CHAPTER XXI (21)- The Combat Contest

After his private tutoring, he went back to his chamber to sleep again. Roba had promised to begin his training in spatial manipulation spells at their next session. With the caveat that he needed to keep at, and improve upon, his current academic studies.

Kizu slept whenever and wherever he could everyday, often taking naps whenever he had a free period or during his lunch break. Fatigue constantly haunted him during the daytime and abandoned him completely at night. He constantly went over possible solutions to his horrible sleep schedule. At several points, he resolved to prepare a sleeping draught in his next brewing class. But as the days went on, it fell to the back of his priority list.

While enjoying an after class nap, Basil unintentionally woke him up while rummaging around in the room. Blearily, Kizu lifted his head to glare at him. He noted that Basil looked like a handsome Hon man today with a firm chin and dark black hair tied into a tail. As he drifted off again, he thought about how Basil always appeared as a different stranger everyday. If an actual stranger broke into his dorm, how would he ever know?

When Kizu woke up again, he was alone with Mort. After displacing some clothing, it appeared Basil had gone back out. Not that Kizu was complaining. Having the dorm to himself suited him just fine.

He spent the night studying and reviewing Roba’s lessons, with emphasis on practicing his shielding technique. Whenever he needed a break, he read from his divination book. As he did so, his mind constantly wandered to Basil’s proposed infiltration plan. It might very well get him significantly closer to his goal of locating his sister, but it also posed a massive risk.

Finally, after a long night of dozing and studying, the morning finally came. It was finally time to watch the combat testing. He took out his orb from his recovered satchel.

“Orb,” Kizu said, activating it. “Can you show me where they host the combat tests?”

It bobbed in the air. “Affirmative.”

“Okay, lead the way.”

It felt good to be able to follow the enchanted object again. He no longer had to second guess every turn he took. He allowed his mind to roam to his other problems as he followed the orb through the academy, not needing to pay much attention to his path. Eventually, the orb guided him to a new area of the academy grounds. He found himself in a courtyard amphitheater tucked between academy buildings. As he scanned the seats, he spotted Harvey.

“Hey,” he said, sitting down beside the boy.

Harvey jumped at the noice, but visibly relaxed once he saw it was Kizu. Then he glanced around. “Ah, hey.”

“Who’s fighting? Do they have stage names like Demon Slicer or Lemon Eyes?”

“What?” Harvey looked confused. “No, they just have normal names. They’re students like us. Why would they be called ‘Lemon Eyes?’”

“Too bad. When I was a kid my sister used to read me stories about mage tournaments. They always went by flamboyant fake names to conceal their identities.”

“That’s silly. Why would anyone want to hide the fact they’re fighting? Everyone knows babes love guys who can fight.”

Harvey appeared agitated as he again glanced around the stadium. He sunk into his seat, as if trying to appear as small as possible.

Before Kizu could ask him what was on his mind, Arclight strolled out into the center of the amphitheater. She raised her arms into the air, her prosthetic hand glistening in the sunlight.

“Welcome,” her voice boomed all around them. “To this year’s first combat testing. We have a few brave souls who have already volunteered to attempt to raise up their standings. We begin with two of the academy’s best and brightest. Duking it out, we have position number one, third year student Kajima Sene defending her position. Coming in for blood, fifth year student Weston Leer, currently placed as the number two of our academy.”

The two students walked out and Kizu immediately recognized Sene from his brewing class. As for the other contestant…Kizu wouldn’t have realized he was a student if Arclight hadn’t announced him as such. He appeared more man than boy as he towered over Sene. Muscles bulged from beneath his ill-fitting uniform. A bit of scruff even grew on his face parallel to his Tainted scales.

“This fight will be to first blood,” Arclight said. “Any open wound will count as failure. Yielding also stands as failure.”

“Want to place a bet?” he asked Harvey as the two contestants shook hands in the center of the field.

“You’re on.” Harvey grinned, finally seeming to forget about whatever distressed him.

“A week worths of Krimpit’s homework that Sene will win.”

“Fine, but if I win, you do my brewing homework. I don’t want you going anywhere near my history work.”

“Isn’t the whole point of school to learn?” someone asked behind them.

Kizu glanced back and saw Tara. The percussionist from Music F. The notion of meeting her in a place like this felt so odd. It took him a second to realize what felt so weird about the encounter. He had never seen her without Gregor before.

“Maybe so,” Kizu admitted. “But you’re the one using music as a dump class.”

“Fair enough.”

Weirdly, Harvey didn’t even look over at her. Kizu had expected him to check her out, but the Tainted boy only had eyes for the combat down below.

The two contestants stood completely still, staring one another down from across the arena. Then Weston twisted his hand in place and formed a fist, quick as a viper. A pillar of stone rose up, blocking Sene’s vision of him. Sene appeared unimpressed though. In retaliation, she raised two fingers and the stone shattered into rubble. As the pieces fell to the stadium floor, Weston struck at the falling gravel, sending the already airborne stones at her like shrapnel.

The gravel split around Sene, thrown to either side of her by a physical shield of air.

Weston was on one knee. For a moment, Kizu thought he might be yielding to Sene, but then he noticed the student’s hand clutched a wand and he was sketching madly in the dirt with it. He slapped his hand over the design, and it glowed.

From the dirt rose up a skeletal figure. With hollow eyes and bones sealed together with magic, the structure appeared haphazardly assembled with lopsided limbs. Not a true undead, but some sort of summoned creature replicating one. It lumbered forward at Sene but appeared completely ineffective as it clumsily swung its limbs at her. If anything, the most useful aspect of it was its gruesome visage. And Sene appeared unimpressed by that.

Sene raised an open hand and touched the ribcage of the summoned skeleton. It blasted backwards; bones now blackened. But it rose up from the dirt and resumed its relentless sloppy strikes. Kizu recognized it as a nuisance rather than a threat. Something to buy her contestant some time.

Sure enough, while Sene continued to be body blocked by the reassembling summon, Weston sketched a new glyph in the dirt with his wand. When he finished, he tossed aside the wand and reached inside his glowing glyph. He unsheathed an ebony longsword with a wicked serrated blade from his sketch in the dirt. It glowed a deep purple.

Again, Sene blasted the skeleton away, but again it reassembled itself and jumped in her path.

“She looks pissed,” Harvey said.

“She always looks pissed,” Kizu told him. But he had to admit to himself, she looked livid whereas usually she just looked loathful.

As she blasted the skeleton back again for a hundredth time, Sene appeared to notice Weston flanking her with the conjured weapon. Then, with a wave of her hand, she gradually began to rise in the air. By the time Weston reached her, she floated several meters out of reach of both him and his conjured skeleton. She looked almost bored as she brought her fingertips together. When she separated them, blue sparks flickered.

Sene shoved her hand downward. A crack of thunder announced the split second of blinding lightning. Weston barely managed to dive out of the way when she sent down another beam of lightning. And another.

Weston’s hair stood on end as he glared up at her when she gave him a brief moment of respite. He was covered in dirt and soot, but somehow, he had managed to keep a hold of his weapon. He ran a finger down his calves, and they began to emit an ominous orange aura. Then he leapt into the air, brandishing the blade. While another blast of lighting struck from above, he sidestepped, as if invisible platforms appeared under his feet. He dashed up the air and swung his sword in an upward arc.

They clashed midair. Sene clapped her palms on either side of the serrated sword, then she wrenched it from his grasp. It clattered to the ground and hissed as it dissolved into nothing. But where her hands had touched the blade, they now glowed a deep violet. Even from afar, Kizu could see the pain twist her face. But she ignored it.

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Kizu expected her to cut him down with a bolt of lightning or an explosion. Instead, the Hon girl kicked his chest, slamming him with her foot at a nearly untraceable speed. The kick cracked his ribs and sent Weston flying backward. He fell back to the dirt with an audible thump.

The purple glow spread along Sene’s forearms, withering the skin. But she slowly descended on her opponent and placed a foot on his chest. Weston just lay there, still dazed, as she leaned over him. She finally drew her wand and gripped it with one of her corrupted hands, as if to show how little his magic affected her. Then she flicked it across his cheek, leaving behind a thin red line.

“First blood goes to Sene,” Arclight said.

Beside him, Harvey groaned.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure Krimpit won’t assign too much homework,” Kizu reassured him.

Harvey glared at him. But quickly became distracted by the next match. Kizu noticed that Arclight started with the highest-ranking students first and descended down the ranks. Probably to avoid embarrassing the lower students right off the bat. For that, at least, Kizu felt a bit of gratitude for the woman. His upcoming match next week loomed over his thoughts.

“I wonder why they use so much elemental and conjuring magic,” Kizu said. “I didn’t see a single hex in any of the matches.”

“Hexes are considered bad sportsmanship,” Tara explained behind him. “A lot of students don’t even bother to learn them.”

“Seriously?” Kizu was aghast. “The crone almost exclusively hexed people. I’ve never seen a witch bother with throwing rocks and fire, they just turn people into frogs and step on them.”

“Which is probably what gave hexes such a bad reputation.”

Kizu admitted that might be true. All the shields he saw the students make were physical ones. Apparently, they were unconcerned with antimagic ones as a result of the lack of hexes in use. A wall of water appeared to stop elementally transmuted fire just as effectively as an antimagic shield. So, for a match like this, it made sense to just rely on one shield that solved all the incoming projectiles versus switching between two.

Each match ended more lackluster than the last. It went from contestants hurling lightning at one another, to looking more like a game of tag between children as they chased one another trying to trigger a touch spell. At one point, Kizu turned around to ask Tara a question about an enchanted weapon, only to find her gone. And he couldn’t blame her in the slightest. At the end of each competition, a few more students left the amphitheater.

Harvey slowly reverted back into being jittery as the fights lost their entertainment value. His leg shook and every ten or so seconds he glanced over his shoulder.

“What’s up with you?” Kizu finally asked him. “All day you’ve been looking like a deer stuck in a tiger’s den.”

Harvey glanced around for the millionth time then blushed.

“I tried asking out a girl,” he admitted quietly.

“And it went poorly?”

“Yes.”

At first Kizu thought that was all he wanted to say on the matter. But after a pause, the floodgates poured open.

“She’s in my enchanting class. She’s so pretty. It’s like she’s magnetized my eyes to her face. No matter where I look, I always end up back at her. When you left the cafeteria the other day, I asked your roommate for advice.”

“Wait, you asked Basil for advice?”

“You said you wouldn’t help me,” he accused. “And Basil said he’d been with tons of girls here at the academy. That experience has to count for something.”

“What did he tell you to do?” Kizu asked.

“He told me to pay attention to what she looked at, and then try to take on the traits of whoever she kept looking towards.” He paused, trying to summon up the next words. “And she kept looking at this loud guy with spectacles and tied back hair.”

“Did it cross your mind that maybe she kept looking at him because he was loud, not necessarily because she was attracted to him?”

“I figured that out now,” he said piteously. “But I got a hair tie and some fake spectacles and went to class yesterday. I made some really loud comments too.”

Kizu wondered just how loud this kid was. Harvey wasn’t exactly a quiet person. But he just nodded his head and let him continue.

“So, everyone looked at me and laughed. The guy who was being looked at before turned red as a beet. Everyone thought I was mocking him. But I thought, okay, that’s fine, the girl’s laughing too. I can pull this off.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“After class, the guy cornered me and punched me in the face. I punched him back, because of course I did. I broke his glasses, and he crawled off and said he’d get his brother and his brother’s mate's next time.”

“And I take it his brother is a bit more threatening?”

“He’s the half-troll fifth year,” Harvey said glumly. “They’re half-brothers.”

All of the sudden, Kizu became aware of the close proximity between himself and Harvey. And the fact that everyone else in the amphitheater had clear visibility of them sitting next to one another.

“Well, none of them have shown up here yet,” Kizu said. “And I doubt they will now. Most people are departing, not arriving. Plus, Arclight is within shouting distance if anything happens. You’re probably safer here than anywhere else on campus.”

Harvey perked up. “That’s a good point! In that case, let’s stay here as long as possible.”

It made no difference to Kizu, he had already planned to wait until the end, intending to scout out what his competition for next week. While it probably wouldn’t be the same fighters, he at least would know what to expect from others in his skill level. And with each passing fight, he found himself put a bit more at ease.

He found the most interesting fights to be between summoners. The creatures they summoned always looked unique, even if the spell was the same. He noticed half a dozen other skeletons like the one in the first fight, but some had more rib bones, one had gems in its eye sockets, and another actually had two skulls. And none of them appeared nearly as resilient or resolute. Most dissolved after breaking once or twice. None of them could have withstood Sene’s beating for more than a few seconds.

Finally, they got down to the students ranked 700 or under. There were only four of them. In both of the two 1v1 matches Kizu landed on the opinion that nobody should have won.

One match consisted of the two students summoning a small mangled and malnourished monster each and then running and trying to hide from one another for ten minutes until one of them tripped and scraped a knee.

In the other match, the contestants tried at first to throw pebbles at one another using elemental magic, but soon realized that actually picking up and physically hurling stones proved way more effective. Eventually, they ended up in a fist fight that resulted in a lost tooth being spat out in a glob of blood.

Normally, those two matches would have relieved Kizu. Except, the audience seemed every bit as involved in those matches as they had been for Sene and Weston. While their numbers had dwindled to a fraction, the audience hollered and laughed at the contestants at a volume that rivaled the first match of the day’s cheers. The audience also really loved shouting out useless suggestions and comments. Kizu felt extreme discomfort at the idea of being down there himself.

Once the matches finished, Arclight made some closing statements, praising all the students who came to compete as well as announcing the movement of each students’ ranking. Then she dismissed them.

“Let’s catch Arclight and walk with her,” Kizu suggested as the majority of the remaining students stood up to leave the amphitheater.

Harvey nodded eagerly, obviously seeing her as a route to safety and followed on Kizu’s heels down to the bottom of the arena. The professor raised a bushy eyebrow and smiled as they approached her.

“What do we have here? Kaga Kizu, you’re not scheduled to compete until next week. Scoping out the competition?”

“You’re already signed up?” Harvey said, astonished.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Kizu muttered. “Actually professor, I wanted to ask you about something you said during my initial combat test. Do you mind if we walk with you?”

“Of course not!” Arclight laughed. “My role as a professor is to teach, and the primary method of learning is embedded in the art of asking questions! Ask away!”

Kizu decided to just cut right to the heart of his question. “You mentioned that I didn’t use my familiar, Mort. But he’s not exactly a threatening animal like a tiger or griffin. How would you have used him?”

“Why do you believe so many people prefer cats and birds as familiars? Why doesn’t everyone have a crocodile on hand?”

“Because they’re expensive and there’s not a large supply?” Kizu guessed.

“Not at all! Supply is created by demand. And prices go down with competition. No, guess again!”

“Because they’re so big,” Harvey guessed, jumping into the conversation. “I eat close to three kilos of meat every day. Crocodiles probably eat even more.”

“Almost! You’re closer, but crocodiles usually eat less than that. It’s not the upkeep, but the size!”

“People don’t want larger animals,” Kizu said. It made sense. Just imagining the amount of work a gorilla sized Mort would require made him shudder.

“Size is the heart of the issue. Because larger animals don't work as effectively as familiars. Sure, you still can take on certain attributes of an animal so you could gain great physical strength from a more destructive creature, but that’s not the primary use of a familiar. What you want from a familiar is another vantage point from which to channel from. The utility of the animal is everything!”

“You mean, I can cast spells through Mort?”

“Exactly! Only it goes far beyond that, not only do they increase the amount you’re able to channel before exhausting yourself, you can amplify your magic through your familiar as well!”

“That’s ridiculously powerful!” Harvey said. “Why doesn’t everyone have familiars?”

“Because it also creates an opening for any enemy to exploit,” Kizu said, thinking. “I feel the reflection of the emotions and pain from my familiar.” He hesitated before finally asking a question he’d been wondering for a long time. “What happens when Mort dies?”

“Killing a familiar is bad form,” Arclight told him. Her voice was unnaturally grim. “But if done, you’ll be out of commission for an unknown amount of time. A piece of your very soul dies alongside the familiar. If that ever happens, you want to be around people you trust to take care of you for the next few weeks. The more bonded, the worse the break. I know people who never recovered from their familiar’s death.”

“But how do I actually channel through Mort?” Kizu asked. He wanted to change the subject away from death.

“The same way that you cast spells normally. But you need to focus on your link simultaneously. It won’t feel natural at first, like juggling with someone else’s arms. But you get used to it.”

“Do you have a familiar?” Harvey asked Arclight.

For the first time since meeting her, a question silenced Arclight. Her one good eye stared down at her prosthetic arm as she flexed it into a fist. Kizu felt the pressure building in the air as she squeezed the fist, his lungs felt as if not getting enough air with each breath. Hyperventilating slightly, he was about to change the subject when she finally answered.

“I did,” she admitted, unclenching the obsidian fist and dispelling the air’s weight. “And I don’t think I’ll have another. Like I said before, it creates an easily exploitable vulnerability.”

Kizu desperately wanted to pry. But, before he could devise a tactful way to do so, they rounded the corner. Three very large boys stood across the hallway, blocking the path. Two of the three definitely had troll blood.

“Lucas, Satin, and Green!” Arclight greeted them. She beamed. “How are you on this lovely day?”

“Been better,” one of the trollbloods said. He eyed Kizu first, then his eyes slid to Harvey. “Weston lost his fight.”

“Yes, it’s a pity. But he definitely has improved since last year! The problem is that Sene also continues to improve. Closing the gap between them will serve as a challenge!”

“We want to fight this next week,” the other trollblood said simply.

Arclight positively beamed at them. “Well, your probation is over now! So long as you don’t permanently injure any contestants again, there should be no issue at all with that.”

“Good.” The half troll nodded his approval. “I want to fight them.”

Of course, he pointed at Kizu and Harvey.