Chapter 23: Sword

The sun was rising again in the sky. The seemingly eternal night of Saphyr was now gone and people could get back to their duties and projects. The daily life had started for that folk.

Refuge Sarah, naturally, wasn't the only one among the refuges there. Actually, those circular walls around that place marked just one of the zones.

There were three existent refuges in that place: Sarah, Will, and Owen. They were positioned like in the extremes of a triangle, far away from 600 meters from each other. Each refuge had three different zones to separate the folk.

Those zones had their food, production, workers, and even money circling inside there. It was the same as differ a state from another. But, anyhow, none of those zones had a clear advantage over the others, nor the refuges. Technically speaking, they were almost the same in all aspects.

There are always rumors and fallacies between the folk. Some times saying that Refuge Will had zones with more Ascendants; or Refuge Sarah had a better strategic position, which made it have fewer attacks from Dreads; or Refuge Owen had the strongest agriculture between the three and, consequently, had more food.

Because of that, there was sort of a competition between the Refuges to see who could have a better quality of life. Of course, it wasn't something bad. A wholesome competition was always welcomed to raise the production and determination of those survivors.

Between the various jobs that someone could have in the refuges, one was very outstanding, though not everyone wanted to be part of it.

The name of those people who could control the "Willpower" inside their hearts and transform it into powers that humans could never imagine having was Ascendant.

The Ascendants could do unimaginable things with "Willpower". Science was still trying to explain that energy since they discovered that those golden flames coming out of the bodies of certain people were, actually, a form of energy opposite to "Chaos". It also had the same characteristics, but the way it interacted with the environment seemed to be less violent and harmful, though still mystic.

Those who Ascended after the age of twelve would have the opportunity to become an Ascendant, a person who used their powers to help the people of the refuges, fighting against Dreads and going outside the walls to explore the world, find survivors, and collect resources.

Dean finished writing that last paragraph in his notebook with relief on his heart. Now that he had remembered everything and wrote it down, it was nearly impossible that he would do many mistakes on that test.

A drop of sweat ran down his face, stopping on the tip of his nose, then falling on the paper. He made sure to clean it carefully and quickly, so it wouldn't mess the paper. It was spotted where it fell, but it was ok for the time being.

"Still writing? You should go take a bath. You have to go to the forge, don't you?" A tall man with the same light brown hair as Dean, but with a shortcut, appeared carrying a heavy bag on his back and smiling at the boy.

"Ah! Yes, that's right, dad." He raised from the bench that he was on top.

'Maybe I won't be able to get there in time today. My legs are all shaky and I can't run at all.' He grimaced once he tried to run inside his home as fast as he could, stopping midway because of the pain in his thighs and calf.

His father looked worried to him. He knew that the boy was pushing himself too hard these days.

"Hey, Dean. Are you sure that you should be training with me in the morning, then still going to the forge at noon? If it is harming you so much, you should sort out what you really want to do. I am sure that your uncle wouldn't bother if you leave." The stoic and deep voice of his father echoed in the backyard, making Dean look back at him.

He pondered seriously on his father's words. Indeed, they had talked about it for quite a long time.

Nonetheless, every time Dean wanted to give up and choose just one, he remembered that night when he was walking with his two friends and had the thought that made him make up his mind.

'It's been two years since I said that. Now I am fifteen. I am on my way to finally become what I dreamed so much since I was a kid!'

"No. I won't accept it. They say that, if you get your body to its extremes every day and always use all your energy to do things, it can increase your chances to Ascend. "Willpower", according to the specialists, is something that comes when humans are in harsh times, so I must keep going like this."

His father continued to look at him with that same cold expression as always. However, deep inside he was proud that his only son had so much determination to become something that most of the survivors of the Refuge Sarah would pray not to become.

Be an Ascendant was a position of much prestige, but also carried a lot of danger with it. For every 10 Ascendants that were raised in the Refuges, 6 died while in expeditions and 2 deserted because didn't want to accomplish their duties anymore.

Although they were super-humans, they still appreciated their lives and knew that they had the right to live the way they wanted. After all, just a few people really had the choice to become an Ascendant. At most, it would depend just on the life and in the genes of the person. So they weren't at fault for being born with a talent they didn't want.

"Ok." He sighed, letting the heavy bag on the floor with a loud thud. Inside that bag was his equipment. "Let's do one last check on the basics of swordsmanship. If you do it well, then I will let you borrow my horse to go to the forge."

"Hmm, practice the basics in exchange to get a horse? It seems good to me. It's even unfair. The only problem is to do it better than the last time, but I think I can make it happen" Dean was confident about that. He had been training for a long time.

He walked with his father to the center of the backyard. They both had serious expressions on their faces.

Dean's father took the sword he had in his bag.

The man was a guard of that zone of Refuge Sarah. He had access to all sorts of weapons. What he had on that bag was armor, a shield, and the sword he was carrying while walking beside his son.

The guards of the zones served to maintain the order, overall. However, they wouldn't act if Dreads tried to enter. They also couldn't go beyond the walls.

They had a hold on executive and judiciary power. It meant that, despite executing the law, the guards could judge immediately someone who did something wrong.

They were an essential source of the refuges. In the start, justice was done by the folk themselves, and it caused a lot of trouble. The only thing they had before was a legislative power, that was the council.

The council still existed until that day. They were a group of elders who acted together to take important decisions to the refuges.

Thankfully, corruption still wasn't a matter of fact in any of the three refuges. That folk could live a relatively peaceful life.

Dean positioned himself after his father gave the signal.

He had a severe expression on his face, crossing his arms. Dean's father didn't show emotions often. Just for his mother, and when no one was seeing.

It worsened when he was teaching.

Dean gulped, holding the weapon with his two hands in a proper position.

"Horizontal slash!" He said, bruskly. "Use the rotation of your hips properly, raise your heel slightly, move your arms synchronously and deliver an attack using the muscles from your back to your arms."

The boy did as he told. The sword's blade made a clean cut in the air. It wasn't masterful but had good technique behind it.

"To the right! Shift the weight of your body and add to the strength and swiftness of the slash!"

He repeated the movement, shifting his weight and rotating his hips all the way he came before, delivering a slash two times as strong.

"Now, vertical! Gather strength in your arms, steady your base, be as firm as a mountain! Put your sword above your head, use your joints like springs, and swing your sword while stepping in!"

Dean gritted his teeth, poising the attack, then slashing the air.

"Again!"

He did as his father ordered.

"Again!" His shout prompted him and ignited his heart.

His sword went up, then down again. A hiss echoed in the air, then silence.