the Seekers, just peace. He dropped his bag onto the coffee table near the couch and flopped down for a moment, letting himself breathe.
The quiet hum of the fireplace added a cozy warmth to the room, the kind of silence that didn’t feel empty but comforting. The walls seemed to block out every noise from the busy academy, creating a space where he was free, shielded from all the pressure outside.
He got up after a bit and walked over to the big windows, staring out at the academy grounds. The sunset made everything glow, and for a second, he imagined what it’d be like to have things just be... simpler. Skill training, duels, dungeons—all of that would still be there, but without the shadows of the Pretenders or the weight of their family name hanging over everything. It would just be him, Andrew, and Alicia, together.
Alicia would probably tease him about being too serious in training, the way she used to. She’d be the one keeping him and Andrew on their toes, challenging them to keep up with her. They’d share laughs after a long day of running drills or studying Skills, collapsing in a pile on the couch in their dorm suite. The dungeons wouldn’t feel as daunting with her around, just another challenge they’d tackle together.
But that memory only sharpened the ache—it reminded him of how much was missing now. She was gone now, and no matter how much he tried, her death didn’t make sense. The library’s endless records, even the smartest minds in the academy, had no real answers about the Pretenders. If they couldn’t figure it out, how could he? The thought made his stomach twist, frustration curling into something heavier.
He sank into the armchair by the fireplace, still lost in thought. The Seekers had said some crazy things, like families secretly keeping Pretenders alive. That didn’t seem possible. Everyone knew the rule—if a family was caught harboring a Pretender, they were erased. All of them. No second chances. It made him wonder how far he’d be willing to go for answers, but he shoved that question away for later.
Instead, he focused on what was right in front of him: the duel. Compared to the mystery of the Pretenders, it felt almost easy. He could train for this, work hard, and win. It wasn’t just about showing off his Spearmanship—it was his first real chance to stand out. Winning would prove he could handle himself, not because of his family name, but because of his own skill. And yeah, the Hoppins name helped. It opened doors most people couldn’t even knock on. He didn’t see any point in pretending otherwise. If his family’s influence gave him an edge, why not use it? He didn’t have anything to prove to anyone about doing things the hard way. What mattered was winning.
Just thinking about the duel made his stomach twist. If he messed up, it wouldn’t just look bad—it’d stick with him. People wouldn’t forget if he failed, and most importantly, neither would he. Winning wasn’t just about pride; it was about setting the tone for his time at the academy. If he nailed this, it’d show everyone he was someone to watch. If he didn’t... well, he wasn’t going to think about that.
Spearmanship was the first thing he’d focus on. Marcus already had a Basic weapon Skill, and Jeremy couldn’t let himself fall behind. Hendrikson had said unlocking any weapon Skill was a requirement, but Jeremy wasn’t aiming for just Basic. If he could hit Simple before the duel, it would set him apart, even though it would take a ridiculous amount of work in just a week. He’d start training tonight, no excuses.
The duel wasn’t the only thing bothering him, though. The dungeon run had been cut short which meant Jeremy hadn’t collected as much Essence as everyone else in his batch. That wasn’t good, he needed to catch up. Essence was everything here—it meant stronger stats, better Skills, and a real edge in battle. He’d start with his Body stat for strength and stamina, then invest in his Mind stat for focus and reflexes. It made sense. And if it meant going into a dungeon solo to catch up? Fine by him. The idea didn’t scare him—it actually sounded exciting.
He pictured the dungeon—dim corridors, the quiet tension of facing enemies alone. It was risky, sure, but he’d be prepared. With no one to split Essence with throughout the run, he could finally catch up to the rest of his classmates. The thought sent a shiver down his spine.
He thought about asking Timothy for gear, but he quickly ditched the idea. Timothy’s crafting Skills weren’t there yet, and Jeremy wasn’t going to settle for anything less than the best. His dad could provide that—no doubt about it. With the right equipment, he’d have the edge he needed to dominate the duel.
And then there was Memorization. It wasn’t his main focus right now, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how scattered he’d felt in the dungeon. Keeping track of their path, keeping Mia safe, and trying not to mess up had been overwhelming. He didn’t want to feel that way again. Sure, Memorization wasn’t urgent, but it would help in the long run. A little practice here and there wouldn’t hurt.
With his plans lined up—Spearmanship, Essence, and a bit of Memorization—Jeremy felt like he had a plan. He couldn’t control the Pretenders or the unanswered questions about Alicia, but at the very least he could handle this.
Jeremy settled at his desk, gathering his thoughts before taking out his communicator. Calling his father wasn’t something he did lightly. He’d been raised to respect the weight of his family’s resources and influence, and reaching out always came with a mix of purpose and expectation. This time, with the duel looming, Jeremy knew he needed to ask for more than advice.
The connection clicked, and his father’s image appeared—sharp-eyed and steady, his presence commanding even over the screen. A faint curiosity flickered in his expression, though his voice was calm as ever.
“Jeremy,” his father greeted, leaning slightly forward. “This isn’t a casual call, is it?”
Jeremy straightened, meeting his father’s gaze. “No, it’s not,” he admitted. “I wanted to talk about the weaponry duels next week. I’ve been working hard on my Spearmanship, but I feel like I need something more to give me an edge.”
His father tilted his head slightly, considering. “An edge? You mean equipment?”
“Yeah,” Jeremy said, pausing for a moment. “I’ve been putting in the effort. But I know that with the right gear—something tailored to my Skill—I could make it count. I trust your judgment on what might work best.”
For a moment, his father was quiet, his eyes scrutinizing yet understanding. Then, his father gave him a small smile. “You’ve thought this through.”
“I have,” Jeremy said firmly. “This isn’t about skipping the work. It’s about being smart with the tools I have.”
His father nodded. “Good. You’re learning that preparation is as important as effort. Your Skill is unique, and the right synergy could make all the difference. I’ll have something sent to you soon.”
Relief and satisfaction washed over Jeremy, though he kept his tone steady. “Thanks, Dad. I promise I’ll use it well.”
His father looked at him warmly. “I know you will. And remember, you can always ask. The resources are there for a reason—use them.”
“I will,” Jeremy said firmly, feeling the weight of his father’s confidence in him. This wasn’t about meeting expectations or fulfilling a legacy. It was about taking what was available and using it to carve his own path.
His father nodded, pride in his expression before the screen went dark.
As the call ended, he leaned back, feeling more confident than ever. His dad’s confidence wasn’t something he took lightly—it wasn’t just support, it was belief. The equipment would help, sure, but what mattered more was knowing his father was on his side. It wasn’t about pressure or expectations—it was about trust, and Jeremy wasn’t going to let him down.
Jeremy leaned back in his chair, letting out a long breath. The whole day had been a lot—too much, really. Between digging through weird theories about the Pretenders and all the pressure he was putting on himself for the duel, it felt like his brain might explode. He could imagine his friends somewhere on campus right now, probably goofing off, cracking jokes, and just... relaxing. He could see himself with them, laughing and letting everything else fade away. For a second, it sounded perfect.
But he couldn’t. Not yet. Marcus always seemed so sure of himself, Perci could lighten the mood no matter what, and even Mia, who pushed herself harder than anyone, found a way to keep it together. They had it figured out, and Jeremy didn’t—not completely. It wasn’t just about getting stronger. It was about proving to himself that he could. He couldn’t shake the feeling that if he stopped now for the night, even for a little while, he wouldn’t want to start back again.
Jeremy pushed himself up, shaking off the tempting idea of joining his friends. The duel was what mattered now. He headed to his private training room, letting the focus settle in as he opened the door.
The room was simple, nothing flashy, but it had everything he needed. There were no distractions here—just the tools he needed to get better. A practice spear awaited him on one of the weapon racks. He took a deep breath. This was his space, where he could block out everything else and just work.
He started his drills, the spear slicing through the air in smooth arcs. At first, his arms felt heavy, his muscles still tired from earlier, but he kept going. He focused on each movement—every swing, every step. He pictured Marcus and his sword, sharp and confident, and it pushed him to work harder. He wasn’t going to let anyone be better than him.
Soon, he forgot the ache in his arms. The hypnotic rhythm of his movements took over, his body moving on its own. The room was quiet except for the quick shuffles of his feet and the blade of his spear cutting through the air. Time passed as he let everything around him fade, repeating his forms again and again.
When he finally stopped, his arms felt like mush. His sweat dripped down his face, and soaked through his shirt. The dull ache in his legs reminded him just how much he’d pushed himself today. But there was something satisfying about the ache. He’d pushed himself hard tonight, and it felt good. He was getting closer to where he wanted to be.
Jeremy tossed back the spear and glanced around the room. The training dummies were scuffed and battered from his strikes, proof of how hard he’d worked. He took off his shirt and wiped his face with it, his breathing still heavy. He felt different—stronger somehow, not just physically but mentally too.
As he closed the door behind him, he thought about his friends again, probably headed back to their dorms to rest for the night. They felt distant now. There’d be time for that later, but not now. Right now, he had a duel to win, and he was going to crush it, no matter what.
