Chapter 76

The power surged through me. It was incredible. I had done this. Me! I could do anything. I was a god!

"You talk about tradition and blood," I growled, my voice a cold, relentless tide. "But look at you now, Lance. You're nothing but a coward hiding behind your noble birth."

I had imagined this moment for a long time. He was at my mercy, he knew it. He was exhausted, he didn't have the fury to match me, our CUTs were even, I had the advantage in SHIELD. I hadn't been blasting BEAM continually to the point of exhaustion, and I had that something else... that thing that made me different...

Once, imagining Lance at my mercy, standing at this moment, on the precipice of seeing him exit the competition, once it had seemed like the wildest fantasy. Then, as I discovered my talent for gaining attributes, it had seemed like something that really could happen someday. Over the last days, with Lance surging in power thanks to his alone time with the suit during the race, thanks to his strategies, I had started to fade in my belief. It shook me slightly, penetrating the wonderful haze of rage and hatred, that Katya and Lauren were gone, Lance was moving away from defeat, Gideon was battered. It could be me, not Lance, that brought the Choosing to an early finish. I could be a Griidlord this day.

And what excited me most was not the glory, not my father's satisfaction, not the relief of leaving this ordeal behind me... What excited me most was the prospect of securing my right to the suit, having it always, never having to worry if this euphoric blend of sensory input and godlike power would be taken away.

I surged at him. He actually cowered back. He lifted his sword, executing CUT, to match mine, but we could both see how dim his blade was now, how bright mine. I angled my strike toward his chest, away from my body. I wanted to let him block it and allow the superior momentum of my cut to send him flying from the tower.

Just as I had done to Lauren…

As my blade flew towards him, his face was tattooed by the shadows cast by the blazing sword that rushed towards him. But you've probably figured out that the story can't go so perfectly and suddenly in my favor. I don't know if you've been musing about what could possibly interrupt my victory at this point. Well, a fraction of a heartbeat later, I was on the ground, landing awkwardly on my already injured left wrist. The pain was sickening, not just the pain of a wounding, but the pain of something wrong. What had happened?

Put yourself in Gideon's position for a moment. Lying, exhausted and beaten near the precipice of the tower. Watching the peasant, the young man that you have begrudging respect for, but who you see as an affront to what you stand for, as a threat to your dreams, goals, class, and history. He is suddenly soaring with power, obliterating the man who just put you down. From Gideon's perspective, the Choosing was slipping away, his chances were already thinning, Lance clearly ahead of him, but watching me leapfrog Lance in power and status, he understood. He had no chance against the version of me that stood before him, crushing Lance. He had only one choice, join Lance and vanquish me, or at least keep Lance in the game for another day to give them the chance to strike a deal.

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Gideon fired BEAM.

But I knew it was coming.

I turned, catching the attack on the flat of my blade, and deflecting it.

Gideon rushed at me. I smashed his attack aside with a one-handed CUT. Lance tried to take advantage of the moment, tried to spear me from the side, but my CUT continued, sweeping in an underhanded arc, coming up to block his blade. Gideon surged at me, I stepped back and kicked out to trip him. He stumbled, and crashed into the slope of the cover, broken boards flying into the air.

This was too easy. Granted, Lance and Gideon were more used up than I was. But I revelled in it.

Two of them stood before me, but after a few moments, after my level 3.0 CUT had hammered them, again and again, driving back their attacks like powdered snow before a gale, they stood no more. They cowered.

My heart pounded with excitement. This was it. It was over. I had overmatched them both. Together they couldn't stop me. The light of a huge CUT attack built in my sword and the only reaction they had available was to hopelessly brace themselves.

I wasn't thinking of Lauren or Katya at that moment. At that moment I was thinking of the suit. I was thinking of victory. I would win the bet, save Father. I was to be who brought the Choosing to an early finish. I could put them both down now and it would be the end of it.

But I couldn't see the light line finally aligning with the painted line below us.

Mario's voice erupted from the speakers. It was almost frantic. He could plainly see that if he was fraction of second too late, then it would all be sealed, and I would be his Sword. He snapped, "MATCH! Time had expired!"

Then, as if afraid of something continuing, "Cease all combat!"

The crowd lost their minds. SIGHT showed me a sea of faces, making each one distinct. Mouths opened wide in full-chested screams! Tears came to some eyes. They all whooped, thumped, shouted. This was better than perfect. Their commoner lord had just embarrassed his two remaining competitors. They had witnessed the violence and dominance that they dreamed of. But even better, there would be yet another round to enjoy.

I stood there, my sword by my side. My chin fell to my chest. The elation of the crowd felt distant. I couldn't avoid confronting the thoughts that I had been burning as fuel during the fight. I had to face what I had done to Lauren and Katya. It had been me.

Even as we'd climbed the tower, they had never directed their allegiance against me, even if they hadn't invited me to join it. We had helped each other. I thought of the night we had spent in the bar, possibly the only memory I had in my young life of true camaraderie with people my own age. I thought of Katya's joking, or not so joking, comments about marriage and children. I thought of Lauren's deep dark eyes, how they had gone from unreachable black moons in the early days of the contest to warm, inviting pools, almost within reach.

I thought of the tenuous friendship I had built with them and wondered what the real value of a friendship like that was worth compared with only a chance at the great prize.

What had I done?