The next few days are terrible. The bruises all over my body turn black and blue and ache constantly. The following day, they hurt even worse than before, and I find myself hardly able to move. At meals, I don't get into line until everyone else has gone through to stay off my feet as much as possible. As I stand in formation for sparring, it feels like my injured leg could give out at any moment. Getting beaten unconscious again doesn't help at all.

Then the second day, it somehow only gets worse. I can hardly even stand to get my meals at all. When the whistle sounds for sparring time, I struggle with all I have to lift myself from the ground again. I shuffle over into formation. While standing in my spot, I can feel my legs growing hot. Like all of my muscles are on fire trying to stay upright despite my injuries. Slowly, I begin to shake from the effort. Units spar one after another. I can hardly hear who they are calling, or focus on the matches. It somehow feels like I'm underwater again, like everything is very far away. Just the thought fills me with a strange terror that's hard to shake.

"1A." Hearing them call me cuts through the pain. A handler is calling me for my match. I'm supposed to walk forward here, but my legs won't move. It's like they're disconnected from me somehow. Just barely supporting my weight while I tremble from the effort, I can't make them do anything else. But I have to move. I have to do my sparring match.

So I make my legs move anyway. I take one step. My injured leg touches the floor. As soon as I try to put weight on it to take another step, I go down hard. It's not like my strength finally gave out. It's like... it just stopped working completely. I try to push myself back up with my arms, but I can't get my legs to support me at all. No matter how hard I try, they just seem to flail with no respect for my will.

A handler drags me away from the sparring formation, and I hear another one call a different unit in my place. I'm brought to a wooden door I have been through many times before, and my heart begins to sink. The handler puts a key into the lock on the door, turns it, and I can hear a solid thunk. Then he proceeds through the door, still dragging me behind. This new area is completely dark. The treatment room. I hear a scratching sound, followed by sparks, and a small spot of fire. The handler uses it to light a lamp.

It spreads a dim light all around the small room, casting deep shadows from anything in its path. The handler pulls off my robe and drops me on top of the table next to the lamp, causing all my bruises to throb. First he examines the bruises all over my body one at a time. For some of them, he presses or squeezes the spot. Each time, the pain sends me into trembling convulsions. I feel like I could pass out at any moment. As always, I grit my teeth and bear it... mostly. For the worst of the bruises, I cannot stifle my cries of pain, no matter how hard I try.

Once he is finishes checking me all over, he turns to a nearby drawer and removes a roll of some sort of cloth. I recoil away, but he just holds me down. He wraps the cloth tightly around a number of injured spots on my arms and legs. Then he pulls the cloth tight for each one. This sends off waves of pain even worse than the initial examination, I vaguely think I lose consciousness here and there as he works.

Once finished, the handler lifts me from the table, tosses my robe over my head, and sets me back on the floor in the main room. I eventually manage to wiggle all the way back into my robe to get my head out of the top. From there, I ever so slowly crawl across the floor to the nearest fireplace. By that point, my consciousness fades away entirely.

I do not wake until the next whistle. When I attempt to stand to get my breakfast, I find that despite the initial pain, the cloths around my injuries seem to make it hurt a little less. I don't know why, but the cloths always seem to make it hurt less later. The lighter bruises have started healing too, which helps.

Even so, it is all I can do to eat my food before I fall asleep again. I only vaguely recall not putting my tray back, but can't really remember for sure. I repeat this process at lunch, but do get my tray back before falling asleep again.

When I wake up at the sparring whistle, a handler comes over and tells me I am not to participate in sparring for two weeks. I remember from them telling me before, two weeks is fourteen days. So each week is seven days.

So the days pass like that. I do nothing but eat and sleep for fourteen days in a row. After the first few days, I feel much better, and can sort of move around, with seven days before I can tell I've healed. But it isn't until the full two weeks have passed that a handler removes the cloth wrapping my injuries and informs me that I am to resume my duties.

When I return to the main room, I press my hand against the worst bruise, the one on my leg. It feels fine again, no pain or anything anymore. I can put my full weight on it with no issue. Jumping and crouching seem fine too. It looks like I have my full mobility back. All of the rest has helped bring my energy level back up too. I definitely have had more energy since I started exploring the town every day.

Soon after it is time for breakfast. Once everyone has eaten, the handlers call us into formation. This is new.

"Today marks the day you turn fifteen and will be used in battle. Your first battle should take place in about three months time. As such, we will begin your divine gear training. The very first thing for you all to remember is that your manastone is what allows you to operate your divine gear." The handler looks straight at me all of a sudden. "1A, come." Despite my nervousness, I move forward. While I walk up to the handler, he turns back to everyone else. "The most simple power of your divine gear is 'Aura'. Aura is the mantle of the gods. It spreads the mana from your body, granting you great power. Strength, speed, all of your physical abilities will be strengthened significantly." I remember this description from when they taught us the basics about all of our divine armaments. "To call forth Aura, you touch the divine gear, and call out for Aura. The divine gear will answer, taking your mana in and manifesting the divine armament you call for."

It is a very long explanation, but I think I understand the basic idea from the description.

"1A, call out Aura now." I'm nervous, suddenly being told to use my gear for the first time, but hold my arm up anyway. I turn from the handler to the formation of staring rail units. I let my mana flow to my divine gear, but I hold it steady this time instead of just a short flash. It lights up for real for the first time. The blazing light appears. My gear glows bright white, shining a light unlike the one from the fireplace, or even the sun outside, over all parts of the room, with deep shadows stretching behind the rail units. Despite the blinding brightness, I see it clearly, staring at its light for a few long moments. It is clicking ever so slowly, turning round and round. It looks kind of like a wheel. But it has sort of short, square parts sticking off of it that the wheels I've seen don't have.

The gear itself floats just a short distance from my left forearm, moving with me when I move, like it's part of my arm even though it isn't attached in any way I can see. I look at the number at its center, the digits glowing spots of light with the gear rotating slowly around them.

It says 3215. I touch the gear with the palm of my right hand. It’s almost metallic, the flat side of the circle perfectly smooth against my skin. I can feel my mana. It connects to the divine gear, like a bridge between myself and a far off existence.

"Aura." I call forth the power as instructed.

But nothing happens.

.

.

.

.

.

I stand for some amount of time. I don't understand. I called for Aura, why is nothing happening?

"This is what happens when your manastone is damaged. Without it, you will not be able to use the power of your divine gear," a handler explains loudly.

What?

That one word surfaces in my mind over and over.

"What?"

What?

I stare blankly. At some point, they moved on without me. The other rail units already began practicing. They speak and their gears light up. They call out Aura. It blazes like a bright, otherworldly fire around them. Then the handlers teach them how to dive into the world of knowledge they can access by pressing the gear to the manastones in their foreheads, hidden away beneath their skin. Apparently it lets them access a vast wealth of knowledge and power gifted by the God Of War and Destruction.

I don't understand any of it. I can't do any of these things, because I'm broken. The manastone in my forehead was shattered four years ago. Only the broken shards remain, leaving me unable to actually make use of my divine gear.

I get it now. I can't draw out any of my power. No weapons. No abilities. I'm physically smaller in the first place. Wasn't I just thinking how I wasn't dangerous without the power of the divine gear the other day? If I can't even use it, then what good am I as a weapon at all?

I stand, staring ahead blankly. If I was never useful and never had any ability, why did they train me? My mind goes back over years of worthless sparring, beaten and broken countless times. I did it because I thought it was important, but it was all meaningless. My vision starts to go dark at the edges, my chest hurting. Why would they do that?

I turn and ask a handler. "If I can't use the divine gear, how am I supposed to fight?"

"You aren't," they answer. So they knew it was meaningless. But they still had me spar. Those endless beatings, every day, I can feel them in every part of my body.

"What am I supposed to do?" If I have no power, I can't do anything in battle. So what is my purpose?

"You are supposed to serve as a warning to the rail units to not let their manastones be damaged."

"I just did that, what am I supposed to do now?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Yes, nothing. We don't need you for anything beyond that." The darkness is closing in. I walk away from the handler. Then I turn around and walk back to them.

"I'm still going into combat though, am I not?"

"Yes."

"Why am I going when I cannot fight?"

"You will be another target for the enemies to waste their time and mana attacking. If you can draw... about twenty or so enemy attacks, you should cost them more mana than they retrieve from slaying you. Of course that won't happen," the handler seems to be correcting themselves. "Even though you won't, it will mean fewer enemies attacking functional units."

So that's it. I'm supposed to go die.

"I understand." I walk away once more. I stand at the side of the room, staring at the empty stone wall, but it's hard to focus on what is in front of me.

It's true. From what they have taught us of battle, the handler's words makes sense. Make the enemy use up their mana and they will not be able to fight anymore. Draw their fire away from important targets, and defeating them will be easier. They are basic battle strategies we have long-since learned. I can understand it easily, it's very simple and logical. And yet...

But I don't want to die! I really, really, really don't want to die! I scream silently.

I almost died in the river, so now I can actually understand just how terrifying dying truly is. With the rail units still practicing, I turn and walk out of the building. There's nothing for me to do in there now. I start walking through the streets. I don't know where I'm going. I don't really think I'm going anywhere. At some point, I'm aware of hot, wet tears streaming down my face. No matter how long I walk, they just won't stop. And the words just keep repeating, louder and louder in my mind until I can't hear anything else.

I don't want to die!

Then, I bump into someone. When I look up, it is a small boy about my age. He is surrounded by a number of other children. "Hey, watch where you're going!" he snaps as he staggers back a step. He makes an annoyed face as he looks at me.

Somewhere deep inside, it feels like something shifts. I leap forward, tackling the boy to the ground. I ball my hands into fists and swing them down at him as hard as I can. He puts his arms up, looking surprised and scared. But then he throws me off like I don't weigh anything. I roll on the ground, and he kicks me in the stomach. All the kids run off.

I lie there for some length of time, slowly sitting up again. I can't take this. My tears come faster, pour out endlessly. I finally open my mouth and start to cry for the first time. I sit on the ground, and just wail at the top of my lungs. People walk past, keeping their distance as they go around, and looking at me with disgusted faces.

"What a brat..."

"Who raised that kid..."

"I swear, if my children act like that..."

"Kid needs a good beating..."

Nothing but insults and nasty looks.

"Just shut up already!" someone calls out from above me. Moments later, chamber pot waste rains down all over me. My cries cut short when I start gagging from the smell.

I don't really understand, something feels off in my head. This can't actually be real. I start shrieking. It's some sort of sound I have never heard before. I don't know how anything can even make a sound like this. Some part of my mind is leaving. None of this is really happening. Not to me. It must be happening to someone else. This person is not me.

The child continues to sit in the middle of the street, a high pitched, blaring loud animal cry piercing out for some length of time. People cover their ears in pain and hurry past. At some point, her shrieks die out. She can't feel her throat anymore. No sound will come out. She stands and begins to walk without any destination.

She doesn't know what she's looking for. She doesn't know what to do anymore. She just wants to stop feeling like this. She doesn't want to be sad. She doesn't want to be angry. She hates it, all of it.

She just wants to be happy again. But what makes her happy? She doesn't know. So she begins to think back. When has she ever been happy before? Never with the handlers or rail units. They always beat her and just wanted her to die. Her silent cries build, growing even worse just thinking about it. Her sides ache, and she feels dizzy from crying too much. But she just can't stop.

What could possibly make her happy? Something away from the program. She slowly remembers, there were those children she met. Joe. Ken, Jeff, Mary. They said she was dirty and washed her. They helped her. They didn't have to help, but they did anyway. That was the first nice thing anyone ever did for her, wasn't it? Before she knows it, she's already moving toward the East Gate.

Then there was the lady. She saved her life, then washed her clothes for her. They felt so good and soft when they were clean. That also made her happy. Maybe if she goes there, she can feel happy again? That is all she can think of. She stinks of waste and her whole body feels sticky and nasty. The only two times people were nice to her was when they were helping with washing. Maybe if she washes she can feel just a little bit of that again...

She walks straight out of the East Gate and down to the river. She pulls off her robe like before and steps down into the river. As her body begins to go under, images spring forth unbidden. My mind crashes back together by force. I'm going under. The water is suffocating. I'm dying. I leap backward out of the water as the visions pound through my mind. I stumble on the grass suddenly breathing in rapid, shallow gasps. I'm scared? Why am I scared? Why is water so terrifying? This is all really happening. I feel lightheaded. My breathing isn't working right. I stare at the sky from my back, panting uncontrollably. My sides start to shake. I'm laughing. No sound is coming out, but I'm laughing. I think I'm breaking. Even while I'm crying, I'm laughing. I can't understand my own emotions anymore. I can't get enough air, but I'm laughing. My ears are ringing. I can't hear the sounds of people around me anymore. My mind can't take this. Everything starts to go dark, even as I stare wide eyed at the clear blue sky.

.

.

.

At some point, I wake up. It's already dark out. I slept through the lunch and sparring whistle somehow. No, I vaguely remember waking up when I heard them. But it was only for a moment, before my mind collapsed again. It feels like I've calmed down somewhat. I don't feel like my mind is breaking apart anymore. The strange feeling that none of this is really happening seems to be gone too. And I... think I am myself.

I think I've heard a word for that bottomless pit of negative emotions before. Despair. Even thinking about that feeling is scary. I definitely want to avoid it in the future if possible. I'm still confused though, it takes some time to remember where I am and what I'm doing. I sit up a little, grunting from the pain, but I can't hear myself. I put a hand to my throat.

I try to open my mouth, but can't make any sound. My entire throat feels completely shredded. What happened? I vaguely remember someone screaming until they lost their voice. That wasn't me, was it?

I'm also really hungry and thirsty. And my sides hurt from laughing and crying. And my stomach hurts where I got kicked. And my feelings hurt, all of them.

No no, I try to keep myself calm. I'm cold without my clothes, so I put my robe back on. I'm still sticky from the waste, as are my clothes. I really do need to wash myself. But first, I'm thirsty. Water is like soup, right? I scoop up some in my hands and bring it to my mouth. As soon as it touches my lips, I gag. All of the muscles in my stomach lurch. It tastes indescribable. Rank, putrid, like nothing I've ever tasted before. My hands are still covered in chamber pot waste! The next thing I know, my body is forcibly voiding my stomach. Liquid that burns like fire rushes up my throat as I gag and cough it up into the stream. This seems to repeat over and over, long after there is nothing left in my stomach to purge. All of my muscles that already hurt, hurt way more now. Like everything is locked up and burning.

I'm crying again. I haven't had anything to eat or drink in so long now. I glance at my gear. 3215. It hasn't changed at all since earlier. We were taught that we had to eat and drink or our divine gear would use up our mana to keep us from starving. But I can't use my divine gear. So I guess I'll just starve if I don't eat or drink. I still don't want to die.

I push myself up from the ground one more time. I crawl over to the edge of the river and lower my face to the surface. Touching the running water with my lips, I suck a little bit up. It is freezing cold and burns my ravaged throat all the way down. It even hurts in my cramped, painful stomach. But if I can drink it, then I won't be thirsty anymore. So bit by bit, I suck up water from the river to sate my thirst. When my belly finally feels full, I crawl back onto the grass again.

I'm still hungry, I'm still hurt, I'm still smelly and sticky and gross. But I'm not thirsty anymore. I can be happy about that, right? Yes, I decide. I'm happy now because I'm not thirsty.

I start to cry. No, I just decided I would be happy, so why am I crying? I keep trying to wipe the tears away. I don't want to be sad. If I don't want to be sad, I need to do the things that made me happy, right? Washing. Even though the water is terrifying? Yes, I have to do it anyway, that way I can stop being sad.

With that determination, I take off my robe again, and slip down into the water. Immediately, it feels like I'm being stabbed with knives of ice. The water is so cold, it's physically painful to touch. Even so, I continue lowering myself into the water. The numbing pain seems to overcome everything, until the flashbacks start again. I clutch at the stony river's edge, body shaking and twitching as I begin to gasp for air again. My chest is so numb, I can't seem to inhale enough anyway. I squeeze my eyes shut to block it all out. Then I take my robe, and start scrubbing it against my filthy skin.

Up and down, up and down, I keep scrubbing and wringing it out. I hit it hard against the rocks and the edge of the river and scrub it on them as hard as I can. Then I take it to my hair. Over and over, I wring out the clothes. It's hard to see with no sunlight, but eventually, it seems that the filthy black murk I wring out clears bit by bit.

I continue alternating between washing myself with my clothes, and then washing the clothes when they are so dirty they won't wash me anymore. I can't say how long it was since my hands and feet went numb. Or how many times I had to stop because the nightmare flashbacks caused my entire body to seize up. Eventually I manage to drag myself back up on shore. I can hardly seem to breathe in and out at all. It seems like I'm just taking short little gasps of air, one after another, in and out extremely rapidly. My heart is hammering so fast I can't tell one beat apart from the last.

My entire body feels numb, but also like it's on fire at the same time. Since it's the first time my hair has ever been clean, I can finally see what color it is. Strangely, it seems to be a colorless white, unlike the brown and blond of the people I always see. It is really bright even in the dark.

I'm clean now. Am I happy? I start walking back toward the East Gate. I don't know. For some reason, it's hard to think about whether I'm happy or sad. Everything just seems so hot and heavy that it's hard to get an idea of how I feel. Maybe that's fine? The world seems to be wobbling from side to side as I walk. I don't know if it's ever done that before.

I find myself staring blankly at the large wooden doors of the gate as they slowly slide closer. Or I slide closer to them. I am kind of just sliding my feet forward, they're too heavy to pick up right now.

It's hard to see, everything seems so blurry. I think there is a person in front of the gate. There seems to be some sort of light. I get closer to the light, and a voice calls out. I can't really tell what it's saying. A person comes up to me, I can kind of see them, though they're all blurry. It seems like they are saying something. Something about going through the gate?

They move away briefly, then I see another person. It's another one of those men with armor. I wander vaguely in his direction. When I look up, something clicks. I recognize this person. It's Francis, the one who helped me before. The recognition clears some of the fog from my mind.

"Thanks, I'll take this from here," I... don't think he's talking to me. Who is he talking to? He starts leading me back through a small opening in the gate, then there is a loud thud when the doors close behind us. I wobble forward, nearly going over sideways. He catches me, but then he meets my eyes and I know he knows me. He shrinks back. Then he looks at his hand. I look up at him, my eyes seeming to drift side to side as he kind of wobbles back and forth in front of me.

Then he gulps and touches my clothes, then my forehead. He looks shocked, and surprised. "I'm taking you back home," he says. Hearing that, a shiver goes over my whole body. Back there, where they want me dead?

"No!" No sound comes out though. He has a surprised look when he sees that I have no voice. I shake my head back and forth as much as I can. My long hair whips around, spraying water everywhere.

"Come on now, I have to take you back," he starts to nudge me forward. I flail my arms angrily while soundlessly shouting no. It forces him to draw back for a moment. "It's not my choice, I have to take you back!" he shouts and grabs my arm.

No matter what I won't go back there! I flare my divine gear, and he lurches away instantly, straight into the stone wall behind him. Crying, I start to run away.

I've made it about three steps when the heat all through my body overwhelms me. There is no strength left anywhere. I feel myself crumple to the ground. Everything is burning. I can't breathe. I can't see, my head is going to explode. But I keep shaking it back and forth, sending my tears flying. I feel a strong arm wrap around me and pick me up. "Damn it." a voice mutters.