Prodigium

By Yousuf Jamal

Chase didn't mean to kill him. But he did. As a result, Chase's life turned to shambles. Guilt tore at his soul and manifested as a monsterProdigium. At first, it seemed a figment of his imagination. So with some help, he buried the beast deep inside. But that quickly changes when Chase is kidnapped at his high school, along with his friend Jake. The two are roped into a secret war between Manulins, creatures of unfathomable power. Such power manifests in humans as well. Chase is one such individual, with the added anomaly that he possesses multiple Manulin abilities called U-lins. Chase and Jake realize that they aren't being kidnapped. They're being recruited. Told that the enemy Guardians captured his family, Chase joins the Validus in their struggle for dominance.

But his past catches up with him.

Prodigium resurfaces to torment Chase. All the while, an old foe seeks vengeance against Chase. In order to save his family, Chase has to beat the Guardians and escape the war, all the while battling with his demons and his past.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fulton Books, Inc.
• Release date: Apr 5, 2022
• ISBN: 9781637103227

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Prodigium

Yousuf Jamal

Copyright © 2021 Yousuf Jamal

All rights reserved

First Edition

Fulton Books, Inc.

Meadville, PA

Published by Fulton Books 2021

ISBN 978-1-63710-321-0 (paperback)

ISBN 978-1-63710-323-4 (hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-63710-322-7 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Prologue

So It Begins

Chapter 1

Of the Dead

Chapter 2

Just a Normal Day

Chapter 3

Cry for Help

Chapter 4

A Promise

Chapter 5

So It Begins

The Validus

Chapter 6

Tests

Chapter 7

Power

Chapter 8

A New World

Chapter 9

Origins

Chapter 10

The Truth behind It All

Chapter 11

A Bombshell

Chapter 12

Old Demons

Chapter 13

The Jump

Chapter 14

Training Begins

Chapter 15

Prodigium

Chapter 16

Power Struggle

Chapter 17

U-lin

Chapter 18

An Offer

Chapter 19

A Memory

Chapter 20

Cause of the War

Training

Chapter 21

Pincer

Chapter 22

Plans

Chapter 23

Venandi

Chapter 24

Monster

Chapter 25

Aftermath

Chapter 26

Conspirators

Chapter 27

Run

Chapter 28

Strategy

Chapter 29

Sword Training

Chapter 30

Final Preparations

War Game

Chapter 31

Snake

Chapter 32

Let It Out

Chapter 33

Choice

Chapter 34

Peas in a Pod

Chapter 35

Scouting

Chapter 36

A Plan

Chapter 37

An Impossible Task

Chapter 38

Survive

Chapter 39

Tactics

Chapter 40

Boltin Black

Chapter 41

The Storm

Chapter 42

The Duel

New Foe

Chapter 43

A Friend

Chapter 44

Rage

Chapter 45

Iustitia Vindicta

Epilogue

Operation Slayer

Prologue

So what's the plan?

Run. That's the plan. We run as fast as we can. And then you can have your fun.

Sounds like a good plan to me. Just signal me. And I will come to you.

I won't need to. You'll know when I need you this time.

Whatever you say, Blade. You're in control.

Blade sprinted across a frozen wasteland. Snow covered the land and the trees. The chilling and brutal wind blew against Blade's steel-plated shoulder pads and breastplate. Every step was a step through a watery fortress of snow and ice that leaked into his ill-fitted and ripped shoes. Neither his ragged pants nor his blood-soaked shirt were made for the winter weather. But he could care less about the quality of his clothes. He could care less if the chilling winds froze him to the bone. He could care less if his shadow was being revealed by the moonlight—even if he was usually careful about these things. He could care less about them anymore.

Come on! Faster, damn it! I won't let them die like this. I won't let Darius get to them. Not before I kill him, Blade thought as he raced through the slanting mountain pass. Snow flurries fell on earth in a gentle manner, only to come crashing down in the next few minutes. A blizzard. A sudden, godly blizzard that tore across the land.

Sereth, I'm guessing.

Probably. He's trying to slow us down.

He's scared.

No, he's smart. He knows I'm not prepared. Hell, all I've got is you, my U-lins, and my half-broken blade.

As long as you have me, we can win.

Sure. I do have morals though. You realize that, right?

Well, those morals are all useless when against Darius. I know you don't like to kill, but we're going to have to if we want to win this one. So hand the reins to me when you're ready, Adler.

Fine. But let's get two things straight: One, don't call me Adler. Two, I'm not your damn horse, you psychotic monster.

All right, all right. I'll stop with the horse. But I'll always call you by your last name just to spite you.

You're real mature, aren't you?

Coming from you, that's laughable.

Blade ignored his remark as he sprinted across the lakeside, accelerating rapidly. A red snakelike aura began to envelop Adler, making him lighter and faster than any man alive.

Why now? Should we not save Darius's U-lin for battle?

Forget about it. If I don't use it now, there won't be a battle. He'll kill them and be on his way. I won't let that happen. I won't let him get his petty vengeance.

Your choice. Just save some energy for the fight. Don't expend all of it yet; otherwise, you'll be as good as dead when you get to the battle.

Blade continued his sprint across the frozen lake until he reached the foot of a sloping hill nestled between two looming mountains. He trudged up the hill as fast as he could, fighting against the blizzard. The storm blotted out his vision as it overtook the hill in a blaze. He struggled as he climbed to the top, having to strengthen Darius's U-lin. But as soon as he did so, the climb was less frustrating. He leapt to the top from halfway up, rolling onto the hill's peak.

All right. Now I just need to clear the way, Blade thought as he raised his hands in front of him, extending them toward the onslaught of the storm. Remember, keep calm. Envision your creation. Envision wind. Wind strong enough to split the storm and the clouds in two. Strong enough to cut stone. You can do it. Just breathe in and out, Blade thought. Suddenly, a golden light extended from his hands. A fire of sorts. It struggled against the storm. But the flame didn't falter. It pushed on. The fire dissipated and formed into wind. The storm gave way to the wind. It then expanded, clearing out the looming storm clouds and revealing the plane of land below. A smooth terrain with snuffed-out campfires all around and large tents scattered up until the next mountain pass. Blade keeled over, the golden fire from his hands dissipating. The red aura around his body faded away in mere moments and, with it, Blade's strength. He fell over on his side and tumbled down the hill, crashing into one of the empty hearths.

Voices cried out into the night. Blade opened his eyes to see his wife and son come out of their tent, looking like powdered scones as snow covered their hair and their clothes.

Run, Blade whispered. His wife, Yenelda, did not seem to hear. She knelt down next to the Blade and examined the wounds on his body. She ran her hand across the new cut on his forehead caused by his crash into the sticks. I SAID RUN! Blade yelled, startling Yenelda. She then looked to his hand, finally seeing his blood-soaked and shattered blade. Her eyes went wide with fear.

You did it, didn't you? You killed him, she said, her voice trembling with every word. He nodded.

Yes, I did it. He would've killed us. But you need to run now before Darius catches up. Take Kidral and go. Forget everybody else. They will die. Save our son. GO! Blade yelled.

Yenelda grabbed young Kridal by the arm and began to sprint across the camp. Blade attempted to stand, but a wave of nausea forced him back down. He turned to the hill, and to his horror, saw a shadowy figure peering over the edge. Sereth, aiming his golden bow at Yenelda.

I've got it from here, Blade. I'll make these bastards pay.

Blade stared intently at Sereth as he knocked an arrow into his bow. I will not let him kill her. I will not let them die—no matter my morals, no matter my principles. I will kill him.

All yours, Prodigium.

Good. Well then, shall we begin?

Part I

So It Begins

The axe forgets, but the tree remembers.

—African proverb

Chapter 1

Of the Dead

The wind blared in Ross's ears. The mud began to rise, almost swallowing up her ill-fitted boots as she marched onward against the torrential rain. Three men followed closely behind her as she trudged up the hill. The air reeked of death and decay. As Ross had expected, when she reached the summit of the grass hill, she saw bodies littered about, all of them wearing the symbols of the Validus plastered across their Kevlar and leather armor. Blades and spears also lay all around these men. But to Ross's knowledge, no Guardian troop had passed through here. And if a battle occurred, only one side suffering casualties seemed unlikely.

So who? Who could've done this? she thought as her men looted and counted the bodies.

About twenty. All dead by various means. Some had their necks snapped. Others were skewered, one soldier said.

None of ours, right? Ross asked.

He shook his head, and Ross heaved a sigh of relief.

None that we can identify, another soldier said. Ross paced around the summit of the slanted hill, her black button-down coat getting bombarded by raindrops.

What the hell happened? Scouts informed us of a battle, but none of our men are here. None reported coming here nor were they ordered too. So why? Why did this battle even happen? And so close to our facility too. There shou—

We found someone alive! A teenager and a man on the other side of the hill. The other guy's dead, but the kid is still alive, her com rattled in her ear. Ross touched it, keeping in place as she ran toward the edge of the hill, almost slipping along the way.

Where?

To your right. I see you. Look over. Ross looked over to see one of her men looming over two bodies—bloodied and beaten bodies at that. Ross squinted to see the dead man. And she let out a gasp. Why? They wouldn't risk him on the field, especially after what just happened. How even? He's too skilled, and he had a presumed guard of twenty men. She glanced over to the teenager, who had multiple wounds on his leg and stomach. He was barely breathing.

Wait a second. I know him. The jet-black hair and the eyes. No. Chase? That's impossible. That was years ago. But if he got pulled into all this, then he must've unleashed it. No, he definitely unleashed that side of him. But he's wearing the color of the Validus, Ross's thoughts were racing as she slid down the hill and jogged over to Chase. His jacket was covered in blood, which seemed fitting as the Validus's color was crimson red.

What should we do? He's with the enemy. Should we leave him her man began before she cut him off.

No! No, bind his wounds. Stanch the flow of blood. We'll get him out of here. We need answers. We need to know what happened, she said. And I need to know why my former psych patient is here, she thought as her men began to take out bandages from their packs and other various medical supplies.

She took one last look at the hill, the rain washing away the blood. This wasn't a battle. This was a massacre.

*****

How old were you when you were enlisted? she asked.

I was fourteen—just started high school, I answered. She nodded and glanced down at the cafeteria where the first years were having a bit too much fun throwing food at each other.

I read in your profile that you have something against a certain man named—

Iustitia Vindicta, I finished. She looked annoyed that I had finished her sentence, and she looked up from her tablet, which probably held all my documents, remnants from my past life. After all, my new life was completely secret, just like hers. We were ghosts of society.

So this guy, what did he do to you? Did he just tick you off? Or was it something worse? she asked.

I stared at the first years, and a sense of nostalgia pulled me away from the conversation.

Chase, I need an answer, she said with a stern look in her eyes.

Uhm, no comment? I replied, uncertainty evident in my voice.

This isn't an interview. It's an interrogation, not another therapy session like a few years ago. Right now, I need a definitive answer.

It's…complicated.

I want an answer, complicated or not. After all, we have time. So what is your relation with Vindicta? she asked again.

I don't know.

You don't know? You don't know what happened? You don't know why you almost died?

Well, maybe you would get an answer if I had something to gain from it. But, Ms. Ross, I have nothing. I need nothing. I am nothing. My life is over. I'm done. No more fighting. No more questions. I just want some damn peace. Are you going to take that away from me too? Am I going to have to

Enough! she yelled.

And only then did I realize I had risen from my chair with only the chains on my wrists holding me back. I sat down, and she sighed with relief. Not that I think she was worried. I couldn't escape by any means.

Okay, let's try a different method, shall we? Tell me the story, beginning with your enlistment until now. She folded her hands patiently, light glinting off her thin glasses and name tag. She hadn't changed much over the years. She wore a regulation windbreaker with violet stripes down the arms. Long hazel hair settled over her shoulders. She looked to be in her mid-thirties.

Ms. Ross, if I may, I never knew you. Oh, sure, I went to your sessions. I told you about my problems. But that was an act. I don't care anymore. Nothing matters. And even if I did give a damn, I don't trust the Guardians or the Validus. What makes you think I'll tell you anything? I asked, somewhat dejected. I'm done with this damn war, with this damn society. I'm done doing people's dirty work for them. Monsters, all of them.

Ross placed her tablet on the metal table that sat in the middle of the interrogation room, which was surrounded by soundproof glass, above the cafeteria.

You know, we're both on the same side here, she answered

We aren't. If we were, then I wouldn't have these chains on. They're the only thing stopping me from snapping your neck with my bare hands. I shook my chains for emphasis.

You're a bad liar, Chase. You're not that type of person. I can tell.

How would you know what type of person I am?

I know, Chase. I've seen too much in this life. I've been in this game much longer than you. I know when someone's lying. I know when someone's making empty threats. And most importantly, I know how to grind someone's gears, especially yours, Chase, she said, her eyes locked on mine. I gave her a piercing glare while twiddling my thumbs. She's good. Too good. Read me like a book. Damn her! Look, I need to know. Time is running out and everyone here is too confused to do anything about the situation at hand. Now will you please tell me what happened?" she pleaded.

I sighed in defeat, and I figured I'm screwed anyway. Okay, fine. On one condition though. Will you let me go after this? I asked. I knew I wasn't really in a position to make demands, but I was desperate. Better to tell them my story so that they can just leave me be. And then I can leave this nightmare behind.

Absolutely! she was quick to answer, which raised my suspicions. Yes. Just tell me what happened!

"I want a guarantee. A Tenebris Agreement," I demanded. Ross looked at me, unflinching.

Fine. Just so that you can feel safe.

I smiled in response and extended my arm. She did the same, and our hands clasped together.

I swear that I will hold you to your promise. The Prodigium will watch us. And he will know if we break our vows.

And I swear that I will set you free from your chains. And you will be allowed to roam the land outside the confines of this building. The Prodigium will watch us. And he will know if we break our vows, Ross said. Our hands began to glow, mine a swirl of gold, red, and purple. Ross's hand glowed an intricate violet, less vibrant than my purple. She looked at my color, and the shock in her face was evident. My smile edged to a grin, and I tightened my grasp on her hand. A loud HUM began to shake the table and the small room. The very air shook, and Ross tensed, as if she was about to witness something horrible.

Now allow me to begin my tale, I said. He spoke with me, and we recounted our tragedy.

Chapter 2

Just a Normal Day

Don't worry. You'll be fine, my dad said in the car. I simply nodded, gazing out the window. The open farmland of New Jersey was soon covered by an array of various trees in a walled forest. The sun was blocked by the looming gray clouds. It will rain today, I thought. It wasn't an odd thing, though, considering it was September.

I know. I've gone through this before, Dad, I replied. He gave me a nod from the window. We were about a mile off our destination, Natilane High, a rich private school for smart kids. It sounded a bit too pretentious for my liking. But it was my only option. Well, my only reasonable option. Either that, or some run-down and shady school in South Jersey. So, I figured, I might as well go to the school I worked so hard to get into.

Yeah. You sure you want this one? We still have time. I can cancel. Take you to the other one, my father offered, glancing back at the rearview window from the driver's seat. I shook my head. I can't do that to them. I owe them too much. I can't just screw around and get easy As in another school, I thought though, in the back of my head, it did seem like a good offer. Something to get my mind off what happened.

Trust me. I'm good, I said.

Your father's right, Chase. You're fourteen. You can make your own decisions. If you want to go to the other schoo— my mom began, but I cut her off.

Don't worry. I'll be fine. I won't cause any trouble, not like last time, I said. My mother's expression softened.

That's not what I meant, honey. And for the last time, it wasn't your fault, my mother consoled me. But my father was having none of it.

Just leave it, he said, louder than he meant to. Not that I cared. He was right. No point in dredging up the past. We were silent for a while. Then I felt bad. It's my first day of high school. I can't let it start like this, I thought as I straightened up.

Have you dropped Julia yet? I asked, poorly attempting to change the subject. Dad nodded.

Before you, surprisingly. Didn't think third grade was so demanding, he said, chuckling to himself. I flashed him a smile. He was actually a bit off. Natilane just started later than most schools at 10:00 AM. And it ran until 4:00 PM.

So what? You just left her out front of the school and made her wait half an hour? I asked. Mom, who was absently paying attention before, gave Dad a glare. And Dad, in turn, started sweating.

She'll be fine, he said, waving his hand to the side in a nonchalant manner.

She's only eight. Are you insane? After all that's happened, you're willing to leave her like that? she asked.

She's smart enough not to do anything stupid, he said, beaming with pride, masking his fear. I laughed at that.

Don't worry, Mom. Their security is good from what I heard. And I'm betting Dad saw teachers outside. Right? I asked, giving my old man an out. He smiled.

Yeah, there were many teachers! he said. Mom was still skeptical, but she left that matter at that. I wondered why until I saw the school sign pass by: Welcome Students of 2018!

*****

Be safe! Mom yelled out to me as I exited the car.

I will, I responded, and the car drove away. There were multiple paths in the courtyard leading to the main building. I'd already memorized my schedule a few days ago. My homeroom was physics, and my teacher was Ms. Swanson.

Although I had never been inside the school, excluding the orientation tour, I already had some idea of the layout from a friend of mine who went there. I found him as he was exiting the auditorium, and I made my way toward him. Jake was a sophomore who had muddy brown short hair, dark brown eyes, and a bit of a crooked nose. He was a bit taller than me, with a better stature as well, since he did boxing. His skin was close to the color of ebony, and he wore a T-shirt with Game on written on it. He also wore typical black Nike basketball shorts. I tapped him on the back and he turned, surprised.

Chase! he exclaimed.

Jake! I responded, and we shook each other's hands.

How's it been? he asked.

It's going good. You?

Good. Irely? he asked, with a hopeful tone in his voice. I shook my head.

Swanson. He nodded understandingly as the bell rang.

I gotta go! I've gotta turn in my gym form. Good luck with Swanson! he yelled, sprinting off toward the gym. However, before going to homeroom, I took a quick detour to the bathroom.

There were two blue stalls to the left and two white sinks to the right. The floor was made with smooth stone tiles, and the walls were made out of smooth granite separated in tiny little white squares. The sink looked brand-new, as did the rest of the bathroom and, frankly, the rest of the school.

I splashed some water on my face. It woke me up fast. I checked my reflection in the mirror. Hazel eyes stared back at me out of my skinny frame. I was about five feet, eight inches, a pretty average height. My skin was white, almost pale like my father's. My jet-black hair was messy and short. I hadn't taken particular care in choosing my first-day-of-school attire, navy blue jeans, and a gray sweatshirt.

As I turned the faucet off, I heard the door creak and looked over to see that a strange man had entered the bathroom. He didn't look like a teacher or even a staff member. He wore a brown trench coat and a torn-up pair of black pants. I looked up to see him staring back at me. He wore a baseball cap, black sunglasses, and black gloves. He was as tall as Jake and bulkier.

Attention all members of staff! the speaker outside the bathroom said. The principal was broadcasting an announcement. Before I could hear the next sentence, a childish fear entered my heart. I immediately tried dismissing it, but then I heard…Code red: lockdown! I repeat, we are right now in lockdown! There is an armed and dangerous man in this building! Confirmation code 802719, the principal frantically said.

I looked over at Trench Coat, dread pooling in my stomach. I wanted to scream out, but my body froze and no sound came out of my mouth. Of all the places to be, why this school? This bathroom? Trench smiled and reached his left hand inside his coat. I tensed as I saw light glinting off the long hunting knife he held in his hand. I frowned in confusion. Why a knife? Why not a gun? Looking closer, I realized the knife was covered with strange-looking symbols.

Unlucky, aren't you? Trench said with a malicious smile. Then he charged at me, holding the knife in his right hand. I reacted right before he swung and ducked down. The knife had skimmed my scalp, but I couldn't tell whether I was bleeding or not, yet I felt no pain, which was a good sign, or maybe it was just the adrenaline.

I backed away as Trench raised his blade up for another swing. He smiled as he brought his knife down for a second swing. For a fleeting moment, I stood still, glued to the floor. But I jumped back at the last second, his knife slicing my right cheek. I felt an intense burning sensation as I glanced in the bathroom mirror to see red blooming on the side of my face. I focused back on Trench who was still smiling. Not a winning smile though. A crazed smile. Is he enjoying this? I thought as I raised my fists in a pathetic attempt to defend myself.

He suddenly burst out into laughter, and I froze. Is this guy right in the head? Trench stopped laughing abruptly and changed the position of his knife, tossing to his left hand, and he caught it in an underhand position.

I need a weapon, something to defend myself against his blade, or I'm dead! I thought frantically as I scanned the room. Behind him, to his right, was the janitor's supplies, a bucket filled with water and a broom sticking out of it.

A broom! But how would I get to it if it's behind him? Suddenly, Trench attempted an outward swing with his knife, but I jumped back against the wall. With the wall to my back, Trench smiled. He was enjoying this too much. He slowly closed in on me. I was dead for sure.

This is my last chance to do something, I thought. I quickly formulated a plan as Trench took more steps forward. He seemed almost amused by my reactions—amused enough to let me live a little longer. I took advantage of his distraction and put my hastily put-together plan in effect. I raised my fists higher so that they were covering both sides of my head, leaving my body exposed. Trench adjusted his overhand grip, preparing to plunge the blade into my chest. Bingo.

He thrust forward at my chest, but I sidestepped. He tried to follow up his attack with another swing at my head, but I ducked under the swing as I moved to the left. I stood upright and charged straight at Trench. Trench's expression changed from glee to surprise. This was the last thing he expected me to do. He attempted to swing again, but I grabbed his arm before he could swing. After successfully stopping him midswing, I raised my knee up to his stomach.

But Trench expected this, and he used his right arm to uppercut me in the jaw. The force of the blow knocked the wind out of me. That was when I realized I had no power. When I realized I was playing his game. I was his damn chew toy. The uppercut lifted me off the ground for a second as I fell backward across the room. I landed on my back, and I propped myself up on my elbows. I looked over to see that we had switched sides and that now I was on the side with the broom. Although the plan had failed, the result was good enough. With great