SAVE POINT 16
Rosabella
It felt like 20 minutes that Sparo'd been staring at the weapons wall of the gym, trying to decide which to select for our duel. He'd already threatened to use the ancient-looking morning star at least twice...and the num-chuks. To which I told him Mr. Miyagi better hurry up and choose a reasonable choice or I'd pick another, second weapon. His chocolate-colored fist finally closed over the hilt of a gold-and-jewel-encrusted, broad sword. He pulled it reverently from the hooks.
"Excalibur it is," he decided solemnly, "Not exactly a machine gun or missile launcher but—" he shrugged.
"Has anyone told you you're way too much Blade—" I joked, raising a sarcastic eyebrow despite my mission not to let anyone get my spirits up.
"Maybe you're just not enough Blade," he countered, throwing me that typical smug smile that made me want to laugh and blush at the same time.
And I had to pull my eyes away from his bare chest where they wanted to roam—over the curving, flexing muscles of his biceps as he tested the weight of the sword in his grasp. And, suddenly, I needed my eyes to be anywhere else. To stop this fluttering attraction in my heart—that giant magnet that kept pulling us together and making me warm. I locked my gaze on the ornate handle of the saber I'd chosen, turning it over in my hand and watching as the blade vibrated from the movement.
And, for whatever reason, I abruptly wanted to be flirtatious. I wasn’t sure if it was just that it was probably 3am, now, and I'd lost my ability to combat urges I'd been pushing down for ages or if it was because I felt free and rebellious—there in my pajama pants and the tight tank top that barely covered my middle. I wanted the man's eyes on me.
I wanted to feel like me in this place that felt so...un-me. So rigid. So formal.
So, I reached up and let my hair out of the constrained knot on the top of my skull. And it was like finally letting go of that one, last thing keeping me tied up and away. I shook my locks loose, down my back, immediately breathing the sigh of relief I'd needed. And I shook my arms out too, loving the tingle of thrill that washed down the curve of my body as I felt the man’s eyes trace down it while I turned, readying my attack.
[System Query: Would You Like to Flirt with SPARO, RED VODYARACKA SKYDRAKE, DRAGON 15? Use 30 Baddie Points to Flirt?]
[Yes, Flirt] [No, Thank You]
I hit the button and swiped the words away before I could convince myself otherwise. Hell yeah. This time, System, I DID want to flirt. This time, System, I wanted to win at something other than fighting—maybe, win at loving? The realization made something pulse and pound inside me.
[-30 Baddie Points, 685]
My breath caught in my throat—God, I’d really gone through and selected that? But I wasn’t going to let it stop me. I’d already lost the Baddie Points, I wasn’t going to fudge it for nothing—
"How much fighting skill can you possibly have as a dragon?" I kidded, my voice as flippant as I wanted and far too flippant at the same time, “I mean, you just breathe fire on shit, and it melts.” Was I making the right choice being so outward about all this? But I suddenly didn't care. So what if he knew I liked him! So what if I had a little fun?
"I can best you," he growled back, grinning and moving towards me with the intensity of a panther. "Though," he cocked his head, seeming to add an afterthought, "admittedly, dragons don't need clunky weapons like this. We have claws, teeth, sharp scales and pure outrage." He flashed a wicked smile at me.
"Which means," I tittered confidently, "you have very little skill with a blade, and we're well-matched—"
"Don't underestimate me, small one." The man stepped forward—the heat from his chest nearly pulsing on the skin of my arms he was so close.
His eyes held something different.
A threat?
A longing?
It made something sizzle within me.
[System Reward: Flirtation Accepted, +10 Baddie Points, 695]
[System Reward: …Kinda Seems Like He’s Into It, +5 XP, 999/1000]
My breath snagged in my throat at the neon words. I nearly missed the movement, but, at that second, Sparo’s fingers reached out— Except, I was faster. I danced out of reach, raising my saber, ready, across my body as he lifted his too. The blade glinted in the harsh, incandescent lights overhead while he grinned wolfishly at me—something that I didn’t want to admit made my limbs tingle…
"Wait," I told him.
And he did as I kicked my feet free of my slippers. And it was just the feeling of my bare feet on the spongy, gym-mat floor. And the smell of sweat. And the man's intense eyes narrowed at me. And our two blades thrashing in the air, knowing they'd meet in just a minute.
Clash together.
And never be the same again.
Sparo swiped first. I dodged, twirling out of the way, my loose hair fanning out around me. I hadn't had much one-on-one sword practice except for during Dormouse's side mission, but I knew my strengths: avoid, duck, cover, get out of the way—
I danced out of reach, feeling adrenaline surge through me, swirling like caffeine through my veins, making me delightedly jittery.
"You're gonna have to spar at some point," Sparo called, attempting another lunge and missing, "you can't fight it forever—"
"Try me," I teased, jumping to the side again, as his blade just narrowly missed my shoulder. This was like a ballet—a beautiful movement to movement where my hands and my feet stepped as one. Turned as one. And joy filled me with each step—
A freedom.
A breathless, easy freedom that I'd searched for all my life and had just found.
Here.
Now.
...With Sparo.
My bare feet pattered over the gym mats. My breath caught in my throat as I avoided another strike.
"Hey! I hate losing! Fight or I’m gonna have to introduce magic and make it a Dragon Spar!" Sparo complained, swinging sloppily now, hacking at the air between us with his enormous King Arthur sword.
I saw an opening.
I skittered forward and jabbed my saber.
And Sparo tried to dodge, but he was way too open—
His sword dropped, bouncing off the padded mat below as he clutched for the tender skin under his armpit...which, now, held a red gash.
[SPARO, RED VODYARACKA SKYDRAKE 15: -1 HP, 110/233]
[SPARO, RED VODYARACKA SKYDRAKE 15: Cut By A Girl! -15 Swag Points, 4305]
"Damn, girl!" He exclaimed, "Now, you just made the dragon mad, and you don’t make a dragon feisty, you hear?" His eyes held a devious glimmer as his hands flew from his cut into winding fists, balled in…magic?
[Dragon Spar Initiated.]
Whoa, wait a second—
“You wanted a fight? Oh, you got one now, small one!” he chuckled, his face warm with redness and his eyes dark and amused as he squatted with both hands out like he was readying for a wrestling match.
“Really, Sparo?” I raised an eyebrow and my saber, gesturing with the weapon, “Just ‘cause I bested you, fair and square—” The blade swished through the quiet room.
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“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” he spouted boastfully, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, “Mute your Spar volume unless you wanna wake up the whole place.”
[System Alert: Please Manually Enter Your Battle Song Or The System Will Sync—]
“Mute the volume, System,” I whispered since I didn’t know how to do it manually.
[System Alert: Volume of Battle Song Muted]
[SPARO, RED VODYARACKA SKYDRAKE 15: System Alert: Volume of Battle Song Muted]
[Begin Spar]
And Sparo grinned at me. And I realized I was still holding my sword as a ball of red magic flew at my face—
“Shirtaloon muffalata!” I murmured, the first spell I could remember, as my sword clanked to my feet and my hands flew upwards, protecting my face with wide palms—
I felt the magic gather within me and spout outward. I felt the yellow sparks catch, flying out of my palms and towards—
[System Alert: NO MORE NOISY NEIGHBORS ABSORPTION HEX Used]
[-1 HP, 65/89]
Thud.
Hitting Sparo’s magic was like hitting a piled high stack of down comforters. His magic molded—morphed around mine:
Warm.
Welcoming.
Not the attack spell I’d imagined.
And my eyes flew open to see red and yellow—the tendrils of our magic mixing in slow motion around us, intertwining in the air, sizzling and branching out, wrapping around each other like fuzzy branches. …As his eyes moved over my face, the light changing in them. His lips pried up into a smile.
I grinned—I realized I couldn’t hide it. The smile split through my face, through everything I'd been dealing with, as the magic faded out around us and system popups appeared in a flurry of green, plus signs—
[System Alert: Dragon Spar Completed.]
[System Reward: The Dragon Dropped His Spell Mid-Cast, So You’re Frontrunner! +25 XP, 1024/900]
[System Alert: ***Congratulations, You Won The Dragon Spar!***]
[System Alert: ***Congratulations, You’ve Advanced To Level 11!***]
NAME
ROSABELLA
CLASS & LEVEL
GAME MAKER 11
XP
1024/1100
MRP
3795/6209
HP
74/98
Baddie Points
695
Armor Class
15/20
ABILITIES /20
Strength
+1
12
Agility
+0
10
Endurance
+0
11
Intelligence
+1
13
Awareness
+1
12
Presence
+3
16
CM
4
[+9 HP & HP Extended By 9, 74/98. You’ve Been Awarded +2 Ability Points. Please Select Which Ability You’d Like to Increase. Also, It Appears SPARO, RED VODYARACKA SKYDRAKE DRAGON 15 Dropped 1 Memory Of First Time He Saw Rosabella. Would You Like To Take It?]
What? I stared at the system prompt. Obviously, increasing my lowest Ability Points would be a smart call, but what was that about Sparo dropping a memory? I watched a thought bubble with a circle icon around it bob midair in front of the man’s frozen feet.
“System, increase Agility by 1 point and Endurance by another,” I told it. “Return the memory to Sparo—”
[System Alert: +1 Agility, 11/20]
[System Alert: +2 Endurance, 12/20]
The world unfroze.
“Sparo, I think you dropped—” I started, but the man hurriedly ducked to pick the memory up, his dark forehead lined with frazzled creases. …Or was that embarrassment?
“Damned thing messed up my cast,” he muttered under his breath.
"You're just jelly I won a bazillion cheesy fries just now," I jested, ducking my head—anything to dissipate the awkwardness in the man’s face. "You wish you won."
"I do."
His face was closer than I'd expected. His breath was hot on my cheek. The gym floor mat stuck to my bare feet. I went to step back—to recoil from this situation and what could happen next—but, to my surprise, the man stepped closer.
So I could see the sweat shining on his brow, near his hairline and on his upper lip. So I can see that that longing had returned to his eyes—yes, definitely longing. Yearning.
And it made something in the base of my stomach turn over.
Lurch.
This was a bad idea—
My heart shivered with anticipation.
This whole fight and flirting thing was a bad call—
"I messed up that spell because I was thinking about the first time I saw you," he admitted slowly. "I mean, not exactly the first time—I thought you were a little shit then,” he ran a hand over his head, a white smile cracking. “That memory is of when I really first saw you—when I saw your determination…the fight in you. I honestly only want to win one thing, Rosabella," he said.
And his voice was gravelly and as deep as his eyes.
I couldn’t move.
I couldn't breathe.
Not anymore.
I could only stare. Into the man's gaze, acknowledging that, if I dove into it or if I fell...even if he pushed me... I may never make it out again. And I wondered why I was warm.
And breathless.
Probably flushed—my magic? Our duel?
And why, maybe, I was suddenly okay with all of that.
"What do you want to win?" I whispered. Just barely. I barely whispered it. My throat was too dry, and the question felt like an excuse.
A delay.
So I could figure out what the heck I was doing clicking flirtation prompts with the guy...maybe, even, what I wanted to do.
Sparo leaned closer. "Your heart. I want to win your heart, Rosabella."
My heart stopped dead. This was like a movie or a book. This was like a goshdarn chick-flick movie or— His huge hands suddenly bookended my waist, pressing in gently on both sides. His eyes were deeper than a coal mine—even more dangerous—and, yet, safe. Somehow, safe. As he leaned—
[System Query: Would You Like to Kiss SPARO, RED VODYARACKA SKYDRAKE, DRAGON 15? Use 75 Baddie Points to Kiss?]
[Yes, Kiss] [No, Thank You]
But I didn’t have to make any selection.
[-75 Baddie Points, 620]
Electricity.
Sparking.
As our lips met.
Wet.
Warm.
Shit.
I melted—liquid. Not solid.
Into him. Into his chest.
Like we were never meant to be separate. Like we were always one. Neon stats flashed even behind my closed eyelids.
[System Reward: Damn, You Just Kissed Back Mr. Muscles, +100 Baddie Points, 720]
[System Reward: The Dragon Shifter’s Into You? This Is Gonna Make ALL Them Girls Jealous, +10 XP, 1034/1100]
And his hands climbed to my hair, running through it with a gentleness I'd never have expected from the man and...
And, if I stopped kissing him, would I be able to breathe? Function? Or, if I stopped kissing him, would that be too much to handle—like his kiss, his very breath and tongue mixing with mine was life itself?
…How had this happened? How had this NOT happened till right now?
His lips tickled as he pulled back gently from me. Our foreheads met, resting on each other. Like we were finally holding each other up—two pillars, leaning into the strength of each other.
"Mimi said you were upset. You're upset?" I felt his brow crease against mine. His tone was soft and prodding, genuinely concerned.
And I sighed.
Because the heaviness was back.
On my chest.
On my heart.
The fight and his kiss had lifted it for a minute, but it came flooding back: This place. The cameras. The people. My title. My responsibilities...
"They expect so much of me here, Sparo," I admitted quietly, the words tumbling out.
He looked at me—truly looked up—his brown eyes intense. "Who says you have to give them it—give them you?" he questioned. "You're a gift. You're a special person; your time and energy is a gift. You're the Game Maker. Make the game you want—"
Why did this sound familiar? From the dream-like vision I'd had with the Creator Magic??? Hadn’t the Grand Dragon said something similar? Make my own game?
I shook my head, pushing away from the man a little—not because I disagreed with him, but because I didn't think he entirely understood. I started to pace the gym room, running a frazzled hand through my hair.
"I—I get what you're saying but it's—different. These people—there's pressure here to follow in my parents' footprints, and I don't even want to be a ruler. I was just trying to save The Game from the darkness..."
Speaking of which, I felt it in the back of my throat now.
The darkness.
And, before I could stop, a cough racked my body, spasms starting from my middle and moving up—
Sparo leapt towards me and I—
[-7 HP, 67/98]
I threw up black between us on the gym mat. I felt black blood dribbling down my lip and wiped it away—ew. …Oh God, I’d just—in front of—
"I'm so sorry," I croaked.
But his hands were already turning me away from the black. His fingers pried my face up to his searching eyes, "You okay? You're gonna be okay. We'll get you more root powder and some sleep. You need some sleep, Rosabella."
And he was right. I was supposed to have this thing tomorrow that I couldn't remember and was not supposed to forget. Too late for that.
"Okay," I whispered.
And I let him lead me down the hall and to my bedroom that I knew had cameras in it. And I let him mix me a tonic of root powder and water and kiss me gently on the forehead as I sipped at it, watching my HP rise slightly with each gulp.
[+2 HP, 69/98]
[+2 HP, 71/98]
I wished he could stay with me as I fell asleep, but I knew he couldn't. So, I let him go.
…And it looked like he didn't want to leave either. He fingered the ends of my hair, "Goodnight, beautiful." I smiled at him, fluttery nerves dancing and prancing in my heart.
…But he had it backwards, I thought as I drifted off to sleep, because it was a 'beautiful, good night'.