“Michael?”

Megan’s shocked use of his name was so quiet that there was no chance that he could hear her. Nevertheless, he turned to look at where she stood, his face softening slightly. She couldn’t understand what was going on with him. He looked and felt like a different person than the comforting friend who had tried his best to keep her calm in the dining hall when she first discovered Alice. Was he upset that she’d spent nearly two weeks not talking to him or her other friends? She hadn’t wanted to ignore him, merely sort out the problem that the Infernal had created.

More importantly, why did he seem to dislike Eric so much? There was so much suspicion and dislike etched into the lines of his face as he looked at his soon-to-be opponent. He slowly clenched his fists as she stared at Eric, who seemed unaware of the animosity being directed his way. Megan folded her arms, her gaze switching between her two friends, wondering what the hell was going on. She would pull Michael to the side after the fight, and demand to know what had happened to him.

“Right,” Bragg said, clapping a hand on Michael’s shoulder and moving away. “Ready when you are.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Ehran replied jovially. He gave Eric one last reassuring nod, then joined Samuel off to the side, where they both had a close-up view of the arena. “Show them what I taught you, Eric!”

Eric gave a short bow in his mentor’s direction, then turned to face Michael, preparing to bow to him as well, and finally noticed the expression on his face. He took half a step back, his face showing his confusion. It was only now that Megan realized she’d never told him about her friends, so Eric had no idea who Michael was. It was just another stranger to him, someone who shouldn’t have such anger to direct his way. Still, erring on the side of politeness, he offered Michael a deep bow. Michael returned the gesture, but it was more of a jerky nod, and his eyes never broke away from Eric’s face.

A white-robed Master of Issho-Ni stepped onto the stage, glancing quickly at the two apprentices, one hand raised to give the official start. “This match will have live steel, and you may use any spell, technique, or ability you know. The victory will go to whoever lands the first true strike. Glancing blows grazes, and blocked attacks will not count. Do you understand?”

It was clear that he had noticed Michael’s attitude, but did not comment on it. As both opponents nodded their understanding of the rules, the referee took several steps back, right to the edge, his hand still raised. He waited for the sound of the crowd to die down, then, after a pause that seemed to stretch minutes, brought his hand down in a swiping motion, and hopped off the stage. “Begin!”

Michael moved in a blur, drawing his sword even as he lunged and sweeping it in a wide blow. There was more than enough force to cleave Eric in two if it connected. Eric, his instincts still honed from his morning training and using the speed that he’d gained from sparring with his mentor, had one of his blades drawn just as fast. He took half a step back to secure his footing and stopped Michael’s spellblade with a single simple swipe. The two stood there for a second, inches from each other, and Eric tilted his head in confusion.

Eric couldn’t understand what was happening. In the time since he’d entered Ahya, whether his first visit or more recently, he was certain he’d never met the apprentice mage facing him now. Why, then, did there seem to be so much hatred directed his way? The only people that had a reason to dislike Eric were followers of Attos, after the role he played in discovering and capturing Anya. But this student, Michael, clearly wasn’t a follower of Attos, judging by the amulet of Shigeru hanging on his neck.

He flicked Michael’s sword away from his body, then flashed his left foot out in a high kick, catching his opponent squarely in the chest and shoving him back. It wasn’t enough of a blow to count as true, but that wasn’t his intention anyway. He just needed space to begin his maneuvers. The speed of that first strike had been alarming, and he was certain that, if it weren’t for Ehran’s training, he would have lost then and there. He might have actually died. His opponent was clearly fighting for real. The least he could do was reciprocate.

As Michael slid to a stop and moved forward, Eric pivoted on his left foot, providing power with his right, and entering a basic half-spin. The blade of his left sword caught Michael’s lunging sword, deflecting it to the side, and he cut backhand with his right blade, hoping to catch the mage unaware. But he was gone in a flash, almost too fast for him to register, and came back attacking Eric’s unprotected flank. He deflected that attack too, feeling his power starting to swell with the spin.

Again and again, Samuel’s apprentice dove at him with incredible speed, sword flashing in a light blue blur as he battered Eric’s defense and tested his reflexes. If he’d been blocking Michael’s attacks in a standard fashion, his arms would be numb right about now. As it was, the force was considerably lessened, because he turned the momentum of each attack back on its origin. He failed to connect each time because Michael seemed just as fast as he was strong.

He took another step back, paying close attention to his footwork as he spun once more. The wolf inside him was roaring to be let loose, but he waited. There would be a moment, not far off, when he’d gathered enough momentum and power for his counterattack. Ehran’s lessons on this had been clear. Do not act until you have the force necessary. Striking back now would only waste precious energy, and likely fail. Hold on, he told himself and the wolf. It wouldn’t be long.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

To the crowd, the exchange of blows could only be perceived as a blur. The blocked attacks were only significant by the shower of sparks that they threw off. Even to the most experienced spectators, the two combatants were as closely matched on speed as it was possible to be. There was no way to gauge how powerful Ehran’s apprentice was, as his tactic, redirecting the flow, while efficient and well known to Issho-Ni, often took a few moments to produce power.

Eric could feel the power starting to build up to needed levels. Not much longer, and he could use his new skill. He’d gained it only a few days ago, but he’d practiced it repeatedly and was used to the feeling. As Ehran had taught him, controlling the flow of battle was all about feeling. The timing had to be right. Too early, and he wouldn’t be able to produce the force required. Too late, and his defense could be overwhelmed. One could only spin for so long before their balance was disrupted, and they fell.

Coiled Beast (Passive): For up to 10 rounds, you store the power of blocked attacks. Then, when you choose to release, your guardian wolf emerges. The wolf may make up to 3 attacks, at up to +10 bonus to hit, depending on how many rounds you continued to channel. The channel is interrupted if you take damage.

Now! The thought was so loud in his mind that it nearly burst from his lips. Turning to face Michael as he attacked from yet another angle, he felt the power burst free of his control at the last possible second. The wolf given to him by Ehran a year ago and trained so carefully over the past two weeks sprang into being now, nearly reaching his shoulder in height and much longer than he was tall. It came into being mid-patrol, its body wound tightly around his own in a half-circle, momentum and power perfectly coiled, ready to strike.

Michael registered the presence of the white wolf just in time to react and dropped low as the massive beast flew at him, jaws snapping shut on empty air. As it sailed over his head, he jumped back for the first time since the match had begun, his eyes wide. He’d heard rumors of the descendants of Shigeru Tokugawa creating a spiritual connection with Longfang, the original ancient guardian of the Tokugawa clan. They nurtured a fragment of Longfang’s soul inside their own, letting it grow alongside them and protect them in battle.

He knew that Eric was, like Megan, from Earth. Why did he have access to such unique magic? He was an outsider, a stranger, and a pretender. It had to be fake, he thought. But the evidence was undeniable as the conjured animal darted around its human companion and lunged once more. Even as he dodged, he felt the ripple in the air that was a telltale sign of the monstrous dog’s energy. Gathered and concentrated after the deflection of dozens, possibly over a hundred blows, that energy had been released now.

The Outworlder looked tired with the release of energy, but he was still moving, and now, in tandem with the wolf, he went on the attack. Michael parried one blade, and just barely managed to duck the second. Then the heavy body of the wolf slammed into him, sending him flying several feet back. That was a true strike, the condition for victory. Or at least, it would have been, had he not spun in mid-air and landed on his feet. He let out a low growl of frustration. What was he, the strongest mage student to enter the college since Samuel, doing?

Stop second-guessing his power. The voice, helper in so many fights before this, made itself heard now. He’s not the only one with a powerful ability. Even better, yours is original. Michael had the rare prestige of being a student who had created and mastered his own spell. The stunning bolts spell that he’d created was even taught in lessons to the newest of students, with all credit going to his brilliance in combat magicks. But what nobody else knew was that he’d created a second spell. It was much harder for him to master, so he’d kept it a secret. But just last week, he’d put the final touch on it.

In the tiny space of time when Eric was recovering his balance from the last strike, and the wolf was moving around to strike again, Michael’s mana burst forth. It flared to life, then began to change so fast, that, by the time the wolf was closing in to strike once more, it had already enveloped his body. Raw lightning coated his skin, danced through his veins, and charged his body. It hurt like nothing else ever had, but the power it gave him was well worth the cost.

The crowd let out a shout of surprise as he kicked the huge wolf away, sending it flying a foot or two to the side with consummate ease. Eric was there to attack before his foot even touched the ground, but he was gone before the attack was landed. To most, it seemed that he disappeared completely. In fact, he’d merely stepped to the side, in a move so fast that even he was taken by surprise.

Eric seemed to turn in slow motion to see his opponent, crackling with electricity, standing behind him with his fist raised. He’d dropped his sword at some point, leaving himself unarmed. There was no doubt in Eric’s mind that this next blow would be too fast to dodge. He was also certain that it would contain enough force to knock him out. In that odd moment of slowed time, he knew and accepted defeat in this match.

A flash of light, and then a deafening boom. Something had hit the roof of a nearby temple, causing an explosion with enough force to blast the temple of Hammerbrewer, now abandoned, to smithereens. Chunks flew in all directions in a cascade of dust, throwing large sections of rubble into the crowd, striking several dozen people down in the packed crowd.

Another spell rained down, hitting the temple of Shigeru and ricocheting off. It was destroyed by the reactionary fire of a few mages in the crowd, but then two more fell from the sky, landing amongst the crowd, killing dozens at once. Someone was launching a barrage on their position, Michael thought wildly. But almost at once, he realized that the fire was actually spread all throughout the Temple District. Someone was firing from outside the city. Then, as time resumed, and the screams of the injured and those nearby filled the air, the reality came crashing down on him.

The city was under siege. There could only be one force who would dare to do it. Attos was invading.