BA3 - Chapter 19

I awoke on rest day with an uneasy sickness to my stomach. We had memorized our fake plan to the finest detail, yet still I worried. What if Yuri forgot something? What if Ena asked a question we hadn’t had enough time to prepare for? What if Woong-ji asked me to truly execute that plan?

I wiped my hand over my face and rubbed my eyes.

“Sleep well?” Ko-nah asked as he opened the slats of the window, revealing pre-dawn sunlight outside.

“Well enough,” I said, though it didn’t feel true.

“The students of Anbura will go into the community and spent their time performing chores to help the locals today while you engage in cultural immersion—visiting local historic sites and the likes.” Ko-nah said as he changed into less prestigious looking work clothes.

I nodded. “Enjoy your community service.”

He turned to me, then looked at the other boys who slept. I could see the desire to say something he thought was important, and I held up my hand to stop him. “It’s not worth my time, so save it.”

Ko-nah shrugged, then smiled. “I was going to wish you a pleasant trip.”

I could see in the way his fingers twitched and he wouldn’t meet my gaze that his behavior was all fake, though very convincing to someone who didn’t know him. Perhaps that was how he’d survived so long as an outcast—though he’d made himself one of his own accord.

I sighed. “What is it?”

Ko-nah dropped the façade, then moved his mouth in the shape of Busanese_TK words. Mae translated, and repeated in my head. “You will be intercepted.”

I mouthed back, exaggeratedly, “By who?”

“Dokun. He knows—”

“Morning, squirts,” Genta groaned and Ko-nah turned away, pretending to do something else. “What’s going on here?”

“Staring contest,” I said, deadpan.

Genta laughed. “Well look while you can. Aki and I might not be back tonight.”

“Oh?” I asked while I dressed.

“That business you want us to attend to at the port could take us a few days,” Genta said with resentment.

I hummed and nodded. “Important business.”

Genta gripped my shoulder from behind. “It better be worth it,” he whispered.

I resisted the urge to grab his arm and flip him over my back. “It will be,” I said, jerking myself free from his grasp. And it would be, for us.

There were too many problems and loose ends piling up. How had I ever dreamed of becoming a Bastion when I could hardly keep all my bearings on such a straightforward spycraft mission?

We ate breakfast without Shin-soo, who was silently sulking at a table full of strangers. Still acting on his emotions, thinking only of himself. We desperately needed to fill Shin-soo in before he blundered. I wished he’d not been a stubborn ass last night and taken Sung-ki’s potion, but such was life. Just another loose thread that needed to be folded back into the weave of our plot.

I worried none of us could conjure a ry deception bubble strong enough to obscure us from Ena’s watch, but perhaps the trip would offer that opportunity. My mind returned to what Ko-nah had tried to communicate this morning. Dokun would intercept us. How could I tell this to the others without catching Ena’s attention?

“I hope the cultural excursion goes as planned today. I’m excited to see the Shrine of Osaka_tk,” I said with a too-wide smile.

Hana eyed me suspiciously, then recognition filled her face. “Yes, I understand your meaning. I want to see the shrine, too.”

Yuri shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, it’s not the rare creatures zoo_TK, or the city center, but the shrine will be cool.”

Cho shook his head with a sigh. “I understand your excitement too, Jiyong. We should tell the instructors how excited we are in hoping that nothing interrupts the day’s plan.”

Yuri scowled. “What am I missing about this shrine? Does it shoot beams of pure munje at the moons or something?”

Hana patted her shoulder. “It’s okay, Yuri.”

She sighed. “I guess I’ll see when we get there.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle, despite the severity of our situation. Yuri took so much at face value. We’d have to work on her detection of subtle—in this case, not-so-subtle—cues. Hana’s lips cracked into a smile when I couldn’t stop laughing.

“What now?” Yuri asked, brow furrowed.

I cleared my throat and grabbed my tea. “It’s nothing.”

Yuri twirled her fingers and a burst of en munje held the tea back in my cup as I tilted it to drink. I put my cup down pressing my lips together tightly to keep from smiling or laughing.

Yuri squinted at me. “If this isn’t the coolest shrine I’ve ever seen, you’re going to regret it.”

Cho meandered over to Woong-ji’s table to express his great excitement to visit the shrine today, then returned and carefully relayed that Woong-ji had understood his meaning. This game of pass-along-information was dangerous. I hoped that Cho had understood what I meant—that our plans could be interrupted or thrown entirely—but I couldn’t be sure. Still, having Woong-ji aware that something was out of the ordinary would be better than both instructors being surprised. I was sure they were always on guard, but they would be especially watchful on our trip.

As the Anbura students gathered in the front yard to group up for community engagement, the Bastion students lingered in the entrance hall for instruction. Ena appeared after a few moments and guided us down the hill, back to the road.

“The Shrine of Osaka is twenty kilometers to the south east,” Ena said as we walked. “It used to be a two day’s tourney on foot for every student as part of training, but now—with TK_Dokun Corp’s machina—we can be there in a matter of minutes. A train is waiting especially for us at the Sonma Station.”

She took us down the street to where a larger style ground machina could take us in batches to the train station. Students wearing crests and colors of their schools were everywhere! They were sweeping sidewalks and cleaning storefronts, restocking popup stands or serving fresh noodles to smiling grandparents. They grinned as they worked, truly grateful for the ability to serve their community.

I stared at one girl who looked like Minjee in size and age as she picked up a stray animal who’s fur was matted. The creature was the size of a small dog, but had a round face and ears. Long whiskers that shimmered with dark ryzo munje protruded from beside it’s wide nose. The thing twitched the whiskers, releasing a burst of munje that the girl waved away with a swish of her fingers.

To have deflected a double munje spell away at her age, she must’ve been well ahead of the Primary students in Kokyu! She would’ve had to have built her core the right way since birth to have completed a second band before reaching Secondary. I marveled for a moment at the severity of that idea. The Anbura students were likely far more advanced than we were.

That was why Min-hwan had trained us so hard. Tungpah! Min-hwan said we weren’t ready, but he didn’t mean to face Dokun. He meant we weren’t even ready to fight a Kokyun student!

I swallowed to quell the queasiness in my stomach. How could we have been so blind? Sung-ki and Woong-ji had another TK_Silent Pact for the realmission. We were sent to provide support, a distraction that wouldn’t cause us too much harm. The picture frame idea was proposed as the safest, and least traceable plan to retrieve information—and it would work. Jiyong had designed many prototypes proving that.

Of course they wouldn’t trust children with something so important as saving the world. And sure, our contribution would help, if we managed to gather any intel at all. But in the end, Min-hwan knew we couldn’t be trusted with something so vital. Our paltry skill would never give us a fighting chance against Dokun—a master of machina and controller of who-knew-how-many pieces of Mae.

“Jiyong?” Hana asked, touching my arm.

I snapped from the terrifying thoughts and gave her a gentle smile. “I was thinking about Minjee.”

Hana smiled kindly and cradled my face in her palm. “They’re doing okay, don’t worry. I told Ryni to look in on them.”

She’d believed me. It was true, I had been thinking about Minjee, but that wasn’t what worried me. Yet somehow I—Jiyong the truth revealer—was able to tell a small lie.

I beamed. “Thank you.”

She slid her hand from my face to my leg, then looked out the window with wonder.

No, not wonder. She hid it well, but I could see the anxious lines spreading in her forehead from concentration. She was looking for threats—for Dokun’s interception.

We arrived at the train station unscathed and snaked our way through the express line to our reserved transport. The general public line was quite long, but for those of us who had reserved a train at a certain time got preferential treatment. There was also an emergency lane—one that surpassed even the reservation lane. It allowed people experiencing time sensitive situations would be able to bypass everyone to get to the hospital, or their place of work.

It was our turn to get out onto the boarding platform. I wasn’t surprised to see four Enjiho flanking the vessel, motioning for us to enter. Two more waited inside for us and I put myself as far away from them as possible. If they were going to go ballistic, I wanted as much time as possible to release enough ma munje to overtake them before they did too much damage—if I could. There was no guarantee that my ability to remote into machina would work on the Enjiho, who seemed to be piloted in a similar way.

The train started up and departed the station without issue, and within a few minutes, we were slowly taxying out of station airspace to accelerate to maximum speed. The chatter of the crowd was distracting with my nerves so high. Every sharp laugh from the students around me pulled my attention, despite my best efforts to stay focused.

“May I have your attention,” one of the Enjiho stated in an aged masculine voice. It put its hands overhead and waved them slowly to gain the focus of everyone in the train.

I swirled ma munje in my closed fist, ready to throw it at a second’s notice. My skin prickled with goosebumps in anticipation of the fight. Hana prepared herself in a similar way, strengthening her stance and sending zo to her fists. Cho looked to me in a panic, then resolve washed over him when he saw us preparing for battle. He nudged Yuri, who picked up the cue near instantly.

The train slowed to a stop mid-air, and the Enjiho went on. “It’s my great pleasure to personally invite you to visit TK_Dokun Corp in place of your regularly scheduled cultural excursion. But only if you would like, of course.” The voice chuckled deeply and my nerve endings came alive with fear. That was Dokun’s voice, I knew it.

The sixteen other students gasped in awe and cheered. “Yes,” and “Of course,” they shouted.

“Instructors?” The Enjiho asked as it turned to Woong-ji and Sung-ki.

They were silent, and the students looked at them with quiet, pleading stares.

“The Shrine has been a cultural destination for many years,” Woong-ji said, shaking her head. “We would be doing Kokyu a disservice if we didn’t visit.”

The Enjiho drooped, the light-up face falling to a frown. “I understand.”

The other students with mad with pleading whines. “Please? We may never get another chance?” and “What if we go next rest day?” bubbled up from the group. I hoped no one would notice how quiet and uncaring we were in the corner.

The Enjiho pointed a finger into the air, a smile returning to the digital screen on its unnecessary head. “I know. What if you take a tour of the facility, and then go to the shrine? We could throw a luau on the beach, in custom Kokyu style of celebration.”

“Luau?” the others asked, their eyes sparkling with interest.

The Enjiho’s digital grin broadened, sending a chill up my spine. “We’ll roast a whole boar on the beach, light massive bonfires, sing, dance, and drink special elixirs into the night. It’s very culturally appropriate.”

“This is a great honor, especially if all expenses will be paid for?” Ena asked the Enjiho Dokun.

“Yes, of course. I’m happy to host all of Anbura at the luau.”

The other students went mad with desire, begging our instructors, some even on their knees. Sung-ki grimaced and looked to Woong-ji, who looked to us.

“Only if everyone agrees,” she said, laying the burden of choice on me. If we declined, what would that say to Ena? That we had something to hide.

It seemed this situation was already out of our hands. But perhaps we could use this to our advantage. Mae and I could gain valuable insight into their security systems and layout, which would be critical to have for executing our mission, even if it was just a distraction. Dokun likely wouldn’t try to abduct me with so many witnesses—unless he planned on handling all of them.

Still, unlikely. Murdering all the Bastion students wouldn’t go unnoticed, and if Dokun was attempting to take power in Kokyu, he couldn’t have a mark like that over his head. We knew the people were tired of war. If their new leader had killed students from another kingdom, there was no telling how bad things could get. No, I didn’t think Dokun would risk it, and neither did Mae. I could feel her confirmation of my thought process at the edges of my mind.

I pulled the ma munje back into my center, storing it away in my reservoir, then nodded to my master. “Sounds like fun to me.”

The train sliced through the air toward the TK_Dokun Corp factory at the outskirts of Sonma. It grew in size every second, and so did my fear. Perhaps I’d miscalculated the probability of our demise, or what if Dokun had some other terrible plan in store for us?

Hana held my hand the whole way there, and I anchored myself to the feel of her skin on mine. Her warm, callused palm was a comfort to keep my nerves. As we drew nearer, and TK_Dokun Corp eclipsed my view outside the window, I felt the dread intensify.

The comfort of Hana’s hand in mine turned to icy dread. If something horrible didhappen here, Hana, Cho, and Yuri would go down with me. How had I been so stupid to think I was safe with my friends?

The train jostled gently when we touched down.

“Please, follow me,” the Enjiho controlled by Dokun said, and waved us to the exit. One of the machina waited at the door, ushering us out, while the other walked across the concrete courtyard.

Tall, deciduous trees with green leaves—defying autumn—lined the path into the building. Stone benches peppered the way there, but were unused. Intersections from one building to another cut through the path, and machina of all shapes and sizes moved about between the facilities. Some were short and fast, with colorful lights blinking all over them. Those ones stopped every few moments and Mae overlaid my vision with their activity. The shorter machina were transmitting data to the taller Enjiho bots when they paused together.

“It looks like adjusted orders. Dokun may be clearing a path, or giving a call to arms. We may have made a grave mistake,” Mae said severely.

I sighed, then cycled. I would fill my reservoir to the brim with ma munje and hope for the best.

‘Keep track of our exits,’ I thought as we neared a tall entryway.

“Always do,” she replied.

The building front was clear glass for two stories. There were no metal frames dividing the glass, or any other support that I could see. The doorway was grand, at least five meters tall, but had no frame. The glass doors shimmered red and split down the center, opening inward.

I flicked my fingers at the wall, depositing a small burst of ma in it as we passed. ‘Analyze that, would you? I want to know how it works.’

“Oh sure, keep track of the exits, Mae,” she mocked me in my voice. “Analyze complex data, Mae. Don’t forget to cycle some more munje, Mae.”

‘Stop being a pain. This is serious.’ I snapped back.

“Roger that, there’s a serious stick up your ass,” Mae replied, laughing.

I withheld my scowl, but only just. ‘What’s wrong with you?’

“Nothin’, t’swrong wich you?” she replied with a slur.

The dread that had been gathering on the periphery of my mind blossomed. I sought out Mae’s disc with my mind’s eye and my ma munje as I held tighter to Hana’s hand. I followed her lead and turned my attention inward.

Zaps of blue light misfired and crackled into empty space—my chest. The tingling had been so slight I hadn’t noticed, but there was most certainly something wrong with her.

“Nothin’ wrong wit me. I feel great,” Mae slurred again.

I gritted my teeth. Perfect, just perfect.

My eyes focused on the path ahead as the Enjiho led us through the clean, white entrance hall. There were plush couches—unoccupied of course—and potted plants, sparse pictures on the walls, but otherwise nothing. It was so devoid of culture I thought it might collapse in on itself.

There was a tall staircase to the right leading up into the second floor, and several shorter, ground floor halls that snaked off into the building, but our destination was obvious: the elevator. It was a massive glass box in a glass tube, and I remembered seeing it on our way in. It went to the top of the building. It would be difficult to escape from there, unless we learned to sprout wings.

The Enjiho paused at the door to the elevator and motioned for us to get in. All twenty-three of us—and the machina—crowded into the glass box. It seemed to expand and breath with us, growing in size to accommodate our needs. How was that possible.

“Maybe you’re crazy,” Mae said to me with a giggle.

I couldn’t get her expert analysis, but I could do my own. I flicked another burst of ma into the glass wall of the elevator. We ascended as I followed the crystalline pathways of the material before me. It filled up my vision with the same highways as Mae’s disc, like a complex information network. It wasn’t glass, that was for sure, but what was it?

I spared a breath and twisted my two inner bands to en, and ma. This was a simple enma spell to transmit information about the material’s composition, but analyzing it took a great deal more effort. If I were an expert level Geomancer, it wouldn’t have been a problem to identify the material with a thought, but I wasn’t, and Mae was out of commission.

“Nu-uh,” she said in a childish tone that infuriated me.

‘Yes, you are. Listen to yourself,’ I thought with frustration. There was no point in arguing with her, she was beyond reason. All I could do was hope she wouldn’t do something stupid, like talk through my chest. Better to prevent that before it became reality…

I postponed my analysis of the material around me to send a burst of ma to her disc to disable to microphone.

“Hey, that was my voice!” She blared loudly in my mind.

‘I’ll give it back when we’re out of danger, and you regain your senses.’

“Big meanie,” she whispered. I saw her crossing her arms in my mind’s eye and turning away.

I turned my attention back to the ma returning to me with en munje data. It was complex, and difficult to decipher, but it didn’t look like stone, or metal. It was a slow-moving liquid of some kind, which would explain its ability to expand. But how had it done that?

The elevator slowed to a stop and I looked outside to see we’d reached the top of the primary building on the campus. The other students rushed out, their giddy excitement palpable. I still had a deadly grip on Hana’s hand, and part of me realized she needed the anchor, too. She was scared.

The Enjiho led us down a narrow hall lined with ry display paintings. The lights swirled and danced, the subjects of the paintings moving of their own accord like they had minds and agency. Perhaps they did, if they were anything like Mae.

We reached the end of the long hall. The Enjiho placed one metal hand against the wall, leaking a small portion of golden ma munje into it. The wall came alive with light and sound, beeping in the affirmative. The door opened, revealing a large, well lit room of shimmering glass and ry light displays.

“Welcome,” Dokun’s human voice called from beyond the portal. “Please, come in.”