As the sunlight streamed through the training room windows, the faces of fifteen children lit up in excitement except for one.
'So it's just another form of martial arts. Haven't we mastered enough already…?' Daemon slowly drifted into thought as he stared at the chalkboard.
'What's the point when we could just gain our own Forte?'
They should have all met the conditions necessary to awaken a Forte at the age of thirteen, and yet, besides Vincent and a few others, most of them had not.
Coupled with the fact that their mother invested a hefty sum of resources in the best elixirs and dietary guides available, it was strange for them to be left behind by their peers.
In the last three years, newsletters had reported a slow rise in mundane citizens awakening weaker Fortes; hence, not having one was becoming more uncanny by the day.
Thus, if not for the intentional halting of their development, how could they not be numbered among the gifted?
Daemon clenched his fist and returned his attention to Vincent, suppressing his frustrations. As his brother began to recap the concept of consciousness fields for four girls who missed their last biology lesson two days ago, the text he had read came to the forefront.
The field was an invisible radius of energy emitted by the thalamus of the human brain. While all humans were capable of this emission, it was merely the first half of the equation. The second was a component dubbed by researchers as the Simulated Truth, an imaginary world formed by mental patterns of delusion.
It was through layering this delusion onto the field that Fortes became a reality. But that also meant anyone without these mental patterns had to be creative in order to not waste this energy.
Over time martial art practitioners learned to concentrate the field inside specific organs or extremities, further enhancing them. However, the ideal method was to force more of it outward, shaping it into an illusion to disorient anyone in range of the field.
At that moment, a girl with twin tails raised her hand from that very group. "Um… I don't understand. If this can only be used one way, shouldn't we focus on something more flexible?"
"If it were a regular illusion, you'd be right," Vincent replied. "But Mother took it one step further and replicated the effect of a Forte."
As his voice rose in pitch, he gestured to the two words before continuing, "In creating Phantasia Echo, she devised a method of shaping a temporary duplicate to create an opening against any opponent on contact."
'Is this why we haven't been allowed to awaken our Fortes!?'
Daemon almost stood up as his prior grievances were blown away.
"Are we going to learn how to replicate others?" he inquired. Unconsciously, his body leaned forward as he waited for an answer.
Vincent veered his gaze toward him and replied with amusement, "Maybe in the next two years, but for now, you're still too green." Then, softening the corners of his lips, he gazed at the faces of everyone present and coughed. "If everyone understands the idea, I'll be doing a demonstration. Does anyone want to volunteer to be my assistant?"
Thereafter, a storm of whispers stirred. It seemed as if none among them was willing to be the subject of whatever devious ploy the boy was crafting.
'I doubt there would be anyone dumb enough to…' Daemon muttered, rolling his eyes. He could barely finish his thought before he recalled there was indeed such a buffoon in their midst…
And as if he could not be more predictable, Kayn was the first to offer.
"I'll do it!" the boy shouted, raising his hand energetically.
"That's the spirit, brother," Vincent nodded. "The rest of you need to show some guts too. We weren't raised to be wimps."
While feeling wronged by the remark, the others suppressed the displeasure creeping through their expressions and turned their gazes to Kayn as he stood up. They were not expecting him to charge toward another fire so soon.
"That pink-haired idiot must love getting hit, huh...?" one boy leaning against a sandbag remarked.
Immediately after, the girl beside him giggled lightly. "Maybe he's a masochist."
"What's that?" Confused, the boy glanced at his companion strangely.
Henry's expression turned solemn as he heard their comments. He grabbed hold of Kayn's trouser fabric as the boy took a step forward. "Hey! Are you sure you're up for it…?"
"Why not? Helping Vincent's always fun," Kayn answered with a wide smile.
"You're the only one who thinks that…" Daemon commented as he folded his arms with a light frown.
"Will you all lighten up?" Vincent chuckled. "I won't play any tricks… heh."
"Don't worry, brother, I believe you!" Kayn pumped his fist with conviction.
He brushed away Henry's hand, seemingly disregarding his worries. Then with a bright expression, he strode towards the front of the room, the floorboards squeaking with every step.
"Good, I'll be making a projection. I want you to defend any way you like." Vincent took two steps away from the chalkboard and clenched his fists.
Henry and the others held their breaths as they waited for him to begin. Most of them weren't worried that Kayn would be harmed. He always seemed to have the thickest skin despite his unintimidating stature.
Seconds ticked by as they watched Vincent's form, and suddenly duplicates began to appear at his sides, as if the sight of everyone present began to distort.
Their forms condensed; then, without warning, Vincent burst forward and swung his fist upward. He aimed for Kayn's jaw.
Whoosh! The boy swiftly leaned back to avoid the blow, then his right fist shot forth as he threw a straightforward punch to counter.
Whoosh!
Vincent's figure scattered into a thin mist as Kayn's fist struck like a whip through the air.
At this moment another Vincent appeared from behind the mist and lunged forward. He pulled his fist back, then punched toward Kayn's face.
The first had been an illusion, a cunning feint!
Realizing he had been duped, the pink-haired boy tried to weave away from the blow using the same tactic; however, he felt his limbs suddenly turn unresponsive.
Kayn's eyes darted around in panic as he struggled to move a muscle.
As if a statue, his body had become rigid!
'That last attack was pretty quick...' Daemon thought as his brows shot up. It was hard to discern real from fake, but as he focused his eyes, he managed to catch the instant Vincent and the projection swapped positions.
It had been the moment the first two duplicates appeared; Vincent had taken that split second to step behind the condensed projection!
Still, the outcome was expected.
While Kayn stared at Vincent's knuckles, the young man's fist suddenly halted at the bridge of his nose.
"Pretty interesting, right?" Vincent then flashed a smile towards Daemon as Kayn regained the ability to move, concluding the demonstration.
Shortly after, he instructed them to form pairs of two and practice shaping the consciousness field until they could create a projection.
Henry hastily paired up with Kayn, whom he assumed could provide some insight, leaving everyone else to shuttle around to find their own partners.
As Daemon watched from the sidelines, his options quickly dwindled until only one girl remained.
Much like him, she was considered an outcast among the group, though his slightly darker appearance and cold demeanor might have played a greater role in his case.
When she tried approaching someone to form a pair, they awkwardly turned their heads and ignored her as if she were air. It was as clear as day that she was being ostracized.
Thankfully, Vincent did not hesitate to step in as the two formed a pair; consequently, however, Daemon had lost his usual training partner.
'I might be on my own, but it can't be that hard, right…?'
Given that he understood the principle behind it, Daemon thought the likelihood of his first attempt failing was rather slim. Then he tried, and his confidence was smashed to pieces.
He failed spectacularly; nevertheless, he quickly regained his bearings and gave it another shot. Surely things would only get better from there, he thought; however, his second and third attempts similarly ended in failure.
He held onto the hope that he would be able to finish the task, but despite his best efforts, he was unable to form even a simple ant before the hour had reached its end.
'Why isn't this working…!?'
Frustrated, Daemon gave up, and his eyes began to wander.
Around him, the other children similarly struggled. The boy who earlier made fun of Kayn accidentally smacked his partner in the face, and another girl burst into tears when her projection flickered and disappeared.
Meanwhile, Vincent walked between them, offering quiet corrections as a few began to leave the room for their next class.