“I refuse.” Following her words, the scarlet light reflected by her seat intensified, converging on Loris.

If it wasn’t for their coating - the ultra-thin layer of clothing covering their skin - any Merigenian could be weakened or even killed in seconds, given the supremacy of science over the living. From biohazards passing through the skin to brain-shattering ripples emitable by the tiniest objects, humans could no longer defend themselves without the help of technology.

That’s also what it meant to be a categorised citizen: life doesn’t hang by a thread but by two—merit and genes.

Loris stood up under the light that would have taken his sight if it wasn’t for the two ranks that separated him from the world below. Adapting to his posture, his greenish chair shape-shifted into a hoverboard. “Five-Hundred-Thousand Merits. Just for our participation!” He exclaimed.

Anastasia frowned and gave him a look of disdain like she never had. “It’s not about money, Loris.”

“Then what is it about?”

She sighed. “Sometimes, I wish you could be more like in the past.”

His chocolate eyes grew wide. For a moment, their colours flickered, losing some of their contrast.

Cheeks slightly flushed, she played with a lock of hair. “You’re the one who taught me to never give in.” She paused briefly, humming. “If lady luck isn’t on your side….”

“Make her wish she was,” Loris hummed, finishing her sentence. Finishing his sentence. It had been his personal quote, back when giving up was not an option. A time when the world was slowly adjusting to his will. A time when…

Ah... He finally realised.

Gratitude mixed with a profound emptiness as he let the last figment of his long-shattered ego fall. “Thank you, Ana.”

For three years, Loris had become an empty shell of himself. A facade, illusions of what he once was. A vermin like he despised them.

Anastasia clarified something vital through her words: In utter denial, he had forsaken the idea of becoming someone.

Not getting a specialist diploma by thirteen was an unrecoverable setback in Merigen. Whatever the context, such people were condemned as undeserving. This certificate of mediocrity closed all doors in the merit society.

The failure of his degree, for which he had sweated blood and tears, had torn him apart. It symbolised the dismaying culmination of endless painstaking efforts under daily persecution. By aiming beyond the stars, he had scratched the world of his contradictory existence. In retaliation, it ripped him to shreds.

Since that day, Loris had engulfed himself in meaningless hobbies and pastimes, slowly sinking into the quicksand of mediocrity. Someone unfit to be called a Merigenian, unworthy to be part of the categorised population. A truth he could no longer refute.

And yet,

Looking at it through the spectrum of his past self, he had never faced a dead end. What he couldn’t achieve in Merigen, he could have done it elsewhere. The Earth overflowed with chaotic environments that allowed anyone to transcend themselves.

But, what matters most often prevents us from making the necessary decisions. For Loris, it was his friends.

This realisation was like a second rebirth. The current crisis re-rolled the dice, but he always had a chance. Only, it had a price: His journey of hope would be through the shadow of death. A risk he would take—no matter the cost.

The green light reflected by his seat dimmed. Instead, a pleasant cyan emerged. His favourite colour. Under the amazed eyes of Anastasia and the perplexed Fabrice, it flooded over the room like a raging sea, overshadowing Anastasia’s scarlet and Fabrice’s lightning blue. The colour balance broke, symbolising the priority he was giving to himself. His first sign of pride in three years.

While cyan waves highlighted him as if he owned the place, Loris crossed his index fingers and thumbs to form two links of the same chain. “Never again will I give up on myself.”

_______________________________________

A few hours earlier, Fabrice and Loris had already accepted that the showdown was a hopeless fight. They only had to persuade Anastasia to take part. Not an easy task, knowing that she loved everything but losing. In the end, she imposed her will.

For the rest of the day, Fabrice watched videos of their opponents’ track records. He kept it to himself as it was his role to design the winning strategy, but the bit of hope he had just developed had been shattered.

Loris, Fabrice, and Anastasia experienced a lot of bloody showdowns during their school years. Loris used to play an operator: a recon and support class that used sets of drones. However, he lagged far behind other players. A weak link proved enough to seal the competitive doors in a game where cooperation is paramount. Despite that, the trio loved to play and fight together. Yet It was Loris who brought this to an end. He refused any kind of competition during the last three years.

Recovering his breath, the young Caucasian finished his daily training. Seeing his stats increase by leaps and bounds was now one reason he gave it his all.

[Congratulations, you’ve accomplished the step 0: All you need for a good start]

He finally met the prerequisites to start the actual module: [Nine steps to conquer yourself, first step: Conquer your muscles.]

Loris was eager to start now, but a notification interrupted him. It was a message from Fabrice. [For tomorrow’s showdown, you’ll play a hybrid class with a sword and a shield. I’ll send you the details later.]

“What!?”

In Warsuit Supremacy, melee weapons weren’t popular. But Fabrice was not the kind to make rash decisions. A logic always hid behind his choices. Still, it made no sense in this case. A sword? It must be a joke. How could such a scrap be worth more than his years of experience as an operator?

Sadly, Loris read the information attached to the message, and it was not a prank. His friend was referring to a nano-vibrating sword. A war suit-powered weapon that cuts through everything. It may have been a decent weapon if not for its short-range and devastating consequences on its user.

As for the shield, he knew how to use it. It was a 3-layered energetic shield that could take any desired shape, the most popular defensive accessory in the game.

Still, Loris had no hand-to-hand experience, and a few games of preparation won’t do the trick.

The N-haired woman’s words came back to him: The Noflo method is The solution! Shit, that’s why he hated the ads. With their lobotomising properties, they had led to one of the greatest scourges the world has seen since World War III.

Browsing through the shop, he quickly found a module to satisfy his needs. He possessed all the required equipment but one: a sword.

Besides that, the module recommended using a full-body Noflo combination, which could simulate the presence and weight of virtual objects. It could even stimulate the shock resulting from their contact. This would be perfect for his first sword training session. Plus, deep down, Loris liked to use the best things; unfortunately, he was out of budget.

While virtual reality was cheap and available, it wasn’t an option—training in VR had limited effects because the Noflo algorithm couldn’t assist him there. Each company kept its secrets safe.

Browsing on the net, Loris downloaded a dummy blueprint of the vibrating sword and uploaded the file to the local network.

“Aina, print me a harmless version of this sword. Keep the original size and weight.”

“Understood.”

It should only take a few minutes, but meanwhile, he gave a look at the theoretical aspect of his newly bought module: [Cut and thrust]

Reasonably priced. In fact, it was cheaper than an average module, around a hundred merits.

According to the module’s theory, there were eight angles of attack for cuts and thrusts: straight up, diagonally up left, diagonally down left, and strike left horizontally, as well as their respective opposite directions. All other angles were a combination of these height moves.

Therefore, after mastering these, the rest would come naturally. In theory.

Loris went down into the storage area that contained most raw resources. What really interested him was the 3d printer embedded in the wall. It opened up to display a meter-long straight sword. Loris grabbed it, caressing it gently as he went. The edges and tip were as soft as rubber, and it weighed over two kilograms, quite heavy for a sword. Quite light for him.

Still, Loris couldn’t care less what materials the printing machine used. Apart from a bit of energy, nothing was lost after all. One of the many benefits of living with friends was the freedom to borrow their stuff. Raw resources included.

Sword in hand, Loris hurried back to his room and trained throughout the night until the algorithm ended his practice. Sweating and breathless, he joined the mechanical arms of Morpheus.

The real training had just begun: time to dark-dreaming.