Seth sat in a back area of the library, pouring over a tome on energy manipulation techniques. He had come to love the library. It was one of the few areas where peace was strictly enforced by threat of violence. About a month had passed since their initial test, and it seemed every day the sounds of fighting got louder and more frequent.

  Closing the book, he tried moving the energy in the pattern described in the book for the tenth time that day. A flickering light appeared above his hand, and he smiled. Not a full success, but getting closer. He had also grown to love these exercises and the tangible feeling of progress they gave. He often found himself in bed doing these exercises until he passed out.

  "Say, Therus, have you seen testing devices like the one we use for testing?" Seth asked.

  Therus looked up from his book, and said, "Has anyone told you you're freakishly good at qi control? Anyway, yeah, I've seen them used. Normally, it's used closer to a cultivation breakthrough. The use here is...unique."

  "Wait, this isn't normal?"

  "Of course not. The device isn't even that accurate until you've finished filling your meridians with qi. They're counting on most people not having good enough qi control to be able to deceive the device."

  "So once we've filled our meridians, we're almost ready for a breakthrough?" asked Seth.

  That question got Therus to stare at him hard for a minute, before sighing and saying, "Not even halfway. Once you fill your meridians, you can compress your qi and prepare to anchor your dantien. Once you anchor your dantien, you will have broken through. If you want to know more, read a book or something."

  While listening, Seth did a few experimental twirls with the flickering light before trying to increase the heat. He thought he had it for a second, but it destabilized. The tiny light flickered out of existence, taking a wisp of qi with it. Shaking his head, he strained his ears, and heard some fighting out in the streets. The sound had become so common that it became more background noise unless he paid attention.

  "Can you go and get some food soon? I'm starving," Therus complained.

  "I'll go once the fighting moves away from the library," said Seth. He liked the young man, even if he was a bit impatient, and a bit too eager when he got curious about something. They had grown somewhat closer over the last month while sparring, though Seth maintained some distance. He wasn't too keen on being on the losing side of a fight between two nobles. He felt bad for the kid, but he was just one man. What could he realistically accomplish.

  "Well, no more lessons for you until I get some food. Teaching is hungry work, and I'm starving," said Therus.

  "I'd say you're good for at least another month before you starve," Seth pulled himself back to the present.

  "Well, it feels like I'm starving."

  "Give it a couple days, it'll go away."

  "How would you know?"

  "As they say where I'm from, been there, done that, got a crappy t-shirt," Seth said, chuckling to himself.

  "What is a t-shirt, and why would you get that instead of food? Weren't you starving?" asked Therus, a grin spreading across his face.

  "Don't think I didn't try. Unfortunately, it didn't go down well," Seth said, keeping his expression neutral.

  Therus hesitated for a moment, "You serious?" he asked, before Seth averted his gaze and started laughing. Therus joined in a moment later, before a glare from one of the librarians silenced them. As their laughter died down, Seth listened for sounds of fighting, and didn't hear any. Seizing the opportunity, he left to get food.

  He didn't get food from the cafeteria, but instead got some rations he had stored in his room. Sneaking from place to place had become the norm over the last few weeks. Part of him was comfortable with the sneaking, but part of him hated that he needed to sneak around. If he were part of Johan's group, he would be able to walk in the open. Or at least, not have to sneak quite as much.

  He made it back to the library without incident. When he handed over his portion, Therus greedily tore into it, and it was gone in less than a minute. They sat in an uncomfortable silence, Therus looking like he had things he wanted to ask, but swallowing them. After sitting in silence for what felt like an eternity, they left to do their normal sparring.

  After their last run in, they started sparring with weapons. When Therus stopped holding back, he had started winning 9 out of every 10 spars. Seth was surprised he was able to win any, but every now and then he found weaknesses he could exploit. The more they sparred, the more Seth grew and adjusted. Therus still had a decisive advantage, but he was only winning 6 or 7 out of every 10 spars these days.

  As they took their stances, determination and a hint of desperation glimmered in Therus' eyes. They had sparred so much that their bouts had fallen into a routine. Therus didn't immediately charge, instead holding his staff like a spear, waiting for Seth to make a move. The fight became a game of Seth trying to break past Therus' guard, and Therus trying to get Seth to overcommit to an attack, then end the fight.

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  The delicate dance of offense and defense lasted about thirty seconds. Therus eyes narrowed, and he dashed at Seth, abandoning defense to end the fight immediately. As the flurry of blows descended, all Seth could do was defend and wait for his chance. The more he defended, the more wild and impatient Therus became, which led to a small mistake. Seth capitalized, and after parrying a wide blow, Seth slipped inside Therus' attack range. Therus tried to adjust his grip on his staff to defend, but his staff was at an awkward angle, making him just a second too slow. By the time he got his staff in a position to counter, Seth's bayonet was already at Therus' shoulder. His deltoid muscle, to be precise.

  Therus slumped as he conceded the bout. The next few bouts went similarly well for Seth, with Therus getting impatient and giving Seth an opportunity to get too close. With each bout, Therus became more and more desperate, which made every bout easier and easier. After four straight losses, he stayed slumped on the ground, silent. After a moment, he started talking.

  "Does it bother you?"

  "What are you talking about?" asked Seth, though dread crept through him, as if he knew deep down what was coming.

  "That you're been wasting your time helping me?" asked Therus, standing up.

  "I..." began Seth, but Therus cut him off.

  "Be honest, Seth. You know the one thing that pisses me off? You look down on me, like I'm a child."

  "I don't, you just..." said Seth, but Therus cut him off again.

  "It's funny, you know," Therus continued, as if Seth hadn't tried to cut him off, "I had my coming of age ceremony a little over ten years ago. I may be young, but not young enough that someone like you can treat me as a child."

  Seth moved his mouth, but no words came out. His mind spun, similarly empty.

  "Then again, maybe I am a stupid child. I mean, I thought we were friends." Therus started to laugh a hollow, wild kind of laugh. "Isn't that funny?"

  "I don't..." Seth began, but Therus cut him off again with a roar.

  "You don't WHAT? See me as a liability? Think helping me is a bad idea? Do you really think I'm that naive? That I haven't noticed the distance growing? Answer me this; can I trust you to have my back?!"

  Seth froze. Did he have Therus' back? He liked the guy, but did that mean he had to risk his life for the guy? Still, Seth thought he had kept those thoughts to himself. That they were so obvious to Therus was troubling, to say the least.

  "That's your answer, isn't it?" Therus asked, walking toward the door. "Thanks for everything. Goodbye, friend," echoed through the room as he shut the door behind him. Seth stood there dumbfounded for a minute, his empty mind spinning on nothing. He numbly left the building and lost himself to rapidly flashing memories.

  As he walked, memories of his wife came to mind. When they learned of his diagnosis, they sat in the doctor's office holding hands, barely believing what they were hearing. Already stage 4 meant Seth's chance of survival were low, but Seth was determined to fight it. He remembered promising everyone he'd beat the odds, and nobody told him otherwise.

  Flash forward six months, and the treatments are all ineffective. "You have six months to live," the doctors said. Everyone was so supportive during that time, and Seth had felt so connected. Two years later, Seth was still there, and his wife had filed for divorce. The support had dried up when he was just another mouth to feed who couldn't work. When his wife got angry and yelled at him, he told her he understood. Rationally, he did understand. He was just a burden, after all. It still turned his stomach.

  The worst memory was of him and his wife sitting at a table at a local diner that Seth no longer remembered the name of. She had asked him to cut contact with the kids. It was "for their mental health," she said. Seth suspected that it was more for her peace of mind, but considering she was willing to get police involved, he didn't argue the point. He did get her to agree to let him say goodbye to his kids. As he remembered, his fists and jaw involuntarily clenched, and he lost himself in memories of his last talk with his kids. He treasured that memory of them, as tainted with sadness as it was. As he was envisioning Mark's face, it flashed back and forth between Mark and Therus

  Seth was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice Therus standing at the end of the alley until he almost ran into his back. Blocking the exit were Johan and one other follower, with another man across the street, watching to make sure nobody interfered. Therus had his staff out in a defensive posture, with Johan and the other attendant in fighting stances. Everyone looked surprised to see him, and Seth walked up right beside Therus. Before he could come up with anything to say, Johan started speaking.

  "I'm not so cruel as to ask you to turn on someone who you have grown close to. However, I must warn you not to interfere. Please leave within ten breaths. I do not want us to become enemies over someone so insignificant."

  Therus threw a sidelong glance at Seth, eyes narrowed, "You set me up?"

  Seth said, "No. Not that I expect you to believe me."

  Therus said nothing more, and Seth considered walking away.

  His wife's apologetic face flashed through his mind. They were standing in the front yard, what's left of his belongings piled on the front yard. Max, her new boyfriend, standing between the two of them like an over-protective mutt. Seth telling everyone he understood, while packing his things, his fists and teeth clenched so hard he feared they would break.

  Seth said to himself.

  He remembered the days he spent wandering numbly through the streets, hunger turning to near starvation. The night he, under a flickering street light, used a rusted pair of scissors he scavenged to cut his wife's face out of his photo with his kids. He was pretty sure his kids missed him, even if he was told that it was in their best interest if he left.

  In that moment, it was like the future spread out before him in his mind with perfect clarity. He could see the countless friends and loved ones he would sacrifice, all reduced to steps on his road to survival. At the end of that path was a man who was cold, calculating, and cruel. People were no longer people; they were resources or obstacles. Values and morals were simply shackles to be broken and discarded, worthless. As Seth stared his future self in the eyes, he had only one response.