Brisk, artificially cooled air hit my face as I stepped through the thick redwood doors, its gilded handles automatically pulling away from me when Ren and I approached. The receding doors revealed a lobby dripping in opulence, with gold and white mingling in an exotic blend that breathed an angelic charm into the room. Marble pillars held up the cavernous space, three on each side, and a winding staircase rose up from in between them.
People milled about, casually conversing over flutes of champagne or admiring the eye-catching adornments of the room; priceless sculptures handcrafted with meticulous skill and expensive pieces of art – that looked more like random splatters to me – decorated the walls of the lobby.
The people themselves were draped in some of the most exquisite silks and clothing I’d ever laid eyes upon, a stark difference compared to the worn jeans and one-size-too-big hoodies that Ren and I wore.
I glanced at Ren and caught his eye, already knowing his thoughts on the people in front of us were the same as mine.
“Dolls,” Ocean used to say. “Pretty as can be on the outside, but no life on the inside. You can see it in their eyes. Dead and hollow, glazed and bleak. You think they’re the lucky ones, that they’re the ones gifted by fate. But always remember, the ones who are really lucky are the ones who can live; who truly know what it means to live.”
I smiled as I studied the luxury before me, knowing it was I who was lucky, not these occupants of the dollhouse, puppets for the amusement of those greater. I was lucky, for I knew what it truly meant to live. For I had seen someone truly live.
We strolled through the lounge, enjoying the sights, as we made our way to the little desk at the side. The lady who sat there, and quite a few of the patrons in the lounge, shot over disdainful looks as we walked, obviously taking offense at the fact that people of our class would dare to enter such a place. It was an unwritten rule that people like us would stay clear of these settings. In fact, this whole corner of the city had been taken up by these snobs. Mages though we may be, Ren and I would still never be considered on the same level as these people who had generations of powerful mages in their lineage.
We pointedly ignored the snide glances that were cast at us, adopting the most arrogant air we could, simply for the fun of it. Turning up my nose at these people scratched an itch I hadn’t even known I had.
Ren wordlessly slipped the receptionist a small green card when we reached her. The woman didn’t even bother to try and hide the contempt on her face. At least, until she properly saw the card Ren had passed. Immediately, her face morphed into a solemn one as she stood up and bent in servitude, passing over a golden, old-fashioned key that she fished out of her chest pocket. The key glimmered and was beautifully engraved, clearly of great importance.
Within the receptionist’s actions was contained everything I disliked about these people: disdain for any considered lower, blind submission in front of any considered greater. People who based their pride on their status would forever be doomed to such a fate, for there will always be some higher than them.
Shaking my head to clear it, I put the woman's actions out of my head and focused back on the objective. Room 99. The room was an entire floor of the building, the highest floor. The place was the headquarters of Fight House, but it was usually just used as a party room for elites; or anyone who had enough money, really. After all, for a gang as dominant as Fight House, there were rarely any pressing matters for the top dogs to attend to.
I had no idea how Ren had managed to get his hands on an access card, and I didn’t bother asking.
We made our way up ten winding carpeted flights before we finally reached the end. The stairs led straight into a hallway, but unlike the rest of the floors, there was only one door, right at the end. As we made our way to the door, I sucked in a deep breath, calming my nerves. Ren was grinning ear to ear in anticipation, and I couldn’t help but mirror him. After four months of preparing and building, now was the moment we could finally show ourselves to the city.
With a soft click, the golden key slid into the keyhole on the door and, with another, rotated and unlocked it. A slight push swung the door out, letting out the cacophony of music and chatter of the room. In the center of the room was a dance floor, with a mess of bodies swaying under a dazzling silver ball. Everywhere else, people talked and laughed, drinking seemingly every kind of alcohol known to man.
No one batted an eye at our entrance, most too caught up in their own little worlds to notice. The ones who did simply nodded or didn’t even bother to acknowledge us.
It was just as Ren had said. This place was open to anyone with enough money, regardless of allegiance or affiliations. And being here should be proof enough that we had the money, so no one questioned our clothing.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I quickly dove into the crowd and made my way to the bar, grabbing a stool for myself and Ren. The bartender looked at us, ready to take an order, but I simply shook my head. Drinking had never been my cup of tea, so to speak. Instead, I pulled out a silver flask and, unscrewing the lid, took a deep swig. The sweet, tart flavor of apple filled my mouth, pulling my lips into a smile before I knew it. Apple juice had been my favorite drink since as far back as I could remember, and I still relished its taste.
Ren chuckled beside me as he watched me enjoy myself, before nudging me and slightly nodding to my left. Following his gaze, my eyes landed on a man, easily five decades old, likely closing in on six. His weathered face was hawkish, giving off the bearing of a predator. Despite his age, the feeling of danger he gave off was unmistakable.
When my gaze fell on him, his wrinkled skin was stretched into a wide smile, showing off his perfectly straight white teeth. His salt and pepper beard, neatly trimmed close to his skin, curled around his smile. But even laughing, I could still sense the power behind his eyes. I couldn’t imagine what his aura would be like if he was actually fighting.
He sat on a red leather chair that was studded with gold, clearly expensive beyond belief. To his side sat a young man and woman, and a meter across from him sat yet another old man.
“That’s Owen Roderick. He’s the Gang Leader of Fight House. He’s ruthless and stronger than anyone you’ve probably ever met before. Definitely stronger than anyone else in the gang.”
“Stronger than anyone I’ve ever met? What, have you met stronger?” I asked.
Ren laughed. “Oh, I’ve certainly met stronger. But don’t underestimate him because of that. There are very few people in the world stronger than the people I’ve seen.”
“No way. In the whole world? You’re joking, right?”
Ren shook his head. “You know the Guild Leader of Razacon? He’s considered one of the top five strongest people on the planet. I’ve seen people he’s had to bow towards.”
I barked with laughter at that. “Now I know you’re joking. That’s not even possible. How can one of the top five strongest people ever have to bow to anyone? There can’t be that big of a difference between him and the strongest person, right?”
“I said he is considered among the top five, not that he is. In the public eye, he might be, but there are countless people who operate from the shadows, and those people wield power far beyond what people like us can comprehend.”
“And you know this how? How could a seventeen-year-old possibly be in the company of people like that?”
Ren flashed me a grin. “I told you already. They operate in the shadows, and the shadows are my home.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. It seemed Ren’s origins were even more mysterious than I had thought. My questions had only left me more confused.
“Anyway, he’s the one we’re gonna have to keep busy for exactly fifteen minutes, and that’s gonna be anything but easy. Especially if we have to deal with his cronies while we’re at it,” Ren went on, switching back to the topic at hand.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you sound scared, Ren,” I teased.
“Oh please. I’ve been itching to go against someone on my level since forever.”
“Really? I recall you always turning down my invitations to spar.”
“Exactly. Notice I said someone on my level?”
I laughed. “Someone’s talking big. Better not disappoint when the time comes.”
“Speaking of which, we’ve still got about ten minutes till showtime. Let’s go eavesdrop on that conversation over there. My gut is telling me that the guy sitting across from Owen is important.”
“Oh really? What gave it away, the fact that he’s sitting across from the most important guy here?” I asked sarcastically, smirking. “I gotta say, your gut’s quite the detective.”
“Oh leave me alone,” grumbled Ren, getting up and motioning for me to follow. I smiled to myself, marking this one down as my win.
I followed behind Ren as we snaked our way through the crowd, the blaring music getting louder the closer we got to the sweaty dance floor. By the time we walked past it, it was loud enough to make my ears hurt. I would never be able to understand how people could enjoy themselves in these environments. Maybe you needed a few intoxicants in your system before you could really understand. Most people there certainly had more than a few in them, that much was clear.
Thankfully, it didn’t take long before we made it past the center and found ourselves within two meters of Owen. It was as close as the crowd was willing to get, so I figured it was a safe bet to assume that no one was allowed any closer.
Unfortunately, it was too far to properly hear the conversation Owen was having, probably by design, especially with the din of partiers around us. Or so I thought, but Ren seemed to be intently focused, leaning slightly towards them in an effort to listen. Confused, I nudged him with an elbow. “You can hear them? How?” I asked.
Ren silenced me with a wave, before gesturing towards his eyes. It took a moment, but I eventually assumed that he was telling me that his blindness had enhanced his hearing. I’d heard that was something that happened, so it made sense that he could hear better than normal humans, especially considering Flux had been added to the mix.
With nothing else to do, I decided to practice circulating Flux through my body while I waited. Like blood, it ran along my body through some sort of special vessel, although I didn’t know what the vessels looked like exactly. I knew they were there, though, because I could feel them. From my Flux Core, the proverbial heart of the system, the strange power ran along its arteries all the way to my fingers and toes, branching off into each nook and cranny of my body, before making its way back. With each circulation my vessels became purer, allowing the Flux that flowed within them to be purer. It worked better if done while actually moving, like in a fight, but every little bit helped.
After about five minutes, Owen finally wrapped up his conversation. He stood up, buttoning up his tailored blazer as he did. Owen and the other man shook hands, all sharp and business-like. The young man and woman were much closer, standing shoulder to shoulder. The man had an arm around the woman's waist, making it quite clear that they were a couple. A new couple, judging by their looks of infatuation.
I slipped out my phone and checked the time. Five minutes to showtime, I thought to myself, calming the excitement flowing through me. I glanced at Ren, and he motioned for me to follow him. He took us to a corner of the room, where it was thankfully quieter and much more sparsely populated.
“I didn’t get the details, but it looks like Fight House is allying with another gang. I don’t know if they’re going all the way and merging gangs, or if it’s just an alliance, but I definitely felt an undercurrent of…something. It was weird. There was a desperation, especially from Owen’s side. They sounded real spooked. They brought up something with Vancouver. Apparently the Guild that had unified it had its leader die under some weird circumstances. And there’s been some more disappearances of very high-class people, too.”
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “That’s interesting. Maybe that’s what’s got them spooked. Maybe they’re joining together for some sort of protection against whatever trouble seems to be brewing in the country.”
Ren nodded slowly, thinking. “Makes sense, I guess. You think that has anything to do with us?”
“I doubt it. Seems like it's a very high-profile thing. A first-rate gang falling might be big news in the city, but it’s hardly anything on the scale of what you’re talking about.”
“You’re right. All of the people who’ve gone missing are either guild leaders or higher. That means they’re all people who were in charge of at least an entire city.”
“Exactly, nobody’s gonna bat an eye at a change in power on the scale of gangs. Especially if there’s really something worrying going on for the higher-ups.”
Ren nodded, absentmindedly pulling up his hoodie sleeve and scratching his cloth-wrapped forearm. It was an interesting quirk of his, the white cloth bandage that he always had wrapped around his right forearm. I’d first seen it when he’d once come to training without his hoodie on, on a particularly warm day. As with everything, he managed to sidestep any questions on it, and since my concern didn’t reach beyond a bored curiosity, I’d given up on it too.
I slipped out my phone again, checking the time. Three minutes. It’d been quite some time since I’d been so excited, and nervous. But even in my nervousness, I didn’t for a second doubt my people. Having personally brought them to the level they had reached, I knew better than anyone just how driven they were. Even if they were outnumbered and not trained professionally, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that they would all give their best. And that was all I asked for. After all, it was all I could do myself.
“They should all be at their places by now, right?” I asked Ren, more out of nerves and a need to talk than to actually ask.
Ren smiled, knowing exactly why I was asking. “We’d better hope so, ‘cause we’re up right away. Focus on doing your part. Don’t worry about them. It won’t help them and it’ll only make it harder for you.”
I nodded, taking in a deep breath. “You’re right.”
Ren pulled out his own phone, deftly setting up a timer for fifteen minutes. His finger hovered over the start button, eyes glued to the clock.
As the seconds ticked by, I concentrated on clearing my mind as much as I could. A fight was something that had always felt like home, and I’d noticed that I fought better when in an almost meditative, trance-like state.
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“Now,” whispered Ren.
I opened my eyes, a grin plastered on my face as Flux flowed fiercely through my body. Owen was currently wrapped up in a conversation with some rich looking businessmen, and the young couple had drifted off into a corner of the room with a group of similarly aged people, all engrossed in themselves. The last man, the one who had been negotiating with Owen, seemed to have already left.
I walked out of the surrounding crowd and stopped two meters away from Owen. “Hey, Owen,” I called out. “Does the name Rosefire ring a bell?”
Instantly, a hush fell over the entire room. At least, all conversation immediately stopped. The DJ in charge of the music was a beat slow, but he quickly shut it down when he noticed the sudden change in atmosphere.
In the dead silence that followed, I refused to cower and kept up my small grin, my posture relaxed with one hand stuffed into my pocket.
Finally, after studying me for a moment, Owen frowned and made a small gesture, prompting a scrawny man to run up and quickly whisper to him. All the while, not a single partier moved a muscle, fear rooting them to their places. While they were all undoubtedly rich, Owen was still by far the strongest of the people present, and likely the most well-connected. If he were to wish for some sort of punishment on any of them, nothing could save them, and there was no one who could properly seek revenge. In short, they were at his complete mercy.
The scrawny man was interrupted by Owen soon, who waved him away like he would a fly. “Ah, yes I remember now. That little daycare for thugs caused me quite some embarrassment, I must say. The gangs of Toronto lost a lot of respect for us because of their thievery.” He paused, looking at me once again. “I take it you’re Ruby, the perpetrator of that crime.”
“Hole in one, Owen. Care to take a guess as to why I’m here?” I responded.
“I didn’t think there were still people out there with the audacity to, but I suppose you’re here to fight back.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I’m disappointed Owen. I was hoping that you would have some humility, some understanding of how the world is after climbing up to the level you have. But I guess after spending so many years coddled by spineless people who follow your word like cultists, you must’ve forgotten that there are still people in the world who can still challenge you.”
Owen let out a laugh at my scathing words. “It’s not that I’d forgotten. I’d say it's more that I had given up hope that there were still others out there.” He paused for a beat, his eyes taking on a dangerous light. “After all, I’ve lost count of how many I’ve crushed over the years.”
“Even the thickest of trunks will split with enough swings,” I said, raising my fists in front of my face, boxer style. “And I will have the honor of being your last swing, Owen.” Without giving him a chance to respond I burst out with lightning speed, appearing in front of him in the blink of an eye. My fist, smoking black, sprung like an arrow launched, aimed directly at his face.
However, the satisfying feel of a face warping under my fist didn’t come. Instead, the rough texture of a palm met my knuckles. Immediately after, Owen’s fingers clamped around my wrist, vise-like in their grip.
“For an ax? Maybe. But a feather couldn’t cut down the most withered and weak tree in the world, even if it was swung a million times,” Owen’s gravelly voice sounded in my ears.
I knew right away that my arm wasn’t going to budge an inch in the grip Owen had it in. But I didn’t panic. I’d long since known that Owen was a more powerful mage than I, so I hadn’t been banking on overpowering him in this fight.
Suddenly, I wrenched my hand back as hard as I could. As I expected, Owen’s grip didn’t let up, but my tug brought him stumbling forward, close enough for my bent knee to dig into his gut. Not giving him a break, I straightened out my leg, the sole of my foot crashing into Owen’s chin.
I had shamelessly stolen the move from Ren, and I couldn’t help the smile on my face when I heard him cackle from the crowd. It had taken me a few tries, but I had eventually nailed it during my spars with Leo and the others.
The move worked well, forcing Owen into a backwards stumble. I brought my foot back down to the ground, letting my smugness show in my smile. I had won the first exchange, even if it was because he underestimated me. It was a blow to his pride, more than anything.
It showed on his face, too. Evidently, Owen hadn’t been hit in quite some time, if his grimace of pain as he rubbed his chin was any indication. His face darkened in anger, the embarrassment twofold given the number of witnesses.
His eyes not leaving mine, he grunted out a command to the crowd. “Hold her.”
Immediately, two burly men dressed in semi-formal clothing, like the rest of the partygoers, stepped out from the crowd. They came at me, one from each side, but I didn’t spare them a single glance, not backing down from Owen’s glare.
I caught a flash of surprise in Owen’s eyes when he saw that I wasn’t making a move to dodge the incoming hands bent on restraining me, but it quickly cleared up when Ren’s walking stick came hurtling through the crowd, colliding directly into the head of the man closer to me. It came with surprising force, instantly knocking the man out. He and the stick fell to the floor with a thud and a clatter, echoing in the following silence.
Ren stepped out from the crowd, at last, a grin plastered onto his face. “Three v one-ing a girl? Really Owen? I’m beginning to think you're not actually a respectable guy after all.”
Owen growled in anger, before wordlessly launching himself at me with sudden ferocity. It was unexpected, but I hadn’t let my guard down for a second in the exchange, so I was prepared. Immediately, I dropped down into a low crouch, before rolling to the side. Simultaneously, Ren also burst into action.
After missing his original target, Owen was thrown slightly off balance. Given a second, he could have switched targets and carried his momentum into an attack on Ren. However, Ren didn’t give him the chance. As if foreseeing what would have happened after I dodged, he immediately went on the offensive, taking advantage of the fraction of a second that Owen was off balance.
With a thud, Ren’s fist landed square on Owen’s jaw, followed by a kick to the gut that sent him skidding backwards.
Owen was well and truly angry now. “Everyone, OUT!” he roared, immediately spurring the partiers into action, who all stampeded out of the room. “MEN, GET THEM!” Owen added on at the end, referring to the twelve mages who currently stood around in the room. Twelve, including the one that Ren had already knocked out, so really, it was eleven now.
Ren’s scouting had yielded information about these mages too. They were Owen’s personal guard, with him almost anywhere he went. Professionally trained and Flux mages for at least half a decade, they were quite the fearsome bunch. They had played a crucial role in the undefeated streak that Owen was so proud of, especially in the latter half of Owen’s rise to power. At this point, Owen rarely fought any of his battles himself, a fact evident in his rusty movements.
“Alright Ruby, you know the plan,” Ren said as the mages slowly encircled us, leaving Owen out so that he could watch the show comfortably. “Are you sure you can handle it?” I asked him as he walked over to where his walking stick lay. I had already asked him a hundred times, but I wanted to make sure once more.
“Ruby, I’ll be fine. Worry about getting your job done.” Ren said, his tone slightly exasperated.
Shaking my head, I sighed. “Alright, fine. Let’s do this.”
Crucial to the plan was Owen not finding a second of rest in the fifteen minutes we had. If a messenger were to come and let Owen know that some of the most important members were either kidnapped or caught up in an ambush, he would immediately realize what we were doing and send help to his people. And our success hinged on making sure that did not happen.
As the gathered mages watched, Ren walked a few steps in front of me, before raising his stick a meter off the ground, parallel to the ground.
Under the confused gazes of the eleven mages, I ran two steps and leapt onto the stick, before launching myself over the wall the mages had formed. Ren swung his walking stick upwards as I jumped, giving me more than enough air time to clear the encirclement.
I landed with feline grace, dropping into a low crouch to cushion my fall. Owen, who had just begun to relax, was instantly on alert again, but he was a beat too slow. Using my crouch to spring me forward, I was in front of Owen before he could even blink, my knee perfectly positioned to collide with his chest.
With an oomph, the air rushed out of his lungs as he flew backwards a few meters, stopping only when he crashed into the panoramic windows of the floor. Cracks spiderwebbed across the glass, but it did not give.
With a cough, Owen stumbled forward before dropping to a knee, breathing heavily.
Before I could celebrate, however, my gut screamed to dodge. Instantly, I dropped to the ground and rolled to the side. The wind that lightly buffeted my face was all the evidence I needed to know that I had narrowly dodged a dangerous attack from behind.
“Ren!” I called out in annoyance, not sparing my attacker a glance.
“Sorry, sorry, zoned out for a bit,” Ren said, his tone apologetic. With a leap, he swung his stick in a horizontal swipe at my attacker, but the man was quicker. He ducked under the swing and whipped around, ready to counter.
Ren reacted instantly, changing the direction of his swipe. When the stick was right above the man’s head, he brought it straight down with the entire force of his body behind it. It struck the man’s head with a crash that made me wince in sympathy. The man likely wasn’t out of the fight for good, but he was going to take a while to get back.
Ren’s momentum carried him past the man, landing with a soft thud in between me and the now ten mages.
Turning around, he faced the mages. “Ten v one, the odds should be about balanced now, right?” I couldn’t see him, but I could practically hear the grin in his voice.
Not rising to his bait, the ten mages kept their professional calm and split up into two groups, with three rushing Ren and the other seven moving to circle around him.
Ren, faced with the task of keeping ten mages busy, stood still for a second, his bearing as relaxed as ever. However, I caught an almost imperceptible change in his posture, but suddenly his entire aura morphed into something I had never felt before. My instincts, honed by years of street scraps, were quite proficient at detecting danger and people stronger than me. Knowing who you could and could not get into a fight with was a life-saving skill growing up.
Owen had given me the same kind of pressure, unsurprisingly. But it was nowhere on the same scale as what Ren was giving off at this moment. I knew right away that I had been far underestimating the level of strength that Ren had.
Everyone in the room had been through enough fights to feel what I could feel, including the three mages who were rushing Ren. They were undeterred, however, maintaining their attack. However, Ren struck first.
Moving at an incredible speed, he covered the distance between them in less than a second, sending out three viper quick jabs with his walking stick, each perfectly aimed at their solar plexuses.
Winded and in pain, the three were immediately knocked back to the ground, gasping for breath as they fell. Immediately, Ren turned to the seven who were coming for me and launched a kick at the face of the closest one. The speed and efficiency in his movements were unmatched by anything else I had ever seen. He may well have been a completely different person at the moment.
The mage reacted quickly, putting both his forearms up to take the kick. Still, the force of the kick pushed the man back, knocking him into one of his comrades. Both tumbled to the floor in a mess of limbs.
Keeping his momentum going, Ren swung his stick at the next one’s head, but this one reacted faster. With a firm grip, he caught the wooden pole mere inches away from his head. With the stick in his grasp, he would hold the upper hand for a few seconds, but Ren saw through that. Instantly, he abandoned the stick and rolled off to the side, facing the five standing mages with a fierce smile.
Everything that had happened had not spanned more than five seconds, and yet of the ten professional mages, half had been knocked to the ground. The fight wasn’t over yet, obviously, but Ren’s skill had been clearly established.
“Take care of that runt, you useless idiots,” Owen’s voice called out from behind me. “I’ll take care of the girl myself.”
Evidently, he had realized that Ren posed more of a risk than I did, and decided to deal with him first.
I smiled and turned to face Owen, my smug face completely undeserved considering that it was Ren’s skill that was making him nervous. “Getting scared, Owen?”
Owen grinned dangerously at me. “I don’t know where you found such a skilled fighter from, but even if my men can’t take care of him, he still has a weak spot. All his skill can’t save you from this fight.”
“I don’t know, Owen, you might have a scary reputation, but so far, I’ve gotten in two hits of the three that you’ve taken today. And you've yet to land a single one,” I said with a smug tone, intentionally riling him up. “Keep in mind, I am at least a few decades younger than you, too. Can you imagine when word of this gets out? Man, it's gonna be embarrassing for you.”
“Not if I make an example out of the two of you. Just wait till I get-” Owen began to retort, but I cut him off by suddenly rushing at him.
Owen immediately swung out his fist to meet mine, and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to take the hit head-on. Instead, at the last possible moment before our fists collided, I ducked and rolled forward. With how close we had gotten, by the time I had rolled onto my back with my legs hanging in the air, my feet were perfectly positioned to deliver a fierce kick to Owen’s gut, just as I had planned.
I extended my bent knees fully, with as much force as I could muster. My feet crashed into Owen’s ribs, forcefully decompressing them and stealing all breath from him. He flew backwards a meter before crashing into the same window as before. The window groaned and cracked, but still did not give.
Despite being winded and hurt, Owen still managed to counterattack before I could bring my feet back down. His two rough hands grasped my ankles in an excruciating grip, before he swung me with all the force he had, throwing me like a trash bag. I flew farther than I thought was possible, long enough for me to feel weightless for a few seconds, before the gentle caress of the wind was replaced with the pummeling of wood as I crashed into the wall. Pain assaulted me, blacking out my vision for a moment as I fell to the ground. Every bit of my body hurt, my skin stinging and bruised.
As I basked in the excruciating bliss of the pain, I faintly registered the sound of thumping, heavy footsteps coming my way. Dimly, I realized that I had to move, or else more pain would be coming my way.
In the midst of the disorienting flood of stimulation, I felt the rise of memories. Moments of the past appeared in front of my eyes, just the sight of them coloring my chest in bitter and sweet emotions.
Suddenly, I felt a hand on my calf, its large and rough fingers like worms circling my leg. Slowly, the hand lifted me up, every minuscule movement sending waves of pain through me. Soon enough, I was hanging upside down - I could tell from the blood rushing to my head. I still hadn’t had the sense of mind to open my eyes, still lost in memories, my mind mired in the past.
With a grunt, Owen threw me again. I knew only because of the rush of wind I felt on my face. Once again, however, that bliss only lasted for a moment before the monster that was pain returned in full force, agonizing in its intensity.
As I heard Owen once again making his way towards me, a smile bloomed on my face. The smile quickly morphed into a small laugh, sending another jolt as my chest heaved painfully.
I heard the footsteps pause, uncertain, before continuing again. Perhaps he thought I had gone mad, or that it was a laugh of acceptance. Of defeat.
He had no idea.
Calming myself down, I sucked in a few deep breaths, ignoring how much it hurt and the fact that I was undoubtedly making the injuries worse. On my fifth breath, I was ready. All my muscles instinctively tensed, my body ready for the pain it had come to learn would follow.
Flux suddenly rushed into my body from the surroundings, bulldozing its way into me and forcefully setting right all my injuries. Hot, blinding pain followed, but I was ready. Not to mention, this level of pain was something I had felt more times in my life than I could count, although admittedly it never got easier.
This was Flux’s secret; its blessing and curse. Any injury, any wound, anywhere on the body could be immediately fixed and made stronger, at the cost of intense pain. So long as it wasn’t fatal, Flux would instantly set it right and leave it at least twice as durable. It was how Flux worked. Even training and sparring were based on the same principle, just taken in microdoses. As muscle fibres tore themselves apart with strenuous exercise, Flux would come and remake them, only much stronger.
Eventually, after what felt like years, the pain finally faded, replaced by a familiar cool sensation in my body, the feeling of rejuvenation.
In reality, the entire process hadn't taken more than a second, meaning Owen had yet to reach me. He was still walking over, confident and arrogant now that his ego had been restored. After all, he probably assumed that I hadn’t been banking on getting tossed around like a rag doll.
But, in all honesty, I had been. I wasn’t blind, I knew what I was getting into when I decided to challenge a mage with decades more experience than I. The pain I had felt so far was certainly just the beginning. The thing was, I was quite experienced in dealing with high levels of pain, something I had come to find was invaluable in the dynamics of fighting that Flux had created.
Although, even with the advantage it gave me, I would never in a million years choose to walk through the hell that tempered me ever again, no matter what benefits it promised.
Now completely refreshed, I lay still for a moment as Owen got closer to me. The second he stopped right in front of me was the second I moved, leaping up with all the force I could. Before Owen could react, my fist crashed into his chin with a smack. I instantly followed up with a kick to the gut, sending Owen stumbling back.
His eyes shone with a fierce glint as he overcame the pain and surprise of my attack and realized what had happened. “I didn’t think you had the grit in you to Revive. That’s not something everyone can do.”
I could hear in his voice a begrudging respect, which was surprising. Although doing what I had just done - what he referred to as a ‘Revive’ - was unspeakably painful, I had never considered it an accomplishment, or something that some mages couldn’t do.
“Well then,” Owen continued, “let’s see how many more times you can handle it, shall we?”
I grinned in response. “Bring it, old man.”