Chapter 3: Emerius

Charon practically cried when he finally found his room. After the rude man had shoved him out and given him the holo-pad, he fiddled with it until it projected a very simple line of text. "Room Number: 1,439" That was it. No map, no directions, not even a vague identifier. Charon had to spend over an hour searching the monotone black hallways of bland steel, trying desperately to find the room. His lucky break finally came when he bumped into another robed man, who quickly pointed him down a different hallway and sped off. The strangest part of the interaction was what the man yelled over his shoulder as he fled. "Don’t ask again, gutter rat." Nevertheless, Charon was appreciative of his help, especially when it led him to a door with a red light hanging over it. The number 1,439 was etched just to the side. Unsure what to do, he awkwardly extended the holo-pad. With a loud chime, the light above the door flipped green, and it slid open with a quiet hiss. The sound was like music to his ears, relieving just a modicum of the tension that had been building in his shoulders. His entire body ached, and phantom pains occasionally sprang up in the areas he had been wounded the day prior. Stepping inside, Charon immediately noticed how large the room was. It was square, with three adjoining doors set into the far wall. A full kitchen, dining room, living room, and gym were all present, each one taking up a corner. Ignoring everything except the plush couch, he walked inside and let himself fall onto the cushion. Memories of the invasion played back through his mind. The missiles raining, the debris hitting him from all sides, the ruthlessness of the Elvish warrior. Everything he had ever known, everything he had grown up with, burned before his eyes. Reduced to rubble. He wasn’t even sure if his friends were still alive. Rolling over, he looked at the hand where the dark mage had stabbed him. Unmarred skin greeted him, and yet when he blinked, he saw his blood dripping out, turning into a black smoke to fuel the ritual. Taking a shaky breath, he thought about the stories the Mistress had always told him. Stories of heroes, smiling in the face of tragedy. ’How would Aralin the Daring feel after surviving a war?’ The answer was easy to find. Aralin the Daring had earned his title by never shying away from taking risks. He never wavered in being a strong shield to protect humanity, even when he saw countless of his men die. He never balked, never. ’I just need to be stronger like he was. I’m sixteen gods damn it, almost a full-grown adult. Sitting here wallowing won’t make things any better.’ His false bravado suppressed the terror he felt, but didn’t completely banish it. It sat there in his mind, looming over him. Hoping to distract himself, he walked up to one of the doors, using his holo-pad to try to open it. Instead of chiming, it buzzed, the door staying shut. Frustrated with everything, Charon tried again, closing his eyes in annoyance before moving to try the next door instead. This time, it opened with a hiss, revealing a bathroom. Moving to the final door, he extended the device and sighed as it slid open. Inside, he found a simple bedroom. ’The other one must be my roommate’s.’ Turning around with a frown, he almost jumped away when he saw a stranger inches away from his face. He had neatly combed blonde hair and glowing blue eyes. He was tall, very tall, towering a full head above Charon. His white shirt was tight, revealing toned muscles. A strong face with a chiseled jaw looked back at him, radiating power. Before Charon could react anymore, the man raised his hands and spoke. "I didn’t mean to startle you, I had hoped to introduce myself." His voice was controlled, but sounded out of breath, as if he was trying to come across as more confident than he was. The friendly tone he used would have normally been met in kind, but Charon was still wary. He had too much on his mind to be overly outgoing right now. He must have noticed Charon’s negativity, and extended his hand towards him while offering an easygoing smile. "I’m Emerius, son of Daylus and grandson of Laklus." Giving the hand a sideways glance, Charon gingerly offered his own, clasping the palm and giving it a firm shake. "I’m Charon." The greeting felt strange, especially with how he mentioned his ancestors as if they meant something. "Is it normal to talk about your family when meeting someone?" The question came out harsher than he intended, but Emerius just chuckled, amused by it. "Where I’m from, yes. Are you not from the inner ring?" Charon’s eyes narrowed. ’The inner ring? That’s where all the rich families live. Is this guy related to some noble?’ His thoughts must’ve shown on his face, Emerius’ smile fading slightly. Realizing how rude he was acting, Charon worked to put on a smile of his own, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "Sorry, I’ve never met anyone from there. I’m from the outer ring myself." Emerius cocked an eyebrow. "The outer ring? Isn’t that being lost to the Elvish invasion right now?" Charon’s dour mood instantly returned, all attempts to mask it lost. "Yeah, it was happening when I was sent here, wherever here is." Sensing the shift in tone, Emerius gestured towards the living room, stepping to the side to allow Charon to pass. "Why don’t we take a seat? I’d like to get to know you a little better. My father always said that those who live together, die together, so we should get acquainted." Taking the offer, Charon went to lounge on the couch, not caring enough to take his shoes off as he placed his legs on the furniture. ’I live here now, don’t I?’ Emerius sat on the opposite end, his posture impeccable with his back ramrod straight and his hands kept steady on his knees. He waited a moment before speaking, turning only his head to address Charon. "Earlier, you mentioned being sent here. Did you not choose to join the Church of Death?" Charon shrugged and shook his head. "No. My village came under attack by the Elves, and a dark mage fought one of them. I interrupted the battle to help, and the dark mage sent me here so I could survive. Is that not normal?" Emerius’s eyes widened ever so slightly, the change so small that Charon almost missed it. "No, it is not normal. Most students are sent by their families, who pay great sums of money to have them pass the trials and graduate as a mage. It is one of the few ways to guarantee earning an element." Charon didn’t miss the implication of Emerius being one of those families who could afford to send their children, which seemed to fit with him being from the inner ring. ’His family must be powerful, I should try to be more careful about pissing him off. The last thing I need is to be made a target.’ "What are these trials anyway? I didn’t exactly get a brochure." Emerius’s smile returned, clearly growing excited at the prospect of talking about them. "It’s very simple. Imagine a school, but instead of being knowledge-based, it’s magic-based. Rather than mathematics, history, and technology, we learn about mana, spells, and the gods. As these trials are in honor of the God of Death, we will be tested to find the element we contain that most closely aligns with Death, and then we train it during our stay." Charon nodded along, listening intently to everything his roommate said. It was all new to him and made him feel equally concerned and, admittedly, a little excited. "What are the trials? I keep hearing you mentioning them, and the guy who let me out of the tube mentioned them as well." A sharp glint crossed Emerius’s eyes, clashing with the easygoing smile he seemed to prefer. "I’d love to explain more about them; however, information is not free." Charon frowned. "I don’t have money if that’s what you mean." Emerius shook his head. "No, no money. Just a favor. One favor, and I will tell you everything you need to know to survive here." Charon frowned, unsettled with the request, but decided worst case scenario, he could lie. ’Nothing I haven’t done before’ "Okay, I accept. One favor, in exchange for answers and information." Emerius stuck out his hand, which Charon shook. "Now, the trials. That’s the fun part. Rather than taking normal tests, we are pitted against other classes to compete, with the winning class advancing and the losing class failing. I’ve also heard the trials this semester may also have us going to fight the Elves directly, learning to use our abilities to support the war effort." Unlike the learning part, Charon was less sure about fighting the Elves so soon. He had already seen the destructive power they possessed, and no part of him wanted to see it again anytime soon. If ever. Hoping to shift the topic elsewhere, he asked another question. "What are these class competitions anyway?" Emerius gave him a surprised look. "Isn’t it obvious? We fight to the death!"