Playing with his cap as he walked, Dillon replayed his past counseling sessions in his head: Winston tapping a pen on his notebook, waiting for more comments from Dillon when he wanted him to volunteer a topic or concern. His reassuring nods at Dillon's insecurities and questions. He might fly through those meetings as if he was on autopilot, but, having known each other for quite a while—not to mention that participating in therapy was a condition in his military contract—his scholar knew how to eventually bring his thoughts out.
When will our bloodbaths end? When would the Volcano Terrorists, the Vocalists[1], be satisfied with their work? Is the Volcano's royalty in cahoots with the terrorists? Did they not understand that violence and blood thirst are not in our veins, as people made up of low blood and ice? That we would accept peace and union if they offered?
No. They had no intentions of making peace whatsoever, single-minded as they were to make their vengeful purposes realized. Whether most of the Kingdom of Crystal actually knew those true purposes was a question that came up every time the initiation of the War was mentioned. There was a frenzy of debate during lessons whenever the instructor so much as attempted to delve into it.
He inhaled to calm his taut nerves. Winston's patients were said to walk out on lighter feet and emotional highs, but Dillon was always just the opposite. And, as always, worried men awaited him in the lobby.
Cedric held a paper cup of coffee with a crystal logo, steam billowing from its lid, when Dillon approached. As the man did not drink coffee, it was for him. On occasion he would treat him to one, probably as his way of thanking him for serving the Kingdom, which Dillon couldn't help appreciating.
Smiling, Cedric said, "Hey, you're out. How..." He paused, remembering that questioning Dillon about therapy, even in a general sense, never got him anywhere. Instead, he asked, "How are you?"
He took the cup he was offered, grimacing in return. "I'm not sure. The same. Thank you for the drink."
"It's not much, but it's to somewhat commemorate your promotion. Finally. What took you? You know it's been ages since you joined us?" Maintaining a serious face, he took Dillon's cap and placed it on him so that its brim obscured his eyes. "I thought I'd make Commander before you came up."
Dillon protested, taking the cap off and shoving him with an elbow. "I got my lecture from Dr. Winston, so I would thank you very much for shutting your annoying grinders."
With a grin, Cedric leaned in. "No thanks. If I shut them, I can't stick my nose in your business. So, on that note, I hear you've got a wonderful lady friend back home in Tower 16's Gettua City. How's the romancing coming along? Need advice?"
Freezing, he stared at him with wide eyes, then squinted. "Speaking of my business, that kind of damn personal information is none of your damn business!"
Where in hell had he heard about that? The only one he spoke of it to was his roommate, a man who was tight-lipped and didn't indulge in silly tales. Had he heard him speaking to Fay on the phone or communicator? He had only done so on his breaks and days off, never when anyone else was in sight.
His furrowed brows had Cedric stifling back a fit of laughter, albeit without success. He coughed as he composed himself. "Is that a hint of pink I see? Come on. Out with the juicy details. It's an order."
Stepping back, Dillon shook his head and glued his mouth shut. For the sake of respecting her, Anita was never going to be a topic of conversation in the workplace, no matter how frivolous or trivial the subject. Besides, he was too proud of her to taint her that way. "You're no longer my boss. Also, you don't share your conquests, so don't even ask about mine."
"Way to turn it around on me! You can already stand up for yourself," he praised, his smile far too approving. "Tell me, are you ready for The Games[2] yet?"
Thrown by the sudden change of topic, Dillon blinked and replied, "The Games of Crystal? I think I should practice my agility and speed a little more, but everything else is good to go. Already got my supplies. I aim to conquer the round again."
"Well, let's hope it doesn't end up like last time, right?" Cedric laughed. He turned down the corridor to make for Dr. Winston's room. "I will look forward to it. He's waiting for me. See you tomorrow."
The Games of Crystal was a competitive event in which crystallizing users showed off their powers and skills in many rounds and various games. It only happened once a year and attracted lots of attention from soldiers and civilians as a necessary form of entertainment away from the destructive war. Dillon's personal game round was the one specializing in double barrier manipulation. The audience judged and voted on speed of manipulation, ability to follow timing when asked to make a double barrier, speed of assessing vulnerable situations and areas that needed barriers and who was first to make them, as well as a show of whose barrier held up the longest against heat or assault.
Dillon had won first place in the previous year's Double Barrier round, though barely; the temporary fame, cash prize, and crystal trophy awarded to him caused some jealousy in his militant competitors for a brief time afterward. His team and Cedric had helped to alleviate some of their frustrations before the situation had gotten out of hand, which, of course, Dillon would forever be grateful for.
Although he spoke such words of confidence to Cedric, he was not feeling the confidence this time around. He noticed in his last training hour that the speed of his barrier crystallizing had decreased by a minuscule amount. At that rate, it would cost him a damaging 0.5 point less from his best speed test score, or even affect his soldier exam score. He was worried, to say the least. Not of the words whispered behind his back, but by the now real possibility of his talent declining. If only just by a bit, it had receded. In other words, would it continue to do so? Or was it a one off because of his constant growth?
Would he, one day, be forced to face living in a war-stricken world being unable to protect the souls dearest to him? He already couldn't bear being unable to protect all innocents in the kingdom, let alone just one or two.
Shuddering at the thought, he strode through the campus ground to meet his roommate, Rone, at their dorm. Every once in a while, random groups of soldiers passed him, heading in the direction opposite him. A majority of them were soldier ranks, and seeing Dillon's badge, some saluted him while others nodded. A few didn't even notice. Musing over society's general adoration for status and rank, he wondered if his strolls through base, campus, and war zones would always be like this. If that was the case, he would be tempted to remove and conceal his badge altogether.
Damn with military status, and damn with society.
Dillon fixed his gaze on the ground through his entire walk, taking turtle steps, giving off a shy air that was abnormal even for him. His usual "keep out" shell was to maintain an ice shield of a militant sort—back straight, shoulders set, head upright, glazed, frosty eyes, bland frown. Yet he could adapt none of it. A result of the status fame perhaps? Or of the uncomfortable conversation with his former superior? Or of the dreadful killer known as therapy, which still whirled through his head and weighed down his heart?
He saw that the light was on through the window of his room, making him hesitate. In this mindset he didn't want company of any kind. Breath held, he pushed through and made a beeline for the bathroom. Though he knew Rone would call to him any moment, he couldn't stop his barricaded emotions from boiling over. A sudden hiccup wrenched at his chest, making him half gasp as he stifled it. He shut blurring eyes against an onslaught of pain and memories, a hand cupped over his mouth.
Don't. Shut up, shut up, shut up. When he was calmer, he counted numbers in an attempt to relax and block his emotions from flowing over the dam. It was a technique he often used. Mindful meditation also helped on the worst days when he needed to lift himself out of negative thoughts.
"Brother Dill, what're you up to in there? Taking a piss?" Rone rapped once on the door. "Been waiting for you. Did you check your comm? I think I saw you on stage. You a Gen now?"
"I am, Rone," he said to the door. He turned off the water tap after rinsing his face. Seeing in the mirror that his violet eyes turned dark from misery, he shut them. "You know how counseling is. Dr. Winston of all people. He takes his job seriously."
"Ugh, what a drag. Obviously recording and counseling are vital to learn from, but it is so infuriatingly tedious. Not a single one I've met finds it fun. Well, except scholar and psych brains."
Dillon downed the rest of his lukewarm espresso. He opened the door and tossed the empty cup in their aqua bin. When he turned to look at Rone, who knew not to delve into the topic of therapy, his cool eyes were fastened on the shiny blue badge of valor pinned on Dillon's coat.
"Y-Yes?" He had seen badges before, hadn't he?
"I can't call you just Brother Dill anymore," he said, distraught, voice cracking in an absurd way. "It's Gen-Sol Dill now. And I have to salute you. Rules are insane!"
Dillon's lips twitched despite himself. "You're right as crystal again. I'll punish you if you disrespect me, or catch you slacking off when there's work to be done. Heed my words."
"Oh, lay off the ego! The power's getting to your head already. I won't hesitate to report you to the Human Sector for any signs of abuse of authority."
"Try it. I'll report you first for laziness and noncooperation."
Despite their playful banter, both knew his first threat wasn't a complete joke for a stickler like Dillon. Both also knew that the workaholic known as Rone would rarely, if ever, 'slack off'. Rone's features were thin and strained, as if he was always busy and focused, while his short hair was clean, its chestnut color fading from the stress of constant work, training, and studies. His light blue eyes sometimes shone with life and cheer around his friends, but they dulled when he would squint his eyes in concentration. Even so, he loved to work more than flop around and share meaningless fun, so he would never complain about doing military business.
Though he had grown close to Fay in the outside world, without Rone in his life, Dillon's days as a soldier would be dull, stale, and isolated. He would have secluded himself, working only on physique, combative techniques, research, and academic studies day in and day out. Based on their people's history of burning out and consequences of stress from working to death, that would not have been ideal for Dillon's disposition and reputation. If he behaved antisocial because of a lack of a good friend in the early stages of his time with Team 0-18, nobody but Cedric would bother to force their way past his mental barrier and find a kind, sensitive heart in him. No one would realize that he could be likable and usable in a cooperative war situation. Seven months ago, he had no friends outside the military, and his only family lived rather far away. After his transfer from Team 0-13 to Team 0-18, thus putting him in the Teams 0-15 to 0-29 Dorm Wing, Rone agreed to become his roommate.
They didn't get along with each other at first, exchanging only surface greetings and curt words of acknowledgment. Dillon came off as reclusive while Rone came off as absentminded. Dillon would give a short greeting to a distracted Rone when they saw each other, and Rone would reply in kind while hustling off to do his business. Having their own work and schedule to take care of, the first two months passed in relative peace with only two minor points of conflict under their belt.
One day, having asked Dillon for help, he made suggestions on a problem in Rone's assignment. The question was quite difficult even for one as studious as Rone, so Dillon could only answer with his favorite resource for the type of problem mentioned, New Training Methodology, in a secluded section of the library. The book contained hundreds of pages, describing and explaining dozens upon dozens of methods of training in certain combat situations utilizing the best of their crystallizing powers. Its second half was all about crystal barriers. The book itself was rather unknown because it was a new publication, but Cedric had helpfully recommended it to Dillon when he ran into one of the complex situations explained in the book.
Ever since then, the roommates who could only exchange greetings and small favors would share personal answers and suggestions on their home assignments, books of interests and tastes, their favorite researchers, and favored fire versus crystal strategies. They both worked hard in their various struggles and found that their minds were similar to each other in the academic area, allowing them to remain as close as they were in the remaining months. Rone learned to leave Dillon alone when war broke out and allies and civilians had passed away, while Dillon respected Rone's need to devote himself to routine study periods. More than their mutual interests and thoughts, they cherished their times left alone the most and believed they were the perfect roommates for one another.
"We should go get something to eat," Rone said as he rubbed his stomach. "You made me wait too long."
They left for the building's dining hall on the first floor. One side of the break room consisted of crystal tables and chairs for dining, and the far end had a long rack of food, with cafeteria cooks and assistants hovering by them. On the other side of the room was the lounge area, full of soft couches, resting cots, television sets, book and magazine racks, lifting equipment, hand weights, and board games. It was called the dining hall at Dillon's dorm, but its space was only half of the massive room.
"Are you prepared to meet and dazzle your team?" Rone asked as he chewed on a carrot.
"Dazzle? Not at all. You think they will ask for a performance?"
"Ask? Performance?" he scoffed. "More like demand a showdown. You know how most crystallizers are, especially against someone famous like you."
That was true. Crystallizing users were the most energetic and hotheaded of the kingdom's Crystal people. Born in such a low temperature island, by the coldest people of all lands, most of the population had low energy and mild temperaments in their genes. However, with power came competition, breeding clashes of high energy that made them unusual demi-humans of the Crystal people. They couldn't even come near in comparison to their volatile Volcano rivals, but they were the closest in the kingdom, making any losses and deaths have the hardest impact on them than their non-crystallizing loved ones. And in competitions, at times, it was almost as if fire burned in their veins instead of ice. Ironically, the weaker in talent they were, and the more proud in nature, the more they strove for betterment and shows of power.
The only reason Dillon would care for power, on the other hand, was so he could serve his truest purpose on their planet: to protect those who needed it. Otherwise his grief would be magnified a hundredfold.
"I hope not. Please grant me a passive but cooperative team," Dillon pleaded, without jest, eyes raised to the ceiling.
"Passive, huh? Good luck with that. Maybe one or two people at most."
Also true. Why was Rone deflating all of his meager hopes at the start? No matter how right he was, couldn't he pray without judgment?
Dillon stood up, collecting his tray. "It's almost ten. I'll see you later," he said, stowing away his empty dishes.
He left the building, almost dragging his feet, full of dread at the coming meeting. He dreaded a new team of seven serving him, following his command, seeking guidance. Only two were new soldiers, with the rest having been on the same team for a few months. They may poke fun at his ignorance, as some tended to do to rookie generals.
Tales of the past surfaced: Cedric receiving jokes about his misplacing work documents, missing a strategy meeting due to sleeping in, lacking a badge of valor to prove his rank, a crooked name tag. Other general soldiers that were more scatterbrained would get lost in how to guide their subordinates, stammering and floundering as they tried to direct them on the correct path to their destination, or figuring out which battle plan or strategy to use in any given situation. At least Cedric never had a weakness with his authority or stage presence, passing the correct decisions, judgments, and answers right off the bat.
Remember, baby steps.
Several minutes later, as Dillon arrived at the Assembly Pavilion, a tall, square space within a tent with a transparent crystal glass ceiling, he slowed and gazed at the dozens of uniforms gathered inside that were buzzing with excited chatter. It was a nightmare come true. Turning around was, unfortunately, not an option. Breath held, he joined the fray, seeking spaces where he would not brush anyone's shoulders.
Seeing the numbers on the insides of the tent's high pillars, he sought his number, 0-26. A small group of troops milled about under the number, making small conversation and sharing their plans for the upcoming Games later that week. Dillon approached with heavy footsteps, stopping and waiting for them to notice and acknowledge him before he would salute them back.
"I am your team leader. As you can see from my name tag, my name is Caudry." He swept anxious but observant eyes over the group, noting their array of expressions from fatigue to interest. Two of them seemed disinterested, which was never a good sign among military personnel. It meant they weren't disciplined enough. "It's ten, so I get that you're all tired. Let's go inside and find a room. Did one of you reserve one?"
A man stepped forward, saluting him. "I did, sir. Room 060."
As they entered the Assembly Hall, a massive white building attached to the Pavilion, they followed the soldier who reserved the room down three long winding hallways, their marching footsteps echoing along the way. Their sounds matched each other's pace, none stronger or weaker than the others', which was a good sign. It meant they knew how to march in tandem, and that they knew how to cooperate well with one another. As far as this, Dillon probably had nothing to worry about.
In their room, a long blackboard stretched from one wall to the other on one side of the room, while the rest of the room contained rows upon rows of audience seats, much like a large classroom, extending up to the far wall with stairs. Each seat was a light blue color, with cushions and foldable tables. On the wall with the single entry door, where they came in from, two sets of windows made of pure crystal glass looked into the halls.
Team 0-26 took seats in the front row, aside from Dillon, who went to the blackboard. He picked up a crystal pen that sat on its edge. In bright blue ink, he wrote down the names that he remembered from his information paper: Hallio Jasper, Omo Lio'Da, Lana Umi, Bren Gin, Addam Eustace, Vin Tinara. He had been sure to memorize their names.
"I missed someone's name, didn't I?" he asked, turning to find out who.
A soldier with shaved white hair, sharp azure eyes, clean features, and respectful air stood up. "Nolanas, sir. Riley Nolanas."
Dillon smiled, glad to notice that he was one of the team members with such an honest disposition, though his unwavering eyes and high chin expressed great pride. He filed a mental note on him in case he spelled trouble later down the road. On a positive note, the pride could mean he had incredible talent.
"I have a problem with remembering 'N' names." He resisted the urge to cross his arms as he continued, "I'll tell you a little about myself. You've probably heard about me already. I hope the whispers behind my back don't worry you. We'll be spending the coming months together, so let's not stress the small things. It took me about nine months to become a general soldier. It's been a hard and long journey, yet it's still not ended. I'm working on my issues, so it's my hope that you won't hinder my progress, or each other's."
He wondered if he had said too much by hinting at issues behind the scenes. However, anyone who brought up Dillon as a topic would not avoid bringing up those issues either, whether it was his rough relationship with his first superior, his first public fight with a few soldiers throwing a fit at his win in year 201's Double Barrier game, his burdens on the team out in the city, or his multiple breakdowns in the middle of active war. Such rumors had already spread far and wide; any new recruits who didn't know of them would hear it sooner or later.
In an outsider's shoes, Dillon was unsure he would trust a new general soldier with such a reputation as his team leader at first. So how could he melt away all doubts?
"Stay standing, Nolanas. Rise if you're Jasper."
Jasper rose.
"Lio'Da." The one who was called rose. "Umi. Gin. Eustace. Tinara."
One by one they rose. He examined each of them.
Jasper was tall and lean, his physique toned. He had tan skin, clean hair the color of a melted sun, and almond-shaped blue eyes. His lack of expression made him seem indifferent and quiet.
Lio'Da was shorter, about Dillon's height, with snow white hair and clear eyes the color of the lightest blue crystal, like an ice crystal. His lips curved up slightly, as if the eerie smile, almost sneering, was his default expression, lending him an image of mystery and subtlety that Dillon detected but couldn't understand.
Umi stood next to him. She was a young girl with a long ponytail of a beautiful shade of white and serious aqua-colored eyes. She wore square glasses with white frames, accentuating the shine of her hair and eyes. She was the shortest woman and soldier in the room. Because of her immaculate uniform and appearance, Dillon guessed, with approval, that she was a serious textbook and law follower.
The shortest man was Gin, who avoided the eyes of anyone around him and fiddled just a bit with his gloves. His hair was a beige color, clean cut, and combed well, while his body frame and limbs were thin even under the uniform. He was one of the newcomers. Because of his nervous ticks, he guessed he would have to keep an eye out for this one.
Eustace had a startling clear head of an aquamarine crystal shade, cut short around his ears, and rather pretty eyes in their shape and light silver color. He was the second tallest soldier, and the most muscular out of everyone. His active body hugged the uniform well, leaving little to the imagination, which was a physique that was rare even for crystal military soldiers. His eyes darted around, glancing at all individuals in the room more than once, and he shifted his feet in a restless manner that suggested an energetic personality.
With a tall, curvy body, Tinara had straight midnight black hair that ended at her shoulders, layered with style, and small, sharp, light blue eyes that tipped upward. Her permanent smile was almost wolfish in a charming but intimidating way, pasted on her face as if she would smile even while piercing an enemy straight through the chest. What her appearance exuded, more than beauty, was the strong character lying within. Her eyes were unflinching and intense on him.
Dillon perused his notes, reminding himself of the pieces of trivia to each person that they shared with him.
The most interesting was Tinara's dual powers of crystallizing and double barrier crystallizing, causing Dillon to wonder if she was also the strongest next to him in terms of strength and speed. Eustace's birthplace was distant, on a small island next to the Kingdom of Crystal called Beryl Min, a place said to bear the most mixed genes within the eastern island region. Gin's strength lay in writing and journalism, with a literary portfolio and decal[3] of 89-0, up to the requisite level of the Scholar Sector.
Law and science ran in the family background of Umi's ancestors, spanning for many generations of the past. They raised strict and disciplined households that didn't leave much room for pastimes and amusement. Lio'Da worked to see peace in his future, intending to end the War in his lifetime and forge a different career path after. Jasper came from Island of Aerudan, on his journey to meet the one woman of his fantasies, dreaming of a warm family and home. Nolanas was motivated to become a Commander in the military and one day win in The Games of Crystal.
"Uh...so my plan is to have us do an icebreaker, since there are two new soldiers with us. As am I. On that note, any questions for me?"
A hand shot up in the air. "Yes. Is it true that you fought a General and broke his nose?" Tinara's eyes fastened on Dillon's, her voice serious and deep. "Or did someone else break it for you?"
His worried smile froze. "I...I wouldn't say so."
"Is it true your power is still growing to this day? Can I have some of that overflowing power?" Eustace asked, expectant.
Lio'Da added, still smiling the same way, "Did you cheat during last year's Games?"
Dillon clenched his pen. "Where did these details come from? My power stopped growing recently, only one month ago. No, I did not cheat."
"Did the power growth make you feel high? Drunk on power? I hear it feels great."
"Not 'high'. Overwhelmed. My body could not take it." He had fallen ill for a period of months last year. Expending so much power in war and during the Games, however, relieved some of the pressure.
"Really? That sucks." Eustace opened his mouth to say more, but was cut off.
"Word of warning: Addam will talk our heads off if you let him and not let us a word in edgewise," Nolanas said, smirking at him. "So, my question. If you didn't cheat, how did you get a record of 0.02 seconds for a double crystal barrier on the first stage?"
Dillon shook his head. "It was not 0.02. It was 0.5 seconds. As you know, it's not possible to do a double barrier in 0.02 seconds, even with a magic tool."
Nolanas whistled. "That's still the best record, you know..."
"Let's not fret over past records—"
"Not fret? We want to see your barrier."
"Show us!"
"I want to see if it's better than ours with my own eyes."
Rone's prediction looked more and more likely. Dillon walked up the stairs. A group of seven was nothing compared to the crowds of the Games, even if they were closer up. Even while hesitant, he shot his arm out and chanted for the barrier, unwavering in his conjuring. In exactly 0.5 seconds, a hazy, thick, and large barrier stretching from one side of the room to the other appeared. Going up, everyone crowded in front of it to test its prowess. Speed, size, intensity, resilience, texture, and appearance—everything about it impressed them. To some of the people on this team, impressing them was not an easy feat.
When they sat down, they still felt in awe.
"Right...We can play our sparring games later. Back to introductions. When it's your turn, stand up, state your full name, and list three facts that you can think of about yourself. It can be anything as long as it's not false. Then, like in popcorn, say someone else's name. I'll give you five minutes to think. I'm first, then Umi, you're next."
They nodded their understanding. He found a seat himself, already knowing his facts before meeting the team. He was a planner, not the spontaneous type. The only situation he would adapt a spontaneous habit for was during war and combat; they were ever changing and unpredictable circumstances, so plans were not always followed.
In five minutes, he spoke up when they looked at him. "My name is Dillon Caudry. I have an undying sense of respect for my former team leader, General Soldier Aster, because he has saved me on numerous occasions—the best of it being the transfer from Team 0-13. Some rumors about me are true, such as the fight outbreak after my victory in the Double Barrier round. I won't spare all the details, but I was harassed and accused of cheating, even by those who saw me at the Games. A general soldier might have been involved, but overall, the one fight was not that major; no blood was shed, nor was there need for a medic. It resolved before it got worse, thanks to my team, so don't get your hopes up thinking about anything grandiose."
Some faces fell at his last statement. If he was a snorter, he may have snorted. "My third fact is a warning for all of you. I am...highly sensitive, so I may shut down to hide it. As a leader, I should not act a robot, so I am working on it. Please don't think I don't care about any of you or your problems."
A mixture of astonishment, perplexity, and appreciation were writ on their features. Not all team leaders were so forthright about their personal complications, giving others a sense of inferiority and unfairness, so they could at least admire his honesty.
Umi stood. "I am Lana Umi. I am 23 years old. I attended the Academy of Crystal Arts and graduated with a decal of 4.5 in the major field of Crystal Barrier Techniques. My talent in crystal piano playing has earned me a number of scholarships and awards."
Murmurs rippled through the room. Despite the words of self accomplishments, her tone held no inflection or pride. Her eyes looked at no one, spoke to no one, and boasted to no one. It was as if they were mere facts and meant nothing at all to anyone or herself. Coming from the house of Umi, everyone who knew anything understood. Such amazing feats were expected of any child in the Umi household, and needed no praise.
Yet, Dillon found himself admiring her intelligence and undergoing of a study as difficult and complex as Crystal Barrier Techniques. In this field, layers of technical information were buried by even more layers of data, trials, and new experiments, all of which had to be taken into account during the learning process so that any theories or formulations of new techniques did not fall behind or got snatched away by others in the same field. Once they completed their studies and entered the field, or even during the studies, everything was a matter of first come, first served. Whoever came up with a new valid technique gained much fame and fortune throughout the Kingdom, resulting in numerous articles, essays, trials, and experiments of their technique. Though the history of barriers was neither old nor rich, anyone under this particular field had to understand the physiological, scientific, and technical makeup of crystal barriers, which had the most complex crystal structure in history. In essence, they must have had high intelligence to have graduated, let alone with such a high decal score.
"Hallio Jasper."
Jasper stood. He was still expressionless as ever. "Hallio Jasper. I don't like too many rules or being told what to do. If I don't want to do it, I won't do it. If you talk to me, don't be mad if I don't respond as you like. I am not good with words or reading. I enjoy music."
Silence. Some wanted to ask what kind of music, but he didn't give the impression that he would care to answer. Dillon reminded, "Popcorn?"
"Tinara."
She jumped to her feet. "Right, call me Vin. Tinara's the last name, obviously. I'm gay for pretty women. Don't you men think you'll charm my pants off or anything." She winked at Nolanas, who turned away with a blank face. "I'm hungry for power and I despise the weak, so if you fall behind, act too reckless, or drag the team down, I'll snuff your life out myself. And, for those of you who don't know me, I can both crystallize and crystallize double barriers. Don't get thrown into my hell of ice."
Dillon's brows raised high up his forehead. He coughed.
"Gin. Bren Gin! You're a cute little newbie, ain't you?"
He flinched and stood up on shaky legs. "Yes...Bren Gin is my name. I—Reading books is a favorite hobby of mine. I am working on my first novel. I've published a few blogs, essays, and short stories. Um, I may not be as strong as many of the soldiers around us, but it is still growing. Please go easy on me."
Tinara laughed. "You're adorable. I hope I haven't scared you off yet."
He shook his head, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. Dillon already felt pity for him. "Tinara."
"Lay off! I won't eat him." She smirked. "So who you gonna call?"
"Eustace..."
"Finally! I didn't think it'd ever be my turn. Shutting up just isn't for me," Eustace said, sighing. "Call me Addam, alright? I'm not fond of the last name thing. Be my friend and I'll be yours—I'll probably be the most friendly crystal soldier you ever met, let's be honest. Power doesn't mean crystal to me. Lying to me does, though. I also hate prejudice, so if you got a problem with how I look or where I'm from, or anyone else, my fist will meet your face. Or should I say my wall of ice? That won't be pretty—"
"Rambling, Addam. Shut up just for once," Nolanas cut in like before. He gave him a meaningful look.
"Fine, I pick Riley! Even though I don't want to."
He shook his head. "He's annoying, but he means well, sir. I am called Riley Nolanas—that's a silent 's' at the end. Every year, I aim to take the first place trophy in the Double Barrier round, Art Show round, Crystal Race round, Crystal Sparring round, and Tournament round. All of them, if possible. I'll try not to brag too much, but I'm quite proud of how far I've come. My power used to be pretty weak. Still, I will probably make general soldier by this time next year, so any and all advice is appreciated. That being said, I will be subservient to you, General Soldier, sir."
Having become a general soldier, Dillon had already earned his respect. His eyes gleamed as he stared at their leader, making him look away. "I'm glad to hear that. So, Omo Lio'Da?"
Lio'Da raised bored eyes. "Yeah. I'm Omo Lio'Da. Hmm...I'm often told I'm like a cat, the way I laze about and chase after what I want. Unpredictable, too. It's true anyways. I do have some cats back home, some black ones, some blue ones. I live in the Kold district of Tower 1—the wealthiest district right by the Royal Palace, as you all know. I have but one goal: to see the end of the War with my own eyes. If you get in the way of this happening, I will cut you down. Just my one and only warning."
Again Dillon's brows raised. All of a sudden, he was not certain about his team anymore. At the start, he had been optimistic, thinking, or hoping, that he could get a read and handle the team as best he could. Now, with two or three threats having been uttered in front of him, his resolve wavered.
"Right. I'm not sure about all of these threats, but I hope they're not true..." Dillon looked at Lio'Da and Tinara, not without fear. "Then, uh, let's have a game. A lot of Barrier Unit leaders do this at the first meeting. It's called Raise the Walls. It tests speed, agility, adaptability, reflex and reaction, battle awareness, and perception. We're using the Barrier Game Room in this building. Follow me."
Anxious about what was to come from such a battle-heated team, he led them away as they chattered and snickered behind his back.
***
Footnotes:
[1] The official name of the Volcano terrorists responsible for the War against the Kingdom of Crystal, in so far as what they named themselves.
[2] The Games he is referring to is The Games of Crystal, a competitive event to show off crystallizing powers, win prizes, and impress job recruiters.
[3] Check the key terms chapter, number 16. This term is usually paired with the term "literary".