WOOO-WOOO-WOOO

For the second time in the same twenty-four hour period, I was rudely awakened by a shrill noise. Except, in this instance, instead of a ding and a bright light, it was an incessant, strong and stable pitch, followed by a rumbling noise, as if something was vibrating nearby. I try to open my eyes, but today—or is it still tonight?—they are particularly heavy. Heavy and sluggish in a way that only occurs when I wake up earlier than my body allows it; earlier than twelve in the afternoon.

But I had to do it, I had to get up, or I’d fail my stupid enlistment mission on a technicality and meet my swift death.

With a groan, I sat up and rubbed the sleep out of my face. It was still dark, both in my room and outside, and I stumbled through the small area, searching for the screeching sound. Where in the world is this coming from?!

Oh.

As I neared the rotting, driftwood table, it all made sense.

This conch wasn’t for decoration, wasn’t supposed to serve as a white noise machine, wasn’t placed in the rooms of new recruits to soothe them with ambient sounds. It was to blare and buzz at 4AM. Emanate sounds only the Devil himself would be capable of.

A bit too aggressively, I picked the shell up, slamming it against the decrepit, horizontal surface until it both quieted down and accidentally broke.

Hm.

Would I be in trouble for that? Would I have to pay for that?

Well… whatever. Didn’t matter. I’d either be a surefire millionaire by the time I was done with this whole enlistment process or dead. So the conch price would be of no issue to me.

After leaving my room and joining the other, bleary-eyed and despondent recruits, we were led to a large, open arena. Below me, the sandy floor glowed faintly, lit only by the small and sparse gatherings of bioluminescent algae. Above me, the ceiling of the cavern was dotted with glowing pearls, their placement mimicking where the stars in Delphinus’ constellation resided. It was pretty, yes, though I wondered how often those pearls were whisked away in a shifting tide, or stolen by rowdy teenagers.

Judging by the missing Rotanev, the brightest star in her formation, I’d say it was a fairly common occurrence.

Soon, a solemn-looking mermaid in silver-scaled, iridescent armor approached the crowd, bringing with her a cool wash of water as she addressed us.

“Welcome to placement trials,” she announced, her tone making it clear that this was not an occasion to be celebrated. Sigh. Why do all of these army people feel the need to be so cruel? Shouldn’t they be jumping for joy we enlisted? Shouldn’t they be worshiping the ground that their new recruits walk on, thanking us graciously for expanding Neptune’s ever-growing army, for putting our lives on the line so they can sit in their cushy cavern and wait for the next round of trainees to show up?

Perhaps I’ll understand their anger better once I become part of this regime myself.

“You are here to determine your worth, your potential, and your place in Neptune’s military. Some of you will rise to greatness, and some of you… won’t.”

I had a knowing feeling that I was firmly in the latter category. But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. To be terrible, to be unsalvageable, meant no one expected much of you–and that was something I could work with. When your comrades feel as if you are incapable, they not only do everything for you, but also celebrate when you achieve even the most minor of feats.

Some say it’s humiliating. But I say it’s a godsend.

The mermaid continued to speak, outlining the trials and everything they entailed. They were made up of multiple tests; combat, strategy, endurance, the usual torture. Combat was self-explanatory, but concerning strategy, the environment played a significant role—something about prepping us for real, field experience early and seeing how we fared in different biomes, different situations, blah, blah, blah. The arenas were also vaguely described, the mermaid detailing obstacles of jagged coral, dense kelp forests and miscellaneous traps, all which would help us with navigation and, much to my dismay, evading. Once those were all finished, we’d move onto the endurance tests, which required a swim through treacherous currents full of sea predators. Sea predators we’d hopefully outrun, considering we were only armed for one portion, and it certainly wasn’t that. Finishing with a marginally uplifting note, the mermaid stressed the importance of giving it our all, of showing our true potential.

Right. Potential. How do I show my potential when it’s got nothing to do with slaughtering leviathans and maneuvering through riptides? Is there a place for up-and-coming card czars?

As I lamented to myself, I received a pop-up from my System Screen.

[New SubQuest: Parktake in the Wavebreaker Proficiency Test, overseen by Lieutenant Tara.]

[Reward: Military Contract]

“Soldiers, please hit Accept.” The mermaid urged, watching the group of new recruits with a sharp eye. I wondered if she could see our screens, or if she were merely guessing. I suppose it would make sense if members of Neptune’s Coral Guard were given fancy privileges like that, but, then again, my father couldn’t see it, and he was a knight.

I tapped the glowing accept button on my screen, still not used to the strange, fleeting feeling of nonexistent glass. A small, celebratory trumpet blared once more, but I didn’t hear the same, satisfying cha-ching as last time.

[Main Quest: Join the Military, SubQuest: Parktake in the Wavebreaker Proficiency Test]

[Progress: 40%]

[Current Task: Take the Wavebreaker Proficiency Test, Sign your Contract, and Take the Oath.]

[Consequences: If this task is not completed within the following 27-hours, FIRTH RIDIRE will be sentenced to DEATH.]

Did I really have to be reminded of the consequences? Right before I partake in the combat part of my training? Not a great boost to my morale, unfortunately. I’ve never done well with negative enforcement.

As I watched Tara pair my fellow men off for their inescapable, physical battles, my anxiety began to slowly subside. Most of the unreasonably burly, muscular ones were coupled off and sent away, probably matched up by combat level or experience. And, lucky for me, despite my… larger size, my skills were abysmal–nonexistent, actually. So my name most likely didn’t ring up as a potential match for any of the bodybuilders in the lieutenant's System.

Yes!

Perhaps the Immortal Tentacle Monster has smiled down on me for once. Perhaps Neptune, in all his glory, knew my fighting skills were only suited to someone as unmotivated as me. I always thought that he got a bad rap, you know. Some say he’s a moody, twenty-five-year-old, sorely unfit for the throne, sorely unfit for anything, really. And some say his lust for expansion is ruining the kingdom.

But not me. I would never.

“Firth Ridire,” Tara said, standing before me. She glanced down at her scroll, and then looked up at me with a strange expression. It seemed like she recognized the name. Or, somehow she recognized me, which… was quite unlikely. I hadn’t met anyone new in years. “Son of Knight Ridire?”

The following question made my heart drop. As it plummeted into my stomach, I swallowed hard, attempting to remain as normal and unafraid as I possibly could. “That’s me.”

“Hm. I see.” Her eyes narrowed, and she nodded to herself, making some sort of mental calculation. Momentarily, her gaze fixated on my form, taking in my face and my body. I knew what she was doing—it was what all my father’s former coworkers did when they finally met his son, the fabled Firth. They were seeing if I was blessed with any of his features. And boy, was I. I had his exact color hair, his exact, wavy hair texture, his almost pearlescent white skin, and black eyes and grey sclera. My figure was nowhere near as fit as his, but we shared the same tail, down to the color and fin placement. The only trait I seemed to inherit from my mother was a dotting of scales around my face, mostly in the forehead and cheek area. “Your stats are incredibly low for someone in your bloodline. I take it it's a glitch in the system, then. You can go ahead and spar with our top recruit—let’s see if you’ve inherited your father’s strength.”

WHAT?! Me? ME?

Tch.

And right after I finally came around to Neptune, too. Some kind of glorious leader he is.

I didn’t bother protesting, I knew the decision had been made. I was promptly shoved into the center of the combat area, surrounded by walls of razor-sharp coral and jagged rocks. Across from me stood the top recruit–a giant, muscular merman that almost put my father’s prowess to shame, a trident in his hand and a gleam of deadly confidence in his eyes. He looked like he could gut me like a fish with one strike.

This wasn’t good. Not at all.

And… wait. Where was my weapon? Did they not arm us? Was I supposed to pack something?

Gah! This System Screen thing is USELESS! Instead of constantly reminding me about my impending death by Neptune, maybe it could’ve told me to bring a damn spear!