Fisioflora Aptitude Trial!

A month after Rose's birthday, the duo sat at the table, lazily eating cereal, when the voice of a charismatic announcer crackled through their nearly broken-down old TV. The screen flickered, displaying a promotional ad sponsored by the Ministry of the Arcane

"Ladies and gentlemen, citizens of Volkov, we are pleased to announce the opening of our prestigious Fisioflora Aptitude Trial! After a decade without a new Pactmaker, the time has finally come. Perhaps you will be the one to catch the Fisioflora's attention."

The words were so crisp, so elegantly delivered, so deliberate—they might as well have been meant for him. There was no doubt about it. At long last, the event he had been waiting for was happening in his city.

"Rose... I'm taking the Fisioflora Aptitude Trial. This year is mine! I know it. I'm finally old enough to participate, afterall I'm nineteen."

"And what about the legal paperwork?"

"Oh, don't worry about that. I've got it all sorted—easy peasy."

"I hope it's legal. I don't want to have to visit you in jail."

"Wow. That hurts."

Well, fuck. How did she know?

A few weeks ago, when Zarek had calculated that the Trial might happen again, he started a quick search on the web… which was, of course, completely legal. The point is, he came across a suspicious account offering help with his task.

Obviously, the white-haired guy asked the most logical question:"Why would you help me for such a low price?"

The answer was… interesting:"Messing with the government sounds fun."

At first, he doubted the whole thing—it was way too convenient. How could some random person possibly help him? But that account proved its worth, infecting a network with a virus that gave him full access to the monitoring center he had "borrowed" from an internet café.

Zarek took that as enough proof that maybe—just maybe—he wasn't getting scammed. And so, his plan began.

The concerned look in Rose's eyes struck a nerve. It was so unfair that she used her signature move—the dreaded puppy eyes attack!

"I'm serious, Zarek. Don't do anything illegal… or at least… not too illegal. Don't get caught."

"Relax. I know a guy—he's solid."

"No way. You're going to the Ministry of the Arcane itself. Are you really thinking you can fool them with some fake papers from some random guy?"

"Just trust me, alright? When have I ever let you down?"

The second those words left his mouth, Rose's lips curled slightly, fully prepared to list every instance she could recall.

"Don't. You. Dare."

Slipping out of the conversation like a snake, Zarek made a beeline for the door, eager to escape before the argument could continue. Nothing was going to stop him from taking that trial.

"See you at the Ministry! Love you! Byeee!"

"Zarek, don't—"

The only response she got was the sharp click of the door shutting behind him. With a deep sigh, Rose collapsed onto the couch.

"Well... I've got no choice now. I'll just pray you don't do anything too stupid, idiot."

***

Let's see... The "intermediary" he was supposed to meet—the one who'd be selling him a completely legal and totally authentic Conjurist Registration—should be around here somewhere. The question was... where?

Zarek glanced around, standing by the fountain in the town plaza, surrounded by vibrant natural plants and artificial ones, their metallic hues giving them away. They were supposed to meet at 10:00 AM, but it was creeping closer to 11:00. If he waited much longer, he might lose his shot at the Aptitude Trial.

And that could not happen. If he missed this chance, he'd have to wait for the next Fisioflora bloom. That could be a year—or decades. Just the thought sent shivers down his spine.

Screw it, I'll go look for him.

What did the guy look like? No idea. That was the whole point of using an intermediary—so no one knew who was dealing with whom. It sounded smart when he made the deal with "Hacker"—a name way too pretentious for Zarek's taste—but now he regretted not asking for a photo.

Well, at least he hadn't been dumb enough to pay in advance. Point for me. He could practically hear Rose's voice cheering him on for that one.

Enough stalling. He needed to start searching.

"Where do I even start? Meh, not gonna overthink it".

He pulled out a small, holographic coin from the pocket of his orange sweater, its surface catching the light.

"Heads, left. Tails, right."

Flipping the coin, he watched it spin before landing decisively—right it was. Without hesitation, he headed toward the commercial district, packed with vendors selling all sorts of bizarre trinkets—random junk scavenged near the Rifts.

The streets were eerily empty thanks to the big event at the Ministry of the Arcane. The whole area was wrapped in crystalline petals and metallic, thorny vines—beautiful, but ominous. Anxiety gnawed at him as every second ticked by. The longer he went without finding the guy, the more his nerves frayed.

What if he couldn't find him in time? What then? The Aptitude Trial was strictly for registered Conjurists—something he definitely wasn't. If he couldn't get that fake ID, he was screwed. He'd have to wait years for another Fisioflora bloom.

Just thinking about it made his stomach twist into knots.

Alright, focus.

That's when he heard it. A sound that snapped him out of his thoughts.

Suspicious noises, coming from an alleyway nearby.

He stopped in his tracks, his instincts screaming at him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as an electric shiver crawled down his spine.

"What... is going on over there?"

He barely had time to process the question before a sharp, unmistakable sound cut through the silence.

A scream.

A woman's scream.

Shit.

"Let go of me! Help!"

Zarek's blood turned to ice.

<>

It was obvious. Someone was in trouble. He didn't need to be a detective to piece things together—a nearly deserted street, a dark alleyway, and a desperate scream.

Someone was being attacked.

He should help. Right?

But—he was terrified.

Some might call that ironic, considering he used to sneak into the nearby Rift—where his life was on the line the second he stepped foot inside. But this was different.

Monsters in the Rift had instincts, sure—but they weren't calculating. They weren't human.

A person, though? A person was terrifying.

He had no guarantee he'd win in a fight. He didn't even know how many people were involved. Were they armed?

God, what the hell was he supposed to do?!

In the end, the right thing to do would be to walk away. No one could judge him… right?

"Yeah… not gonna happen… sorry."

And so, he turned to leave. He took a step, then another, but it felt too heavy. Almost as if he were walking with cement shoes instead of sneakers.

No… I won't… move, damn legs!

… For some reason, he started arguing with his own body… Honestly, kind of weird.

It seemed like his own limbs were refusing to obey their cowardly owner, as if telling him to cut the nonsense and go help before it was too late. But he resisted with all his might. He had never been a hero, and he never wanted to be one. If anything, he preferred to be on the side offering the most comfort.

But as he managed to take another step, an image of himself with an angelic halo appeared to his right.

"… Am I… am I schizophrenic?"

"Shut up! What are you doing?!" —Ignoring his question, his tiny, angel-clad self started kicking his cheek— "Can't you hear that call for help? What kind of trash are you to ignore someone who might be getting attacked right now?!"

"The kind that doesn't want to get stabbed or shot. Thanks. Shoo-shoo."

"Hey! I'm not a fly!"

"What a pain! I don't have any other options? Might as well call the other one. Where is he?"

"The other one?"

"You know, my evil version. Isn't that how this works?"

"He's not coming."

"Why?"

"I killed him before coming here."

"… Say… what?"

"I killed him. I won't let that bastard fill your head with bad ideas in this situation."

"You know… that doesn't sound very… angelic."

"What are you talking about? This is exactly what we do. We purge the evil from their souls."

"… Maybe we should ask our brain instead, don't you think?"

"Fine by me."

"Well? What do you think? Should I risk getting myself killed or just walk away? Come on, we both know the answer, right? Don't betray me—we've always been together."

In response to his question, his brain flashed an image of his beloved sister. Ouch. Low blow. That simple image struck deep in his soul. Without a doubt, he would want whoever this was to help Rose if she were ever in danger.

"Seriously? You're taking their side? … Argh… Now I remember why I never listen to you, idiot. Fine! Let's go. But if I die, you're all coming with me, got it?"

"Whatever. It's not like I actually exist… Besides, think about it, if you save a beautiful lady from the clutches of evil, you could be her knight in shining armor and finally get yourself a girlfriend!"

That last part sounded more like mockery, something rather unbefitting of an "angel."

"You mother fuc-"

And just like that, Zarek snapped back to reality.

… Just to clarify, all of this happened in mere milliseconds… Funny how time works sometimes, huh?

"Here we go!"

Resigned, he threw himself into the darkness of the alleyway. Moments later, he ran into exactly what he feared.

A damn brute in messy clothes, sporting a stereotypical thug hairstyle, slicked back, shaved on the sides, dyed in ridiculous colors, was cornering a woman dressed in loose-fitting clothes that faded from deep red to white. The only silver lining was that he didn't seem to be threatening her with a knife or anything like that. But that wasn't much comfort. The bastard was still a head taller and definitely a good few pounds heavier than him.

<>

Following pure instinct, he stepped forward and grabbed the thug's thick wrist, stopping him just as he was about to throw a punch at the woman.

"Leave her alone!"

"Huh? A Nen? What, is he your servant or something?"

Ignoring Zarek entirely, the thug threw an unpleasant question at the woman, who stayed silent, eyes wide with fear.

"I'm no damn servant, I'm just a good Samaritan."

Before he could finish, the brute's fist crashed into his face, sending him spinning through the air and slamming him nose-first into the pavement.

That punch… wasn't normal. No matter the weight difference, no ordinary hit should've sent him flying like that.

That could only mean one thing. A VERY bad thing.

With dread creeping into his voice, Zarek muttered the words he feared most, words far worse than if the guy had pulled out a weapon.

"You're a Conjurist…"

"Wow, what a genius. What do you eat to get that kind of brainpower?"

The thug scoffed, cracking his knuckles.

"I just came to this dump of a town for vacation. Didn't expect some damn Nen to lay hands on me."

Shit! Shit!

If this guy was really a Conjurer, Zarek's life was in serious danger.

Conjurist—a term used for someone who could wield talismans, just like their Chi. Usually, these people formed groups around the Covenants, aiming to explore the Rifts.

Needless to say, they were powerful. At least a good damn dozen times stronger than a Nen like him. The proof? The simple fact that he still couldn't get back on his feet.Come on, Zarek, think of something!

"… And what the hell is a Conjurer doing harassing a woman?! You damn perv-"

Yeah… definitely not the best response.

Before he could finish, a well-aimed kick to his mouth sent the taste of filthy pavement straight into his tongue.

"Shut up. I don't like it when dogs bark. But I'll humor you, I wasn't harassing her."

The thug nudged the woman with his foot.

"This little thief tried to pickpocket me. I caught her and was just about to take back what's mine."

Oh, damn. If that was true, then Zarek had just thrown himself into the lion's den.

<>

Desperate, he turned to the woman, praying that she'd shake her head, that this guy was lying, that he was the villain in this situation.

But instead, her brown eyes filled with guilt as she averted her gaze, blushing in shame.

… Maybe if I start begging, he'll just break a few bones…

"Material Fusion: Body + Knuckle Duster = Yellow [Summon: Reinforcement]"

The Conjurer spoke the words as if they were completely normal. But Zarek recognized them instantly, he had heard similar ones on TV during Eternal duels.

A spell construction.

The thug, who clearly had no qualms about beating up someone weaker than him, removed his shoe from Zarek's mouth. But only so he could drive a brutal kick straight into his chin, flipping him upright and slamming him against the alley wall.

"Please! I didn't know! I just saw a woman and-"

"And what? That's sexist, man. Just 'cause I'm a guy doesn't mean I was attacking her. Do I look like a thug to you?"

Definitely! Just look at yourself!

That's what he thought. But he wasn't dumb enough, or suicidal enough, to say it out loud.

"N-Not at all! I'm just an idiot, sorry! I just… wanted to impress a beauty like her."

That was a lie… mostly. He did know he had to help someone who looked like they were in danger, whether they were a beautiful woman was just a side note.

Wait, focus. His mind was drifting off-topic again. What was the main problem here?

Oh, right.

The Conjurer was winding up for another kick.

<>

Closing his eyes, he braced himself for the inevitable. As always, all he could do was bite his tongue and endure the humiliation.

Time seemed to slow as the kick descended toward his face. His brain, which had been busy cursing his luck, finally sparked to life.

He needed something. Anything.

The alley was narrow, with rusted metal walls and a large, open dumpster nearby. The stench of rotting garbage was strong enough to make any sane person recoil. But sanity wouldn't save him.

Fueled by a desperate rush of adrenaline, Zarek let himself fall sideways, dodging the kick just in time. In the same motion, he kicked the base of the dumpster, tilting it just enough for its contents, rotting food, plastic scraps, and some dark, sticky liquid, to spill out onto the Conjurer.

SPLASH.

"ARGH, YOU LITTLE"

The thug staggered back, hands flying to his face as the stench overwhelmed him.

Zarek didn't waste a second. He yanked off his belt, swiftly wrapped it around the brute's ankles, and, just to be safe, delivered a solid kick to his groin.

Turning to the woman, he grabbed her arm.

"Run!"