Chapter 19

Within each of us are three main relationships. Those whom we’d like to protect, those who we’d like to fuck, and those who we’d like to kill. The order of importance in these desires defines a person, whether they’d kill to protect those who they’re fucking, or protect themselves by fucking killing someone else.

Previously, in the JanZe camp…

The very first night, our three useless apprentices were given menial tasks befitting of their status. The one that gave them their instructions was a cold apprentice who neglected to even introduce himself, either because he thought nothing of the newbies, or he was extremely generous to the great me who can’t be bothered remembering the names of everyone. At the time, Amelia blurted out a simple question.

“Why do we have to do this?”

To which he simply threw the same question back at her.

"Why should someone else do this?”

What could they do better than the other apprentices or full-fledged JanZes in this team? The two lacked confidence to compare themselves with others, and the others had little to no idea what they’re able to do, nor cared. So, in the end, they were allocated jobs that could be done by anyone.

I met them that very evening, when they were mentally exhausted from their monotonous task of document-sorting. It wasn’t much of a happy reunion, especially since none of us were in a good mood.

“Hey hey, why do you all look so lifeless?”

“The work was soo~ boring! There must’ve been, like, a million pages for each of us!”

“And how many mistakes did you make?”

“They weren’t even mistakes! It’s just that stupid apprentice acting all im-“

“Are you challenging him?”

“-portant and… huh?”

“One of you had to be wrong. Either they were mistakes, or misjudgements. Are you challenging his decisions?”

“N-no, I was just-“

“How. Many. Mistakes?”

“… Dunno…”

Amelia’s attitude crumbled underneath my stare, not because I was overbearing or emotional, but because I had the same, cold eyes as the apprentice from before. Vastly different to the usual care-free, laid-back me.

“A lot, around 60 or more.” (Kelvin)

“What was your first mistake?”

“Uhh, we began by sorting them to separate categories, and deal with dates after. I think the first mistake was to do with a document in the wrong category.”

“Then? How much time did it cost?”

“Well, the apprentice only came to check once every half an hour, and he would leave after spotting a single mistake instead of finding them all in one go. Also, he never even showed us the location of the misplaced page, so we had to scan through the pile from the top again and again.”

“What was your 19th mistake?”

“Uhh…”

“43rd?”

“We’re supposed to remember such a specific detail?”

“You were supposed to do your job correctly. Remembering your own mistakes are to your benefit, and a courtesy to the one pointing them out. What, did you not think that apprentice found it irritating, how many mistakes you’ve made? He put effort into pointing out your errors, the least you can do is remember them. What’s the point in making mistakes if you only choose the ones you want to learn from?”

"But how are we meant to remember that?”

“By actively putting effort into doing so. Kelvin, you are an apprentice. Learning from your mentors and peers are only half of your duty, the other half is learning from your own mistakes. What kind of apprentice are you to neglect such an important part of your role?”

“I… we didn’t know.”

“I don’t need to hear your ignorance as an excuse.”

“We’ll do better from now on!”

"Good. That’s an appropriate response. It sure beats the one who doesn’t even try to remember her mistakes and, instead, shift the blame to someone else.”

“S-sorry…”

“Don’t cry, Amelia. Seriously, if you start crying now, then you’re not going to last a week here.”

“I’m t-trying!”

“Now then. What did you learn from this experience?”

“To remember our mistakes an-“

“No no, the sorting of documents. What did you learn from that?”

“Uhh, nothing much? It wasn’t anything difficult that required a skill.”

“How disappointing. There’ll be a lot of people throwing insults and stones at you for that line. You weren’t even aware of your own opportunity.

"And you, Hazel. What makes you different to a normal JanZe apprentice?”

“We… ask good questions?”

“Then WHY, the FUCK, are YOU, so SILENT? I expected so much more from you, the one who wanted answers to her life. What have you been doing all this time?”

“I was following orders!”

“Following orders wrongly. That’s why you made mistakes. If you didn’t know what you were doing, why didn’t you ask?”

"The apprentice left after giving us instructions, though.”

“Don’t you have fucking legs? If it’s the apprentice’s duty to give you instructions, then you should make sure he does a damned good job of delivering it. Don’t you think that would’ve helped you make less mistakes?”

“I… didn’t think of it at the time.”

“What were you thinking? What were all of you thinking?

"You were handling documents of this operation, pages after pages with detailed information on the topography, personnel, operation system and structure… you could’ve learnt about how the management of rations are handled, the training routines of different squadrons, the method of reporting information by the scouts. You could’ve learnt about the land that surrounds you, the war that involves you, the people that threatens you! But instead: What. Were. You. Thinking?”

“I thought they’d be confidential in-“

“Would we give intelligence important enough to warrant confidentiality to some apprentice to sort, by category?”

“… No.”

“Your job literally involved reading and deciding which topic the content of those documents fall under. Either you treat us as if we’re incapable of managing security risks, or you simply didn’t use your brain-“

The flap to the tent opened, and a breath of chilly air announced the arrival of Taku. Since I was in the middle of my passionate lecture, Taku tacitly joined the group without interrupting further.

“A JanZe apprentice must learn from example, and improve themselves at every given opportunity. But you are not just any JanZe’s disciple, but mine. You have to question your starting points, question the examples to learn from, question your own improvements at all times! You have to glean information even when none are given, because sooner or later, you’d have to start making decisions. If you don’t get into the habit of gathering information wherever you are, however you can, the decisions you’ll make later will cost you more than your time. It might be your life, or others.

"You are my apprentices. Your conduct will affect my reputation amongst the JanZe, and your ability will reflect the JanZe’s reputation amongst everyone else. This isn’t a game, and we’re no tutorial stage. This is training, and you’d best start treating it seriously.

"Starting from today, 22nd February 5’828, you’ll go through an initiation trial for a full year. No, not you Taku, you can calm yourself down. You three will simply have to follow each and every order as given, to the letter. You will introduce yourself to anyone and everyone as with initiate as your title, and they’ll know what to do.

"This isn’t some normal test. You won’t just be running a few laps. You’ll be pushed beyond the normal limits in your patience, your endurance, your tolerance and your abilities. Each and every turn, everyone around you will tempt you to quit. Myself included.

"That is the initiation trial, and that’s the only warning you’ll have. At any time within this year, you’re free to leave. I’ll bring you to your home, and you get on by with your little lives. Don’t worry, you won’t be the only ones. The reason why the fatality rate of JanZe is so low, is that most JanZes are capable of solving their own problems. The real question is the promotion rate of the apprentices. I’ll let you know now – by my estimation, around 60% of apprentices will quit during their initiation trial, and another 20% will quit for the same period. 15% will then quit after their trial, but before their promotion, and another 4% will die alongside them.

"Will you be the 1% who’d pass?

"Come. Stand here.”

I led the group to stand in front of a wall-sized mirror. We stood side by side as if taking a hero shot for a movie trailer.

“Look straight into the mirror, and tell me about the person you see.”

“Like, describe ourselves?

“Yup. Agitate your mana, and describe everything about what makes you who you are. Start with your name, beginning with you, Amelia.”

“Oh, umm, I’m Am-“

“Not good enough. Try again.”

“I haven’t even started?”

“It began as soon as you spoke. Try again.”

“My name is-“

“Again.”

“My n-“

“Again.”

“You don’t give me a chance to say anything though!?”

“I am The First.”

They shuddered at my voice and my presence. It was as if I spoke not words, but of a fundamental, universal law, as natural as gravity itself.

“Normally, living beings can only use mana to affect other things through the Power they possess. But that isn’t completely true. Mana also promotes your cellular growth and repair, amongst other things. Have you ever gotten so angry that your very voice seemed to change into something even you can’t recognise? Mana isn’t some systematic function of which you can only use in a certain way.

“Mana is willpower in the form of energy. What you can and can’t do will depend on your will, but your will can only be so much if you can’t even express your own identity. Do you know yourself as well as you think you do? Do you know what you want, what you need and what you have? Those who are insane could never do what I did, for they have no will and are driven by the chaos surrounding them. You need to insert yourself into your words, ‘give life to your voice’ so-to-speak.

“Agitate your mana. Convey your understanding of yourself to me, and convince me of your existence. Taku, you’re next.”

We stared at our reflections in the mirror until dawn broke, listening mostly to my command “Again” over and over again like some broken metronome. Other than Taku, the apprentices were unable to even announce their names before I stopped them. After all, it was their first day of mana training, but not Taku’s.

Like a professional orator performing an important part of a speech, Taku had to focus and prepare for over four minutes before he was ready.

“I am the black-haired vampyre. I feed on those in need, and I feed them their own greed. I am fair, and I will bathe in the blood of all.”

Though it was just talking, it was no easy task. By the time he finished, his concentration waned and he felt physically nauseous.

“That’s a passing mark, I guess. However, it provided too little information, and there’s no density in what you spoke of. Work on understanding yourself better.”

“It’d be easier if you let me have a sip…”

“In your dreams. As to the rest of you, learn from Taku’s example. Feel his conviction as he spoke of himself. You can tell the difference between speech and spiel, as we call it, by what you can sense within those words. What did you feel?”

“Hungry.”

“Yucky…”

“… Alive.”

“Bonus point goes to Hazel. You have to feel the life burning into existence when you hear a spiel. It’s not something practical to do, but the ability to do it will translate into your own growth.”

“Can you show us your spiel!?”

“That’s not a question you’d want to ask often, Amelia. After all, you are literally exposing something extremely personal when you perform a spiel. At least buy them a cup of coffee before you pop that question in.”

“Oh, I just thought it’d be nice to see a perfected example to look up to, and since you’re our master and all, and you wanted us to do something so personal, like you said, it should be fair trade, right?”

“Hmph.”

"Pretty please?”

It had been a long time since I’ve done this. Spiel was, in one way, a pure form of introspective expression, hence both the difficulty and the usefulness of the technique. It was difficult to grasp as a beginner, but believe me when I say that maintaining the ability was even harder. As more and more years dragged us into the dirt, we’d experience a tragic number of events that tackled our identity and perspectives. I am not who I was yesteryear, or a millennium ago, or even before the time I appeared in Khondour.

Like Taku, I too closed my eyes and deeply inhaled. Whilst holding the breath, I gathered my will and condensed it into specific words.

“Successful Failure.”

I held back about half of my effort, but even that made my disciples breathless. They felt as if their brains had forgotten their own existence, instead was replaced by mine. Disparate emotions surged into their heads, giving them an obscure feeling of the experiences that my spiel expressed. It was as if they just woken up from a dream, unable to remember exactly what happened, just what was felt at the time.

The droplet of joy in the ocean of my life, the inkling of pain in the stories of my suffering.

Not that they would ever be able to comprehend it, but if I could be honest – it felt good to share a little about myself. Of course, I also felt the shame of my own immaturity. After all, I am immortal, and these people have lived barely a decimal of a percentage as long as I, so I shouldn’t feel anything to be recognised by people so insignificant…

But I do, and I hate myself for it.

I hate performing spiels in front of others. It’s my guilty pleasure.

“Start practising your spiel with something you’re proud of. It doesn’t matter how admirable or insignificant it is; it could even be ‘black hair’ as Taku did. I’ll be showing you the way to understand yourself, to understand your will, and in turn, understand mana as it was supposed to.

“Within this year, you must find yourself. More than that, you have to endure this jagged path, physically violent and verbally vulgar, where each and every turn you take reveal yet another monster gnawing at your will.

“If you can withstand all that, then maybe, just maybe, you are what we’re looking for. Maybe you’re just as crazy as each and every one of us JanZe, and maybe you’ll survive in the upcoming millennium.

“Because when you doubt your faith, when your will crack under pressure, when your identity became muddled… becoming a JanZe will be a fate worse than death for you. You should quit, right here, right now. This is not a game, nor is this a school.

“We- No, I’d expect you to be capable of determining the greater good, and make appropriate decisions. There will be pain. There will be sacrifices, but most importantly, there will be mistakes. Everything you do is a mistake, it’s just the question of whether they are the correct mistakes to make.

“Good luck. I’ll see you in a few days. Taku, you come with me.”