chapter 30 gate and sorcery 1
"At least let me shower and change my clothes first," Fighter pleaded, eyeing the countdown.
[What? You think I'll let you start a Trial looking—and smelling—like that? You disgusting, unhygienic man. Consecrate yourself. Cleanse the filth before you even think about the Black Box. Ok.] Fighter winced. She's actually furious, he thought. He didn't argue further; he scrambled into the bathroom.
The shower was more of a lecture than a cleaning session. Rechal's voice echoed in his head the entire time, nagging him to scrub every inch, over and over, until his skin was raw. By the time he stepped out, steam clinging to the walls, the timer had plummeted.
30 minutes remaining.
"Why did I have to spend over an hour in there?" Fighter grumbled, drying off. "I'm not exactly getting ready for a gala."
[You were so filthy that a pile of sludge would have looked cleaner by comparison. Your stench was a crime against my existence. Ok.]
Fighter ignored the jab and caught his reflection in the mirror. It was the first time he'd really looked at this body since the transition. He stood at roughly 155 cm—barely over five feet. He was skinny, his frame lacking the muscle he'd eventually need, but his features were striking. His hair was jet-black, straight and fine, framing a pair of eyes the color of a deep, restless ocean.
"I have blue eyes," he muttered, leaning closer. "But man... I'm short."
[Stop staring at yourself. Looking in the mirror won't make you grow any taller. You're wasting time. Ok.]
"I'm not that short—"
[Then let's start the Trial. Ok.]
"Wait!" Fighter gripped the edge of the sink. "There are still fifteen minutes left. I'm not stepping into a death trap without knowing what the Trial actually is. If you don't tell me, I'm not moving. I'm dying either way, right? I might as well die clean and stubborn."
There was a long silence. He could almost feel Rechal weighing his resolve.
[...Fine. Before we begin, tell me: how much do you actually know about a (Gate) and (Sorcery)? Ok.]
Fighter hurriedly pulled on his new UCA uniform, the magitech fabric feeling cool and heavy against his skin. He spoke as he buttoned the jacket.
"I have some theoretical knowledge," he said, racking his brain for anything he'd read. "A Gate is a hinged barrier used to close an opening in a wall, fence, or hedge. And Sorcery... that's the use of supernatural powers, involving spells, rituals, or the manipulation of spirits—usually evil ones—to influence the natural world."
The silence that followed was deafening. Then, Rechal spoke, her voice vibrating with a mix of shock and pure disappointment.
[How do you know the literal dictionary definition of a garden gate, yet managed to get the answer for Sorcery only 'somewhat' correct? I truly thought you were just damaged, but you are actually illiterate. Both of your descriptions are useless here, you stupid boy. Ok.]
Fighter felt a flush of embarrassment. Rechal was more than a voice; she was his "bodymate," and her disappointment stung. He knew his knowledge was fragmented. In the original Lightning Boy Adventure novel, the [System] handled the Gates automatically. When the protagonist, Kaizer, eventually lost his System, the concept of Gates became irrelevant to his fighting style. As for Sorcery, the book mostly depicted it as a tool for villains—dark, ranking-based magic that a swordsman like Kaizer never bothered to learn.
"I'm not stupid," Fighter snapped, though his confidence was wavering. "Look at the environment I grew up in. There were no 'Gates' or 'Sorcery' lessons."
[I see. I have to start from the absolute basics. You truly are a blank page—and not in the poetic way. Ok.]
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