The sword was wrenched from my grip as the wolf’s powerful jaws clamped down on the blade. The force of the impact sent me sprawling to the ground, my back slamming into the hard, unforgiving sand. Pain shot through my body, sharp and immediate. Povi hadn’t lied—this wasn’t some harmless simulation. The pain was real, and it was excruciating.
I groaned, struggling to push myself up onto my knees, but the wolf was already on me. Its teeth sank into my hand, tearing through flesh. Blood welled up, staining the sand beneath me. I screamed, the sound raw and guttural, as sweat dripped down my forehead, mixing with the grit of the desert.
“How come you didn’t use the teleportation technique you normally use? You’re a master at it,” Povi’s voice cut through my agony, calm and almost indifferent.
“Why didn’t you say that earlier?” I shouted, my voice trembling with pain and frustration. “How do I activate it?”
“Simply make a request followed by the location where you wish to teleport,” Povi replied, her tone infuriatingly matter-of-fact.
“Requesting to teleport west!” I gasped, the words barely escaping through clenched teeth.
In an instant, the world blurred around me. The wolves, the desert, the pain—all of it vanished as I was whisked away. But my relief was short-lived. My feet sank into something soft and yielding. I looked down and felt a fresh wave of panic. Quicksand.
“Are you kidding me?” I muttered, my voice hoarse. The sand swallowed my legs, pulling me down with terrifying speed. Blood dripped from my wounded hand, and my vision began to blur. I couldn’t die here—not again. This was my second chance, a gift I hadn’t asked for but wasn’t willing to throw away.
“According to my assessment, it seems you won’t be able to complete Level 8 at this time. The odds are against you. Why don’t you exit the training and try again later?” Povi suggested, her voice cutting through my spiraling thoughts.
“I can do that? Why didn’t you tell me earlier!” I cried, my voice cracking.
“When you were 12, I warned you about the dangers of Level 4, but you were adamant and told me never to interrupt your training,” Povi replied, her tone almost reproachful.
“Exit training!” I shouted, desperation clawing at my throat.
The desert dissolved, and I found myself lying on the soft, firm floor of the training room. My body ached, and my hand throbbed, but I was alive.
“Your wounds should be tended to. Please head to the infirmary,” Povi instructed. A door on my left, previously indistinguishable from the wall, slid open with a soft hiss.
I stumbled into the infirmary, a pristine white room that seemed to glow with an otherworldly light. In the center stood a machine that looked like a cross between an X-ray device and a futuristic medical pod. Its surface was smooth and metallic, with faint blue lines running along its edges, pulsing gently like a heartbeat.
“Welcome once again, Madam Zahara. Please lie down,” a robotic voice echoed from the machine.
I hesitated for a moment before climbing onto the padded surface. The machine hummed to life, and the room dimmed as a soft, baby-blue light enveloped me. I felt a brief sting on my wounded hand, but the pain was gone almost as quickly as it came.
“All done,” the robotic voice announced.
I sat up, examining my hand. The deep gashes were gone, replaced by a faint scar that was already fading. A small compartment opened beside the machine, revealing two small, translucent tablets.
“Please take the medication. Your scar will disappear shortly,” the voice instructed.
I picked up the tablets, marveling at their smooth, almost weightless texture. The compartment closed silently, and the room returned to its pristine state.
Leaving the infirmary, I passed through the kitchen, my eyes drawn to its unique design. The room was a harmonious blend of nature and technology. The walls were adorned with holographic images of lush forests and sprawling savannas, while the countertops were made of a material that resembled polished wood but shimmered faintly under the light. Above the stove, a holographic flame flickered, its heat real but its appearance ethereal.
What caught my attention most were the intricate carvings of chimpanzees on the cabinets, their forms lifelike and dynamic. It was a stark reminder of the world I had left behind—a world where chimpanzees roamed freely in the forests of Uganda.
I poured myself a glass of water and swallowed the tablets, their taste faintly sweet.
“Povi, do chimpanzees exist in Aetheris?” I asked, my voice soft.
“According to my assessment, there are approximately 5,000 chimpanzees in Aetheris, with 1,000 located in Region D,” Povi replied.
“What is Region D? Which countries are part of it?” I pressed.
“There are no countries, only regions. Aetheris is divided into four regions: A, B, C, and D,” Povi explained.
My head spun with the information, but one thing was clear: Aetheris shared a connection with Africa, even if it was buried beneath layers of riddles and turns. It was very clear that chimpanzees natural habitat was Africa, this land had to be slightly similar in a way to the land I once knew!
“Thirty minutes remain. You might run late for school,” Povi reminded me.
After a quick shower, I hurried back to my room, my mind still reeling. The wardrobe slid open at my approach, revealing a neatly folded uniform—a white dress with a black collar and matching stockings. I hesitated, the outfit feeling too youthful for someone who had lived through the horrors of the Alliance. But I had no choice. I had to blend in, to play the part of Zahara Nia until I could unravel the mysteries of this world.
I looked around for a brow dryer but couldn't find any. My hair was in it's afro state and needed tending to, so I inquired from Povi who told me to step in the side room for that which I did. I saw what was termed as Fux machine, the hair care machine, awaited. It was a marvel of futuristic design, its sleek, silver surface adorned with glowing blue accents. It resembled a high-tech salon chair, with a headpiece that looked like a cross between a helmet and a crown.
“Welcome back, Madam Zahara. Do you need your usual style?” Fux’s voice was smooth and melodic, almost human.
“What styles do you have?” I asked, curious.
“All kinds of braids and afro styles, using organic products. Plastics were eradicated by the Federation, and weaves or wigs are prohibited,” Fux explained.
“Give me a popular afro style,” I said, sitting down.
“Command taken. Please position your head in the headgear,” Fux instructed.
I complied, and within minutes, the machine whirred to life, its delicate arms weaving through my hair with precision and speed. When it finished, I stepped in front of the mirror and gasped. My hair was styled in a stunning afro design, shaped like a wrapped ribbon and divided into two elegant sections. It framed my face perfectly, enhancing my features and giving me an air of youthful sophistication.
I smiled, a flicker of confidence returning. Whatever this world was, I would uncover its secrets. But for now, it was time to face school.
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