Midas

  "Power is necessary if you want to be anything in this world." Fazel's voice dripped with malice as he pointed his staff forward.

  Bo's body started quivering, and his breaths became heavy, he speedily pushed himself off the wall

  “This guy is strong! And what he’s holding is definitely a mantle!” He thought.

  His eyes shifted to the corner of the room where Materia sat, “If I can just grab Materia I can even the playing field.” He affirmed himself.

  With one resolute breath, Bo charged at Fazel, his fists clenched.

  Fazel's voice carried a touch of triumph as he uttered a single word, "Midas!"

  As Bo charged, five crimson dots suddenly materialized on his body, two on his right arm, one on his left leg, and two on his lower abdomen.

  Bo quickly came to a halt. “What’s going on?” he questioned the significance of these dots.

  Fazel was already in motion, closing the distance between them with a fluid grace. Before Bo could even realize it, he had already been attacked with a swarm of punches from Fazel with inhumane speed. Each punch landed on one of the red dots.

  Bo’s body trembled to the floor. He was immobilized on each spot Fazel had marked a dot. Fazel’s hits seemed to be even stronger than the punches he had sent before.

  Laid out on the floor and head spinning Bo shouted in agony his eyes shut tight, and he reflected,

  “My body… I can feel the pain in each marked spot. It feels like it all happened at once, I could have sworn he only punched me one time, or… is it that this guy somehow managed to hit all 5 of his targeted dots before I could even react!?”

  Fazel's voice cut through the haze of pain, his tone jolly. "Heeeeee he he, The staff I hold is called Midas. The power to create a weak point on any spot of one's body."

  He marched over right next to Bo and bent down to his level. Once again a crimson dot appeared on Bo’s stomach. However this time instead of punching Bo who was already unable to move, Fazel simply flicked his finger on Bo’s stomach.

  Despite being hit with a mere flick, Bo still felt an incredible amount of pain, holding onto his stomach while turning from side to side.

  “You see when I say this I mean it truthfully, me and you aren’t even in the same stratosphere of power,” Fazel stated as he watched Bo roll in his discomfort.

  He continued, “I saw through your plan, you wanted to go grab Materia because you thought that was your only shot at trying me. You're like an open book, I bet you didn’t even know that you could activate Materia without having to hold it… or maybe not, because you're not advanced enough to do that yet are you?”

  He took a deep breath, “The truth is boy, you're too weak… But I can change that.”

  Despite trying to cope with the pain Bo’s mind had shifted its attention to Fazel’s words, his eyes were wide tentative about what Fazel would say next.

  “I’ve been sent by your brother to do exactly that.”

  Bo's eyes widened, he thought of what Fazel just said, "Bjorn?" He thought.

  He looked back at him and replied, “How do you know Bjorn?''

  “I met him for the first time a few days ago, and he’s invited me to be the first member of his new group… on one condition. As long as I train his little brother.”

  Bo looked away, rebutting painstakingly, “Well I guess you won’t be joining his group. I don't need no training from one of Bjorn’s “friends”.”

  He continued, “Just tell me where I can exit so I can get the hell out of here.” His voice was firm.

  Fazel responded, his demeanor calm, “Bjorn told me there may be a chance you would have a problem with it.”

  Fazel stood up and turned his back to Bo while eyeing the view the large fenced window provided, “Yesterday you almost died against a small pack of warriors, who may I add were nothing more than some rag tags looking for a good report. If you think those guys were a big deal, then that means you're not even one percent strong enough to reach your dream, never mind being a King.”

  He looked back at Bo again, his tone darkening, “If that's all you plan on accomplishing, then I won’t bother you any longer.”

  Fazel stood void of any noise, patiently waiting for a response whether verbal or not.

  Bo was still rolling from one side to another, his eyes held tight together. He felt excruciating pain, the 5 targeted dots had felt like holes piercing through his body, his bones in those areas had felt like rubble, his nerves were pinched, and his muscles were steadily sore all at once.

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  "Every second, the soreness doubles!" The thought ripped through his mind like a desperate scream. He couldn't stop it. He couldn't fight it. The agony wrapped itself around him, suffocating any remnants of willpower he had left. "Even if I had Materia, there's no real way I could beat this guy... Even yesterday, if it wasn’t for Materia kicking in at the last second, I’d be dead! Dammit…why am I so weak?!"

  A hot, suffocating wave of frustration and self-loathing crashed over him. His mind became a blood-red ocean, a storm of doubt and regret swirling within its depths. Every failure, every moment of hesitation, every second where he had been powerless it all poured into him like a poison. He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms, but even that pain was insignificant compared to the unbearable truth screaming inside him.

  He wasn’t strong enough. Not yet. And at this rate… maybe never.

  Regardless he clawed himself to his feet even if it was the last thing he could do, he pleaded desperately, “You're right, yesterday I did almost die, I put my tribe in danger, a-and I don’t even really understand how to lead my tribe yet. But what could you do to change that?! Even if I take your training you won’t just turn me into the King I need to be, there's not enough time! You said it yourself, I'm not even one percent ready to achieve my dream, so how the hell are you gonna change that?!!”

  Fazel was unphased, his back still turned to Bo, “A farmer can’t just throw on a crown and transform into a king, the same way you couldn’t just throw on a crown and become one either. Kings don't grow on trees, rather they are molded like a sculpture. No matter how detailed the sculpture may be, it’s still made out of simple shapes like a circle or a square.”

  Finally, Fazel turned his face to Bo, a gleaming smile gaping between his lips, “What I’m trying to say is, if you think there’s anything that can turn you into a real king overnight, then you’re better off just giving up now. But if you're willing to learn the basics like just knowing how to be a warrior, hee hee… then you have the right guy. All I need is 10 days.”

  Bo’s head tilted downward, reluctant to stare Fazel in the eyes, “I hear your offer, b-but 10 days is just too long without my Tribe, who knows what could happen to them now that I’m not there… I need to get back to them!”

  Fazel’s patience snapped. His voice, laced with disgust and unwavering resolve, cut through Bo’s words like a blade. “And then what? What will you do when you return? Have you even thought about that!?” His eyes burned with frustration, but beneath it, something deeper; expectation. “What difference will it make if you come back as the same person!?”

  He stepped closer, his presence towering, his voice ringing with conviction. “Bo, you are a King now. That title isn’t just for show, it’s a burden, a promise. And because you wear that crown, you must live up to it.” His gaze locked onto Bo’s, daring him to understand. “So when you return to your people… there will be a change.”

  Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. The air in the room felt thick, charged with the weight of the choice that had yet to be made. The world seemed to slow, no wind, no movement, just the shallow rise and fall of their breaths.

  Suddenly. A breath. A shift. A decision.

  “Dammit, it’s too good to pass up.” Bo thought.

  Bo raised his hand and replied, “Alright… Fazel, if power is what you need to try and reach this inconceivable goal of King Conqueror, then for the next 10 days, I want you to train me so I can protect my Tribe and move closer to my goal.”

  Fazel glistened with a bright smile shaking Bo's hand, saying, “Of course brother of Bjorn.”

  He bent down to grab his cup from the amber mat and took a sip, “So then, how about that tea I offered earlier?”

  “Uhhh I’ll pass.” Bo’s face soured refuting to look at Fazel's unpleasant smile.

  As if on cue, the intrusion of an impressively imposing ape slammed through the room's large wooden doors.

  He had rough scratch marks etched across his body, he was far larger than Fazel’s six feet, and his mass doubled the weight of any silverback, then again the ape was clearly different from the average silverback, because despite its black and grey fur, his skin appeared bright like the skin of a monkey, and his eyes were shaded with the hint of burgundy.

  “Chief is everything alright!?” He shouted with a deep tone, he was panting heavily.

  “Who is he?” Bo thought a spasm of worry crossed his face.

  The ape lifted his head and scanned the room. His eyes met Bo and a prickling sensation shot up his spine immediately raised his golden toga that scraped the room floor and assumed a combat stance.

  “I’ll handle him.” The Ape firmly stated.

  Bo stared at the ape before him mindlessly, paralyzed before Fazel placed his hand on his shoulder. Fazel’s eyes faced the ape standing in front of the two, his cheeks ballooned and his lips pressed against each other barely able to contain himself,

  '“Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha. Wallo please, not too serious all the time, is fine, you almost made the kid shit himself.” He continued, “Me and the boy next to me we're just having a little altercation, but everything is fine now.”

  Suddenly, Bo collapsed. His knees buckled, and he hit the ground hard, his breath escaping in a sharp gasp. His trembling hands clutched at the glowing red dots searing into his flesh, pain radiating from them like fire spreading through his veins. His vision blurred, the world around him fading into a haze.

  Fazel's eyes widened. A realization crept into his chest as he took a step forward. “Did I push him too far?”

  His voice came quieter than he intended, edged with something dangerously close to regret.

  "I... I may have done too much damage to him by using Midas."

  Fifteen minutes had passed and a group of health workers swiftly made their way to the room and assisted Bo

  “You sure where we should help the human out Chief?” One of the monkeys asked from the pack.

  “He’s a patient just like another person is in this kingdom right?” Fazel rebutted.

  The pack of primate health workers gazed at each other with shrugged shoulders and unsaid questions before picking Bo’s unconscious body up and leaving the room.

  Another 10 minutes passed before Fazel would leave his room, on his way out after locking his giant doors, his path was blocked by an imposing figure Wallo, the ape who had barged into Fazel and Bo’s conversation earlier.

  Wallo’s anger was unmistakable, his voice a sharp mix of disbelief and outrage. “What is a human doing in our Kingdom, Chief!?” His eyes burned with fury, his stance tense.

  But Fazel remained still, his posture unshaken, his gaze steady as if Wallo’s outburst were nothing more than a passing wind.

  “That boy is my student now,” he declared with no hesitation. No room for argument.

  Wallo’s breath hitched, his jaw tightening. His body tensed, muscles coiling like a predator preparing to strike. not out of violence, but out of frustration.

  “You know how the Kingdom feels about humans, Fazel!” His throat felt tight, the words bitter on his tongue.

  Wallo waited for a response, no words escaped Fazel's lips.

  “Is that it? You won’t say anything else?” He asked out of frustration.

  "I have nothing to say." Fazel responded, firm. The tension between the two was tight but left no more for conversation, forcing Wallo to march down the hall in a storm.

  Watching Wallo storm down the hall left to him to reflect on his words, “Whether I treat this kingdom with an answer or not it's all pointless, my days here are coming to an end.”