Chapter 28 - Rank up test 2

Cadet Thanason strolled down the bustling city street, his retinue of advisors and city officials trailing behind him like a silent tide. This was yet another one of those exhausting, hollow displays of unity—where he, the son of a Lord in the Dukedom, had to pretend to be just another citizen.

It was tedious. A farce.

If Father stopped shirking his responsibilities, he wouldn't have to be here.

"Lord Th—"

"Cadet," he interrupted sharply, his golden eyes narrowing. "I've joined the army. Call me Cadet or use my first name."

A pause. The official shifted awkwardly. "Uh… what is your first name, sir?"

Thanason sighed. "Just call me Cadet."

The official coughed, clearly eager to move past the awkward moment. "Cadet Thanason, we should pass through the Begging Quarter before making our way back."

Thanason nodded curtly. "Fine. But let's move quickly—I need to return to base."

The group pressed forward. The air in the city was thick with the mingling scents of bread, sweat, and unwashed bodies. Thanason barely noticed. He had long since learned to ignore the squalor of the lower districts.

Then, a scream shattered the air.

A child's voice.

Panic. Desperation.

Thanason froze for a fraction of a second before his instincts took over. Mana flared within him, raw power surging through his limbs. His attendants barely had time to react before he was gone, the cobbled street blurring as he sprinted toward the source of the cry.

His body moved before his mind could catch up. The scream had been real. It had been close.

He found himself in a narrow side street. The stench of blood was sharp in the air.

A boy knelt beside the still-warm corpse of an old man, a rag pressed against the wound in a futile attempt to stem the bleeding.

Thanason inhaled sharply. His stomach twisted. He hated seeing blood.

Training exercises and battlefield drills had not prepared him for the sheer stillness of a corpse. For the glassy, vacant stare.

He approached carefully, keeping his tone measured. "Leave him, lad. He's already gone."

The boy's dark eyes locked onto his. There was no fear in them. Only defiance.

"How did you know him?" Thanason asked, keeping his voice level.

The boy swallowed hard. "I… I killed him."

Silence. It was a heavy silence. Thanason's blood ran cold.

Then, without hesitation, he moved.

One moment, the boy was kneeling. The next, he was on the ground, arms pinned

behind his back, a knee pressed between his shoulder blades.

The boy yelped, more out of surprise than pain.

"You understand what happens now, don't you?" Thanason asked, more curious than angry.

"Yeah," the boy grunted. "I'm gonna die."

Thanason tilted his head. "Then why didn't you run?"

The boy hesitated.

Then, voice barely above a whisper, he said, "Because I killed him."

..........

James 1st person POV

They put me in a cell.

The iron bars were rusted at the edges. The stone floor beneath me was damp and rough, but I'd slept on worse.

Tomorrow, I die.

I was tried in record time. Guilty, of course. They believed my story, because who would expect a beggar to care about another human life?

Beggars don't protect people.

Beggars survive.

I hadn't spoken a word about Red or the others. Because, in a way… I really had killed that man.

I let it happen. I knew it was wrong.

I could've stopped Red, really tried to stop them. I could've said no. But I let myself get swept along. And now, I was paying the price.

I wasn't angry. I wasn't scared.

My life had never been happy. It had never been meant to be happy.

But at least, it had been short. Unhappy and short was better than unhappy and long.

I heard the footsteps before I saw them. Heavy boots, metal clanking. Another prisoner, maybe.

I sighed, rubbing the exhaustion from my face. "'Bout fucking time," I muttered.

"Been here a week. Least they can do is kill me quickly."

..........

I expected that night I wouldn't be able to sleep. That I'd be kept up, haunted by impending execution and the death of the old man.

But the cells, they were warmer than any place I'd slept in a long time. I had a roof, and four walls. For me, it meant luxury.

So I slept like a rock, and that seemed fair. One good night's sleep, in return for a shitty lifetime.

When I woke up, the cold light of morning light streamed through the gaps in the barred window.

"Aaagh" I groaned, stretching. That had been a good sleep.

Slowly I got up, looking around.

And that's when I realized, I wasn't alone.

There was someone, crouching in the opposite corner of the cell, watching me.

Slowly the figure got up, walking forward until the morning sunlight revealed him to be...Red?

"What are you doing here?" I laughed incredulously, momentarily forgetting that I was in a prison.

Red smiled. I immediately noticed that he'd changed. When he smiled, it wasn't his usual cocky grin. It was… hesitant. Faint. Like he'd forgotten how to do it properly.

"Heya, James."

Something was wrong.

"What are you doing here, Red?" My voice was quieter now. Sharper.

Red sighed, moving closer. "I'm here to do what you were going to."

I frowned. "The hell does that mean?"

He didn't answer.

And then, he said something that made my stomach drop.

"I confessed."

I bolted upright. "Why?!" My voice cracked. "Now both of us are going to die!"

Red chuckled. "Nah. Just me."

I grabbed his shoulders, shaking him violently. "Red, what do you mean?!"

"It was me that killed him, James. Not you. Me. I couldn't let you take the blame."

Tears blurred my vision.

"Why?" I whispered. "Why would you do that?"

Red smiled. "Because you're part of my crew. And that's for life."

I heard the clanging and more footsteps descending. And this time I knew, they were for us.

Two guards came in, hoisting both of us up.

Red was handcuffed while I was left alone.

I wanted to struggle, but Red stopped me with a look. It was a pained look. A look that said don't make this harder than it needs to be.

We walked to the execution block in silence, trying to enjoy the final moments of each other's company. 

Soon the execution area came into place. It was a cage made of shimmering glass. Within it, the person would be killed by mana. It was a quick, painless death, one of the few kindness this hellhole gave beggars like him.

"Hey James."

I looked up, "yeah?"

"I have a sister. Her name is Elthea. She lives in an adopted home in the suburbs. 24 Sutton street. Keep an eye on her for me, yeah?" His voice cracked slightly when he said a name, his mask of calm showing a boyish terror that I had always failed to notice.

"Y-yeah."

The guard who held me forced me to stay still, as Red was escorted to the execution area. I looked in horror, as he was thrown in.

Red never died panicking. He died smiling. As if he had wanted this all along. His smile was fixed on me. His red hair dancing in the sunlight, his dark eyes warm.

I saw him mouth his last words right before he died, dropping to the floor for seemingly no reason.

'Goodbye James.'

"Goodbye Red" I muttered back. But of course, he couldn't hear me.

................

I strolled out of the execution place, finally let free. I felt as if I was a hollowed out version of myself. Keeping my head down, I walked randomly, not focusing on where I was going. My thoughts were still lost on Red. 

I bumped into someone accidentally.

"Sorry" I muttered automatically, as I continued to walk, not even looking up to see who it was.

"Wait" a commanding voice replied.

I froze. That voice sounded familiar.

Turning I saw the person that had pinned me down on that first day.

His dull yellows bore into me, like two nails.

"So", he said. "You're friend confessed."

"Mhm" I replied, too emotionally worn out to care about his words.

"He said you're insane."

"Mhm."

"You know...that man he killed. He had a wife and two kids. The daughter, she's around your age I reckon. It's going to be hard for them to survive with no one to look after them. After all, you did kill the girl's dad."

I felt a spear of ice in my chest as he spoke.

"What do you want?" I spat, glaring hatefully, my anger at Red spilling over.

"Join me."

"Huh. No."

"Why no?"

"Why do you want me to join you?"

The man smiled. "I have a couple of reasons. One is...loyalty. The second is a hunch. And the third..."

"What's the third?"

"I've got something over you."

"What's that?"

Thanason's smile grew wider, and he walked closer.

"If you work for me, I'll take care of your every need. I'll also send money to that man's family in your name, to ensure they're looked after."

I stared at him, shocked. "Why so much?"

"Why are you so hesitant?"

I grit my teeth. It was a good offer...and yet.

"I got one more condition."

Thanason raised his eyebrows, "What's that?"

I heaved a deep sigh. "There's a girl I need to keep an eye on. She's adopted."

"Why do you need to do that?"

For the first time, I met his eyes levelly, not looking away.

"Because I made a promise...to my best friend."

............

/////////////////////////////////////////////

Arthur – 3rd Person.

Arthur's eyes snapped open. Immediately he scrambled up as a wave of nausea hit him. He threw up over the side of the boat as James's memories overloaded his mind.

For a couple of moments...or even days, he remained hunched over the boat, his sense of self unraveling.

'Am I James, Or Arthur? Or Reshi?'

After a while, his mind began to calm and he managed to sit back down on the boat with a heavy sigh.

The Storier watched him silently, still strumming a mournful tune. "How was it...am I a good storyteller?"

Arthur looked up, eyeing the storyteller angrily. "Fuck you."

The Storier chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes then."

"Who are you?" Arthur asked. Before had thought that The Storier had been a part of his trial. But no, there was no fucking way that this thing in front of him wasn't something stronger.

"Are you a deity?"

The Storier locked eyes with him, and this time, Arthur understood the weight of those eyes. Those eyes...how many stories had they seen. He understood those eyes...because they reflected what he felt after seeing James's life.

Sadness. A deep, overpowering grief, potent. Yet at the same time, it didn't belong to him.

Finally Arthur spoke again. "Who was he?"

The Storier smiled. "You knew him. Of course, you called him Skelter...not James."

Arthur's body shuddered. For a moment he felt like he was going to throw up again.

'Skelter huh. Again it all went back to that bastard. Why am I only learning about you after you're gone you bitch. Couldn't you have been a bit more different when you were alive.' 

How much did he know about Skelter now?

Too much. It felt like ever since Skelter had died for him, his death had been shaping the rest of Arthur's life. That feeling of loss increased. He never knew Skelter. But a part of him wished he had.

'I bet we would've been friends' he mused sadly.

Arthur also felt something else. It felt like a burden had been taken off him. For so long, he had wondered why Skelter had done what he did. It had plagued him. Why a man with a family of his own...had thrown that all away. For him. Someone that had outwardly hated Arthur.

But after seeing that portion of his life. Arthur understood. They had been in similar positions once. Funnily enough, the person who'd understand him the most...had been Skelter all along.

"Aaah fuck man", he sighed. Wiping his tears so The Storier wouldn't notice. Crying in public was like bleeding next to sharks.

He understood now. Why that bastard had saved him, after beating him near to death. With that understanding, a sense of peace washed over him. This entire time, he had selfishly put the blame of Skelter's death on himself, but now, he understood. That sacrifice had never been his decision. It had been Skelter's, and that knowledge finally assuaged the guilt within him.

He heard a grunt, and looking up he saw The Storier smiling at him, as if he could read the turmoil that had finally settled within Arthur.

"Now, I think you're ready."

Arthur looked back at him, "Ready?"

"To Rank up of course." Putting his lute to the side, he revealed a small shimmering red gem, with faint wisps of gold within.

"What's this?" Arther asked, completely transfixed on the timeless beauty of the gem.

"Find out", The Storier replied proffering the gem.

Arthur took it gently. As soon as it was in his grip, the gem dissolved into his skin.

He felt a rush of power within him. It was a qualitative change. His soul felt richer, his mind expanding, his body becoming more and more firm. It was like he existed more now, the world around him becoming richer and more real.

[Rank up to E- taking place. User has achieved a state of mindfulness! Rank up successful!]

He glanced back to the Storier, his eyes wide in amazement. "T-thanks?"

The man chuckled, "What for? I only told you a story."

Arthur laughed, "It was quite a damn story." He waited for a moment, expecting a system notification to take him back out of the Rank up test. 

But...nothing happened.

"Uhh Storier, how do I leave?" he asked nervously.

The Storier's eyes glinted mischievously. "You tell me."

Arthur thought for a moment. There was no point trying to prod the old- well whatever the Storier was. 

'The system said I achieved mindfulness? What is that? I'm mindful of what?'

As soon as he questioned it, the words came to his mind, as if they had been there the entire time, just waiting to be spoken.

"I...will do anything it takes to survive, and I won't feel bad for doing so." It felt stupid to say. But everything that had happened in the past few months. Surviving, and killing, and healing and killing. 

They had shaken him more than he had realised, subjecting himself to a draining inner turmoil that had been dragging at his soul, as if they were physical weights. 

'Was it right if I killed people?

Aren't the people I kill human too?

But I need to survive?

If I have to kill to survive, is that okay?'

These questions had been plaguing his mind ever since, but now, he understood. After seeing that vision of James. After finally understanding Skelter's actions to some degree. 

He finally understood. 

As soon as he uttered those words, a notification popped up in front of him.

[Returning to the world....] 

'Finally.' 

"Wait" Arthur stammered, "Who are you?" It was more than obvious, whoever The Storier was, he was more than a product of his Rank up test.

The Storier smiled widely, "I wonder if you'll be able to figure it out, this early into the story."

With that, Arthur's soul returned to the real world.