Transylvania, 1849
As soon as the Inquisitor lowered his arm, the Squires in the field burst into motion. Both Ed and Gus reacted within a breath.
Ed manifested Sa’ar, his targets already in his sights, and with a drop of Numen, his large revolver began to hum, the gale force winds beginning to swirl around his gun hand.
Gus dropped to one knee and summoned his astrolabe, Þjazi. Its central orb began dully glowing as each of the concentric rings around it started rotating on different axes, almost blurring, and the minute pinpricks of light orbiting the instrument sped up, accelerating to blistering speed. Gus pricked his finger on a flat, pointed rock he pulled out of his pocket, and drew a bloody rune on its face, which suddenly shone with a harsh, blue light. Seventeen of the radiant points of light left Þjazi’s orbit and, swirling around above Gus’ head, formed into the Gemini constellation, which locked into place then exploded in light, casting the field in the same harsh blue as the runes, even as Ed’s vortex wind screamed behind him.
“Ed, now!”
On the other side of the arena, their opponents had manifested their own weapons. The leanly muscled brunette had knuckle-dusters on her hands, which she rubbed together, then slammed into the ground, cratering the field and sending a groaning fissure racing up towards Ed’s team. Her raven-haired counterpart, a dour looking boy, wielded a slim bastard sword that was slowly collecting light as he sprinted along with the fissure, hoping to catch them off guard.
Ed’s vision suddenly split in two as he depressed the trigger.
What’s going on?
What’s going on?
Well, isn’t this interesting.
Gus had actually duplicated Ed himself. Reacting using his instincts honed within Grantham’s manor, both versions of him aimed at their targets and unloaded, emptying the cylinder on the hapless Squires.
Twelve deadly accurate bullets howled their way across the field, accelerated to near sonic speeds by Ed’s powers. The boy went down first, managing to block the initial two shots, then getting ragged, gaping holes blown out of his shoulder, gut and thighs.
A moment later the girl got hit with the full barrage, as bullets riddled her body, blowing her leg off at the knee, destroying her pelvis and nearly decapitating her as she fell into a shot meant for her shoulder, taking it instead just barely in her neck.
Oh shite!
Oh shite!
The Inquisitor stood up and cast his arm towards the girl, and from within its enclosure, the angel laid a healing light upon her. Ed, nearly panicking, sighed with relief as he confirmed her living status.
You forgot something.
Ed frowned before feeling the ground shake around him, trying his best to keep his balance as he rode it out. The fissure passed and the rumbling stopped.
That was it?
That was it?
Okay this is getting old.
Okay this is getting old.
As the adrenaline tapered down, Ed stopped reacting through instinct and reflex, fully taking in the weirdness of his split, yet shared perspective. He couldn’t do it for long.
“Gus, you have t- blarghhh”
“Gus, you have t- blarghhh”
Both versions of Ed puked from the disorientation. They tottered on their feet, barely able to even keep standing. They groaned in sync.
“Gus, this is soo weir- blurghhh”
“Gus, this is soo weir- blurghhh”
For his part, Gus could barely breathe from laughter. He dismissed Þjazi and the effect disappeared, both Ed’s fusing into one.
The true Ed lay panting on the ground, recovering.
“Motherfucker. Please tell me that’s not the only bloody rune you can use because that was fucking shite, mate.”
“Are you kidding? That was AMAZING! You went pow pow and they couldn’t even give us a real fight! That was like artillery fire, Jesus. I’ve seen Squires get shot before and nearly all of us can shrug off a regular bullet or two but that was just… Insane! Is this what a standard dominion could do for me?”
Ed chuckled painfully on the ground over Gus’ gushing praise.
“Are you kidding? Your powers are amazing, Gus, I’ve never seen anything like that.”
Indeed, Gus’ unique way of casting and his strange, ice-blue infernal Numen was more powerful than Ed had imagined.
I’m a big enough demon to admit when I was wrong. This kid is a diamond in the rough, don’t let him get away from you.
I’m so glad you finally approve of my friends, mum.
Don’t push it. Remember I have free reign up here, I can keep you up all night if I so choose.
Pettiness? From a toff? Keeping it original, I see.
Fully healed up, the losing team staggered off the arena while the Inquisitor came down to talk to the winners.
“You boys completely dominated that match, if we can even call it that. But you still only just barely scraped through to the next. Do you know why?”
Ed looked at the ground sheepishly.
“It seems you do. Keep your shots below the neck at all times, Squire. Even angels have limits. You’re fortunate in that I saw the accidental nature of the incident, but you get two ‘maybe’ strikes before we take action, accidental or not. Do not let it happen again.”
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Ed nodded, still staring at the ground.
Why is this embarrassing you? You should be proud, you showed them their place in the school. Below us. And gave the girl a taste of what may happen should she cross you.
I’m not like that, Abe, I don’t want to kill anyone.
Abe didn’t even respond, simply erupting in laughter.
Ugh, whatever.
A robed attendant came and ushered the two boys away to a break room, where they’d await their next fight.
----------------------------------------
The next team fights went in much the same way. Despite Ed’s protestations, the combination of Gus’ Split rune and Ed’s overpowered gun was too potent to disregard. Every foe fell under the initial hail of bullets, not even forcing him to reload within the match. Gus cautioned him not to get complacent though. Despite the “random selection” of foes, they were clearly pitched against the weaker ones. None of the most hyped Squires were pit against them and Gus explained that the team battles were a winnowing of those the school felt had only gotten a guaranteed place because of their name, not skill. The true elites, the kids trained from birth, were being saved for the single battles.
After a final battle in which Ed got his second strike for accidentally shooting the jaw off a particularly nimble Squire when the bullet grazed his chin, the team fights were thankfully over. Abe’s complaints had taken on a bit of a desperate tone as Ed edged closer to the strike limit, but he was back to his usual self after the danger passed.
There was no greater builder of camaraderie than entering battle together, and Ed and Gus’ friendship grew quickly as they kept crushing enemy after enemy, but always talking, improving, strategizing for the single battles where they couldn’t rely on each other’s powers. Thus when it was time for them to split up, they gave each other a firm nod and walked off, resolute in their plans.
The single fights were set up slightly differently to the team battles, in that all the Squires that lost their team fights could come and watch in order to “inspire their ambitions”. This cohort was unique in that the team placement wasn’t set in stone from acceptance, but now those in the privileged group could challenge team members for their places. It was going to make for an interesting two years.
Hearing his name called up, Ed strode out into a circular amphitheatre, closed off from the spectators by a shimmering transparent shield. The environment was dotted with large boulders and a few trenches. There was plenty of talking in the stands as it seemed that even Scholomance staff had turned up to see these battles.
Here scouting for the best prospects to bet on come the Games, I guarantee it.
Jesus, Abe, I’m cynical but you see ulterior motives in everything.
Kid, I’ve been around long enough that I’ve seen that everything does have ulterior motives, whether you admit to them or not.
Stop fucking calling me kid.
Ed’s opponent, a large, solidly built man with freckles and red hair stood menacingly across from him, powerful arms crossed. He… kinda looked like Songbird? Were they family? No matter.
With three Inquisitors watching over the matches like hawks, the rules were slightly more relaxed. Now, anything save extensive damage to the brain was allowed, as some things could not be brought back with healing and whatever memories or functions resided in a blown off chunk of brain counted among that number. Still, though, Ed was slightly nervous. He was tough, he’d survived the London slums and even brought children through with him. But he’d never had anyone except Sam earnestly try to kill him. Rob him and rough him up at most. Abe insisted that “Anything short of brain death” didn’t count as true combat but the difference seemed academic to Ed.
Still, Ed had no choice. He readied himself and tuned out the cheering spectators, focusing on his opponent. He heard the referee count down, tensed his muscles and sprang off immediately. He didn’t know what powers this guy had but he wasn’t going to take a chance. Ducking behind a boulder, Ed summoned Sa’ar and fed it Numen, feeling its appreciative hum.
Peeking over at the man, Ed’s heart sank.
The guy was hidden behind a seven-foot-tall tower shield and was slowly advancing towards him. Possibly Ed’s worst matchup. Gus had been right, now they were trying to knock him out of the running.
Don’t be so quick to despair. You forget our combined strength. Let’s give that shield a little tap.
Ed grinned despite himself.
Fuck it, lets try.
Rolling out of cover, Ed took aim and blasted all six shots at the same spot on the shield. The impacts smashed into the brute, forcing him back two steps, but only succeeding in putting a crack in the gleaming metal barrier, that was quickly repaired with a flare of the man’s Numen. He then leapt forward, grabbing for Ed before he rolled back into cover, but just barely missing.
Damn. His demon must be at a standard dominion as well; I can’t break through. I can’t run faster than he can turn, so I need a new strategy.
He mentally flipped through the various scenarios he’d discussed with Gus, Songbird and Viper. They’d all agreed that with a hard target, he’d have to get in close and get behind the defence. Easier said than done. Another pinprick in his hand indicated he’d just reloaded.
Repositioning, Ed ran around the arena looking for a good enough vantage point. Climbing atop a boulder, he saw the man spot him, then restart his advance towards him. Ed tried aiming in vain.
Bloody hell, none of these rocks are high enough to get a shot over the rim.
Rethinking his strategy, he tried to sneak past him, to get behind the shield, but every time he did, the crowd would grow excited, alerting the man. Through it all, the man just kept up his slow, methodical advance.
Ed got a sense of terrible certainty about his actions, an intangible “finality” to his person that let Ed know deep down, that if the man managed to get his hands on him, he would lose.
So? Make sure he doesn’t. Simple as.
For all his flaws, Abe was often right and this was no different. Ed had no choice but to stay constantly moving.
The match dragged on for several minutes like this. Ed running around the arena and the man slowly following, interspersed by the odd staccato of Ed spraying his entire cylinder every so often, staggered of course, so his foe never knew his real rate of reload.
Once the crowd had gotten restless and Ed could feel the man’s will slightly faltering in the face of constant chasing, he made his move. Luring the redhead towards one of the trenches, Ed watched eagle-eyed as the man approached.
From his vantage atop this boulder, he nearly salivated. He’d only get this one chance. Aiming Sa’ar, Ed waiting for the man to lift his leg to step over the trench.
There!
Ed had realised after the first attack that he’d never break straight through the shield, so he had to get around it. Failing that, he had to make some part of his opponent stick out from behind the shield. Over the course of the match, Ed had shot several deliberately wide shots, each one thudding into the ground beneath the rim of the trench, loosening the soil and preparing it for this moment.
In that moment, when all the man’s weight was on one leg, Ed fired one last time at the trench. His bullet screamed through the air, smacking into the earthen trench and collapsing the entire shelf the redheaded giant was standing on. Credit where it’s due, he recovered almost instantly. Almost.
His foot peeked out below the shield for one moment. Just one moment. Ed immediately capitalised, sending two more bullets rocketing towards him and catching him with one, blowing the appendage off.
Gotcha!
Ha!
The tables had drastically turned after that. Losing the foot meant he needed to use the shield to stay upright, but that meant he couldn’t move without these short hops, nowhere near the controlled advance of before.
Guess it’s time to get close.
Ed leapt off the boulder, rolling into a breakneck sprint. He came right up to the man, then jumped, springboarding off his shield onto a nearby boulder, ran up its face until gravity caught him once more then pushed off, soaring above the hobbled shield-bearer. In the air above the man, Ed pointed his gun downwards and two shots thumped into the shield, now held above the head. Perfect.
Ed’s feet caught another boulder, and he pushed off in a completely new direction. The man, unable to manoeuvre his shield in time, accidentally exposed the side of his chest. Ed grinned.
Bang! Whooosh!
The final bullet in the chamber tore its way through the man’s breast, mangling his torso and creating a large sucking wound as his lungs collapsed.
"Yes! Yes! Take that you bloody wankstains!"
Ed exulted in his victory against the odds.
He’d done it. They wanted him out, but Ed had beaten them. He hadn’t even been interested in the Vatican Games but after this stunt, he swore he’d get in no matter who they put in his path.
And like his words had travelled directly to the ear of the matchmaker, his next match was a shock.
“Hey, Chocolate Milk.”