A week of travel to get home, only to find the authorities there, ready to take him away. Another three days to get to a camp in the middle of nowhere. Three and a half weeks living and working among the Revolution.

Travis had never felt happier or more motivated in his life.

After his new compatriots found out he was wanted for blowing up a shrouded, Travis was practically a superstar. Never mind that he hadn’t meant for an explosion to happen; that was a minor detail no one here ever needed to find out. They all loved his drive and ingenuity. Everyone here appreciated him in a way no one in his hometown, or even his own family, ever had.

Plus, what they were saying made sense. The shrouded made life for the unshrouded a living nightmare. They reaped all the rewards of the hard work the normal folks did just because they were born with unearned, godlike powers. Travis had always hated his brother’s superior attitude. Everyone treated him like he was special just because he was shrouded. Meanwhile, Travis was ignored and marginalized next to his extra special brother. It wasn’t his fault he wasn’t born with a shroud.

No, the truth was that the system was rigged from the start. If you weren’t born shrouded, you were dirt. No one on those distant islands gave a damn about the hardships unshrouded faced every day. They all lived in safety and wealth, living forever with magic superpowers and not a care in the world. Fuck them.

So from day one, Travis was entirely on board with the Revolution and their plans to create a new world order with no shrouded, where every man was entitled to the fruits of his own labor instead of beholden to some distant family who took 90% of what you made because they ‘owned the land’ or ‘protected unshrouded from monsters’.

The other revolutionaries told Travis horror stories about how their villages were wiped out in monster attacks the shrouded couldn’t be bothered to handle. Tales of watching family members consumed, dragged to the ground, and torn apart by giant wolves spewing flames from their mouths, or spider creatures with a human torso the size of a horse with claws and stingers coated in poisons so intense, they melted bone.

The shrouded weren’t holding up their end of the bargain, the revolutionaries reasoned, so they didn’t deserve any of the rewards. Maybe a thousand years ago, the unshrouded would have had to just put up with this unfair system, but the advances in ethertech had given them options. Weapons now existed that unshrouded could use to kill monsters without the shrouded’s help. They were ready to create their own system.

It wasn’t going to be easy, and their new society would require the removal of all shrouded from the world. Their powers inherently corrupted them, after all. Anyone who was born with such overwhelming power would inevitably become a tyrant. It was too easy.

No, they had to go. It was the only way to create a truly peaceful society where everyone was equal. So long as a single shrouded existed, they would always try to suppress the unshrouded, and peace would always be a dream.

So Travis had spent the past few weeks learning to use the powerful ethertech that acted as the backbone of the Revolution. The shroud collars, which prevented a shroud from affecting you, were easy enough. Just clip around the neck, and you were good to go. The gun, a weapon that fired a small metal slug using ether crystals, was much more of a learning process.

In the first place, the Revolution had a variety of these guns. Some were small, meant to be used in close quarters. Others were longer and bigger. They hit harder but were much slower to use, and their large size made them more unwieldy. The variety of options meant there was a lot of time spent on learning to use each one, and more spent trying to decide which ones he preferred.

The thing Travis spent the most time with, and had the most affinity for, was explosives. The revolutionaries loved explosives. It was big and loud and made a statement. If you shot one shrouded, that was good. If you blew up an entire building of them, that was a powerful message. Travis heard that in the Greenvale riots, the Revolution managed to level the equivalent of seven city blocks. It was the most damage done to a single city by the Revolution to date, and it had made the shrouded finally sit up from their wealthy thrones and take notice.

The Revolution had access to more ether than Travis had ever seen in his life. He had lived his whole life with the little bit their home had for the toilet, stove, fridge, and lights. Here in the middle of the woods, the Revolution had amenities he would have never dreamed of. Hot water on demand, Baths and showers any time. They even had an interesting item that produced an infinite amount of salt, which made cooking a lot easier and better tasting.

They used that ether supply to make high yield small profile explosives with various after-effects. Travis had learned to make bombs that would leave a residue on every surface within a hundred feet that was highly flammable. The impact of the bomb itself was small. The massive fires it caused were not.

He had asked where they got all this ether. After all, it was a highly coveted resource that the Central Authority tracked carefully. He was informed that he was only a new member, and an untested one at that. The secrets of the Revolution would only come when he had shown results. Travis was surprisingly ok with that. The assurance that his efforts would be rewarded with greater respect and trust was encouraging.

Plus, he still heard whispers around the camp. People liked him, and that meant they talked to him about things they maybe weren’t supposed to. Rumor had it that the Revolution had access to some sort of secret, ancient ether mine that had somehow been hidden from the CA. In fact, the rumors also said that that was where all this advanced ethertech came from. A revolutionary found a way into this secret mine, and brought others who worked for the Revolution to reverse-engineer the technology that was used there.

All this time spent learning and practicing led up to today, when Travis was supposed to go on his first real mission. He and three other, more senior members were supposed to go break up a labor camp that a family had set up. They had an entire village that was inaccessible without ethership. It let the family pay the village next to nothing under the pretense of ‘travel fees’.

Luckily, the Revolution owned a modest fleet of etherships, so they could get the unshrouded loaded up and out of there, to be relocated to Revolution run and protected villages. According to intel, there was only a couple shrouded on site for them to deal with, so all the fighting should be over quickly.

Travis armed himself and headed for the small ethership that would act as their entrance. A larger transport would come in once they secured the village. He was carrying his preferred loadout, an Amerov Velenski mark 7, an automatic rifle named for the revolutionary who reverse-engineered the original design. It was held on a shoulder strap and would act as his primary firearm. On either hip, he had a model 1, the original pistol design. Small and reliable, every member of the Revolution carried this easy to make, easy to maintain low-impact sidearm. It didn’t hit very hard, but it was easy to conceal and could still kill if the shrouded wasn’t expecting it.

Travis had one silenced and the other with a booster. The silencer drastically reduced the already minimal impact the model 1 had, but it was completely soundless, perfect for a stealth kill. Revolutionaries affectionately called it a model 0, as in zero sound. The boosted model had a real kick to it, and a much louder bang, but it could do real damage. This modification was just called B1.

The real show-stopper, and Travis’s main addition to the team, was the bandolier of various explosives he had strapped across his chest. Travis could comfortably take down a city block with the amount of ordinance strapped to him right now. Some of these grenades and shaped charges were his own design. Based on standard versions, but modified for extra effects. He was ready to go.

Despite all his anticipation, the actual mission was straightforward. It was almost boring if not for the adrenaline coursing through his veins. The entire time Travis’s heart was nearly beating out of his chest, just waiting for something to go wrong. It didn’t. Everything went perfectly, and they secured the village in under an hour.

The plan was to arrive in a forested section of the valley under cover of night. Then, one of the other members who specialized in silent movement took three of Travis’s biggest explosives and planted them around the assumed residence of the two shrouded. It was really easy to tell which house was theirs, considering it was set away from the rest and three times as big.

Once the charges were set, Travis detonated them and blew the house to smithereens. One of the shrouded managed to protect themselves, and another member sniped them in the head when they emerged from the rubble. It was over in minutes. Then they took a half-hour to comb the rest of the village and its surroundings, just in case. Then it was time to call in the transport ship and get out of there.

Just like that, Travis had completed his first successful mission as a revolutionary.

He couldn’t be more proud.

{}

Headmaster Damon Vestigious, the Ghost of Authority, sat in his office on the top floor of the Academy proper, what most students called the Mess. The window behind his desk overlooked the entire Academy with the application of some ether. His view was that of the Academy from thousands of feet in the air. The light from the Academy’s buildings shining dimly through the window was the only thing illuminating the room. It was late at night. The Pillar was a dim, vague shape on the horizon. There he sat in his starkly appointed, borderline empty office in his revolving chair behind his desk, looking out the window over the Academy he had founded over ten thousand years ago.

Watching.

Thinking.

Knitting.

The soft snick snick of his needles was the only sound he could hear. In ages past, he might have gone to sleep this late at night. The passage of the millennia had slowly robbed the comfort of oblivion from him. The weight of all he had seen and experienced prevented him from entering a proper sleep. So he knitted. In these dark hours, it was a comfort to his mind. Plus, after a few hundred years, he had gotten pretty good at it.

His knitting needles, sickly green things with tendrils of pitch black crawling up them, flew as he created a sweater. He had come to appreciate the mental effort in constantly keeping his shroud in a uniform shape for hours on end as the garment slowly grew from the ball of black yarn next to his chair. This particular sweater was meant to be a gift for his great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great granddaughter.

But that was not the primary reason he was still in his office. He could knit just fine in his home outside the Academy grounds. No, he was here because the second week of this school cycle had just ended, and the test results would be coming to him shortly. He was eager to see what another batch of young minds had managed. No matter how long he did this, there was always one or two that managed to do something new and exciting.

Knockknock.

“It is open,” That would be the test results.

Elune Forna, general education instructor, stepped through the door. Perhaps the youngest among his staff, though her actual age escaped him. Certainly the newest hire. She had joined only a year ago and had not assumed a teaching position until this new cycle began. He hoped her passion for education would carry her through the rough early years.

“Ah, Elune. It seems you drew the short straw, having to talk to an old man in the middle of the night.” Damon joked lightly. The new hires were always so stiff around him. It must come from him having been their Headmaster as well. Or maybe just his age in general.

“Nonsense, Headmaster.” Elune stood at attention, the habit formed during her time in the military still present. “I have the reports.”

“I’m sure you do. Please, feel free to summarize it for me, would you? Anyone interesting?” The Ghost suppressed a sigh. It wasn’t her fault everyone treated him so distantly. After all, history did paint a rather terrifying picture of him. He did not regret most of that history. But it did leave a certain impression.

“Yes, sir, I suspected you might want that.” Elune nodded.

“Get some notes from Markus, did you?” Damon asked casually, referring to the next most junior teacher, who had brought these reports to him for nearly a century.

Elune didn’t acknowledge that statement. “There have been quite a few standouts. The families have had a good showing, as always. This cycle, we have representatives from the Aqueous and Loamens, who are trying to merge their families. That should create some conflict against others who are opposed to the merger. The Meteoris actually have two with us this cycle. The Kines family has no one this time around, and the Nutrimens have three.”

“Nutrimens,” Damon shook his head, “The things they get away with…”

“...Would you like me to continue?” She sounded unsure.

“Yes, please do. Although, enough about the families. I know them well enough. Who are our wild cards?” This was the part Damon actually looked forward to.

“Right,” He could hear papers shuffling along with the snick of his needles. “Quite a few, and some of them very odd. The most obvious are the two dual-shrouded this cycle. Both from the continents, though one was snatched up by the military years ago. They seem to be raising the young man as a living weapon.”

“Unfortunate.”

“Quite. The other one, oh. Perhaps I should circle back around to him.”

“Oh?”

“There’s quite a lot to unpack with him.”

“Hmm, suit yourself.”

“Right. Swordmaster Blaine’s grandchild is in attendance. Though Blaine attests to his lack of talent, I find that a little ridiculous based on his test results.”

“That sounds like Blaine.” Damon chuckled.

“Let's see…We have the usual suspects for the usual reasons, so I won’t delve into that.” Elune said dismissively.

Damon nodded.

“We have seventeen conceptuals this year, only four of which are noteworthy.”

“I’ll read those files myself. We may need to accelerate the talented ones.” Damon waved a hand, his needles not stopping even as he left one floating.

“Well, that takes us full circle. Unless…” Elune hesitated.

“What?”

“Would you like to know about…her?”

Damon sighed. “If Hekate’s capabilities are relevant to the current discussion, yes. If you merely bring her up as a relation of mine, then no.”

“Right. She skipped all her classes and had the third-highest score in all her skill tests. But…”

“Her combat application was lackluster, I know.” Damon nodded solemnly. The curse that had plagued his family continued.

“Well, that leads us back to our most interesting group.”

“Do tell.” Damon was glad to leave the topic of his, however-main-great granddaughter behind.

Their fate is not your fault. Whispers rose by his ear, carrying an undertone of the weeping and mourning.

I feel this guilt still, my love. He responded. The presence hovering at his shoulder vanished once more.

“A trio has formed out of some of our most promising prospects. As a group, they represent the highest combat potential this cycle.” Elune continued, unaware of Damon’s silent conversation.

“Hmm, after only two weeks? Groups usually only form after the half-year mark.” He refocused on the report being given, instead of his heavy thoughts.

“Actually, they grouped up after the first day. Two of them appear to have been friends before they even reached the Academy grounds. If you remember the reports about the ancient tower incident?” Elune smiled.

“Oh-ho! Those two, yes. Who did they gang up with?” Damon ceased knitting, focused wholly on this report now. Two students making a historic discovery and taking out a group of revolutionaries before they ever set foot in the Academy was a new one.

“The Meteoris daughter.” Elune was wearing a shit-eating grin now.

Damon couldn’t help it. He laughed. He laughed long and hard. He only stopped after a good few minutes. “Oh, that is rich. Ahh, they never cease to surprise. That is quite the group.”

“Would you like a more detailed report?”

“Yes! Please, those three will most likely be the ones to watch this cycle.”

“Well, Erik is a category 0, extremely high control and an innovative mindset. His defensive aura sense is some of the best I’ve ever seen, bar none. He out-competes some of the faculty in that regard. He’s an odd one, but eminently capable. The word is he has horrendous luck. If the rumor has reached the faculty, there’s probably something to it, though it is essentially unconfirmed. He leans more toward invasion during combat, though he seems relatively undeveloped outside of that.

Lily Meteoris managed to evolve her shroud and create a splinter, all on the first day here, as I’m sure you've heard. Needless to say, she out-competed everyone in all metrics except control. If the competition in that regard wasn’t so exceptional this cycle, she would have placed much, much higher. She leans more toward a speed and evasion-based, aggressive combat style. A good mix of long-range and melee.

Caeden is the dual shrouded. From the same continent as Erik, which is why they were on the War God that was attacked together. He came out of that tower with a dual-shrouded weapon that has the ability to change its shape. He’s a careful one. He engaged the Meteoris boy in a duel using his shrouded weapon to force a quick victory. Since then, he’s kept a low profile. He scored high in investigative and predictive aura sense, and his control over one of his shrouds is superb. The other one…You wished to be notified about the student who showed a throne shaped sigil. That is his second shroud, Physical Enhancement. His combat style is a highly aggressive melee defender, though he has shown the capability to act in a more mid-range capacity as well.” Elune sighed. “That’s all.”

“Hmm,” Damon hummed quietly. “Thank you. Dismissed.”

“Yes, sir. Have a good night.”

Damon barely noticed her leaving the room. His mind was elsewhere. “Another throne has appeared. Physical Enhancement is certainly different. I wonder…”

He raised a hand, manifesting his own shroud sigil. A throne of human bones wreathed in a halo of screaming ghosts hovered in the air. A cloaked figure reclined on that seat of corpses, its own skeletal visage barely visible in the hood's shadow. Bony hands clutched a massive scythe that lay across the armrests formed of arm bones.

The presence settled across his shoulders once more.

What do you think he will do?

“I don’t know, my love,” Damon smiled an empty, sad smile, “But I’m sure I’ll find out.”