Reincarnation Across the Ages

Chapter 8

The Age of the Losers, Part 2

In a special hospital sector, an operating room treats a patient in a critical situation. Machinery, with state-of-the-art technology, uses all available resources to keep the subject breathing. Depressingly intubated, the recovering body does not allow itself to be carried away by death, fighting continuously for those who long for it to get better.

After receiving disturbing news, the operated man's heartbeat fluctuates dramatically, triggering a deafening alert. Responding to the system's call, a group of nurses quickly enters the room, prepared to deal with the sudden emergency.

Amid countless flesh-and-blood footsteps, a metallic sound stands out among the rush. Proxie goes to her relative's rescue, even though her whole body trembles at the hopeless image.

"Dad!"

"Is he your father?"

Noticing her companion's unusual presence, the girl asks Roccan, "What are you doing here?"

"This guy asked me some questions. I thought I should tell him the truth."

"That doesn't explain anything! Answer me!"

"I was just trying to find out what was going on and—"

"If you want to know something beyond your reach, ask. Drawing your conclusions is counterproductive."

Silence leaves the girl talking to herself, her agitation entirely overriding the listener's words. Red lights go on and off repeatedly, flashing under the room's ceiling, like a warning that prepares the professionals in the field for an extreme operation. The patient breathes through the hospital apparatus, clinging to the last thread of hope that keeps him alive.

Without reaction, Roccan listens to the young woman's plea.

"Now, get out of here and wait for me on my ship! It's being repaired next to the hospital."

The boy runs away from the confusion, not daring to look back. Closing doors that should never have been opened, he leaves the place, driven by sheer ignorance.

After wandering around the hospital complex, believing that he would eventually reach his destination, the young man finds the aforementioned vehicle. What's left of the ship is parked next to the health facility, ready for the necessary maintenance.

So, this thing really is being repaired. If all goes well, we'll soon be able to return to space and look for more relics! He celebrates.

The machinery's structure is no longer broken in half but is far from ready for use. Shaped like a stingray, it's as if its fins have fallen off, while the middle of the architecture is not yet fully connected. Its rear turbines need a complete repair, while the control cabin is unusable.

The adventure will have to be postponed.

With no one nearby, Roccan concludes: whoever is in charge of maintenance must not work at night. At this rate, things are going to take a long time.

Taking advantage of his powers' mobility, the boy uses his portals to reach the top of the vehicle, where he can rest and enjoy a privileged view.

The silence outside contrasts with the alarm inside the hospital complex. All the events are entirely beyond the comprehension of the blond boy, who can no longer keep up with the situation, not even with his ears.

Why was she so angry? I wanted to be able to help, even though I didn't know how... In an incessant search for answers, the restless mind — not used to thinking — starts asking questions.

New presences interrupt the moment of solitude. A group of men walk towards the ship undergoing maintenance. 

"God, this thing is worse than I expected. Every part is falling apart," Falco sneers at the state of the machinery.

Covered in a necklace of red feathers, perfectly matching his black suit, Kazo personalizes his look however he wants. The vowel on his shoulder gives him complete freedom over his style, classifying him as an A-rank Sculptor.

"You were rude, leader. Be kinder. That loser's father worked so hard to get this," the show-off man complements his superior.

"And look where he is now... I think he'd even thank us for what we're about to do."

The mocking squad disrupts Roccan's rest. Trying to stay focused despite being highly vulnerable to distractions, he is forced to cover his ears. The noises from the surrounding area could no longer affect his momentary peace.

Falco notices the unwelcome presence on the top of the vehicle. The young man's image resembles that of an active security guard, even though he has no idea of the events around him.

"Hey, Mr. Falco. There's someone up there."

"Wait, I've seen this kid before..."

Previously lying on his stomach, the young man turns over, covering his eyes. Sight and hearing are sacrificed to achieve absolute focus in an attempt to make the most of his moment of reflection.

"He's the kid from the bar! The idiot who joined Proxie's squad!"

"What the hell is he doing here?"

"Is it a sentinel role? He's protecting the ship from threats!"

"How can he be so cautious?"

"Did he see us?"

Even getting rid of possible distractions, Roccan's mind still can't get the concentration it wants. In a strategy to ensure the best possible reasoning, he bangs his head against the metal material of the ship.

"That was a sign! He certainly noticed us!"

"It's a warning for us to leave. What are we going to do, boss?"

"Tsk. That wasn't in our plans. This brat is going to give us a hard time."

Falco prepares for a confrontation. With unshakeable determination, the squad leader opposes the young man lying down.

"You, up there, let's talk—"

"Damn it! Why couldn't I have the Relic of Truth? I wish I knew what to do!" The venting of the voice at the top alerts those around him.

The squad leader takes a step back, forced to change his previous approach.

"He's enraged. Be ready to face an unpredictable battle."

"Yes, sir!"

"Kazo, you command the others. I'm going to invest directly against the target—"

"I give up. Thinking is too difficult," Roccan loses the fight against knowledge.

Eyes open and ears free to listen, the attempt at contemplation comes to an end. Previously lying down, the young man gets up to face his previously ignored surroundings. 

Finally paying attention to the men around him, he is surprised by their senseless approach. The group seems to be surrounding the ship with intentions that exude hostility.

"Did you say you were giving up?" Falco is astonished.

"Who are you?"

The leader exchanges glances with his subordinates, not believing the question.

"He's joking, right?"

"He's probably drunk. It could also be that your presence wasn't very striking."

"What did you say?"

"Sorry, boss! I meant that his memory might not be perfect!"

Disappointed with the boy, Falco tries to clarify the situation.

"We took you to dinner. We had a lively evening at the bar, don't you remember?"

"Oh, you're the idiot who got beaten up by the dead girl."

"She's alive, unfortunately. Besides, your tongue is pretty sharp, kid."

"What have you come here for?"

Calmly approaching the ship, the squad leader touches the vehicle under maintenance, like someone stroking an animal before slaughter. The hatred in his touch could be felt even by a being without conscience, making his anger at the damaged machinery clear.

"We've come to get rid of something that was put into the wrong hands."

Demolition tools are unveiled by all the other members, preparing to follow the orders of the furious leader. Giant hammers are charged towards the metal target.

"I'd get off if I were you, brat. We'll only stop when this thing is in pieces."

"Do you want to break the ship?"

"It's as simple as it sounds."

"Why do something so stupid?"

"On paper, you're a Sculptor now, but in practice, you don't even know our rules."

"Are there any rules that justify this stupidity?"

"F-ranked squads have several limitations, which correspond to their poor performance. When someone with this rank has their ship damaged, they are granted one, and only one, repair."

"What are you getting at?"

"If Proxie's ship is destroyed again, she will lose possession of the vehicle."

"That's not going to happen."

"The squadrons that make up the scum of the agency shouldn't be able to fly like those at the top. Accept things as they should be and get out of our way."

"That's an impossible request."

Pink dust coats Falco's feet, threatening him with an attack that is impossible to dodge. Portals prepare to expel the invading team. 

"Tsk. You really are ignorant."

The confronted man drops his destructive tools, assuming a harmless position. His subordinates don't understand his sudden surrender.

"Boss, what are you doing?"

"Let's show this kid what he's missing. The worst and the best of the resistance, all in one place."

"You're referring to..."

"We're going to take part in a Convocation. You'd better follow us, Roccan."

The young man is surprised by the unprecedented reaction, "How do you know my name?"

"The world is much bigger than it looks. When you're in someone's territory, assume that they know everything and that you're unaware of anything."

The blond boy accompanies the A-ranked squad in search of unknown answers. 

Their destination takes them to a place far away from all the other buildings. The peace of the night gives way to shouts full of excitement, conveying the emotions of a fervent audience.

An open stage can be seen in the center of the event so that nothing prevents spectators from viewing the main show, with only a protective barrier, whose transparency creates an unobstructed visual experience.

Contrary to what you would expect from a large-scale performance, the architecture puts its efforts into heightening the presence of the fans, who are in a privileged position around the entire arena. A grandstand where even the lowest section exceeds the height of the central stage, while the spotlights deprive themselves of highlighting the competitors to focus on the heart of the event: the audience.

"Hehehe. Looks like it's your turn, Kazo," Falco warns his subordinate.

"Boss, did you register me for the last round of the evening?"

"Of course! Let's leave everyone impressed with an excellent outcome for the day. That includes the kid."

The squad—accompanied by Roccan—finds itself amidst the passionate shouts of the audience, the sound of which is amplified by microphones built into each seat. Taking advantage of the privileges of the A-Rank, Falco and his team secure the best section of the grandstand, sitting in the first row of the audience.

"This view never tires me. Don't waste this opportunity, brat. You'll never get such a good seat again without changing squads."

"Why did you bring me here?" Roccan questions the leader's actions.

"This place will show you what happens to those in the scum of this world."

"Do you think you will convince me to change squads?"

"That's not my role. I'll show you the truths your mind has yet to grasp. After that, you can come to your conclusions."

As if facing an earthquake, the whole event trembles with the fans' emotions. The stage welcomes Kazo's entrance, causing a stir among countless spectators. The arena's loudspeakers amplify deafening screams, giving the heart of the entertainment the spotlight it deserves.

"Finish him off, Kazo!"

"Smash that idiot to pieces!"

"You're already the winner!"

"Only stop when he's crying on his knees!"

"Long live the A-Rank!"

Making up the second side of the one-on-one confrontation, the boy — with the letter "D" emblazoned on his chest — walks onto the stage, where his opponent awaits. Trembling with the inevitable nervousness, he takes a deep breath to face a powerful opponent.

The arrival of the new competitor is greeted by absolute silence.

Roccan mutters to Falco, "What happened?"

"There's nothing wrong with this. It's a battle between someone at the top and a loser. The audience knows who should win."

The young blond stands up after hearing a disdainful response. A single shout exalts the outnumbered Sculptor.

"Hey, you! I think it's good to finish this bastard off!"

The action surprises the rest of the audience, who react with subsequent laughter. Unable to believe their ears, the spectators can't stop laughing at the boy's innocence.

Falco clarifies things for Roccan, "You chose the wrong side, brat. Humiliation is the minimum expected for guys like you."

The presenter's voice resounds throughout the event, interrupting the ongoing mockery.

"All right, no more waiting! Without further ado... Tonight's showdown is between a D-ranked Sculptor and an A-ranked Sculptor!"

Carefree eyes spread across the crowd. The outcome seems to have been decided even before the fight begins. Still, the sincere enjoyment of the entertainment keeps the audience's attention.

Falco whispers to his companion, "Keep your eyes open. This moment must be imprinted in your mind."

The competitors finish their warm-up. Red lights flash through the passionate audience, who can once again cheer for what they faithfully believe in. The action eagerly awaits a new beginning.

The presenter announces, "Let the Fun Games begin!"

Running across the expansive stage, Kazo charges at his nervous opponent. The cheers of the spectators accompany his sudden advance.

"Go, Kazo! Finish this guy off!"

"It's your chance! He's not even moving!"

The A-ranked Sculptor stands side by side with the dazzled competitor, both intending to engage in close-range combat. The fight is approaching a decisive moment.

A counter-attack that escapes the radar of any living being. Kazo goes down.

"A-ranked Sculptor down!" The announcer reports.

Silence once again haunts the battlefield. Kazo is completely immobilized on the marble floor, but the battle never seems to come to an end.

Faced with a situation that is beyond common sense, Roccan asks himself.

"He has lost! Why isn't the fight ending?"

Like a mirror reflecting the audience's reaction, Falco smiles.