"Combat Theory class begins in twenty minutes," I said softly. "Let's go watch Arthur find out that his dojo's medicine has been canceled."
The lecture hall for Combat Theory was constructed on a small scale to resemble a Roman colosseum, with tiered rows of dark mahogany desks bending down to a central platform made of polished grey granite that was sunk into the floor. Above, suspended light bulbs gave the room a clinical white glow and illuminated thirty dozen of the top students at Golden Star Academy.
The moment the double doors hissed open, all the background chatter stopped immediately.
I was the first to walk in, my dark uniform coat hanging loosely on my shoulders and my hands casually inserted into my pockets. Lina followed me by half a step, kept her back straight, raised her chin, and buttoned her burgundy blazer perfectly over her silk shirt.
All our eyes turned in our direction.
In the front row, Arthur Vance was sitting right in the middle of his usual crowd of sycophants, arms crossed and giving a smug, disdainful smile. Next to him was Vincent, vice-president of the Student Council, whose testimony had not gone well that morning. Both of them seemed inclined to be proud of themselves, obviously thinking that even if the tribunal had not found me guilty, the great embarrassment of having to appear before the council would make me stay out of the way.
They still haven't looked at their priority tablets.
We walked down the stone aisle towards the middle level, and although she kept her eyes fixed ahead, I could sense her quiet, nervous tension from the fine thread of thought that ran parallel to my own.
"Little girl," a haughty voice belonging to the immortal resonated in Lina's mind, low and sharp. "Do not bend your head in the presence of these worms. Move about like an empress among peasants and keep a close watch on that boy in front of you... my remaining soul still can't work out what kind of terrifying monster is inside his blood."
Lina swallowed the lump in her throat and then sat down next to me at the empty mahogany desk.
In the room Arthur looked at me. He scowled and whispered one word with bitter ill will: Soon.
I didn't blink at all; I just gave him a polite and very narrow smile.
In my mind I saw the secondary thread come to life.
Thump-thump. Hiss.
From four thousand two hundred microscopic perspectives fixed in Arthur's respiratory mucosa, I saw the fiery qi of his Blazing Sun Art drifting slowly along his blood vessels. My clones were multiplying without meeting any resistance, feeding quietly on the natural bacterial population coating his trachea and thus forming an invisible network throughout his alveolar sacs. Each time he took a deep breath, he was providing my forces with more space in which to grow.
Chime.
A soft chime came through the lecture hall from an official imperial data terminal.
The high-priority emblem of the Imperial Commerce Guild & Academy Logistics Board appeared on Arthur's desk console as a bright, flashing amber message.
Arthur frowned and waved his hand over the holographic scanner to open the dispatch, while Vincent leaned over his shoulder and squinted at the glowing blue text.
The smug satisfaction on Arthur's face broke up like cheap glass in less than three seconds.
His skin lost all color and became a pale, unhealthy gray. His blue eyes widened so much that the whites were fully visible, and they jumped rapidly from side to side over the lines of the shining document.
The holographic header displayed "Notice of Immediate Supply Line Severance", with its luminous golden letters visible even to people sitting in the rows directly behind him. "Effective at 11:45 AM by executive directive from Trustee Seat Roy, the distribution agreements concerning Grade-2 Blood Condensation Grass to the Vance Family Martial Dojos have been terminated for the current academic term."
"What... what on earth is this?!" Arthur's voice broke the silence in the hall, loud, cracked, and sharp with panic.
He banged his two fists against the mahogany desk with a loud crash, causing his stylus to fall to the floor. The students nearby reacted in surprise and began to murmur in confusion as they rushed to find out what had made the young master of the Vance family lose control.
"It's a mistake! It's an illegal breach!" Arthur roared, his hands shaking as he hurriedly swiped across the screen in an attempt to cancel the command. "Twelve crates a week! Three of my family's main dojos depend on that grass to temper the disciples' meridians! If the herbs are not available, three hundred students will have meridian tears within two weeks!"
He jumped up violently, the chair making a screeching sound as it hit the stone floor, his bloodshot eyes fixing directly on me.
"AMAR!" Arthur roared, with veins swelling over his forehead. "Did you do this?!"
The whole lecture hall gasped; twelve noble heirs were frozen in place, thinking through the disastrous significance of what they had just heard. It wasn't merely a business dispute when a martial family had its main source of medicine taken away during the preparatory period before the Ranking Tournament—it was a form of financial and martial suffocation.
I stayed in my seat and leaned back, placing my chin lazily on my knuckles while looking down at him with quiet, pitying amusement.
"Did I do that, Arthur?" I asked in a smooth voice, and my words carried easily across the vaulted room. "Did I exercise the legal rights of the Roy estate over the resources that we fund and manufacture? If your family need Grade-2 herbs, you are of course free to ask the Imperial Guild in the capital. Although... by the time your request has gone through the imperial registry, the Ranking Tournament will have already taken place."
"What a bastard!" Arthur's fiery qi burst out of control, causing a visible red aura to appear around his shoulders and set the cuffs of his uniform on fire. "Did you really use your money to strangle my family? Do you really think you can destroy my clan's means of livelihood and get off scot-free?"
"Sit down, Mr. Vance."
The voice of a cold and crisp woman cut through the heat as if it were a sharp blade of ice.
The vice principal, Rosette, appeared from among a swirling mass of amber flames on the sunken platform at the lower end of the lecture hall. Her look was as sharp as broken glass, moving over the disorderly classroom before resting with heavy, restrained anger on both of us—first on me and then on Arthur.
"This is a Combat Theory lecture and not an open bazaar," Rosette said coldly, "so that you, Mr. Vance, must at once put out your aura or you'll end up with seven days of solitary confinement in the spirit-reflection cells."
Arthur's chest convulsed violently and his fists trembled at his sides. He looked alternately between Rosette and me, his eyes showing a struggle between shame and anger. He gradually and painfully drew his fiery qi back into his centre, even though he never took his gaze from mine, it being filled with pure, murderous hatred.
He sank back into his seat, breathing in quick, shallow gasps.
Inhale. Exhale.
I detected the surge of adrenaline in his blood through my microscopic clones. The sudden rush of fiery martial energy, caused by his anger, had sped up his metabolic rate and thus carried my four thousand clones further into his lung pathways.
Plaintext
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HOST PARASITE TELEMETRY (ARTHUR)
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[Target Heart Rate]: 165 BPM (Severe Agitation)
[Parasitic Swarm Count]: 8,500 Clones (Replicating)
[Host Resistance]: 0% (Target Unaware)
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I remarked with a cold sense of satisfaction, 'Eight thousand five hundred.' Keep on getting angry, Arthur; the more angry you become, the quicker my army will take your lungs.
The vice principal, Rosette, tapped the console of the podium and caused a huge three-dimensional arena bracket to appear above the granite floor.
"Calm yourself," Rosette ordered, narrowing her eyes as she looked in the direction of Lina, who was sitting in silence next to me. "The theory we are going to deal with is combat adaptability, since the Annual Ranking Tournament won't take place in the usual duel rings in three weeks."
She twisted her wrist and the image then changed to a harsh, holographic landscape featuring sharp black mountains, sulfuric volcanic fissures, and massive toxic swamps filled with the signatures of alien beasts.
"Because of the spatial rift instability which has recently been reported by the imperial border garrisons," Rosette announced, her voice echoing with a most chilling finality, "the Academy Council has decided that the tournament will be held within the Black Crag Trial Realm, a live and unmonitored survival area where encounters with deadly alien beasts are certain to occur."
The students all breathed sharply with fear.
Arthur's face, which had been looking sad, suddenly lifted. A cruel and twisted smile gradually appeared on his lips as he looked up at me again. In a closed survival trial, the campus rules did not apply. There were no referees and no teachers to intervene if an 'accidental' fatal blow were struck.
Next to me, Lina became stiff and reached with her hand instinctively under the desk to touch my coat.
Deep in my chest, my status panel updated silently:
Plaintext
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SWARM STATUS PANEL
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[Active Bacteriophage Clones]: 1,350,000 / 1,000,000,000
[Swarm Processing Capacity]: Optimal
[Environment Compatibility]: All Terrains Supported
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I reached down and gently covered Lina's trembling fingers with my hand, giving her a reassuring squeeze.
What would a survival area look like if it were full of blood, wild animals, and had no cameras?
For Arthur it was a site of an assassination.
For my tiny army it was a buffet with unlimited helpings.