The sky beyond had a golden sheen to it, the clouds fluffy and accented with bits of red. Stretched before the three Fledgling coteries was a battlefield crafted out of stone that had long since given way to patches of moss. The place felt ancient, like it was what was left of ruins from thousands of years ago. Yet as far as Alistair understood, it was located in some pocket realm.

He still didn’t have a firm understanding of that.

Professor Humboldt stood at the front of their group with Professor Vale, who, as always, had her hazegeist interpreter with her. As Alistair scanned the students, Laertes stepped up to him.

“You’re fucked, Blackstar. You broke into my house,” he said under his breath as he maintained a smile on his face. “You disrespected my mother. You’re dead.”

Ghost: Please, this little twerp isn’t going to do shit. I’m so confident you can handle him that I won’t intervene as I normally would. Tell him his mother is a—

“Do you have any proof of that?” Alistair asked, also maintaining his gaze on the two professors. “Surely, with an accusation like that, you’d have some sort of evidence to back it up.”

“I know it was you, Orphan. You think your stupid mask helped? You think disguising yourself as some low-level thief would really trick me?” He snorted with anger. “I should fucking—”

“You won’t do anything.”

Laertes turned to Alistair and puffed his chest up. “If you think—”

“Calm the fuck down” Alistair hissed, “or I’m going to lay you out right here in front of all these people. Trust me when I say you really don’t know the kind of shit you’re about to get into. Try me. Come on. Do it.”

Laertes squinted at him.

“Well?” Alistair asked, still not looking at the other boy.

Two weeks ago, Alistair might not have been certain if he could back up what he was saying, but he knew what he was capable of now. He wasn’t scared of Laertes, and he was becoming increasingly annoyed that the bully had yet to realize that there wasn’t a chance in hell that he would ever pull a fast one on Alistair.

Laertes’ goonish friends, two guys and a girl, seemed hesitant. They seemed even more so as Alistair sensed several presences behind him to the tune of Finnian, Juno, and Zola.

“We got you,” Juno said. “Laertes, turn your bitch ass around or we’ll stomp you out before the tournament begins.”

“Back up,” Finnian told them. Zola, who stood next Finnian, crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Laertes and his three companions.

Laertes sneered at the four of them, but ultimately stepped away.

Wrapped in his trademark blanket, Humboldt yawned as he looked the students over, the professor seeming to interpret the tension in the air. “Now, now, Fledglings, you’ll be able to pummel the hell out of each other shortly, once Professor Yuber decides to grace us with his appearance.”

“Fick-up. What do you mean?” a tiny voice asked. “I’m already here! Fick-up!”

Startled, Humboldt looked down to find a black frog hopping toward him.

The students laughed as the black frog morphed into Professor Yuber, which looked absolutely painful, the frog and the professor’s faces contorting together, both groaning as the two pulled apart.

Now separated from the professor, the frog looked up at him and let out a troubled ribbit.

Fick-up… Fick-up…

“Right,” Professor Yuber told the students with a dashing grin. “I thought that would be a proper way to remind everyone that, while this tournament is important, you should have fun with it as well. After all, this is the first of many tournaments, and if you perform poorly here, there will always be a chance. Come here, Hiccup,” he told the frog as he turned his hand around to the summon.

Fick-up. Fick-up.

Zola: His frog’s name is Hiccup?

Juno: I want a frog summon named Fart. Heh.

Zola: Ewwww.

Finnian: I’d have one named Barf. If we both had one, they’d be Fart and Barf.

Juno: Hell yeah. You know, I never realized how beautiful those words sounded together.

Zola: Stoppppp.

Juno: Also, real talk, if I could morph into something small like that I’d cause so much trouble in Solaria. They’d never find me. And that was after I did everything I could to ruin Laertes’ life on the daily.

Zola: I still don’t understand how he did it.

Juno: Celestial Binding, duh.

Zola: I know that! But the other forms he took were larger, meaning the matter from his body could go somewhere. He literally just hopped over here as a frog.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Fick-up. Fick-up.

Juno: I was here, remember? Shit, I almost stepped on the frog when it went past. That would have been bad.

Zola: You could have killed him.

Finnian: Murdering a battledeck professor can’t be good for one’s career.

Juno: That wouldn’t have been my fault. Also, I know you already said yes, but before I start waving my hand around, I want to confirm we’re teaming up for the team battle. You, me, Alistair. Sorry, Finnian. I’m not trying to do you dirty over here. I don’t know why the teams have to be in sets of three. Whoever made these rules is a fuckstick.

Fick-up. Fick-up.

Finnian: It’s cool. I know when I’m not wanted. Kidding. I already have plans to team up with Lars and Arnez. I was going to apologize to you all for not forming a team and kicking at least one of you out.

Zola: Who?

Finnian: Whoever asked first. How’s that?

Zola: Ugh!

Juno: Hell yeah, get her, Finn. Also Kidding. Don’t scowl at me like that, Zolski. Also, we need a team theme song. I already have one. Bloodvun Sal, ol’ Wafflestan, Turgan Sturfan dick-in-hand. Maybe we could teach Ziggy to squish it.

Zola: We don’t need a theme song.

Juno: You sure? Alistair?

Alistair: Yes, we’re teaming up. No, I don’t think we need a theme song. Yes, I support one anyway.

Juno: Hell yeah, you do. But I guess we’ll table that, for now. You two are going to kick so much ass. Just, go light on me if we have to face off again, Alistair. Or hell, maybe I’ll surprise you with Piglet.

Zola: He can bind with Hooty.

Juno: Whose side are you on, anyway?

As Zola continued to bicker with Juno, Finnian occasionally jumping into their conversation, Alistair tuned back into what Professor Humboldt was saying:

“... So we’ll do the individual fights first, one type per day, leaving the team battle—both teams you have chosen and randomized mixed teams—for the end of the week. If you do poorly, as Professor Yuber said, it is not the end of the world. Use your free time to take quests, study, and train.”

Yuber’s frog continued to make noise as if it were giving instructions as well.

Fick-up. Fick-up.

Juno: If I get any free time, I’m taking Alistair’s portal to Solaria to kick it with some friends. Kidding, Zola. I’ll study. Don’t roll your eyes unless rolling your eyes means you’ll come to Solaria with me.

After another epic yawn, and a ruffling of his sleeping back robes, Humboldt continued: “Today’s focus will be on the Primordial Solo style of fight. You will pit one summon against your opponent. There will be a magical coin toss at the start of the battle to decide who gets to choose their summon first. As you can imagine, choosing it first puts you at a great disadvantage.”

Professor Yuber gestured and an enormous coin, easily the size of a dinner plate, formed in the air. It began to rotate until it spun so quickly that it resembled a sphere. “Shall we begin? A better question, any volunteers?”

Alistair raised his hand, just as planned.

Both Laertes Undergast and Chane Brashlung shot their hands up in response. Alistair glanced from his rival to Chane, the troubled guy from his coterie who had a weirdo of an uncle that Alistair had threatened just a few days ago in Solaria.

“Chane Brashlung versus Alistair Blackstar,” Professor Vale’s Hazegeist said as a transparent piece of parchment appeared. A feather tipped pen appeared as well and began scribbling information down. “Please. Step up to the field, both of you, and we will begin.”

****

The magical coin toss didn’t go in Alistair’s favor. He selected heads and it was tails, which meant that he would have to summon first, giving Chane the advantage.

As Alistair stood across from the other boy, gauging his options, Kanda’s words came to him: “I’m not saying throw your match or anything. You do you. But if you do too well, the academy’s administration will keep a closer eye on you.”

Attention was the last thing Alistair wanted. With this in mind, he touched his chest and summoned Noctarii, who appeared as a card before taking his true shadow fae form.

“What in the fuck is going on here?” Noctarii asked as he did a quick turn.

A crooked smile formed on Chane’s face. He touched his chest and summoned a caterpillar creature with webbed hands that were as large as nets. About Alistair’s height, Chane’s summon flopped onto the ground, its eyes blinking vertically as a long tongue flopped out of its mouth.

“Wait. Seriously?” Noctarii asked. “I’m supposed to fight that thing.”

“Don’t fight it,” Alistair whispered.

Noctarii gave him a funny look. He already had his bow drawn, which he kept aimed at the other summon. “We need to chat about this later.”

“Don’t possess him, either.”

“I’m not. But…” Noctarii seemed troubled. “I’m not weak, you know.”

“I know you aren’t.”

“But I’ll put on a show, if that’s what you want.” Noctarii fluttered forward to address Chane’s summon. “Oh, great, this dumbass over here summoned a butt slug,” he shouted, some of the students laughing.

The confident look on Chane’s face morphed to embarrassment.

“Stupid fae. I’m not a butt slug!” his summon said through a mouth that looked suspiciously like a puckered anus.

The students laughed even harder. The three professors exchanged glances. Professor Vale’s hazegeist spoke up: “Let’s keep the mockery to a minimum. Are both summons ready to fight?”

“What is there to fight?” Noctarii asked her. “Old butt slug here is basically an oversized tapeworm queefing out responses.”

“You shut your mouth, fae!”

“The best way to deal with an oversized tapeworm is drink fae piss. At least—”

FIGHT!

A voice rocketed from all around them.

Once everyone froze, the voice came again, loud to the point that it was slightly distorted.

FIGHT!

“Shit!” Noctarii raced toward Chane’s summon, bow drawn. He was immediately swatted out of the air by the summon’s tongue and tossed into its net-like hand, which smashed Noctarii against the ground.

The battle was over before it could even begin as Resonant Mana rushed back toward Alistair, Noctarii defeated.

Ghost: I hate that we tossed Noctarii under the carriage like that, but damage was still done.

Across from Alistair, Chane stood with his fists at his side, a disturbed look on his face as he took in his summon.

“I did good, didn’t I?” the summon asked Chane. “Didn’t I…?”

Ghost: Whatever. Fuck them both. We got other shit to do. Tonight, we crack into this biography and tomorrow, we continue throwing matches. No shame in it. Kanda is right about the importance of us keeping a low profile. Now, look sad.

Alistair: Look sad?

Ghost: Yes. Look sad. You’re an orphan, you should be able to conjure a sad face. I know I could.

Alistair: So… frown?

Ghost: You just lost a match. Right now, it looks like Chane’s the one who lost. Do I need to do everything for you? Look sad!