Kaz took the bed farthest from the door. It had a wall to two sides and was a double bed in a room full of single bunks. Kaz didn’t get comfortable. He sat on the edge of the bed, his feet spread wide, wrapping his hands with gauze and tap. His brass knuckles had disappeared the second he brought them out of his space.

“Fuck, your fast.”

Kaz looked over. Purple-eyes was breathing heavily but had a grin on his face.

“I was sure I’d beat you,” he said. His eyes moved down to Kaz’s fists. “You box?” he asked with a wrinkle to his nose.”

“No.” Kaz hadn’t been trained to fight. As a kid, he’d taken a couple karate lessons but preferred watching cartoons on Saturday morning over class at nine. In terms of sports, he was convinced he was going to be the next Ronaldo after watching the World Cup and was at football practice every afternoon. Maybe he would have done it, if the world hadn’t ended. As it was, he should have taken kickboxing. It didn’t help with killing zombies he didn’t want to get up close and personal with them, but it worked for dealing with humans.

“You look like you box,” Purple-eyes said, twirling a knife between his fingers.

“If I pull a knife, the person I use it against isn’t going to walk it off. My fists, they have a chance.” Kaz looked up, eyeing the boy walking towards him.

There was a sneer on his face. “You’re talking tough.”

It was one of the heavy-set boys who’d flanked the arrogant boy. Kaz looked around him to see his twin standing guard as the arrogant boy watched on with curled lips.

Kaz looked down the line. All the other beds were taken, and the challengers watched Kaz. Did he look weak?

“It was a warning but if you stay here, you’ll be an example.”

He didn’t look convinced. “Sure.”

Kaz stood shaking out his shoulder. Don’t kill him. He focused on that thought. The boy pulled a knife out and charged at Kaz. He stabbed down, aiming for an eye.

Kaz brought up his hand, his forearm connecting with the boys. Pushing his hand to the side left the boy’s torso open. Kaz stepped forward, driving his fist through. The second he did, he knew he used too much force. His fist connected hard to the boy’s right side. The liver shot had the boy screaming and dropping to the floor as he vomited.

He crouched over the boy, who whimpered, trying to worm away. “Call for help. I clipped your rib and it might have caused internal damage.” Kaz was sure it had. The boy was incoherent, his eyes unfocused and slipping in and out of consciousness. “You,” Kaz said pointing to his twin. “Take him and call for help.”

“Don’t move,” the arrogant boy said.

Kaz straightened, retaking his seat on the bed. “I don’t care if he dies. Take him or not.”

The arrogant guy sneered, crossing his hands over his chest, and seemed determined to wait Kaz out.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Another boy said, looking around. “You're going to get in trouble.” He was on the top bunk in front of Kaz’s bed.

Kaz huffed a laugh. “Life and death duels should only be conducted in the arena, petty squabbles in the dorm will be settled by the housemaster or mistress should they get out of hand. Conflicts are necessary for growth, and it is in their resolution that we find growth.” Kaz parroted the headmaster. “These,” he said, gesturing to the room and the fights happening “, are petty squabbles. If I’d meant to kill him, I was to go to the arena. If that wasn’t my intention but it happened, the house mistress will handle it, and if you haven’t figured it out, fighting is expected, if not encouraged.”

Kaz crossed his legs, taking a more relaxed posture. “To the victor the spoils.”

“Beastly like your whore of a mot-”

Kaz was in front of him in a second. The arrogant boy closed his eyes expecting a hit that didn’t land. Kaz opened his fist and gave him three light slaps on his face. “It’s cute that you think that’s a provocation.”

Kaz strolled back to his bed. “I over-prepared,” he said, flexing his fingers.

“We’re not beast. We fight with magic,” another boy who’d settled on a bunk said.

“Okay, fight with magic.” Kaz knew he was taunting him.

The boy got red-faced. It showed how fragile they were, in both body and mind. “You don’t know it either,” the boy said, sounding like a grade-schooler on the playground.

“Never said I did.” The boy whose ribs he’d cracked wasn’t looking good. His breathing was unsteady, he convulsed, and he was drenched in sweat. Kaz looked at him and was relieved he didn’t feel glee. He was always scared he’d become like those hunters who reveled in ending a human life. It was easy. Fighting was addictive, there was an allure to the thrill and challenge. It got your blood rushing, the same way a drug did.

“I’m Tristen Eytel,” purple-eyes said, introducing himself. He got up and walked towards Kaz.

Kaz noted that no one made a move toward Tristen's bed. In fact, most of the challengers had moved elsewhere and claimed beds. The remaining stragglers were still eyeing him. Influence and power. They assumed he had neither, and they weren't used to death, but a broken and bruised body wasn't uncommon.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“I’m Ignacius Kaz’myr Blake Huxley,” he said, standing and holding his hand out, palm up.

This is important Kaz’myr. Always say your full anime when introducing yourself. If you introduce yourself first, wait with your palms open, facing your side and your right leg behind your left. If you're the second person to give your name, it’s on you to initiate a handshake and your palm must be facing up to show you aren’t casting a spell. Are you listening?

Tristen’s posture was perfect, but it was awkward- like he didn’t use it often or had only recently learned. Kaz’s posture might look similar. He’d learned it sometime this morning. Hell, he didn’t know how long he’d been here. The constant darkness didn’t help with telling the time. He’d been banned from wearing his watch.

“Au..Au…Audacious,” the arrogant boy said, rallying.

The second bulky boy watched his brother with scared, nervous eyes, but didn’t step away from arrogant-boy.

Tristen noticed where he was looking. “The Griffen family is a vassal of Orce Duchy.”

“Oh,” Kaz said. The cultural significance was lost on him even if he knew what the word meant and represented. However, he knew enough to stir up shit. “Well, they drew the short end of the stick. They have a lot to worry about if they swear fealty to him. He’s this callous now, they expect it to get better? Hope?”

“Are you going to ignore him calling you audacious?” Tristen asked.

“He pissed his pants and is trembling. It’s hard for me to focus on the words coming out of his mouth.” Kaz didn’t want to be part of this spectacle, but they held the room’s focus.

“I didn’t.” There was an angry squeal. The arrogant man spun, pointing at a boy with silver hair the same color as Kaz’s. “You’re going to let him claim that name?”

The boy looked mortified at being pulled into the situation.

“Ignazio!”

“What do you want me to say? If he wasn’t allowed he couldn’t even introduce himself as Huxley, you know naming magic as well as I do! In this school, calling himself Huxley? If he didn’t have permission, he’d be dead!”

Kaz looked at the boy who was his cousin. Ignazio anger was a mask for terror. He was as pale as the boy with the busted rib. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

There was something he was missing. Our name means something. It’s our birthright. Remember that Kaz’myr.

He wanted to pull out his hair.

Kaz looked at Tristen, but he wore a shit-eating grin and only shrugged his shoulders.

The next bed over had its curtains drawn.

Ignazio turned away, pulling the sheets over his head.

“Spinless.” The arrogant boy slapped his remaining guard. “Do something! I want that bed!”

“You can claim another, it’s not like the last two won’t give up their beds,” a boy tried to reason.

“I want that one.”

“We’ll go and take it.”

“Do you know who you’re talking to?”

“You want to try and take my bed,” Tristen asked. “Hmm, brother?”

“Don’t call me that.” The arrogant boy’s words were low and guttural. “We are not the same.”

Tristen’s smile widened. “I agree. I’m better.”

The arrogant boy didn’t send his goon after Tristen, he didn’t shout. He was upset, but–respectful.

Kaz raised an eyebrow at Tristen, who snapped his finger. A tiny flame appeared before blinking out.

He felt so stupid. His fists didn’t matter here. Magic did. “That’s all?” Kaz opened his palm, forming a black sphere for a second before it winked out.

There was a booming laugh from Tristen, and the nervous energy in the room spiked. Kaz could almost feel the other boys distance themselves. The arrogant boy’s reaction was even greater, he fell on his ass, scuttling back before turning on all fours and crawling away.

The bulky bodyguard dived for his brother. “Help.”

A young woman with wild blond hair appeared, looking down at the two boys expressionlessly. “Why didn’t you call earlier? Never mind, forget I asked.” She stepped closer, resting a hand on their shoulder before disappearing.

It looks like shadow step. Kaz thought. It was a move he developed when his space powers reached level three. It wasn’t that she disappeared. Instead, she stepped into a void space that shortened the distance between two points. He glanced at the door, only hearing it close instead of seeing her.

“What,” he asked Tristen. “I didn’t say that I could, but I didn’t say I couldn’t.”

“Why not do that from the start?”

“Didn’t cross my mind. I’m sort of used to solving things with my fist.”

“And you don’t box?”

“Why are you saying box like it’s a dirty word?”

Tristen leaned against his bedpost. Kaz wasn’t polite and sat. “It is. Boxing is a blood sport usually fought by slaves who’ve had their magic sealed.”

“Huh, my step-father-”

“Stepfather?” A voice shouted. It was nervous boy. Kaz had seen him watching anxiously but didn’t focus on him since he didn’t make a move.

Tristen started laughing again, and Kaz held his head. He realized that he could never fly under the radar. Kaz might have spatial powers but he was as subtle as a bull in a china shop.

“Yes, stepfather. The person my mother married after she and my father divorced. He’d also the father of my half-brother or my other half-brother-”

“Half-brother,” he squeaked.

“You need to stop cutting me off when I speak,” Kaz said. Tristen, as usual, was laughing. “Back to your bed, shoo.”

Tristen sat on Kaz’s bed, grinning at him. “Your fun. I don’t think there will be a dull moment around you.”

“I like dull. I’m aiming for a dull three years.” Kaz said, not sure if he was lying or not. “Want to explain that to me?” Kaz said, indicating his half-brother, and his cousin who poked his head out and was looking at him in shock. “Assume I grew up under a rock.”

“A rock you had to fight for your life under?” Tristen asked. His purple eyes were deep, and despite the grin on his face, his eyes weren’t smiling.

Kaz started undoing the bandages on his hands, sort of miffed he’d wasted his time doing it in the first place. “Something like that.”

“They didn’t expect your mother to remarry,” Tristen said. “It’s well-known how obsessed your mother was with your father. It’s why she forced a marriage and why he had to divorce her.”

Kaz’s mother was apathetic about his father. A marriage of convenience, she’d said. “I guess that’s one version of events.”

Ding. Registering Ignacius Kaz’myr Blake Huxley. Assessing.

“Okay, shows over.” Kaz kicked Tristen off the bed and pulled the curtain closed.