Scourge Twelve - Unfair

Nillo is, obviously, an experienced Joy mage. I guess he has to be if he’s reached a higher rank in the Swinging Saber’s hierarchy.

It probably shouldn’t surprise me that he cuts the distance between us in a blink.

His face is twisted in a rictus grin, teeth showing even as his brows are drawn together. His fist shoots forwards with all the strength and speed lent to him by a powerful burst of wind magic.

He’s not holding back at all, and his fist will hit before my spells touch him.

It’s really, really unfortunate for him that I’ve practiced with Felix so much. I know what it’s like to fight a Joy mage.

His fist rams into my nose, and I squint as the impact starts to push my head back. Then I transfer the force of the blow down my spine and along my back leg. It’s enough that I skid back a couple of centimetres, but that’s all.

There’s a wonderfully satisfying crunch as something in his hand is squished in a way that has to be unpleasant, and I see Nillo’s eyes widen.

My own smile grows, and I know he can see it even in the shadow of my hood.

Disgust spells, designed to harden and paralyze, come zipping through the air all around us, all of them aiming to pass right where Nillo is standing.

He jumps back, twists and weaves, and overall proves that he’s a talented fighter by dodging most of my spells. Some of those he can’t avoid splash off of his greaves and vambraces, the magic dispersing harmlessly over the metal. But he can’t avoid all of them.

Some land, slight blows in the cracks and joints that his armour doesn’t cover. They probably don’t hurt any more than a light smack.

Nillo stumbles back, then wobbles a little as one of his legs doesn’t quite bend enough. He glances down while flexing his thigh. The wince he’s wearing suggests that he’s not pleased by the sudden difficulty in moving his own body.

The last of my dark bolts splatter into the ground with little puffs of kicked up sand, the spells spent.

I take a little half-step forward, returning to exactly where I was standing at the start of the fight.

“Dark magic, huh,” Nillo says. He wipes at his nose with a thumb. “Tricky little girl, aren’t you?”

I resist the urge to rub my own nose. He did punch me there, and while my magic negated the damage, it still feels a little ticklish.

“I can do a lot more than that,” I say. I bring my hands up, almost as if in prayer, then slide them apart. A spark snaps out between my hands. It’s really, really hard for me to do this much, especially while still focusing on my Dark magic, and on another, proper spell that I’m preparing.

Nillo jumped on the spot a few times, likely testing the limits on the effects of the spells I peppered him with. They’ll wear off, but not for another few minutes.

I don’t have much of a gift when it comes to magics other than dark. I could beat this guy with that alone, but that wouldn’t make the point I want to make. That despite being way younger than this jerk, and a girl--which he seems to think less of me for--I can still kick his butt a dozen ways over.

“Well, I’m impressed, two whole kinds of cultivation. You must have worked really hard to--” he stops mid-sentence and bursts forwards, his whole body twisting around to deliver a kick right into my side. He’s aiming to hit me with the leg that’s hardened. Smart.

I bring an arm up and catch his shin against my elbow and bicep, both hardened to resist the blow. A gust of wind sweeps by, and I finally get the second part of his plan when I breathe in.

There’s no air.

He’s created a vacuum, something to choke me out.

I stomp a foot down and throw a punch towards him, one that’ll never reach.

He skips to the side just as a wrist-thick pillar of earth juts out of the ground and tries to skewer him. It falls apart almost as soon as it’s reached its full size. Not exactly an impressive display of Earth magic, but that doesn’t matter; it got him to back off.

I try to breathe again, but there’s nothing. It’s strange. It’s not as if I’m underwater or anything, there’s just... nothing to breathe, the negative pressure too much for my lungs to overcome.

Nillo grins, though I have the impression he’s a little nervous.

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I’ll give him a reason to be.

I spread my arms out to the sides. Two disks form out of the darkness and pour out of my sleeves. They’re two perfect, solid shields, slightly thicker in the middle and with edges that come down to sharp points.

One of the spells that I spent a long time perfecting.

I swing my arms forward and both disks zip towards Nillo, slicing through the air where he was standing a moment before. One goes further out, then pulls back towards me, to catch him from behind, but the man jumps and rolls through the air, neatly avoiding it.

“Hey there,” he says. “Those look sharp.”

I glare at him. He just kicked me with enough strength to break a normal girl’s bones! The disgusting jerk.

I settle down, focusing on anything but the burning in my chest. He’s playing for time.

Raising a hand in front of myself, I snap my fingers as hard as I can.

He glances at my hand, and I can’t help the grin, even as I screw my eyes shut.

I know--for a certain definition of know--four kinds of magic. Darkness, which is the only one I’m actually good at. Spark, which Esme’s helped me with, but which I have a hard time using. Earth, which Mom knows a lot about seeing as it’s the magic her nemesis uses. And Light.

Nillo looks at my hand. It’s his last big mistake.

A soundless bang flashes out, and I hear some in the crowd scream or call out in panic, even as my eyelids flash red for just a moment.

When I open them, Nillo is cursing, a hand over his eyes.

A Joy mage he might be, but he doesn’t have Felix’s practice at sensing the world around her while blind. He never sees the disk that smacks his legs side-first and that flips him onto the ground.

I close my fist and summon a dozen more dark bolts that zip out and smash into him even as he starts to roll back to his feet.

A second swing of a disk hits, and he flops onto his back.

Then the first disk lowers itself back down, edge poised over his throat.

Nillo squints at the disk, then sighs and lets his head fall back. The air around me pops and suddenly I can breathe again. I take in a deep, tasty breath of sweat-smelling air and almost giggle.

“Incredible!” the announcer says. I can tell that he’s genuinely excited. “Nillo must not be at the top of his game today!”

I glare at him. Is he really going to make excuses for the idiot that I just beat?

“So far the girls are three-for-three! What an impressive showing! Who will be next?”

I stomp off back to my friends even as I undo the spells keeping my dark disks going and they come undone as two clouds of black smoke. “You’re next,” I tell Bianca. “Do you, uh, know how to fight?”

“No, but I have a few techniques up my sleeves,” she says. “Nothing as impressive as you, I’m afraid.”

I grin. “Just do your best,” I say.

Felix and Esme congratulate me on my win, even as in the arena, Nillo is helped back to the sidelines, blinking all the while to get his vision back.

Bianca steps into the arena, and on the other side steps in... a boy.

He looks a bit scrawny, and is very wide-eyed.

“On this side!” The announcer begins. “A new prospective member for the grand mercenary companies of Vizeda! A local with skills and brawn and cunning on his side! And on the other side, another of our shining ladies! Start!”

No preamble? The people in the crowd’s betting reaches a fever pitch even as Bianca and the boy stand across from each other.

Bianca stares at him, entirely impassive, no emotion on her face. I’m getting worried. No emotions isn’t a great thing in a cultivation battle.

And then there are screams and grumbles as beer and wine flows out of a dozen cups and hovers closer to Bianca. It starts to spin around Bianca, a disk of liquid with her at its centre. She glares, just a little, and the air ignites.

A second disk forms, this one entirely made of ropy tendrils of fire that run counter to the watery disk, forming a shifting set of disks around her that waver around while staying in constant motion.

The boy shakes his head and turns around. “Screw this, I’m not joining nobody. I forfeit,” he says while tossing his spear to the ground.

Bianca blinks, and the two rings waver before falling apart.

“Well, that was easier than I expected,” she says a moment before the crowd starts jeering and booing.

***