A Sinner's Eden

***Tirnanog, The Old Camp***

***Magnus***

Astra wasn't the kind of person I had expected her to be.

She was smart and she knew what she wanted, but I never got the impression that she was arrogant or thought herself to be better than others. Her view of the world and her place in it was down-to-earth and pragmatic. During our conversations, she always treated me like an equal, despite her supposedly higher social standing as a clanner.

When I heard about the clanners, I had expected them to be aloof supremacists, given how they handled matters in the Old Camp. It was pretty much exactly how my new staff instructor behaved. He was a perfect example of the snobby rich guy who had lucked out in life.

Admittedly, I didn't know him well, but Brook suffered from a slight superiority complex as far as I was concerned.

Astra wasn't like that at all. Though, her 'test' took me by surprise. It was obvious she had never kissed before, but that body of hers. I could still feel her firmness beneath my palms when I closed my eyes.

No! I had to think about this logically! I wouldn't dive head first into trouble just because a pretty girl kissed me.

When I started learning about the clans by reading Gurney's files, my first impulse was to join the Thich. It sounded like they took in most of the new arrivals. Therefore, my chance of finding my sisters would be the greatest with them.

If I joined the Aerie, the Thich would be harder to access, as the two parties were on bad terms with each other.

On the other side, Astra's offer looked like the sweetest deal I could hope for in the long term. She was a straight path to personal and political power in a world where the mighty ruled. If we joined forces, I might be able to bend even the Thich to my will in time.

Not to forget, there was a considerable risk that the Thich were connected to the hidden enemy that I was searching for. My organisation never found out why Earth's leadership was abducting kids, though I forged some theories since my arrival.

But Astra's firm... ahem... it was a temptation. I couldn't deny it.

My thoughts went down two wildly different paths as I weighed my options. One was potentially quick and logical with hefty pitfalls. The other relied on patience but was sweet and promising. I was no longer certain about how to proceed since I didn't have enough information to make an informed decision.

Though, when faced with a fork in the road, I had always preferred to play the long game.

The wooden staff clipped my temple and drew blood as it broke my skin.

Stumbling back, I was painfully reminded to pay my full attention during training fights. I winced and touched my temple. The fingers came away red with blood. Something that hadn't changed after my genetic 'improvements' was that headwounds still bled like a bitch!

Instructor Brook lowered his staff and glared at me. “Pay attention when we are sparring. Your muscles may protect most of your body against blunt trauma, but you don't have that many on your head. At least protect that numb skull of yours with a little more care.”

Brook was a lean, dark-skinned man who looked like the stick in his hands. With him standing at least a head above me, I considered him to be huge. He never talked much about himself, but according to Gurney, he was a staff instructor and worth everything he was paid.

I wasn't so sure of that.

Gurney had pointed Brook out to me when I asked for a tutor who taught staff weapons.

The only thing I knew for sure was that Brook was a clanner from Hochberg who took a lot for his lessons. I had to pay him two days' worth of my stored-up points at the restaurant for a mere two hours of training.

Normally, I wouldn't have minded, since Brook obviously knew his trade.

Sadly, the two of us hadn't clicked at all. The way he talked always implied he was looking down on any exile who wasn't a clanner. As a petitioner and potential arena fighter, I barely fulfilled the requirements to be talked to in his mind.

“Right!” I replied.

My misgivings for Brook had no place in the training ring.

It had been a week since Astra and I started meeting regularly and I had to admit that the woman was getting into my head. Those 'goodbye' kisses of hers tended to skirt the edge of my self-control. A few more of those 'goodbyes' and I would try to get her naked then and there on the street.

Which... probably wouldn't end well for me without her consent.

What was I thinking? Of course, I would have her consent! I would be a bonehead to believe otherwise. No woman kissed like that if she didn't want the whole deal.

And here I was lamenting over her when my attention was supposed to be somewhere else! This was a sparring session!

“My head just isn't in it today,” I admitted. “I am more of a feet and fists guy when it comes to martial arts.”

Back on Earth, I had never been as physically fit as I was now. Despite that, our organisation had required me to join self-defence classes. The tutors there taught me that fighting for one's life didn't require muscles or excessive training. Their doctrine taught something more important for battle than style and form. It was the ability to overcome a civilised humans' inhibitions to do harm.

These lessons thoroughly changed any expectations I had of fighting. Most of the popular forms of martial arts had been neutered for public practice. Techniques that guaranteed easy victories were banned because they held the potential for permanent injuries.

This wasn't the case with what I had been taught.

And the organisation's instructors had been a lot better at what they taught than Brooks.

Nonetheless, I had to admit that the man knew a few useful techniques with his staff. I would have to train a lot more until they became instinctive.

I raised a hand to stop the instructor from spouting his standard line and said it for him. “Yeah, you are right. My body alone won't help me against some rabid creature.”

Brooks didn't look pleased that I had pointed out his concerns for him.

Something clacked just a few metres away from us.

It drew Brook's and my attention. Mark was also watching with narrowed eyes from his spot on the bench next to the training field. He had been lazing around while I received my training, but now he was paying attention to the newcomer.

I belatedly realized the clacking had been a clapping, now that I took a closer look at the mutant who had joined us on the training field. He looked like the brother of the man who I had encountered eating the bug in the forest, though the mutation had gone slightly better in this case.

Lucky for him that he hadn't lost his mind like the other one.

He was a sun-darkened mountain of muscles who had gained a few more eyes than necessary for a human. Additionally, it looked like something akin to armour plates shifted beneath his skin. All he wore were trousers, which left his well-toned upper body bare for everyone to see. I thought it to be a little vain that this guy showed off his physique in such a way.

Admittedly, his deformed arms would make it hard to put on a proper shirt.

A set of serrated spikes emerged from his elbows, widening his arms as if they belonged to a praying mantis. The chitin on his hands was responsible for the clapping-turned-clacking.

“Look who I found.” He grinned maniacally as he looked me over. “At first, I wasn't certain, but now I am sure we know each other.”

I frowned, but couldn't remember ever having seen this creature... man. “I am sorry, but who are you? What are you?”

“Back at the beach! I am the one who you tried to brain with a stone!” the muscle man called out.

I frowned as I tried to remember a beach or something like it. The only thing which came to mind was the lake's shore.

Then I remembered him. “Right! Dude, life wasn't kind to you since we last met. And I wouldn't call it a beach. It was a lakeshore. And apologies for the stone. Though, I have to say I felt justified in doing so back then. You behaved like an asshole.” I shook my head. “How did tribe-building work out for you?”

The bug-man sneered. “Don't mock me for taking my chances. I have been fighting in the arena while it seems you are being pampered.”

I looked towards Brook, but the clanner only laid his staff over his shoulders and looked indifferent. “Unlike you, Ean, Tulkas at least pays for his lessons.”

The instructor looked back and forth between Mr Muscles and me. It was obvious that a plan was forming in the man's head, and judging by his expression it was a stupid one.

Brook gestured with his staff. “Why don't you come into the ring, Ean? You and Tulkas can work out your grievances. Fists and mutations only. That should keep both of you alive. God knows I have heard him yammering too much about his combat training by now.”

Ean, the bug-man, laughed. “Him? Combat training? You should have seen him at the beach. That pen pusher hasn't fought a single serious battle in his life until he came here.”

Well, sorry for not being the fittest in a world which didn't require physical power. Back on Earth, I would have just sat in a car and driven over this Ean fellow. All the muscles in the world wouldn't have helped him against three tons of steel. Of course, it would have been a very regrettable accident. There was no way a socially adjusted person like myself would have been capable of murder.

Maybe it was time to start with some social engineering. If I didn't stand up to such provocations in a world like this, people would be all over me in no time. “Fine. But you will train me for free. One hour each day if I win, Brook.”

Brook shrugged and left the ring while Mark looked concerned.

“Win first.” My instructor sat down on the bench next to my friend.

Mark made eye contact with me and shook his head. “Don't engage him hand to hand, Tulkas. Those spikes aren't just for show.”

I studied Ean and sighed, then threw the training staff over to Mark. It wasn't like I could avoid conflict forever. This was a good way to test myself against someone who should be more or less on my level. Better to fight him in a duel-like setting than to be jumped in a dark alley when he had friends with him.

As soon as I had let go of the staff Ean charged me – and hesitated when I charged him right back with an animalistic scream on my lips.

Rule number one, always be on the offensive. Two, never stop fighting. Three, behaving like a madman could startle the best of streetfighters.

His hesitation didn't last long, but it changed how he approached the fight. Instead of engaging me head-on as he intended, Ean brought his arms up in an attempt to bring his spikes to bear.

I stopped my charge and kicked out low, aiming for Ean's groin. The impact caused him to grunt in pain, but he didn't go down. While ignoring the pain, Ean tried to ram his spikes into my leg by moving his arms like a pincer.

Thankfully, I hadn't committed myself fully and could withdraw my leg. Utilizing the opportunity when his guard was down, I swung and both my palms slapped Ean's ears.

Just like I had observed back at the lake, Ean completely relied on his physical stature in an attempt to overwhelm me. He was a street thug whose body had been forged inside a gym.

Rule number four, hit the spots that even the best bodybuilders cannot train.

Ean roared when his eardrums popped. He brought his hands back up in an attempt to protect his head.

I noticed only now that Ean had moved kind of slow during our entire fight. Even though his body looked superior, he wasn't. My mutation had boosted my musculature to superhuman levels.

Ean's physique might've been commendable for a weightlifter, but it still was only human. His mutation gave him only armour and two unwieldy blades.

Meanwhile, I had complete control over this new Bullet Time ability of mine. Mark's constant pestering had paid off to the point that activating the ability didn't require conscious thought.

My leg came forward once more and I thrust it against Ean's knee in a stomping motion. It didn't snap as I had hoped, but Ean lost his footing and went down.

He immediately got back up to one knee while he swayed and ineffectively tried to guard himself. My attack likely hadn't just affected his eardrums but also caused his equilibrium organ to act up.

It was kind of hard to fight when it felt like you just took a ride on a fast carousel.

I gave myself a moment to study the pattern of his flailing arms. Then I struck with all my might, thrusting a pointed index and middle finger right into Ean's left eye. It was a strange sensation, but I paid it no heed as I flexed my muscles in an attempt to fluctuate the power.

Ean didn't scream, nor was there a visible electrical discharge as all the power I pumped through him was grounded directly into the earth. It was just as if he had accidentally reached into a power plug.

Most of his body seized up while some of it twitched and shuddered. His arms flopped about ineffectively as his muscles contracted involuntarily or locked up due to the conflicting impulses they received.

Brook jumped to his feet, but he was too slow. Before he could interfere, I supercharged my muscles and hooked my fingers into Ean's skull to hold it in place. It was similar to holding onto a small nook in the rock while climbing zipper-shit-crag.

Then I brought my fist down on the top of Ean's forehead, releasing all the stored up force in an accelerated motion that a karate practitioner would have called a tettsui.

The impact hurt my hand, but it sounded more like a wet smack than the shattering blow it truly was as the man's skull gave way.

Brook finally reached me and poked his staff into my chest. It forcefully pushed me away from the corpse, which I allowed after sliding my finger out of the scorched eye cavity.

Ean slumped backwards until he lay on his back. His remaining eyes were still regarding the world around him, but there was no life in them.

Brook looked at the body and finally realized that there was nothing to rescue there. He turned his attention back to me and glared. “Why? You were the superior fighter.”

I crossed my arms in front of my chest before I spoke calmly. “There are many reasons. Because he was an egomaniac and a menace. Because he would have tried to do the same with me and you knew it. Which is why you engineered the fight. Because I don't leave enemies or bullies alive to haunt me later. Because I am nobody's toy. Like it or not, Brook, you killed Ean by proxy when you decided to use the idiot to teach me a lesson. Don't try to take some moral high ground with me.”

Brook ground his teeth but didn't lash out. “I stand corrected. You might be slightly dangerous, even without a weapon.”

“So, will I get my free lessons?” I raised an eyebrow.

Brook clicked his tongue and pressed his lips together. He looked down at the corpse and hooked his foot beneath Ean's torso. Then he flung the body out of the training ring with enough force to have it smack against the bunker's wall.

“Hey!” Mark complained when it passed him a little too close for comfort.

“Shouldn't we dispose of it?” I asked, unsure how this worked within camp walls. Outside, zippers would show up within the minute and clean up the mess, but I had never seen them enter the camp.

“The body will be gone come morning.” Brook levelled his staff, looking more serious than he had been before.

Mark threw back my staff and we returned to sparring with more intensity than before.

Brook didn't have a huge change in attitude after that, but he was slightly more professional about his lessons.

Once night came, we finished and Mark and I walked back towards Gurney's part of the bunker. Though, I noticed that my friend was quieter than I was used to.

“You killed him.” Mark pointed out once we found ourselves alone in a corridor.

“Obviously,” I replied.

“You could have subdued him,” Mark continued.

“Maybe,” I admitted. “Though, I don't think that Mr Muscles would have left me in peace if I had just given him a beating. From how he acted at the arrival site, that one was a street thug, straight and simple. He would have tried to find a weakness of mine and used it to blackmail me at best, to kill me at worst.”

“You could have told the clans,” Mark suggested. “Or Gurney.”

“We had a clanner watching the entire debacle. He even engineered the situation,” I pointed out. “Am I the only one who noticed that the Old Camp is only about strength and reputation?”

“No,” Mark admitted. “I guess I was simply surprised about the way you killed him. I didn't take you to be the type.”

“I think his death was quick and without too much suffering,” I replied. “It was a mercy.”

We didn't say any more and returned to Gurney's quarters where I took a quick shower and retreated to my private room.

Once the door was closed, I searched through my gear and took out the satchel containing the metal balls which I got as improvised throwing weapons.

I took out one of the smaller ones and sat down at the little desk in the corner. With the piece of metal on my palm, I started the training exercise I had come up with to increase my control over my body.

Slowly, I relaxed my mind and tried not to think of the muscles in my forearm as those big muscle groups which I was used to. Instead, I did my best to address every tiny muscle one by one. One after the other, I went through all of them, flexing each one individually.

The exercise wasn't anywhere as easy as it sounded when I came up with the idea. Something inside my frontal lobe still screamed that all of this was wrong and I wasn't supposed to be able to move more muscles in my forearm than my entire body was supposed to have.

I nonetheless kept going relentlessly until I finally managed to get through the entire sequence just like I had imagined it.

Slowly, I charged my muscles and released the energy while flexing the ones close to my skin in a coil pattern. At the same time, I flexed the ones which I imagined to be close to my bone.

The metal ball in my palm twitched and hovered three centimetres into the air, then fell back down.

I concentrated and did it again. And again, just to be sure I hadn't fallen victim to my imagination.

Have a current run in a coil pattern around a conductive core to guide the magnetic field and you get an electromagnet! Plain and simple!

The metal ball hovered upwards once more and this time I kept it in place with considerable effort. My coordination wasn't completely up to the task, because the ball wobbled around in an uncontrolled manner, but this showed I was improving.

At last, I dropped the exercise and the ball fell back into my palm. My arm hurt like hell, but I was proud. There were only a few thousand more of the little muscles in the rest of my body to gain conscious control over. What could be the problem with that?

I sighed dejectedly. No question perfecting this technique would likely take me months or years of training.