The Music Speaks

I have yet to recover, but I look to my left and to my right, in an attempt to assess the situation of my teammates. My gaze first lands on Sophia who has fallen to one knee, large droplets of sweat dripping down her head and heavy breaths coming out of her.

“D-damn… You’re telling me we have to do this eight more times? Haha…this promises to be fun…” She mutters, her voice shaky but still full of fervor.

I then switch my attention to both Ray and Camille who have fallen on their bottom, their eyes open wide, as if they were still seeing the flames. Neither of them has said a single word yet. Looking at them, I judge that they still need some time to come to terms with the fact that they are back to reality. Before I can check on our last team member, however, the Maestro points her violin bow towards him.

“Curious… you seem rather fine for having just been burnt alive.”

Indeed, Ugo is still standing. His face is slightly contorted, yes, but apart from that, nothing has changed in his demeanor. It seems as though this was nothing but a minor annoyance to him. Scrutinizing him, I must admit that I’m rather shocked. How can he be fine when I’ve been brought to my hands and knees? Is his mental fortitude that strong?

With his arms crossed, Ugo scoffs, and replies. “Hmph, trying to scare me with fire?”

I recall what Ugo’s [melody] allows him to do and ponder his statement. Requiem seems to be doing the same.

Eventually, she tilts her head. “Oh…? Ugo Brightscar wasn’t it? Your [melody], if I remember correctly, allows you to produce and control flames, correct?”

Impassive, he confirms her statement. “Precisely.”

She squints her eyes. “Fascinating… It seems your ability has somehow extinguished your subconscious fear of fire…To think it'd be able to overcome a fear so deeply ingrained in us all… Truly wondrous… I’ve learned something today.” The Maestro says with an expression full of genuine curiosity.

My mind lingers on the words she used.

‘Overcome the fear…?’

A voice coming from beside me interrupts my train of thought. Ray speaks with a stutter and a certain shortness of breath. “I’m..huff huff… I’m sorry but to call this a challenge is inacurate… This is just torture!!”

Camille agrees. “I-I agree! I still feel the flames burning my skin… this is just cruel…!!”

This time, however, the Maestro does not seem amused. Her smile fades, and her tone of voice turns stone cold. The atmosphere around her darkens and her words carry a certain tension with them. “Cruel…? Yeah, maybe it is…but do you think your enemies will be any different?”

Ray retorts. “B-but still, this is the academy, not a battlefield, this is just to-”

In an instant she appears before him. Ray does not even have the time to flinch before she has reached him. She leans forward, leaving only an inch between his face and hers. “This is a battlefield.” Her voice turns low, a tinge of dager hidden within it. “Let me ask you something…trainee Ray. What do you think DaiKar’s purpose is?”

He gulps before answering. “T-to train and prepare newly [enlightened] like us…!!”

“Right, but at the same time so very wrong. DaiKar is a factory, a soldier factory. You are not here to be coddled nor to have your hand held as you advance. You’re here to be molded into a warrior, a warrior who can survive what lies out there, because even now, those who do survive are few and far between.”

She grabs his collar, pulling him closer. Even from where I stand, I can see him tense up under the strong pull of her grasp

“What? Did you think your enemies would show you kindness and compassion? No, they will not , they'll make what I’m doing to you seem like a joke. If you grasp what I said, I hope not to hear from you in the future, trainee.”

She lets go of him and returns to her original position, retrieving the facade she had let slip for a moment. “Now, it seems I’ve let my emotions get the better of me! Shall we resume the trial? Please if you wish to continue, take the next step!”

Before she begins playing, however, she asks us a question. “I am feeling rather generous… Would you like to know what the next trial is?”

With much effort, I stand and answer her question, preventing anyone else from doing so. “Isn’t it obvious? Falling, fire… what comes next isn’t too hard to deduce.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Is that right? So what would that be then?”

“You’re… you’re simulating primal fears. I can’t say for sure which will be the next one but I can at least guess what might lie ahead.”

Sophia whispers beside me. “Primal fears huh… I see… how twisted, but so… exhilarating…!!” She says before an imperceptible grin crawls up her lips.

The Maestro smiles. “Correct!! Aren’t you a smart one?!! I’m impressed! As a reward I will let you choose in which order you’ll face the next three: Disease, confinement and drowning.”

Camille, holding her head with her hands, voices her thoughts.. “D-does it matter which order we choose? We’ll have to face them all either way…”

‘She’s right…’

Sophia, brimming with confidence, stands up as well, and speaks to the Maestro. “Just give us your worst lady.”

This time, besides Sophia and Ugo, my companions do not seem so sure that they want to continue. Nonetheless, they voice no objections and ready themselves for the next trials. When the playing resumes, so do our nightmares.

The third scenario is disease. In this one, I am a poor merchant, whose family has been infected by a deadly and incurable plague. I try to make ends meet by selling my goods at an incredibly low price. Inevitably, however, I become infected myself. Soon enough, the disease leaves me bedridden and nearly immobile. Nearly pitch black, hardened plaques erupt from my body. With them, they carry a certain smell, the smell of waste. At first, they inconsequentially burn and blister here and there around my back and chest area, but slowly, the poison spreads, stiffening my joints.

It begins with my arms, then my legs, my waist, and finally my neck, until I am no different from a living corpse, crumpled on the cold hard ground of our home. The agony is unbelievably slow, painful, and humiliating. The few caretakers of the town, partially diseased themselves, ensure that I keep on living, but everytime their caring hands brush over one of the blackened, necrotic plaques, a jolt of searing pain courses through me. Even breathing, causes the stone-hard growths to grind and rub against each other, turning each breath into genuine torture.

Occasionally, I cough up a puddle of blood, pieces of half-digested food accompanying it, due to the internal growth of the disease. To avoid drowning in my own regurgitation, I force my face sideways, twisting my neck, an excruciating process. Other times, I will thrash around wildly as it gnaws at my brain, flailing my limbs around and heightening my suffering tenfold. Though I’d like for it to end, my vocal chords, tongue and jaw have all been overtaken, preventing me from begging for release. I am trapped, and my body festers.

From bathing to forcing pre-chewed food down my throat, they do everything for me, prolonging my suffering. The food is so little that it leaves me in a perpetual state of painful starvation, but never so little that my body shuts down. A slow death, with little meaning. I couldn’t help my family and I couldn’t even save myself. Now, all I can do is count the days until the light from my eyes finally fades. I’m in pain. I do not want to die, yet it is my only wish. The trial concludes when the plaques have found their way to my heart, and I draw my last breath.

“The third trial, disease, is now over, take your next step if you dare.”

We take another step.

The fourth trial is confinement. Myself and my four teammates find ourselves enclosed in a room of four walls, two of which progressively move towards each other, with only us standing in between them. At first, we attempt to use our wits and cunning to escape the room, but we quickly realize that there is no escape. When the room is no longer wide enough to fully extend my arms, I sit, thinking with all my might for a solution. I think and I think, but nothing comes to mind, as if this place was meant for me to meet an inevitable doom. Surprisingly, Sophia, which I have the faintest memory of knowing from the academy, is the first to enter a state of panic.

“No! No! I can’t die here, I need to show them, I need to show them all my worth!!! I can’t die here!” She screams before falling to her knees, no longer even able to raise her arms in the shrinking room.

Chaos quickly ensues. Camille retreats and balls up in a corner while Ray and Ugo furiously bang on the walls, while knowing full well that they will not break.

Eventually, the walls have become so close that taking a breath has become painful. With each inhale, my chest is stopped by the hard surface pressing against it. Quickly, but not quickly enough, my bones begin to crack, then they break. My body reaches its compression limit, and every ensuing moment is agonizing. When my head is finally crushed, the trial ends.

“The fourth trial, confinement, has come to an end. Will you take another step?”

It takes some time for everyone to come to, especially Ray, but we all take another step.

The fifth trial is drowning. This one is rather quick. We are transported to a brittle raft in the middle of the ocean. With no food or water, and a mode of transportation that cannot travel, we decide that our best bet is to swim. So we swim and swim, until our muscles can carry us no longer. We swim until our body refuses to listen, and then we sink. Death is rather quick and painless. The dreadful part of this scenario is the realization that there is no choice but to drown when the last attempt to take a breath only draws in more water.

Once more, I find myself on the grassy plains, my mind in turmoil. The bridge, the flames, the dark plaques, the shrinking room, and the boat. All the memories rush back in at the same time. With each new trial, a new torment is added when I return. The mental strain accumulates. Ugo who acted smug earlier is now on all fours, puking, and so am I. Sophia is laying flat on her back, taking deep breaths, trying to forget. Camille and Ray are in no better shape. The small red-haired girl is pulling her hair, nearly ripping it from her head, dreading the next scenario. Meanwhile, Ray’s expression is blank, it seems he has yet to fully return to reality, despite the Maestro having undone her ability. I’ve noticed from the previous ones, but it appears Ray’s mind is on the verge of breaking, if it hasn’t already.

“Congratulations, you’re halfway done!”