There wasn’t much more to say as the vessel we occupied drifted silently through space, or at least, not much more from me. Admittedly, even though a moderately long trip, it did seem that my body did have some capacity to adjust after exposure.
I suppose it made sense. I’d adapted to this world, after all.
Regardless, standing upright wasn’t the ordeal it usually was.
Before long, the gate shuddered to a halt, and the passengers began to disembark. Synthia stepped to the side, gently taking Mei from Amei’s arms. Griffith followed close behind, his gaze fixed squarely on me. The intensity making me a little uncomfortable.
Serith and Amei moved toward the desk and turned to face me, but my attention wandered past them to the tall windows behind, where the cityscape of the Engineers sprawled in geometric silence.
They said nothing. Waiting. Waiting for me to initiate. But I found myself fumbling inwardly, unable to summon the right questions. My thoughts kept drifting to what came next.
“When is the next match?” I asked, still avoiding their eyes, my gaze lingering on the metallic horizon outside.
Serith stepped forward. “We’ll be informed soon. Like I said before: one or two weeks.”
I gave a curt nod and finally turned to face her, saying nothing else. That was enough from me. I’d done my part and opened the door, reached out. Now it was their turn. If anything was going to be said, it had to come from them.
Serith inhaled, breath drawn slow and thin. Her mouth parted, hesitant at first, but the words eventually came.
“When the information arrives, I will answer any questions you have...” Her voice tapered off, then picked back up, softer. “I’ll have a few of my own as well.”
It still didn’t feel like enough. Serith wasn’t usually one to dodge my questions, not heavily, but I rarely knew what to ask.
“What about the questions I don’t think to ask?” I said.
She tilted her head, visibly puzzled. For someone who had lived for so long, her reactions often felt… well, more like someone my age. Not many ancient matriarchs got tripped up by implication or seemed so concerned with appearances.
She raised a delicate hand to her temple and shook her head with a sigh.
“Anything relevant to us will be shared with you,” Amei said, her pink eyes meeting mine briefly before shifting to her Champion. “I’m disappointed, Peter. But... your actions uncovered a massive oversight on my part.”
I froze. Not from anger or defensiveness, but from sheer surprise that she would admit to something like that. Still, just in case she hadn’t fully grasped what I had done or why, I felt compelled to clarify.
“Mei isn’t a bad choice to represent you. She’s strong,” I said, nodding toward Griffith. “If he sees something exceptional in her, then there’s no doubt it’s there. But why would you ever place a child in that role?”
My tone carried more accusation than I had intended, but I didn’t bother softening it. The point needed to be made.
Her head lowered at my words, surprising me again. I doubted it was shame, but I couldn’t say for sure.
Looking over at her old friend, Serith exhaled sharply through her nose. “It’s been a long time since we’ve engaged with society this directly. Adults were always the logical choice as they’ve had more time to train. But when we were Mei’s age... I had already seen enough death to fill a lifetime.”
A girl that age fighting for her life doesn’t seem so strange to me either, Wyrem chimed in, voice dry but not unsympathetic. Still, it should’ve been clear to anyone that she wasn’t suited for a role like this. And don’t assume she’ll be the last of her age or younger that you’ll face. They may not be so... meek.
It was clear that my views still didn’t align with most of theirs, but in this case, I didn’t care. I couldn’t imagine a single scenario where I’d ever become comfortable with children being expected to risk their lives.
“I understand,” I said flatly, unwilling to drag the subject out any longer. Instead, I decided to confirm something one more time. “So… may I stay?”
Synthia’s voice came from behind me—not quite answering, but clearly leaning in my favor. “I should take Mei back to her father’s home. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind greeting Peter.”
I turned to give her a small nod of thanks, and as I did, the actual answer followed.
“You may accompany them,” Amei said, her voice noticeably dulled, as though the energy had drained from her. “There is much that must be arranged, so I won’t be able to accompany you all back.”
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
“Then I will come for you in two days,” Serith declared, her tone clipped but firm. “Be ready by then… You may all go.”
“Thank you,” I said without looking back, already following Synthia as she moved ahead. Griffith trailed after me, his footsteps steady and unhurried.
The gate doors closed behind us with a mechanical hush, sealing us in. Synthia approached the control panel, then hesitated, her face touched with a subtle frown.
She looked... troubled. I guessed she was still worried about Mei.
We stood there, suspended in silence. The only sound was the occasional shuffling of feet against the floor. Each of the small movements somehow made the quiet feel even heavier.
“Synthia?” I prompted gently.
She blinked, brushing her golden hair back over her shoulder with a distracted motion. “I, um…”
“What’s wrong?” I pressed through her fumbling.
Her eyes flicked to me, then back to the panel twice in rapid succession. “Well… Mei’s usually the one who types in the code.”
“Cough. Cough.”
Laughter tried to escape me but took the wrong route, and I choked on my own spit instead. The moment turned into a half-laugh, half-sputter. A large hand clapped down on my back, trying to help, but Griffith’s mitt-like palm only made things worse.
So there we were, frozen in place while I tried to cough my way back to composure.
When it finally settled, I cleared my throat and cast a raised eyebrow in Synthia’s direction.
“Ho—how long have you been here?” I croaked out, still fighting off the burn in my throat.
She turned away, and I caught the red tint blooming up her ears. “I dunno… Not long.”
How long ago was that trial?
I asked inwardly, reaching out to the two entities who might actually be keeping track.Luna coiled softly around me, petals drifting through the air in slow, mesmerizing spirals. For some reason, the gesture made me expect a poetic or profound answer.
I was disappointed.
No idea. I don’t pay attention to that sort of thing.
Wyrem, ever the oracle of sarcasm, chimed in with his own wisdom. Why would a dragon, timeless and infinite in scope, ever give any credit to time? Time is a concept for those who are—
Got it! I interrupted, cutting him off before he launched into a false philosophical rant I’d heard too many variations of.
“Sure,” I said aloud, placing a hand on Synthia’s shoulder with a forced smile. “Buuut, since you’re leading the way… you should probably go open the door. And ask.”
She shot me a glare that could’ve sliced steel. Embarrassment flared into defiance. You’d think I’d asked her to dive off a cliff.
“You kids are just…” Griffith grumbled, shaking his head in disbelief.
I turned to him, and for a second, he looked even more colossal than usual, an immovable object disguised as a man.
I gave him a pleading look. In return, he stroked his beard with mock wisdom, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You should work it out yourselves. Adults can’t fix everything for you.”
I crossed my arms, bracing myself. “I’m not embarrassing myself.”
More than usual? Luna added ever-so-helpfully.
I ignored her.
We stood there, caught in a ridiculous stalemate.
Why don’t you ask and then blame her for not doing it? Wyrem suggested, finally offering something that might actually work.
But after thinking it over, I decided against it. It’s a matter of principle. Who just walks off without knowing where they’re going?
In eerie synchrony like teacher and student reciting a well-rehearsed lesson, both voices in my head answered.
You.
“I don’t want to move Mei around more than necessary,” Synthia said, offering what was clearly an excuse.
“You’re really not going to budge?” I asked, already feeling the fatigue settle behind my eyes.
She shook her head, flashing a playful smile that teetered just on the edge of smug. Then, her final blow: “I could… but it wouldn’t be as fun.”
“Ughh,” I groaned, rolling my eyes as I reached forward and slammed the button to open the gate.
The doors parted, revealing Serith and Amei inside. Both of whom turned to me with identical expressions of mild surprise.
“Um… Well… how the heck do we get to Mei’s home?” I asked, trying to sound casual, but mostly just exasperated.
There was a moment’s pause. A strange, almost awkward silence that lingered just long enough to be uncomfortable before Amei finally rescued me from it.
“Oh! Well, just press the star and—” She launched into a quick explanation, rattling off a string of numbers and symbols. Ten of them, at least. I caught the first few, but the rest zipped past my head. Whatever. Hopefully the others were listening.
I nodded politely. “Thank you.” Then stepped back and shut the door, retreating to the others.
And so, we resumed waiting.
“Well?” Synthia prompted after a beat.
I turned to Griffith. “Sir?”
He blinked his wide eyes at me. “What?”
Thud. Thud. Thud.
My forehead met the gate door. Then again. And again. A soft, repetitive tapping that echoed my despair into the sterile chamber.
Synthia broke into quiet laughter, her shoulders lifting with each suppressed giggle.
“I was just joking,” she said lightly. “I remember what they said.”
Her fingers flew over the panel with practiced grace, the motion so fluid it looked rehearsed. That sweet, innocent smile still lingered on her face, but now it felt more like poison.
A soft vibration. Then movement.
And the cherry on top of this truly unfortunate cake?
Luna’s voice chiming in.
See? Your ability to detect humor is terrible.
It was a prank, I shot back. Not a joke.
Still funny, she said.