Chapter 23
The Scales of Power
I followed the other prisoners as we moved through the fortress. The morning alarm still rang in my ears, its shrill tone designed to drag prisoners from their bunks whether they wanted to get up or not.
Not that anyone had a choice here.
"Do try to walk like you have a functioning spine," Mabel's voice slithered through my thoughts.
I straightened slightly but kept my eyes hollow and lost.
"Where is everyone going?"
I looked at the digital display as we passed.
brIDGE ONE PERSONNEL: PRE-DEPLOYMENT ASSESSMENT - 0600.
"That's why there are so many people, they're going to watch Bridge One get evaluated."
"Nothing motivates the doomed quite like watching others prove their worth before being fed to the tear."
I found a spot near the back of the arena, keeping to myself.
The room was designed for combat demonstrations with tiered seats surrounding the arena floor.
Prisoners filled nearly every seat, the air thick with their conversations and the stink of their unwashed bodies. The crowd hushed as a door at the far end of the arena opened.
I watched as Sadie entered, her movements graceful. She wore the standard-issue combat gear; it fit her like a second skin. Her silver hair was in a braided ponytail.
The other prisoners gave her space instinctively. Even the guards seemed to stand a little straighter, hands tighter on their weapons
"Watch her, maybe you can learn something from her," Mabel instructed unnecessarily.
I don't need you to remind me…
My eyes were already locked on Sadie as she took position in the center of the arena. She stood perfectly still, waiting. Calm and ready.
Curtis stepped out of a side door, holding a datapad. "Bridge One assessment will begin now. The first phase will consist of team cohesion and individual combat capability."
Another door opened, and five prisoners entered… the rest of Bridge One. I recognized a few from the mess hall; all of them had their Origins active. They spread out across the arena, taking their positions.
Curtis tapped his datapad. "Begin."
The prisoners collapsed on Sadie, attacking simultaneously.
She flowed between the first two attackers, redirecting one into the other with just a touch at the wrist and shoulder. As they stumbled, she was already dealing with the third, dropping into a low sweep and knocking him onto his back.
One of them managed to grab her from behind, arms locking around her waist.
Sadie didn't fight the hold. Instead, she relaxed into it, dropping her weight suddenly. As her captor adjusted his grip, she twisted, using his own tension against him. He flipped over her shoulder, landing hard on his back.
All of her attackers were down or disabled.
"She fights as if she were taught to kill from birth. It's... irritating." Mabel said, her mental voice tinged with grudging respect beneath the critique.
The assessment continued.
She dismantled all of them using nothing but technique and training. No Origin power. No flashy abilities. Just pure, lethal skill.
"She's showing them exactly what she wants them to see, nothing more."
The final opponent stepped forward as the others retreated to the edges of the arena.
It was Rafe.
The golden boy with his perfect smile and the easy charm. Except there was nothing easy about him now.
Curtis raised his hand, then dropped it.
Rafe crossed the arena in a flash, appearing from behind Sadie. He threw a punch at the back of her head.
She ducked without looking. The punch whistled over her hair as she pivoted, already facing where Rafe would land.
He blurred again, attacking from three different angles in the blink of an eye.
This was Quickstep.
The same blurring speed from his Trial legend, but seeing it in person was something else entirely. Each attack should have been impossible to predict or counter.
Sadie blocked or evaded each one, moving just enough to avoid his strikes.
Her expression was full of ice.
"He's significantly faster than I expected, how vexing," Mabel said, her mental voice tight with frustration.
Rafe increased his speed even more, becoming little more than a golden streak circling Sadie. The air cracked with the force of his movement.
Holy shit, he is fast… I can barely keep up with him!
Sadie moved; it was only a single strike… but a perfect one.
Her fist connected with empty air, but a second later Rafe materialized exactly where her punch had been, his momentum carrying him directly into her blow.
The impact echoed through the arena like a thunderclap, sending a shockwave across it. Rafe crashed to the mat, bouncing and sliding several feet before coming to a stop.
Silence fell over the stands. No one moved, nobody breathed.
Sadie hadn't used her Origin ability at all. She'd defeated a Sacred speedster through pure skill and prediction.
"How the hell is that possible? It can't be."
"And yet, we just witnessed it," Mabel replied. "She read him like a book… You, humans, are predictable, even at superhuman speeds.”
Rafe climbed to his feet, rubbing his jaw. He didn't look angry or humiliated.
"Well done, everyone," Curtis announced.
And with that, it was over. I stayed there, processing what I'd seen. The gap between myself and these trained Sacred was way too large.
My feeding frenzy, my worm constructs, my regeneration… None of it would matter against someone who could read my movements before I made them.
"Now you understand," Mabel said quietly. "Raw power isn't enough, not here. Not against them."
"I'll help you," Mabel offered, sensing my thoughts. "We'll begin today."
I got up and joined the flow of prisoners leaving the arena. But my mind stayed on that fight, replaying Sadie's movements and how she predicted Rafe's.
◆◆◆
The hallway outside the arena buzzed with people discussing what they'd seen. I drifted toward them.
"...didn't expect House Cicada's daughter to end up here…"
The voices faded as they moved down the corridor. But more came, and with them, more fragments of the puzzle.
"...not just an heir, she's the last of her direct line."
"...already in SDC custody when it happened. I guess she is lucky, in a way."
I listened to more conversations, piecing together the story. House Cicada had fallen; how or why remained unclear. House Getty—Rafe's family—had once been allies with Cicada. And Rafe had volunteered for Bridge One after learning Sadie would be there.
"He's protecting her," I realized. "Or trying to."
"How noble," Mabel said, her mental voice dripping with sarcasm. "The golden heir looking after the fallen princess. I wonder what he hopes to gain."
"Maybe it's not about gain. Maybe it's about honor."
"Oh, Fischer. Still believing in fairy tales? The worlds do not operate on some grand form of honor. They operate on what gives them the most advantages. If Rafe is protecting Sadie, it's because she represents value to him and his family. The question is… what kind of value?"
I glanced at the time display on the wall. Still an hour before our unit's rotation.
"Come," Mabel said, sensing my thoughts. "We have work to do."
◆◆◆
I found an empty storage room.
"Now then," Mabel said, as she emerged from my neck, taking her position on one of the dusty shelves. Her tiny worm-body bristled with excitement. "You've seen what trained Sacred look like. You've seen what we're not. Yet. Shall we begin addressing that deficiency?"
"Let's start with the basics from yesterday."
I began with the exercises we'd practiced. My speed had improved overnight, neural pathways strengthening, muscle memory developing.
Where it had taken concentrated effort to form a simple spike yesterday, today I could manifest one in seconds.
Mabel observed, her tiny form swaying slightly. "This is progress, but it is not enough. We need more complex shapes. Barriers. Armor plating. Weapons with edges fine enough to cut, not just pointy ends for you to stick into things."
I tried forming a shield on my forearm.
The worms pushed outward, creating a rough oval shape; it was lumpy and uneven.
"Focus," Mabel instructed. "Visualize the exact structure. The worms will follow your intent."
I tried again, concentrating harder.
The shield formed more cleanly this time, but still lacked definition around the edges. When I attempted to sharpen it into a blade along one side, the whole construct collapsed back into my arm.
Frustration built in my chest. I'd watched Sadie's perfect technique, Rafe's controlled speed. And here I was, unable to make my own body cooperate.
Fuck, why can’t I do this? I should be able to.
"You're treating them as tools, for you to use… stop that, they. We are you. You wouldn’t force your hand into a fist by screaming at it."
I took a deep breath, trying a different approach.
The worms responded immediately. A blade formed along my forearm… it wasn’t perfect, but it was recognizable. The edge looked sharp enough to cut. I held it stable for several seconds before it collapsed.
"Better," Mabel said, her tiny body vibrating with approval. "Much better. Now let's try something inspired by what we saw in the assessment. Prediction. Can the worms sense incoming movement? Can they react faster than your conscious mind?"
"How would we test that?"
"I'll launch some spike-worms at you. Try to block them before you perceive the threat."
I nodded, taking position in the center of the room. "Ready."
Mabel's tiny form tensed, then she opened her mouth and spat a worm projectile directly at my face. I tried to form a shield, but my reaction was too slow. The spike hit my cheek, stinging as it wiggled there in my cheek before being reabsorbed.
"Again," I said.
We tried a second time. Again, I was too slow.
On the third attempt, something strange happened.
I felt my arm move as a small shield formed on my forearm, intercepting the projectile midair.
I stared at my arm in shock. "What just happened?"
"The worms sensed the threat through their collective awareness," Mabel explained, excitement threading through her voice.
"So they moved my body… on their own?"
"No, no, no… not by themselves. They're still you… just a different part of you."
I tested the concept again, focusing on letting the worms sense threats rather than trying to direct them consciously.
My success rate improved with each attempt. By the tenth try, I was blocking projectiles without much thought, my body reacting on pure instinct.
"This changes everything," I said, examining my arm as the shield retracted.
"Exactly," Mabel purred with satisfaction. "You've stopped treating us as parasites and started treating us as a part of you. Only took a divine revelation and an existential crisis. But this is progress!"
I practiced distributed perception for the rest of the time, letting the worms extend my awareness throughout the room. It was exhausting to maintain two modes of awareness simultaneously, and it drained me quickly. But the potential was clear.