Alien Noble's Pretty Human

Chapter 1

Rylan

         Excitement starts pumping through my veins as soon the alarm on my comm pad buzzes to life. My heartbeat intensifies within my waking self, thumping until my eyelids snap open.

         “Are you ready, Rylan? This is it, man,” I whisper to the empty room, already pumping myself up. It’s day one of the Challenge. A day I've been preparing for all year, if not my entire life.

Shadows cling to the training arena as I scope it from my window. Dressing quickly, I’m itching to call the space mine before the other aspirants claim it for themselves.

         They’re here for the same reason I am. Of all the trial challenges on Kiphia, the Mountain Challenge is by far the most intimidating. It’s a 21-day course through the rugged Tournalese Mountains, finishing at the top of Mount Sanat, in the Cradle of the Gods.

         It’s a daunting climb up unforgiving crags and cliffs and a brutal 30-click hike up the face of the dormant volcano. An oasis waits for us at the top in the form of a beautiful crater lake surrounded by pines. If you can survive the treacherous conditions. If you can endure starvation, blistering winds, and thinning air.

If.

Wisps of fog reluctantly grip the rough hewn benches of the Aspirants Arena. As my feet slush against the dew-fallen grass, I feel at home here. I close my eyes for a moment, taking care to bless the day with gratitude.

I’m the two-time winner of this competition, a fact I’ve learned to thank the Divine Ones for every day. But it didn’t happen without sacrifice. This year will be no different.

Bending down, I pluck some blades of grass and lightly run my fingers over the smooth surface.

I can tell a lot from the dew point. Today augers fair weather, light wind, and slight humidity. “If the fates are willing, there’s hope yet for good conditions on race day,” I murmur to myself.

My feet pacing into the arena is the only sound on this calm, quiet morning. I make my way into the center starting platform for the first order of the day. In two days' time, twenty other aspirants, from all over the Six Kingdoms will join me here, waiting for the starting gun.

It’s three weeks to the top of Mt. Sanat, battling the elements for the chance to take the prize. Honor is one victory, the other is status. When I take my place among the ruling warriors of Kiphia, it will be as the most decorated trial challenger of the entire Athenaverse.

Closing my eyes on the platform, I hang in this quiet for a specific purpose. A breath of determined air pushes from my lungs as I begin my pre-race ritual.

My arms slowly curve into the chilly dawn as I vocalize the pull of each breath. “One, two, three, four, five,” I begin to count as I work to slow down my heart rate as much as possible. The power of the mind starts with the power of the breath. And at high elevation, I’ll be working as hard to oxygenate my blood as I will be to reach the top before the others.

Slowly, I maneuver my right arm across my body in concentrated effort. My palm flat against the morning breeze forces the line of my concentration to a trance-like state.

In the past, racers have asked me how I keep my focus amid life-or-death situations of the Challenge. They don't believe me when I tell them it's the Earth art of Tai Chi. Few of these aspirants know that breathwork is the make or break out here.

That’s not the only thing that separates me from them. It's my dedication to Self that has gotten me this far, both in this competition and in life. Some of these competitors work in tandem. Let them. I've learned as a lone wolf that I'm stronger on my own.

As I focus on my own mindfulness, I begin to notice that mine is not the only breath filling this space. In the distance, another aspirant crawls through the ropes course. The arena is massive, and through the dark foggy dawn, I can’t be certain of the person training.

Squinting, I can make out only one thing for certain – they’re human.

In a move towards modernization, the League voted this year to open the race to any qualified aspirant, including humans.

From my vantage, I can see that whoever he is, he isn’t slow. No matter. This trial will push him to his breaking point, as it will to us all. Sanat the great equalizer will see to it.

“Good luck, buddy,” I mutter, knowing he’s too far away to hear. “You’re gonna need it.”

By sun-up, the other twenty contestants are in the arena training with me. The auditory evidence of their existence fades into white noise. I let nothing break my concentration. Especially no other person.

Finishing my practice, I slip my shirt off, exposing my muscular light blue skin to the chilly arena. My pecs flex in response to the change in temperature, sending my nipples into hard knots that cut against the breeze.

“Is that who I think it is? Is that Rylan Xanath? Two-time defending champion Rylan Xanath?”

“Sure is,” a female Kiphian confirms. Brushing them off, I break into pushups to raise my heart rate. The silver oximeter on my thumb pulses slightly indicating the change in oxygen levels as I work out. 

Pressing it, the AI delivers a readout. “Oxygen levels, 95%.”

That’s good. Kiphians born and naturalized into this environment can survive down to eighty percent. Human contestants, unless they're well-trained in breath work, don't stand much of a chance.

I jump into a set of burpees until the heat starts to rise within me. Sweat runs down my stout frame, dripping from my taut muscles onto the blunt spines that run along my back.

“I could watch that all day,” a female aspirant brags to the others. She can talk all she likes. There isn’t a pretty face in all the known galaxies that can divert me.

Setting off towards the ropes course, I know from repeat experience not to linger in any part of the training arena for too long. These younger Kiphians always group up during the first ascent, but I learned years ago that the only way through was on your own two feet.

As I suspected, one of my spectators breaks off to join me.

“Mr. Xanath, sir. Big fan. Hey, maybe we can hit the course together?” A young Kiphian male blocks the path to the ropes course. “I just noticed that you removed an article of clothing. Was that strategic, sir?”

I take a beat before answering him. I don’t mind dropping the odd tip now and again. I know nothing I tell him today will matter when we’re in the thick of things. It’s just what this course demands.

Still, he looks eager enough. “I do it to acclimate to the climate so my body can take over when my mind shuts down.”

My words slap the color from his face. “You? Shut down?”

“I’m only Kiphian,” I remind him. Brushing past, I start to wrap my hands in tape for the obstacle course. “Whatever training you think you brought with you today, Sanat will claim.”

The maneuver works well enough to stop him in his tracks and let me off to the ropes alone.

What I didn't tell him is that there’s only one thing that matters in this game. Total unadulterated focus. Anything less could get you killed.

I hop into the ropes to set my mind back into its rhythm from this morning. I see the course in my mind’s eye. With each rise of my knee to my chest, I’m one with Sanat.

I jump into a zipline down the course, steeling myself from the biting wind as I visualize the conditions ahead. Keeping my mind in this game is the only way through. The impossible twists and turns of the Tournalese flash through my mind one by one. They’re both challenging and second nature to me, like sparring with an old friend.

The other challengers are battling the elements, but as the returning champ, I know that I’m my only real competition. Sanat and I go way back, but she wouldn't mind claiming me if just to keep me from my prize.

My breath is now the only compass pointing me forward. Running up to the rock wall, I jump into the first hold and boulder up to the third and fourth with ease. My grip strength tests my core as sweat begins to form on my brow.

The course curves into a harsh underhang. Kiphian males of the Mountain Kingdom have a developed inner claw in their feet to aid in climbing. But I prefer to rely on pure grip strength. My bulk dangles below as I maintain my composure with ease. This is what I've trained for.

Gravity tugs at my center while my knuckles grip the holds. Feeling the pull against my waist, I focus on my core muscles, breathing short and harsh breaths until I have enough strength to send my body up to the top of the overhang in one big movement.

Throwing my shoulder over the top, the sun hits my face as I look out over the whole arena. Kiphians of all shapes train in the rugged environment. The anticipation builds within me as the coming crowd fills the spectator benches.

This competition isn't just a way to pass the time. For me, it's a way of life. Being at one with nature and being pushed to the limit is where I thrive. As far as I'm concerned, there’s only one master worthy of serving – adventure itself.

Nothing will tear my sight away from this true course. Nothing and no one. As I peer out at my fellow racers, I feel the pull of the days ahead. Accepting the potential challenges of each one, my blood boils with anticipation.

The chilly air brushes past my face as I draw in a deep breath of air through my nostrils. I can feel it now. 

“It’s gonna be one hell of a race,” I declare.