Chapter 17: Affinities.

Xan actually expected me to have to make arrangements at some point. He doesn’t mind shortening the training time.

 

“Most of those who work out here have their own obligations. You mentioned having to earn your keep, so I am neither surprised nor annoyed. I will just remind you that keeping a balance between your duties remains your responsibility. If your awakening is delayed, and you fail my test, then you fail,” he reminds me with a serious tone.

 

I guess I’ll take it.

 

***

 

It has been twenty-three days since the beginning of the Year of Judgement. I twirl my staff in the main room, causing it to fall. It’s been hard focusing today. I’m guessing the lack of messages from Krane is setting me on edge. I’m still hoping we can stop the explosion. Somehow.

 

The others are looking at me weirdly. It’s making me self-conscious.

 

“Tell me,” Xan begins. “Why did you pick up that sport to begin with? The boxing sport.”

 

I pick up the staff and go through random movements. Xan ordered me to do it slowly to get me more used to flowing between one form or another as it’s really central to the style he’s trying to teach me.

 

“Well, when I was younger I was a bit of a mouthy wanker. There was a gym not far from the council estates — where I lived. The prices were dirt cheap for students, so I figured, it couldn’t hurt.”

 

I find that I really enjoy the forms today. I don’t know, it’s as if things suddenly clicked. Reminds me of finally ‘getting it’ when working on something with my cello.

 

“Of course there is a massive difference between knowing how to box and actually fighting in the streets: sucker punches, kicks, people just grabbing you, no one’s fighting you one on one when they could do it with their mates. And the block thing implies both fighters have gloves. It’s super hard to block the same way because bare hands are much smaller. And people are wicked fast.”

 

I like how the staff swishes through the air, especially in long form. I’m feeling good all of a sudden. That’s nice. I see the others have stopped working out but I don’t care I’ll just keep going.

 

“And why did you fight with the others?” Xan push with uncharacteristic interest.

 

Do I want to tell them?

 

Do I even care? I don’t think I do. They’ll forget it anyway.

 

“My mum left me when I was fifteen. Just up and quit. I was far too old to be adopted, and I wouldn’t have accepted it anyway, so I just kept living in something called a council house. Alone. That place was rough and mum was a bit ‘posh’ so I sounded posh, too. Hmm, that means she sounded like a Patrician.”

 

“I know what you mean,” Xan interrupted. “And then?”

 

“And then nothing. The locals didn’t like the way I was speaking very much. Felt like I was looking down on them. Which is fair, I was, a bit. I guess… I felt the need to be special. I worked hard on my music to make sure I could get a scholarship. Some of them just coasted through life, I guess, or that’s how I felt about it. Course, it wasn’t fair. My parents had pushed me to start music when I was seven. The other families didn’t have private music lesson money like I did. But as I said I was a bit of a ghastly young sprig with a lot of insecurities.”

 

I go through a faster series of forms. Fuck, I feel like I finally got it! And then, vertigo seizes me. I fell to my knees.

 

“Oh.”

 

Energy rushes out of the three gates, filling my body with power. It’s so fucking good, my God. Hey, I remember…

 

“I, uh…”

 

Already?

 

“Congratulations on your awakening,” Xan laughs. “Very well done.”

 

I stand up, surprised. I feel… whole again. Like my body matches my soul more closely. The sense of alienation I have felt since waking up again at the beginning of the loop fades away. I am back to normal.

 

It feels amazing.

 

I just hope I’ll never return to unawakened. I would not enjoy that very much.

 

“Congratulations. Here, have a candy,” Xan says, handing me one.

 

“Thank you so much,” I say with all my heart.

 

Looks like we might do it after all.

 

Momo is next. I really have to pay attention not to look at how her hips sway on the way to me. A wave of perfume hits me like a cloud front. I suppose I’m not immune to whatever she has going on yet.

 

I meet her dark eyes and find only amusement. She is also handing me some sort of pastry.

 

“From my home planet,” she says in a singsong voice. “Normally, your family would bake them over the course of the day.”

 

“Thank you very much, I appreciate it,” I tell her honestly.

 

It’s really sad to say but I think this is the most personal and thoughtful gift I’ve received on Enderlith so far.

 

I turn to Tavor who stopped mid flex, three sets of weights bending the metal bar held between his massive hands.

 

“Let me guess, I’d get banishment since I’m old?” I ask.

 

“If you were young, your father would shave your hair. Your family would burn it, and then you’d be inducted in a youth gang. You would still not be considered an adult,” Tavor honestly tells me.

 

The others fall silent. I found very little online about the Sallurians. They’re fiercely defensive of their culture. People are not even sure where they come from originally, and in a world of fragmented information, I don’t have a way to find out just yet. Xan pats my shoulder before I can give it more thought anyway.

 

“You did it. There might be a chance you could succeed after all! Or not, I don’t think this has ever been attempted before. Now that you’re first awakening though, let’s celebrate by finding your affinities.”

 

I blink. I remember affinities…

 

“Are affinities not for mages?” I eventually ask. “And, uh, higher awakenings?”

 

“Of course,” Xan says happily, “but wouldn’t it be fun to find out what they are first? There are also limited benefits for basic training. For example, an ice affinity awakened will perform better in colder temperatures, obviously, so I might be able to fine-tune some of your training depending on what we find. Consider this a reward and a gesture of my appreciation. And don’t worry about the money. I got an old friend who owes me a small favor. Speaking of money, let’s move to my office to discuss the next step.”

 

There are no discounts for the second phase. I need to pay 150 which leaves me at 110 credits with two weeks of pay and some of my spendings. I’ll have to save more if I want the last round to succeed.

 

***

 

We take the train to a nearby district and stop at a military checkpoint decorated with the symbol of Might, which is just a fist, basically. Two sentries are discussing the fact their avatar is still missing almost three weeks into the year, and how that’s not a good sign. They let us in after calling one of their superiors.

 

I expected military districts to be, I don’t know, fortified I guess, but it’s just a backline administrative and training center with young recruits running around a large central spot so I suppose things are normally tame. Xan is greeted on the way by manly chest bumpings which I assume are the local salutes. Fists also adorn flags, banners, and insignias. They sure like their knuckles over here.

 

Our destination is an unremarkable building on the side. A gray-haired, scarred woman welcomes us in her barebones office. She and Xan know each other well and they spend fifteen minutes laughing and reminiscing while I do my best to emulate a potted plant. Eventually, the woman grabs my hand between calloused fingers. I knew she was serious because I couldn’t read her soul, but it feels like giving a handshake to a hydraulic press.

 

“Hmmm. Hmm hmm hmm,” she mumbles very informatively. “Yes. An unusual mix. Hmmm. Your affinities are flesh and star. I am certain.”

“Flesh and star?”

I… don’t know what I was expecting. Certainly not that. Flesh? Star?

“I was a musician before. I was expecting something related to sound, perhaps.”

“Were you an extraordinary musician? An addict melomaniac?” she asks with a mocking voice. “Did birds fly in your hand while glasses broke in your wake?”

“No.”

Still a bit of a disappointment.

“I imagine I’m not the first person to be surprised,” I surmise.

“At least you have not asked me to test again, and that your father is yadda yadda.”

She chuckles darkly, and something tells me those scions didn’t get what they wanted.

“So… is it good? Bad?”

The old soldier considers me in silence for a few moments, a wizened finger tracing an old scar along her jaw.

“You are already a man so I will not lie and claim all affinities are equal. Some combinations are well-known and effective. Yours is too unusual to find paths trodden by enlightened elders. Flesh is an unusual affinity. As for star, we’ve barely had any since the purifiers left.”

She sighs heavily.

“Don’t go all nostalgic on me now, woman,” Xan rumbles.

“Hah! Forgive me if I reminisce about the glory days of Vrok’s reign.”

“What happened?” I ask. “Who were the purifiers?”

She waves her hand away.

“Just an old group trying to expand the station’s livable zones near the middle of our lost Archon’s reign. They succeeded. To an extent. But then, they left. We don’t know why for sure so don’t ask me, and since then I feel like fewer people have awakened star affinities. Or we have stopped looking for them.”

She shrugs.

“I wouldn’t know. Ah, look at me being nostalgic for a better time.”

“A worse time,” Xan corrects.

She doesn’t seem convinced, and her amused gaze says as much.

“So…” I interrupt.

“Ah, yes. Flesh relates to flesh manipulation in all its forms. It is not as potent for healing large groups: light and life do it better. No one else can improve a body at a cellular level though.”

“Except for transformation?” I ask because I’m not sure.

Her expression cools noticeably while Xan shifts his posture, and suddenly I’m in a hostile environment.

“Hold on, I’m just trying to understand here.”

“He’s solid,” Xan says.

“Yes, yes, well, transformation isn’t about ‘improvement’ per se. The fleshcrafters are the ones who cook the gene mods for the rich arseholes, and manage the more exotic diseases and threats. They’re also… very keen on self-modification.”

She frowns her disapproval, perhaps daring me to object.

“I noticed.”

“Strange bunch though it’s infinitely better to have them on your side. To return to our topic, flesh is mostly an internal expression of power while star is an outside expression. Star is an affinity in itself, but its sub-categories are light and heat. I remember purifiers going after the beasts, shining like beacons in the darkness, rays of light searing the eyes of the depths monsters. I remember the air tasting sweet after they passed with every spore and miasma fading away. Aaaah. But see me rambling like a crone. Xan! I told you to interrupt me when I lost it!”

“But your voice is so sweet.”

Xan dodges a lazily flipped table ornament. He grabs it before it can clang on the wall, and places it delicately on the table like a gift.

“Those affinities are rare and potentially useful,” she continues as if nothing had happened. “However, their combination is so unusual that I have no path for you. We do not have star affinity training, only fire training you would be subpar at. If you were one of mine, I would fast track you to a surgeon or bio-weapon countermeasure career with the caveat that we can’t train you to the best of your abilities. Since you’re not, perhaps check with the flesh crafters, although I reckon they don’t take adults.”

Maybe they would take avatars. Something to consider for later.

“There is something else as well but it’s so diffuse that I cannot quite put my finger on it. It feels more… external,” she continues.

 

She smiles politely. I am left to wonder if this is one of the few people who could detect an avatar because she’s most likely feeling the touch of time. I don’t think there is a natural time affinity, but I might be wrong. In any case this has been very illuminating. So I thank her profusely again since she’s doing us a favor and I look at the brochures while Xan exchanges a few more words with the old woman. The brochures are amazingly unhelpful.

 

After a while, we leave. I start asking questions as soon as we’re back on the train.

 

“So… how do affinities work, exactly?”

 

Xan closes his eyes, almost reciting the answers.

 

“They are most important for mages. Mage traditions will only function for matching affinities though I heard high awakening mages can use simple traditions from all around. There are also near affinities. For example, with your star affinity, you could theoretically learn fire or light traditions with some effort. As I said, it’s mostly for mages so the influence for you will be minor until you have reached the third stage and decided to pursue a martial path. There are other aspects that are of interest to us. For example, you would function better under the lamplight so we’ll try to work out outside whenever possible. There are also aspects and flaws associated with affinities.”

 

What?

 

“Excuse me? As in, the affinity affects our personality?”

 

“Yes. The flaw is usually an overuse of the associated quality. For example, star affinities tend to try and fight to improve situations, keeping an optimistic outlook. The associated flaw is a certain arrogance and inability to give up.”

 

Uh oh.

 

“While flesh affinity is associated with improvement and appearance but by extension an almost masochistic need to surpass their current self. And vanity, of course.”

 

UH OH.

 

Wait no I’m fine on the vanity front. I’m wearing shit training gear most of the time. Surely.

 

“This isn’t a defining feature,” Xan says in a perfectly neutral voice. “Some people are more affected than others. Some people lean towards different aspects of the better known flaws. It’s still worth keeping an eye on especially if you develop those affinities via mage traditions.”

 

I consider him.

 

“What affinities do you have?” I ask.

 

He chuckles.

 

“Metal and Touch. Affinities are extremely varied, with some of them being quite unusual such as touch. Metal makes me inflexible and adverse to change. That’s why I quit the army: I was getting too set in my ways. Flaws must be fought on occasion. Touch is a little more complicated.”

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

 

“So… do you have a mage tradition?”

 

“No. By the Founder you really are new at this.”

 

I have to shrug at that.

 

“I am vaguely familiar but information online tends to contradict itself. I’d rather get an explanation from a pro I can trust.”

 

Xan smiles in a way that shows he knows I’m buttering him up like a fresh crumpet.

 

“And that wouldn’t be me since I am no mage myself, but I have worked with a few so I can at least give you a basic rundown. A mage tradition covers certain types of energies, how they act, and how they can be used in an elaborate and external fashion. Dazzling people with sparks and tossing fireballs, or repairing someone’s flesh are all the results of traditions. It’s a philosophical and spiritual pursuit as much as an occupation. ”

 

His eyes grow distant before he remembers he was giving me an explanation.

 

“Sufficiently advanced martial paths can be seen as traditions, I suppose. The distinction is purely academic.”

 

“So I gather there is a reason why most people don’t follow one?”

 

Xan bursts out laughing,

 

“Many reasons, kid, many reasons. First, you need to be taught or invent your own and you can imagine inventing a tradition requires an Elder’s level of understanding. That’s one. Two, learning a tradition takes time, time that could be dedicated to many other pursuits. Three, assuming you learned a tradition… that doesn’t mean you can get anything out of it. Imagine you learned the Path of the Fire Wyrm in the hope of joining the Sevens Suns. Unfortunately, there are three more talented mages applying for the same position in the sect. You are now in debt and unemployed.”

 

I think about his words for a moment. Obviously, I have an amazing advantage because I can just point buy a tradition.

 

“Could you join a sect outside of Enderlith?”

 

Xan laughs.

 

“Ah, don’t let Momo hear you say that. You must understand. Everyone wants to get in, no matter what. The advantage the energy on board represents is immense. No other place can offer unaspected qi of this magnitude.”

 

“There is plenty of unoccupied space under our feet,” I remark.

 

“Not unoccupied, far from it,” Xan corrects. “There are centuries of wild tribes, runaway cultivators, obscure sects, traps and the like. In a perfect world, the army would mobilize to dig deep and purge entire districts…”

 

His eyes grow distant.

 

“No matter the cost. But this isn’t a perfect world. It’s a world of self-interest, and a station facing the Year of Judgment. Safe space is limited. All of the refugees living in their floating pieces of junk stay there because there is little safe room inside, or rather, Law makes sure only the deserving get their spot.”

 

He gives me a critical glance. I haven’t told him how I became a citizen, and he hasn’t asked but he must guess there is a reason for it.

 

“Soul awakening is a precious gift,” he allows after a while. “Why did you ask, by the way? Do you intend to pursue a mage tradition? It takes time.

 

“I have all the time I need. Well, not now, but next year.”

 

“I wouldn’t make too many plans for next year, Steve. There are rumors… Many gods going all in. It’s going to be the most eventful Year of Judgment in the hundred thousand cycles of recorded history.”

 

I don’t comment because he has no fucking idea. The pursuit of a mage tradition is an interesting prospect, but even I know it relies on a higher awakening, third at the very least. The option is mostly closed to me except for that soul-based tradition I had my eyes on. Unless, of course, my fleshcrafter idea pans out. I even have a flesh affinity… is it a sign?

 

I am left wondering if Chronos picked me because of those affinities, but then he probably had candidates with better ones. Why did he ever pick me? It must have been partly random. I wonder…

 

“Which tradition would you pick?” Xan asks. “Do you have any idea?”

 

“I like flesh crafting?”

 

His face falls off.

 

“Steve. No. Have you seen what they do with their bodies? ”

 

“There is much more than that. They can heal, repair, research…” I say, a little reproachfully.

 

Xan immediately gives up on the conversation. We are close to landing anyway. I suppose I have learnt enough for now.

 

***

 

This side of the security room is empty. Technically, I don’t need a lot of space because distant souls do not feel harder to read than nearby ones. So long as someone stands in the sphere of control, I can perceive them. Doesn’t mean I can read them, but I can perceive them. After that it’s just a matter of sweeping the club segment by segment.

 

“Second person in VIP room 1 is terrified.”

 

“Copy that,” Sefer replies, his voice accelerated.

 

He appears like a thunderbolt in my perception sphere. There are two people currently in VIP room 1: a man on the second awakening who’s been worried from the start, and a woman I cannot read. I slowly continue my sweep while checking Sefer’s camera footage on the security console’s grainy screen.

 

The room looks fine. Faux wood panels and exotic decorations can make customers forget this is a tiny concrete box without windows. Two people sit at the lone table: a man in Patrician suit, and a muscular woman in a black dress — apparently a universal fashion staple. The man either has voidling ancestry, or he’s scared stiff.

 

There are datasheets between them.

 

“May I please have a moment of your time?” Sefer asks the woman in Kei-Sah, who returns a glacially polite smile.

 

“Is there some sort of problem?” she asks.

 

“None at all. Something just requires your attention,” Sefer lies.

 

He moves in. The woman stands to block his path, still smiling. To both my and her surprise she is pushed against the wall. There is a sword on the side of the seat, hidden from the entrance. Well, I call it a sword but it looks like a large knife. Super forbidden, obviously. The woman snarls, her femme noir mask cracking to reveal something much more primal.

 

I feel something else.

 

“First floor, bar, middle,” I say as fast as I can. “Shit!”

 

Everything happens very fast, so fast I cannot follow it despite my awakening. The VIP room erupts with immense, yet contained violence. The security console’s second of four screens switches to the bar where the barmaid throws something at a man barreling towards a group of revelers. A breath later, the woman is on the ground while part of the concrete wall is destroyed, showering the room in debris, yet the other guest is alive and Sefer is gone. Another breath. Sefer holds the bar assailant by the throat. A circle of guests gasps. Another breath. The barman offers complimentary drinks. Sefer and his charge are gone. The woman is gone. Another breath. The panicked guest is calmly escorted outside by a bouncer and my communicator wakes up again.

 

“Steve, if you could join us in room B?”