The Lesser One Chapter One: Awakening

Awakening

I stand before a judge. His sweeping, long hair is tied back in a ponytail that sticks up above his skull like a rocket engine. His eyes burn into my soul, and the souls of the ten initiates beside me.

Today is my discovery ceremony. The skyline of New York towers outside the window of the penthouse temple.

To the judge, today is another day like any other. But to me, this is all that fifteen years of life has been leading to. I hope that I will be special.

The judge takes off his cloak, holding his arms together.

“I am about to activate my companion spirit,” he says, his eyes level. “Do not be afraid of what you are about to see.”

A low rumble grows from the floor and circles the judge’s podium. The lights in the room darken, as if a curtain has been cast over them. The sunlight coming through the window suddenly appears sickly and dangerous.

A powerful light emerges from the judge’s body. The image of a wolverine, eyes blazing red, leaps out of the judge’s back. Wind circulates through the room. The chandelier tinkles as it rotates back and forth. My clothes ripple in the moving air.

Several of the initiates take a step back, afraid. I am not. I stand where I am, facing the monster before me.

The judge opens his arms and a ball of crystal light floats out from the podium.

“You,” he says, pointing to the girl who stands at the left-most of the lineup. “Place your palm against the sphere.”

The girl steps up. She is hesitant. With a cautious motion, she touches the sphere with her hand.

A small flicker of light dances through her hair. The ball lights up, slightly.

“A computer mouse. Household object.” The judge appears satisfied. He flicks his fingers and a piece of paper appears where there was none before. “Here is your job assignment.”

The judge moves to the next initiate, a boy with curly red hair, wearing a windbreaker. The boy approaches the ball. He does not need to be told.

When he touches the ball, a burst of sparks pops out of its surface. His hair sticks up on end. The image of an electrical socket floats above his head.

“Electrical socket. Household object.” The judge hands the boy the same piece of paper.

The judge continues.

Yellow beams of light. “Banana. Lesser food object.”

A red circle that spins quickly. “Gear assembly type two. Minor mechanical system.”

A spout of water, steaming hot. “Teapot. Household object.”

The judge turns to me. “Step up,” he says.

I step up. Touching the ball, I wait for something to happen.

Nothing happens. The judge appears confused. He checks his tablet. “Markus Red. It says here you awakened your spirit potential a week ago.”

I nod.

“Touch the ball again,” he says.

I touch it. The ball changes color almost imperceptibly.

The judge sighs. “Anima.”

I tilt my head. “Anima?” I say.

The judge nods. He seems to think for a moment, and then flicks his fingers. A piece of paper is handed to me.

The words read: Adventurer. The judge sighs. “I know I’m  going to get flak for this decision, but we just don’t have enough manpower.” It appears he is explaining things to himself rather than me.

“Manpower?” I say.

The judge nods, his eyes already turning to the next initiate. “Touch the ball …”

Later, on the subway heading back home, I take another look at the paper that was handed to me.

It’s actually an envelope. The job assignment is written on its face. I tear the envelope open and a plastic card drops out. It has my picture on it and all my physical information. At the bottom, it says, in small red letters:

Companion spirit: Blue Anima.

I don’t know what that means.

Along with the card is a couple of pieces of paper with instructions.

I must report to the New York Adventurer’s Association within two days of receiving my companion spirit.

A small voice echoes in my mind. I have not heard it before.

Hello … Hello …

I do my best to ignore it. Something about the voice makes me feel uncomfortable. Does it have to do with my companion spirit? I don’t know. All I know is that I now am among the few in this world who have awakened their spirit potential.

I decide to report to the Association now. I don’t have anything to do, after all. Today is a Sunday. I don’t have any homework, and I have no friends to hang out with.

I ride the subway to the stop closest to the Adventurer’s Association. Passing by my favorite dollar-slice pizza store, I approach the Association’s building. It is a gigantic tower, at least seventy stories tall, the entire thing dedicated to the New York Adventurer’s Association.

I approach the entrance. A security guard stops me.

“Your reason for visiting?”

I hand him the piece of paper that came with the envelope I just opened. The guard looks it over. “Right this way,” he says. I follow him into the building’s grand entrance.

Marble pillars march towards a far-away row of elevators. A waterfall coats the atmosphere in a thin covering of mist. Exotic plants line the walls. Several sitting rooms, tucked quietly away in the corners, host chatting adventurers.

I can tell because of their armor. Bright metal, dark cloaks, studded leather. The gear of an adventurer.

It finally hits me—I’m going to be an adventurer! Protecting the world from dungeon portals! I’m going to be famous!

That thought is put out of my mind by my meeting with the receptionist. She looks at my ID card and frowns.

“Who did your awakening?” she says, sliding the card underneath a reader.

“Er, um, judge Erin.”

The receptionist sighs. “I trust his judgement, but I don’t understand his thinking.”

“Why?” I say.

The receptionist shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it. The decision has been made.” She hands me the card back, pointing to a bank of elevators. “You’ll have your meeting with the coordinator in room 1204.” She turns away to answer a phone. I stand there, stupidly, for another fifteen seconds, before turning towards the elevators.

Room 1204 … That means it would be on floor twelve. Probably. I wait for the elevator to arrive.

When it does, two armed adventurers walk out. I recognize one of them.

“Fast T!” I say, without thinking.

The adventurer, a thin, lanky man with small armor plates all over his body, looks at me with disinterest.

The lady beside him elbows him. “You have a fan.”

Fast T sighs, visibly irritated. He looks at me. “What, you want an autograph?”

I shake my head. “No. I, uh, I just became an adventurer.”

“What’s your familiar spirit?” says Fast T.

“Er, Blue Anima,” I say.

Fast T sighs again. “Yeah, don’t get your hopes up, kid,” he says. He turns away.

The woman touches his shoulder. “Come on, tell him something supportive,” she says.

Fast T pauses. He turns to me. “Be careful out there.” It appears he is forcing it. Then he turns away.

As they leave, I hear the woman say: “You could have been nicer …”

Even though the encounter didn’t go like I had imagined it many times before, I had still met Fast T, one of my favorite adventurers.

With mixed feelings, I step into the elevator. Floor twelve.

Once the doors open, I step out into a nice, plush hallway with close-set walls.

Room 1204. On the wall, a plaque reads: Mason Irr: intake officer.

I knock.

“Come in,” comes a voice.

I open the door. The office is small, like the office of my vice principal. There are no windows; just a bunch of pictures of dogs. A couple of model cars sit on top of a crowded bookcase.

The person inside, presumably Mason Irr, looks up from a computer screen.

“May I help you?” he says.

I nod. “I was just assigned to be an adventurer,” I say.

“You card,” says Mason.

I hand him my newly-acquired ID card.

Mason looks it over. He types a few things into his computer. “You know what this means, right?” he says.

“What does?” I say.

Mason shakes his head. “If we weren’t so desperate for manpower, you would have been designated a non-effective.”

“A non …” I say.

“A non-effective,” said Mason, appearing a bit miffed. “Someone whose companion spirit is so useless and weak that they are not given any special job or preferential treatment.”

“My spirit is … weak?” I say.

“One of the weakest. Anima spirits are practically useless. Though I have never seen a Blue Anima before, I can assume that with that, it’s the same.”

I blink a couple of times. I think I might cry. “But … What can Anima spirits do?”

“Anima spirits only affect perception. They can’t cast spells. They can’t block blows. They can’t heal.” He taps his finger against the desk. “We will have to test you anyways. You’re going to need stats for the draft.” He seems to think for a moment. “Come back tomorrow at two precisely and we’ll have your assessment.” He looks up at me. “You’re one lucky fellow. Whoever made the decision to allow you to become an adventurer despite your spirit has done you a great favor.”

I know enough about adventurers to know what the draft is. I nod my head. “Tomorrow, then!” I say.

Mason waves me away dismissively. “Don’t be late.”

I nod again and back out of the room.

On the elevator down to ground floor I hear the voice in my head again.

… Come … To where I lead you …

I sense a waypoint hovering over me, leading me towards a corner on the block two streets down from the entrance to the Association Headquarters.

When I arrive, I see a small shop embedded within a tiny little alleyway. Though I see no sign, I know that it is there. Somehow.

I walk into the alley. A rusted metal door opens as I approach it. It appears to have opened on its own. I am greeted by a low-lit, atmospheric bar scene where well-dressed individuals sip cocktails in front of a bartender. The lamps hanging from the ceiling give a warm yellow glow. Sparkles of light adorn the hundreds of bottles lined up behind the bartender.

The bartender looks to me. “You must be the one I sensed coming up the alley,” he says.

“Sensed?” I say.

The bartender motions to a stool in front of the bar. “Sit. Have a glass of—well, juice will work.”

“I don’t have any money,” I say.

“It’s on the house,” says the bartender. “Your companion spirit is an anima, yes?”

“How did you know?” I say, surprised. I sit down at the bar.

“You have an aura that I recognize. It’s not often that an anima spirit wielder has your level of Psion particle emission.”

“Is anima a bad spirit?”

The bartender nods. “Most people think it is useless. It is quite common, and not much can be done with it.” He pauses. “Except …” He pauses again. “I might want to introduce you to someone.”

“Um, okay,” I say.

The bartender takes a bottle of what looks like orange juice out of a cooler. “Is Orengina good for you?” he says.

“Is that … Orange juice?”

“A high-quality one, yes,” says the bartender. “I mostly use it for mixing with cocktails. But since you are a minor, I think this will suit you the best.” He pours it into a glass cup, and takes a single piece of ice in the shape of a large square and drops it in. After stirring it with a long spoon he hands it to me.

I sip at the juice. Yes, it is good. It feels very luxurious—I would not have the chance to drink something like this normally.

“You said you wanted to introduce me to someone,” I say.

The bartender nods. “He’s not here now, but he’s a regular here at Half Moon.”

“Is he an adventurer?” I ask.

The bartender nods. “An anima user, just like you. He is an old fart and not very sociable, but I think he will know what to say to an anima like you. I am guessing here, but were you given the assignment of adventurer?”

I think for a moment. It’s not exactly a secret. “Yes. How did you know?”

“I just had a hunch. Your power level is higher than it should be. Any competent judge would notice that and make use of it. After all, adventurers are scarce.”

“Is there a reason for that?” I say. I have been following famous adventurers my whole life, but I have not been told much about the world besides the sport-like coverage of the higher-level dungeon crawls. I can recite spirits and stats and names but, when I think about it, I really don’t know much about that world. I certainly never got the idea that adventurers were scarce.

The bartender nods. “It is not made public, because of how it would affect the public’s appearance of safety, but adventurers are a scarce breed.” He picks up a cup and begins polishing it. “Most people do not know that their very livelihood is balanced on a thread.”

“Is there a reason?” I say. “I got the feeling that adventurers are strong.”

“Yes, some are, but most of them are like you and me. Just warriors working a beat to protect the safety of society.”

An old man with red-faced cheeks pipes up from across the room. “Stop scaring the little man, Jim! He doesn’t need to know that!”

“He’ll find it out eventually,” says the bartender, who I assume is named Jim. “After all, he was selected as an adventurer.”

The red-faced man scoffs. “Adventurer, ha! Just a glorified infantryman.”

Jim nods wisely. “Yes. I think Glen would like to meet this young man.”

The red-faced man grimaces. “Ya mean to say, you’re going to feed this kid to that bald-headed lion?”

“I wouldn’t say he is a lion, but I do agree with your assessment of ‘bald-headed,’” says Jim. “I think it will be best. This young man faces a hard road ahead.”

The red-faced man turns away, muttering. I look at Mr. Jim. “Is there something wrong with Mr. Glen?” I say.

Jim shrugs, smiling a bit. “You’ll see. Come here tomorrow between two and four and I’ll introduce you.”

I shake my head. “I have my assessment tomorrow.”

Jim tilts his head. “That will take only an hour, won’t it?”

“I don’t know,” I say.

Jim taps his finger on the table. “Well then. If you can come tomorrow, come tomorrow. If not, come the next day, after school.”

I nod, getting up. “Thank you,” I say.

“You haven’t finished your drink,” says Jim.

I take the glass and down it in one big gulp, placing the cup back on the counter with a gentle touch. “Thank you,” I say.

Jim nods and goes back to working with his glass. I walk out the door, the soft jazz music disappearing as the metal entrance swings shut.

Two o’clock tomorrow. That’s when I must be at my assessment. School gets out at one-thirty—perhaps the Association was thinking about that?

Whatever the case, I’m not going to miss school tomorrow. I’m not the kind of person to give up on my education just because I got a life changing assignment. Even though I’m pretty sure I’ll be taken out of school …

I look up at the darkening sky. Time to go home. A couple minutes later, as I ride the subway, I watch the lights flashing by and think about what it means that I have been chosen as an adventurer. Even if people don’t seem to have high hopes for me, I do know that I am one of the few people who have been authorized to enter a dungeon.

That is, if I’m selected in the draft.

Whatever the future may bring, I’ll face it.