Before leaving the Red State, Ark stops near a tent at the exit. Two Sentinel Tokers, dressed in black cloaks, hold a man with restless eyes. One of them picks up a small, bright, light-red stone and presses it against the suspect's forehead. The Toker closes his eyes, his face tense, and murmurs, "He stole a bag at the festival." The thief tries to break free, but the other Sentinel immobilizes him. Ark furrows his brow, his chest still heaving from the fights. "So that's the psychic element stone," he thinks, just as the bell rings again, calling them to the Black State.
The vehicle speeds toward the next destination, and the Black State emerges—a sharp contrast to the red heat. Tall towers of dark stone, painted in matte black, reflect cold lights, with metallic black details gleaming at the edges. Luxurious houses line the wide streets, the smooth ground resembling black glass, and black flags flutter silently. The air carries a low hum, like hidden machines. Ark steps off, his brown shoes creaking against the polished floor, and follows the crowd to a circular arena, different from the previous combat circle. Black pillars surround the space, and a platform floats in the center, held up by nothing.
Stolen novel; please report.
A Toker in a black robe steps onto the platform, holding another light-red stone. "This is the test of the mind," he says, his deep voice echoing. "Resist, or be revealed." He points the stone at the participants, and a light pulses from it, reaching each one. Ark feels a cold sensation crawl up his neck, his forehead tingling. Images flash in his mind—Imi smiling in their small room in the Blue State, then coughing in bed in the Green State, then himself, stronger, dominating everyone. "I want power," he thinks, his fists clenching, before trying to push the sensation away. But the stone doesn't stop.
The Toker steps down, pointing. "You. Out." Ark blinks, his heart sinking. The crowd murmurs as he stumbles out of the arena, the weight of defeat hitting him like a stone. "I lost," he thinks, frustration in his tone. "If I'm not strong enough, Imi will die back in the Blue State. I can't let that happen." He returns to a simple lodging in the Black State—a cold room, dark matte black walls, a hard bed. Sitting there, eyes fixed on the floor, he murmurs to himself, a nervous smile slipping out: "Brilliant, Ark. Running from Sentinel Tokers with mind-reading stones? Good luck with that."
But deep inside, something burns. He needs more—more than common Chi can give.
