Adamus Atheneum is the eighteen-year-old son of the Emperor of the Division of Humanity, Gelmidas Atheneum. He was a star pupil at the universally gifted academy, being among the first human students to attend and graduate. His political status seemingly had no effect on his academic or social life. He took part in a wide variety of extracurricular activities and cultivated many friends, all while maintaining his political responsibilities. However, he does have one vice that is rather noteworthy, given how much it differs from the stable, sophisticated image of royalty he has crafted.
“How long has Adamus taken part in gladiatorial combat?” Vanessa asks Gelmidas as a fine wine is poured by a servant into the glass she holds.
“Coming up on six years now.” He answers with a smile, elaborating, “He’s undefeated, you know.”
Gloating as usual, Vannesa thinks, sipping from her glass, she glances at her daughter. Although if I had a child like that instead of my Cassandra… Her thoughts trail off as Gelmidas calls out, “Have you ever seen Gladiatorial combat, Cassandra?” Vannesa’s grip on her glass tightens. He dare address her? Doesn’t he know I speak for- “Nope. Never wanted to.” Her thoughts are cut off once again, this time by her own daughter.
Cassandra turns the next page in her book. She hides seated in the back of the room while her parents sit with Gelmidas. They watch from the loge as the crowds gathered in the bleachers cheer at the combatants entering the arena. She gazes through her long, dark hair, spotting Adamus stepping out to face his opponents, who circle him with finely-tipped spears.
Adamus keeps his hands behind his back and his head on the sun. Taking in the roaring crowd, he says the prayer Davon taught him, “Bless me, Gods. Install your force in me. Grant me power deserving the burden of a crown.” He opens his eyes. The sun burns into them, “And strike down those undeserving of it.”
Adamus looks down. His hair thrashes his brow. The curls blanket his eyes. An awaiting grin is all that is visible on his face as he moves his arms across his chest. He has waited so long for this cathartic release. Oh, so long. His fingers wrap around the braces on his forearms. It is practically screaming at him to be let out. It’s been patient for far too long now. Adamus rips off his bracers in a swift, violent motion. The leather straps fall to the sand of the arena, blood falls with them. The Gladiators move in on Adamus, his arms bleeding out of the cracks of skin the bracers held together. He holds his hands out as they split open, and the spears pierce him.
“Give me the red drink of life.” He whispers, falling to the ground as the spears continue to stab him.
Cassandra closes her book, moving to view the arena.
“They said I was mad for what I did to him,” Gelmidas states, his eyes fixed on the clump of violence. “But they said the same about the Rusting, didn't they?”
They? Cassandra questions who Gelmidas could possibly be speaking of, but before she can ask anything, a mass of spikes explodes from where Adamus once stood.
All the gladiators are thrown away from their helpless target by an expansive set of thorns resembling bone marrow. Once they have retreated, the thorns part, revealing a blood-soaked Adamus whose skeleton has now shifted outside of his body and grown into a deadly weapon.
And to Adamus, it feels amazing.
All this time, keeping such a violent, horrifying thing inside his body, and now to have a whole planet cheer for it?
This is the greatest feeling he has ever known.
“That thing’s your son?!” Throughout this whole affair, Tendo Soryu, the first gentleman of the Republic of Humanity, President Vanessa Soryu’s husband, has not spoken a word, whether out of fear or respect, no one knows. Yet now, he shouts out of sheer shock at what he is witnessing.
Vanessa is about ready to rip Tendo’s head off, but Gelmidas simply laughs, “He, uh, takes after his Mother.” At this, Tendo joins Gelmidas in laughter while Vanessa scowls. Yet the scowl slowly turns into a grin. Vanessa should enjoy this moment. She takes pride in knowing that even Gelmidas has his secrets.
Adamus lunges out. His spiked arm slams three gladiators into a wall. The crowd of commoners erupts. They all scream and cheer for him, their dignified little monster. Adamus roars with his fans. The thorns of his body grow out further. His teeth extend into animal-like fangs. The opponents who are left arise with spears in hand. Some of them were soldiers. They fought in the war for the glory of the Division. They were willing to lay down their lives for those they loved and what they believed. Now they are relegated to this meaningless entertainment. They all stab Adamus’s wide arm in a feigned attack. The arena goes wild as the gladiators are all struck down in one blow. Adamus lets out a piercing roar again, this time more savage. He finds that aspect of the beast difficult to restrain. He stumbles for the exit as the crowd pleads for a violent encore.
All the men lived, and now they want blood?
Cassandra shakes her head in disgust, turning away from the arena as Adamus shrinks into shadow.
The beast mumbles a single, simple word against his control, “One.” Its voice is too low for anyone other than Adamus to hear as he forces the beast back into his skin.
Once the event is over, a team of doctors restrains Adamus.
They pour antibiotic fluid over his body, marked with fresh cuts and scrapes, along with the burns that have been there since he was a child. The doctors then place the restraints back on his forearms. Fastening them as tightly as possible, praying the beast doesn’t escape from him again as they do so.
“Tell me, Father, was I glorious?” Gelmidas hands Adamus a towel and a fresh set of clothes. “Glorious as ever, my son.” He answers. Adamus wipes his face. “Excellent. Were the Soryu’s in attendance?”
“Yes, I was with them in the loge,” Gelmidas signals for the doctors to exit the medical room. Each one bows before they leave. “The First Gentleman became quite the fan, although the President herself was far less entertained.” Adamus stretches his arms, flexing them to test the restraints. He smiles once he is satisfied with them. “Well, you can’t win over them all.”
He turns to his Father, “What about their daughter?”
I doubt he’ll go for it. Cassandra thinks, standing alone with her book atop the balcony of the Division Plaza overlooking the coliseum and city of Rome below. He seems like an insufferable spoiled brat, but perhaps I could appeal to that. She opens her book.
The ruling Atheneum family lives in the Division Plaza overlooking the city of Rome.
Rome is the most densely populated center of humans in the known universe. It is also the only city where all business and trade are exclusively owned and operated by humans, making it an anomaly in an otherwise diverse galaxy. This has sparked much political discussion (especially from the Martians, who originate from the same solar system as humanity; See page 13) on whether Rome serves as some manner of prejudiced xenophobic statement against other species.
Rome received its name from-
“Hey, Cassandra Soryu, right? I figured it was about time we met.”
The brat cometh, Cassandra amusingly comments to herself before shutting the book and turning to face Adamus, who is awaiting a handshake. “I’m sure you know who I am.”
Wow, quite the ego on this one. Vanessa might have actually been right for once. Cassandra’s thoughts evaluate Adamus as she shakes his hand, “I do, Adamus, and yes, I am Cassandra.” She quickly exits the handshake.
Adamus places his hands behind his back, clasping them. He leans forward. “I have to say you do look beautiful in the light of my planet's sun.” Cassandra tightens a fist.
The son of a bitch should be glad I don’t knock him senseless. She releases the fist, holding it out as a flat palm. “I’m gonna stop you right there. This whole marriage is purely a political stunt. I’m not interested in a relationship with you or anyone, for that matter, especially not after whatever that was in the arena.” Adamus laughs, standing up straight and at attention. “Well, I should have expected that. You don’t seem like the type to enjoy gladiatorial combat. And believe me, I’m more than fine with this marriage only being political. I don't like to be tied down to one woman anyway.”
Ew. I’m going to vomit. I might actually vomit. I did not need to know that. He’s exactly as awful as I expected him to be. Oh well. I might as well give my proposal.
Once Cassandra makes this silent judgment, she holds out her book, “Divided Republic. Humanity after The Rusting. By: Serj Langdan.” Adamus smirks after reading the cover aloud. “Doing a little homework, huh?”
Cassandra sighs, “I also read through Half a Century of Blood by: Satoru Johnson, The Wars Aftermath by: Takan Bordello, Rusted Ceasefire by: Benjamin Zimmer, and My Rusting your Father’s autobiography. I also annotated each book, cross-referenced them, and double-checked each of their sources. I plan on binding them all together once I finish this one.”
Adamus cautiously takes the book from her hand, laughing her off. “Impressive research. You must have done well in school.”
Cassandra scoffs, “No. I was terrible in school. My professors said I was the dumbest kid alive. I hated the other children as well. You’re not taking me seriously, are you?”
Adamus quickly flips through the book. Half-heartedly, skimming it. “Well, considering these appear as if they were the ravings of a mad woman, no. No, I’m not taking whatever this is seriously.”
Cassandra steps forth in defiance, snatching her book back from Adamus. “Your Father’s autobiography was the most inconsistent account, even though he is supposedly a first-hand one. The other books all mention the horrors of the Scorched Archer and her shifting allegiances, yet your Father’s only mentions her once, even though they apparently served in the same Warbound. Almost like he’s threatened by her.”
“Why does that matter? Are you a fan of her or something?” Adamus dips his hands into his pockets, walking over to the railing to view the city below. Cassandra hardly notes the disinterest.
“You could say that. She’s been an interest of mine longer than the violin has. She’s a historic anomaly. Everyone speaks about her like she was a serial killer, yet she was a soldier for most of her life. Regardless of who she served, either of our political factions should have leaped at the opportunity to claim her victories as their own. So why didn’t they?”
Adamus places his hands on the railing. He sees that the commoners are still exiting the coliseum. His mural rests freshly painted next to it. “Who cares?” He coughs out with a smile.
Cassandra steps next to him. “Your Father is making a play for full control of humanity. That’s what this marriage is, unification. The Rusting began the countdown of our galaxy. Something dark is approaching. This Marriage is the harbinger of it. I’ve read enough books to know. Supposedly, the Scorched Archer is coming for the heads of my parents and your Father. So I would like to propose an idea to you.”
Adamus crosses his arms, resting his head on them. He chuckles, “My Father’s messenger, Davon, is already hunting the Scorched Archer. Whatever your idea is, trust me, it’s futile. I’m all for a unification of our species because trust me, no doomsday is coming, Cassandra. Everything will be fine.”
Cassandra sets her book down. “The unification is the doomsday. One individual can’t hold that much power. That’s my idea, that we claim it before he can.”
Adamus has had enough. Stepping away from the railing, he asks in annoyance, “Why don’t you just clear the way for your Mother to take my Father’s place?”
Cassandra sighs, leaning on the railing herself now. “That would be even worse, trust me. Besides, she's not my real Mother anyway. I don't owe her anything.” Adamus walks back toward Cassandra. The sun beats down on his body, coated with old scorch marks. He picks up Cassandra’s book, “You realize who we are, right? We’re heirs to empires which control the fate of an entire species. Look at them down there in that city, worshipping us like the gods we are.”
He shoves Cassandra’s book into her chest. She clutches it as he lunges in to scold her, “We are both lucky enough to live into this privilege, so either learn your place…” Cassandra’s arms tighten around the book. “Or just stick to the violin.” Adamus jokes, patting her shoulder before walking away.