Catalyst

Walking through a marble hallway with Leo, Xenron chatted his ear off excitedly. He knew his friend didn’t have much time today, so he’d caught up to him on the way out of one of his classes, feeling less self-conscious about it than he normally would have.

“Your plan worked!” Xenron said.

“Good to see you too,” Leo said groggily. His uniform, was neat as ever, contrasting with his exhaustion as gloved hands smoothed back his hair. He sucked in a breath then, seeming to wake a fraction as he looked at Xenron’s bandaged arm. It was bound tightly in some kind of ceramic, runes evident across its surface. “What happened?”

“Oh, that? It’s nothing, really. It got reprinted. They had a lot to fill it, and it’ll take a couple of days for the new cells to integrate.”

“That much is clear.”

“I’m telling you, I’m not worried about it. I’ve got a scripted brace isolating it, so unless someone bashes it hard directly, I’ll recover just fine. Anyway, I’ll tell you the whole story another time. I’m just glad you made me pack all that random stuff. You look tired. Is there something I can help with?”

Xenron wasn’t kidding. Leo’s eyes shoulders were slumped, and he looked as if he’d been trudging on without sleep.

“I’m only here because of my knowledge. My combat ability is only fine even in the best of circumstances. It’s natural I’d focus hard on my exams. That said, I’m glad it was of some use to you. I’m curious about the particulars, but for now, you know not to force anything with that arm, right?”

“Yeah,” Xenron said, nodding seriously. The memory of the pain he’d endured on that fake mountain still made him shudder, almost seeming like it was someone else’s. He hadn’t been able to conjure the memory of any of the voices he’d heard there - or the miraculous power - since. Still, he hoped he’d heal quickly. He needed to keep training - figure out his elemental affinities. He hoped he could command fire the way his father did. “Last thing I want to do is mess myself up permanently. But there’s something else I wanted to talk about - a bit of special training, if you have time.”

Leo’s eyes quirked up with interest, the sleepy quality disappearing. If Xenron was implying what he hoped, then he’s considered his little bit of help repaid and then some.

***

When Xenron thought of the KEY Program, he always pictured ultrahuman sentinels with rigid posture and glimmering teeth bench pressing mountains and drinking magma. This view - originating from internet jokes by those that weren’t too bitter and jealous to have some fun speculating about the leaders of the future - was only reinforced by the people he’d known longest. Leo’s peerless diligence and Johan’s intense attitude and ridiculous strength played into what Xenron knew, on some level, must be an exaggeration. Still, the sheer awkward normalcy of a bunch of teenagers doing military training hit Xenron as he entered his first day of the Bruce’s training section. Donning a flexible training clothes in the same style as the others, Xenron was immediately invited to the front of the long room - and introduced to the class.

“For those who are not acquainted, this is Prince Xenron I, heir apparent of His Majesty Verox I. He will be joining us for a few training sessions to gain experience and understanding with how we do things. Per the King’s personal orders, he is not due any special reverence in this context - but I do hope you will welcome him as a peer. Additionally, it should go without saying, but do be mindful of his arm until it heals.”

Bruce slapped Xenron on his back on his good side, and he stumbled forward before catching his balance and reseting his stance, fighting the redness creeping onto his cheeks. He supposed this was the part where he was supposed to say something - this pretty much always went badly in shows, playing the whole thing for a joke. Not terribly helpful at the moment. Calling on a recent habit, he allowed himself a deep breath to figure out what he’d say.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” he said, speaking deliberately so as not to stumble over words. “I’m Xenron, and I like card games, chess puzzles, and chai. I’ve heard incredible things about what everyone’s doing, and I’m so excited to see it all firsthand. It’ll take some time for me to catch on to everything, so please be patient with me.”

Feeling awkward, he gave a small bow to punctuate the introduction. The responses were as varied as the people in the group. A girl with pink eyes and a long red ponytail glared, and a boy with a mop of black hair stared at him with disinterest. He tried not to take the instant rejections to heart. Ms. Vale had told him that while he should focus on improving his competence and confidence, he would need to accept that some people would never like him. Fortunately, not everyone had that reaction. Ken and a beaming white-haired girl gave him a “yo” and “hi!” A shy girl with dark skin and braided hair returned a respectful bow, as did a tan boy with long, lustrous black hair. Johan especially surprised him, going with an assessing gaze and then a nod of acknowledgment.

“Very good. Back in line, Private Xenron.”

“Yes, sir!”

Xenron called out the response with enthusiasm, buoyed by the mixed response. In his stress-dreams, he was received much more poorly. The worst part, overall, was how obvious his introduction was. In his imaginings, Xenron had somehow blended into the back of the class without making a splash at first. He now saw that that was obviously impossible, but that also meant his father would know of his disobedience before long. He sighed internally. There was nothing he could do about it at this point, and he definitely couldn’t regret it. For just a fleeting moment, he had tasted the stone-crushing power of a mage - on reflection after Bruce’s test, Xenron knew nothing else could explain his ascent. Instantly, he’d become an addict. And if he could truly discover and master that power, perhaps the King would accept results over strict obedience.

The rest of the week was a mesmerizing blur of sweat, shouting, and many, many blows. Xenron ordered a pair of adaptive earplugs on Leo’s suggestion so that he didn’t go deaf, and they did him a lot of good, but the rest was down to pure endurance. He ran through jungles to get to extraction points. Swam through distant seas. Shot, albeit with blanks and aim tracing, at dozens of Lucerna, beasts, and even peers. He didn’t do any direct sparring, but that didn’t save him from endless runs as the training room shifted over and over to form, impossibly creating an infinite variety of terrain. Alongside it all, bullet drills gave him a few minutes to practice and refine basic martial arts techniques. He’d always been fond of that kind of repetition, and partnered drills were perhaps the easiest time for Xenron to keep up, though he would once again be in a world of exhaustion as the next calisthenics, lifting, climbing, swiming, or other exercise started up. On one occasion, martial forms bookending a hellish gauntlet of exercises seemed to stretch on endlessly - Xenron even saw his peers faltering. As for the mana-starved prince, his world had become pain and exhaustion.

I can’t do it, echoed Xenron’s mind, over and over. His body kept moving weakly, shaking, through the stances, trying desperately to match Bruce’s perfect form. With only one mobile arm, his balance was skewed. Xenron caught Johan’s eyes on him more than once, but it was all I could do to struggle on. What the hell does he expect? The errant thought distracted Xenron, and it was all he could do to arrest his stumble. When Bruce called for a particularly athletic form full of leaping strikes, Xenron could feel his legs shuddering in his wide stance at just the thought of it. Any normal movements should be endlessly doable for a Xexen, but with the room’s gravity amplified and Xenron’s body wrung out from the day’s work, jumping seemed impossible.

“Private Xenron,” Johan called out, startling him, “retrieve Corporal Fernaux’s water bottle and fill it.” Xenron glanced at Bruce, who was expressionless, then followed orders. A stay of execution from Johan? I don’t understand his reasoning, but I’ll take it. Xenron took deep breaths as he crossed the floor and while he filled the water, steadying himself. As he placed the bottle down reverently and then walked back towards his spot, Johan gave him a firm nod, leaving him baffled. Then, with an inward sigh, he joined into the form, reaching a low lunge, fighting the burn through the rest of it. Next, though, was yet another set of weighted squats. Xenron had a moment’s reprieve as he spotted Ken’s own lift. But when his turn came, he got into position and with the first count, lifting his amplified bodyweight left him almost nauseous enough to lose balance. Ken wouldn’t have any trouble catching him if he fell. The real danger was to his standing - if he couldn’t handle this training, Bruce would kick him out without a second thought. As the repetitions continued, he thought he would vomit or collapse or die or all of the above. I can’t do it, the thought returned.

Then, he remembered Johan’s gesture. On a whim, Xenron looked up and saw the blonde glancing back his way. He grit his teeth and fought through the pain. I won’t let him see me fall.

Besides agonizing pain and a double dose of impostor syndrome, things were going really well for Xenron. He wasn’t able to pay particularly much attention to Ken in Bruce’s training sessions, and he worried Bruce would see it as a failure on his part of the deal. Luckily, Ken’s sense of camaraderie seemed a lot stronger than his mischievous streak, because he spent most of his time training hard and offering Xenron a hand up on the few embarrassing occasions where he did actually collapse. Bruce seemed to consider this an acceptable outcome, because he didn’t say anything on the matter. Well, anything besides the occasional reminder after class that Xenron needed to keep up for appearance’s sake. The monolith of a man didn’t chide him - he seemed sympathetic, even - but he didn’t waver on his standards.

The thick magical brace did a good job of isolating Xenron’s left arm from further harm as long as he didn’t try to use it, but while the exercises were modified as needed, he was still at the end of his strength every day. In addition to training with Bruce, Xenron went through the elemental forms for different kinds of magic religiously. They were meant to give him mastery over the precise somatic components of various spells. If he was lucky, he might accidentally cast an unstructured spell in the process. Of course, so far, he wasn’t lucky, but he felt his power stir with the movements, and sometimes he saw those horrible visions. He rallied himself. He was close to a breakthrough - he knew it. He had long since memorized the incantations, long form and short form, for various low level spells, but he redoubled his efforts. Firebrand, Blackheart, Manifest Soul, True Sight, Blood Rush, Freeze Ray, Jetstream - any one of these could be his very first spell that would open the door to his future. Hell, he’d cast the worthless door-opening spell ‘Knock’, if he had to, just to get it out of the way.

Between these bookend exercises and Bruce’s training, the Survival Gauntlet became a practically built-in feature as it only took incidental exercise of out-of-the way muscles to leave Xenron bone weary at the end of the day. He felt foolish as he did these things - and as he restricted his meals. For humans, the now-extinct progenitors of his kind, the abuse he was putting his body through would be called tragically disordered behavior - and he would agree. Even with the quirks of Xexen physiology that made explosive growth a possibility, Xenron still couldn’t deny the extremity of what he was doing. Even Xexen physiology had a limit. Xexens still sadly suffered from dysphoria and eating disorders, just as their ancestors had - and those who didn’t take care of their bodies could face any number of horrifying outcomes. If Xenron’s training backfired, he could be badly injured, horribly ill, or even die as Bruce had warned.

He found that limit the following day. In the depths of the Survival Gauntlet’s cycle, Xenron found himself starved for food, sleep, and oxygen alike. Burning breath heaved in his lungs as he fought through hours - he had to look at the clock to be sure it wasn’t just in his mind - of running. An eternity later, Bruce called it out. “Alright, good work today. I saw a couple of people come in late today. Don’t let that be a habit. I’ll keep you here double-time if it happens again.”

The sudden sense of freedom was dizzying. In a daze, Xenron stumbled into a pure white bathroom. Most were headed for the showers. That sounded nice, but Xenron scrambled towards a toilet. He barely made it before emptying his stomach. What little he’d eaten came up before wave after wave of empty heaving. It was there, every muscle shaking, that Xenron learned what it was to question all of his life decisions. Stupid. Fucking stupid. Trying to put the hardest training program on the planet on hard mode? You think you can look down on them? You? Fucking you? Fuck off. Then, another wave of exhaustion crashed, and Xenron felt faint. Yeah…that’s not good. He clutched the toilet, hoping through the shaking not to have to vomit again, and waited for the weakness to pass.

It did, thankfully. By the time he’d dragged himself up to standing, everyone else had left, and he stared at himself in the mirror. Bloodshot eyes reflected his deepening glare, and his hair was stuck to his head in strange ways. His shirt had visibly crusted with the salt of sweat long-gone. He’d had opportunities to wash during the training, but been too weary to even think about it. His breaths felt shallow and weak, his steps unsteady, his expression almost manic. In short, Xenron matched his mental image of a drug addict at rock bottom.

Deep breaths.

Steadying himself with a series of deep inhales, Xenron splashed water on his face from cupped hands. The shower came next, and after changing into casual wear, he dropped the training shirt into a trash chute to be incinerated. It was so streaked with mud and sweat and even blood that it wasn’t worth saving.

No more, Xenron thought. He’d hit the wall. His physical limit. He’d planned to do a bit more exercise tonight, but decided to end the Survival Gauntlet cycle early. The marginal losses wouldn’t be much, and he’d stand to lose much more if he overdid it. When Xenron made it back to his room after a slowly-eaten meal he could hardly stomach, he journaled about he experienced, considering everything that had lead him up to the very edge. Before falling asleep, though, he went over his spell formulae. He didn’t want to chance casting in this weak state, but he couldn’t stop himself from reading and imagining the possibilities until he sleep took him right at the desk.

This night, the severe challenge of the run echoed in his dreams. As in all his training, each time he faced a wall, Xenron tried to recall the memory of what it felt like to use his mana. He struggled. The memories floated out of reach at the slightest lapse in focus, and part of him didn’t want to test the mental connection between his strange visions and his abilities. As the training seemed to grow more difficult by the day, Xenron’s cautiousness diminished considerably, but he still found his attempts falling short. Bruce’s opinion was that Xenron had incidental amounts of mana leaking out past his bizarre restriction, empowering him just enough to avoid falling over. That wasn’t good enough, though, and they both knew it.

The next day, Xenron was tasked with hitting the heavy bag with enough force that it would make the Light Incarnate yield. King Verox, his father, was the only Xexen in history to defeat an Incarnate when he sealed the tyrannical Dark Incarnate. So presumably, no one in this room was actually strong enough to defeat their greatest enemy, the current Light Incarnate. Still, Incarnate Adam’s form was projected with concerning realism onto the training dummy in front of Xenron, as it was projected onto everyone else’s. Blue skin, starting to bruise from his strikes. Silver and gold hair, framing golden eyes that narrowed at Xenron. Everyone else in the class had already defeated the fakes and were politely busying themselves with stretching - except the redhead, who was openly staring at him. Find it! Xenron punched furiously as he felt the sidelong glances sneak through feigned disinterest, chipping away slowly at the enemy’s aura.

“What are you all standing around for?” Bruce said, clearly irritated. “There’s no time to stand around on the battlefield. Enemy reinforcements have arrived, so run the drill once more.”

A small chorus of groans rose and quickly quieted. Xenron’s gratitude matched his embarrassment. His left arm was still bound, but the exercise’s difficulty had been adjusted to match - in theory. While his knuckles were tough enough to take the backlash of his punches, Xenron felt like he was fighting a grensteel wall for all the good he was doing. It didn’t help that the figure he was meant to kill with his bare hands resembled the girl he still remembered shooting. They were just constructs - but the stark realism and Xenron’s unreliable memories wore on him. He hit the false Incarnate with a hard right hook, then stumbled, exhaustion nearly taking him to the ground. A single hand steadily him, and Xenron turned to his left and saw Johan, shaking his head. Without warning, he kicked out his foot at Xenron’s lead leg, sweeping it to the side. Xenron tumbled onto the mat. Johan? Now?

“Your stance is all wrong. You’re using hip movement to power your strikes - as you should - but you’re not coming back to the right center of balance. Also, you’re not keeping your hands… hand… up consistently.”

“I apologize, Apprentice Johan,” Xenron said, rising to his feet. Apparently, “Apprentice” was a title of power. It denoted that someone had been acknowledged and was endorsed by a Tier III mentor. Once they went up a Tier themselves, these students would be given a regular income, numerous internship opportunities, and the attention and respect of the King himself. A good deal - the kind of opportunity Xenron was proud his home offered. That said, to see Johan in that position left him anxious.

“At ease, Xenron. Walk with me.” The prince let his hands fall to his sides, moving away from the group. He wondered about Johan’s intentions, but he was an extension of Bruce’s authority. As long as he didn’t try to take Xenron somewhere else - no, it seemed he just wanted him out of earshot of the others as he pulled up short. “Your punches have some power in them - and that’s gotten better even in a few days. But you’re not controlling your mana properly.”

Properly. The word bumped around in Xenron’s mind as he considered his response. He thought it was overwhelming likely that perceptive peers would figure out something was off about him. As long as they didn’t figure out he was fully powerless before he awakened his abilities, he’d avoid the worst case. Had Johan figured him out?

“I’ve… been having some trouble with that recently. This training is more intensive than I’m used to, and I have a hard time keeping my mind steady enough while training.”

Johan hummed, considering. “That’s all well and good, but proper mana flow is exactly what you need to make the exercises doable. I’m sure you’ve been taught in a very theoretical way - sitting and meditating and looping your mana in circles like a shoelace. People can’t get over their theory in the capital…” Johan went on a tangent about family traditions leading to inefficient training, and Xenron let him, nodding and frowning as appropriate. Xenron’s intuition - a thing he’d been trusting more recently - told him that Johan was more or less taking his own words at face value. Good. No reason to disabuse him of his assumptions. Xenron wasn’t weak, Johan thought - he just didn’t handle this kind of training well. It was a safe enough cover story. Xenron listened attentively to Johan as the rest of the group continued training.

“…and, at that, we come to the point of Kinetic Evolution Theory,” Johan went on. “Xexens evolve by seeing, feeling, and emulating, not sitting in a room with books. Empathic Integration gives us a 6th senses for the knowledge and emotions of people around us. When it comes to a fight, we overcome whatever wall you put in front of us by cannibalizing the knowledge and experience of others - or we die trying. Your forebears have not moved on from limited human sentiments to true Xexen ideology, but that’s neither here nor there.” Xenron blinked, controlling his surprise so he didn’t say something rude. He didn’t exactly take Johan for a scholar. “I take it you can’t get a basic strengthening spell off reliably?”

“In these conditions, no. It’s just, m-my…” Xenron started, dragging it out.

“Training. It’s insufficient, but you don’t need to say any more,” Johan said, picking up as he’d hoped. He didn’t want to lie more than he had to, and technically that was just an understatement. “I’m sure you know your elemental affinities. Those are the lifeblood of a Xexen. Trying to chase elements you have no talent for is folly. Better even to fall back on simple sorceries, the most basic of non elemental spells, even in a fight, than to be sloppy. But before even that, you need to master the basics. We’ll start with something I’m sure you’re familiar with - breathing. Then we’ll put you to the test.”

Xenron stopped himself from sighing and just nodded. Thanks to Ms. Vale, he’d had plenty of experience with that. Not just for stress management, either. Besides oxygenation, certain breathing patterns made it easier to sense the body’s connection to its mana… supposedly. He took an even stance, feet shoulder-width apart as he started a series long inhales and sharp, strong exhales, visualizing his whole body and the soul beyond it in his mind’s eye, the whole of it spectacular with strange colors. Opening his eyes, he stepped into a fighting stance to Johan’s approving nod. I’ll find it, Xenron thought. I’ll find my strength!