The academy buzzed with excitement from the student body. Everyone wondered the same thing: who would be the new student joining their school? Who would be the lucky candidate among so many hopefuls? People were close to killing for such a cosmic opportunity.
In the Student Coach residence hall, Harrison Smith left his suite, going to the teleporter to the first floor. He headed out of the building with his nine fellow coaches. Other Versus Wing students rushed towards the same destination. Those around them would sometimes stop or slow down to gaze at them, whispers echoing through the outdoor courtyard.
Harrison smiled at a bevy of girls looking his way, winking at them. They squealed in response. Admittedly, he loved the attention, especially with his reputation.
“What do you think about the fights?” Elisa asked.
Catherine shrugged. “I don’t know. Most likely, it’ll be boring as binary code. Not expecting much. They’re a load of amateurs and Houdge is just the 150.”
“I wouldn’t underestimate Lílitha. She’s feistier than she looks,” Harrison advised. “She almost bit Bark’s arm off, remember?”
“Almost,” Reilly interjected. “He still won the fight.”
“He didn’t win, Coach pulled the lass off ‘im,” Catherine laughed. “Otherwise, he’d’ve been a one-arm. Serves him right for slagging ‘er.”
“Let’s hope she doesn’t bite anyone else,” Delaine chuckled. “She has to fight 3,000 people all in one day. She’ll be frustrated after a while.”
They entered the Arena and went to the passages leading to the seats. As Student Coaches, they had access to special seats with the best view of the fight; a capsule that moved around the arena circle to see the battle at the best angle. It even had a screen that would zoom in on the fighters when it got exciting. Next to them were the school faculty, and below were the Favorites’ capsules.
Harrison slipped into the seat numbered ‘10’, which had his name beneath. It always swelled him with pride whenever he came here. Even though his rightful position should’ve been Reilly’s first seed, he was contented with at least being a Student Coach.
Of course, with his tenth seed came a lot of pressure; expectations, speculations, and most of all, controversies. Being the first Earthian to be a Student Coach since Lisa White, people were still skeptical of his abilities— to the point that his call sign was ‘Cheater’.
He’d done extremely well considering it was his first year in the competition, but it was hardly cheating. He didn’t even make the top three places. People also ignored the fact that he had been studying a non-Versus Fighting career for a year before that, at an early age.
Even though the other nine didn’t show it, he knew they thought the same of him. The experienced Student Coaches always hazed the new ones playfully, but he took the brunt of the force. It didn’t help that he was the only full human among them.
Harrison knew for a fact that most half-humans didn’t take pride in their Earthian side. They were always fiercely patriotic towards their non-Earthian half. Almost as if they were embarrassed.
Or, not almost. They were embarrassed.
He always tried not to let it bother him. He’d ignore the whispers in the halls, the gossip bouncing between the students. He’d smile among the glares and smirks thrown his way. He’d appreciate those that granted him the barest amount of respect.
He looked down at the Favorites’ capsules floating below them. These varied between sizes, accommodating all the members of each Guild. Students taking apprenticeship under the Student Coaches.
There were nine in all, but there should’ve been ten.
Harrison sighed, shaking away the feeling. He couldn’t think about this right now. It was best if he focused on the fights.
“Students of Fistborn Academy, welcome to the awaited Emergency Pressure Exams!”
The students clapped and cheered in the stadium seats. With such an unusual situation, the excitement had skyrocketed.
“As you all know, this last-minute, all-day pressure exam was organized in light of the recent expulsion of student Juum Brutwasten, who was found guilty of smuggling illegal Dnilian tech into the school, and impersonating a Martian student, all in order to ruin our academy’s reputation.”
The crowd booed in response.
“Now that Mr. Brutwasten has left our school, there is one more spot open for a new potential fighter, for as you know, the Versus class must not be incomplete. Today, Ms. Lílitha Houdge— call sign ‘Piranha’—, the 150th seed of the 2346 Fistborn Versus team, will be combating against every single applicant who has passed the second stage of admission. This will determine who will be entering the academy this coming month!”
They cheered again as Lílitha walked out to the arena, dressed in the standard combat armor suit. Harrison clapped along with his comrades.
“I hope they aren’t an annoying bloke who thinks they can be Favorite on the first day,” Catherine remarked.
“Without further ado, let’s welcome the first challenger to the Arena!”
Harrison could see Lílitha shifting on her feet, stretching her limbs to their longest. The capsule glass zoomed in to show her battle-hungry smile.
“She’s going to bite this one,” Reilly said. Harrison hadn’t expected him to comment much; he was a silent soul.
“Welcome to the Arena… a talented Paeseoan from Wisconsin, scoring the required 60 on his practical test, but still showing massive potential… Anders Nilsson!”
Most of the crowd respectfully clapped as the man walked out to the arena, accompanied by boos from the more audacious bunch. He seemed confident at first, but slowed when the announcer yelled out his grade to everyone. His head ducked and he took smaller steps.
Li Mei laughed. “I hated when they told my grade to everyone. It was the most embarrassing thing I went through.”
Disaris snorted. “You’ve embarrassed yourself worse. Like in Teamwork, when you-”
“Shut the glitch up, or I’ll shove a virus down your throat.” She held up a finger. Disaris snickered, hiding his smile with his fist.
The Paeseoan hopeful exchanged formalities with Lílitha before heading over to the indicators across from her. There were no weapons or fancy tech around, just them and the arena.
“Prepare yourselves! Ready in 10, 9, 8…”
The crowd counted down along with the announcer, stomping their feet rhythmically, as was tradition to keep the excitement high. Harrison narrowed his eyes at the Paeseoan, who visibly gulped as Lílitha flashed her sharp teeth at him.
“3… 2… 1… FIGHT!”
Instantly, Lílitha bolted forward, her speed catching her opponent off-guard. In no time at all, she’d stretched one of her legs to wrap around his neck, locking him in a deadly wrestling hold, and bit down on his shoulder. The armor kept her teeth from breaking his skin, but the pain still registered, causing him to yell.
“Oh, my- seriously?! She just couldn’t wait, could she?” Catherine shook her head.
The Paeseoan’s legs gave out so he could slam her onto the floor. It worked, allowing him to twist out of her grip. Rage clouded his eyes as he got back into position, wincing and clutching his shoulder.
“His pain tolerance doesn’t look that high,” Disaris observed.
He charged this time, punching Lílitha in the face just as she rose. She spun, letting the momentum carry her, and stretched her foot out to kick him in the chin. She followed it up with punch in the gut and a knifehand in his throat.
His hands raised to his neck as he choked. Lílitha gave him no time to recover, throwing her whole body forward in a tackle. She somehow managed to ride his back, pulling his arms behind him and arching his back.
After a few seconds of holding him, he finally yelled out, “SURRENDER!” The crowd burst out laughing; not only was he desperate, but the correct word was ‘Concede’.
“GAME OVER!” the announcer responded. Lílitha let her opponent go at the prompt, standing and raising her arms in victory. She smiled at the cheering Fistborn students, her teeth glinting in the sun.
“She should seriously take it easy with the biting. No wonder people think Ilamikoans eat other mammalians,” Stösten remarked.
“Well, it’s one of their best weapons. If the applicants can’t handle that, they can’t handle the school or the competition,” said Delaine.
“Our next candidate is a Mercumartian from Alaska, with a whopping 85 tacks on his practical test! Welcome to the Arena… Emos Casuuumi!”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
The fights went on, most ending the same; with Lílitha either pinning them down, punching them senseless, or trying to bite their limbs off. There were a few who gave her a run for her digits, but none who beat her. She’d upped her game for these candidates.
Either way, they weren’t required to win against her. They just needed to show their prowess in real combat under the circumstances of a real Versus fight. The judges needed to see how they performed against an experienced fighter with thousands of people watching them and cheering for their opponent.
“I think too many of them are underestimating her,” Kalis said as a Mearthian girl left the Arena in tears, like many before her. “It doesn’t even look like they did their homework. If they saw one of her fights, they would know to avoid the teeth.”
“Most of these are a bunch of wannabes. They’re not going to actually work for this exam,” said Delaine.
“That last Earthian gave her a good run, though. What was her name again?” Melsen asked.
“Ellie, I think,” Reilly answered.
“No, it was Elaine. Remember, Catherine made a huge deal about her name rhyming with mine?” Delaine said.
“I didn’t make no huge deal.”
About 1,000 fighters had battled Lílitha before the first break. By then, she was exhausted, and she’d even received a few injuries from the better fighters. However, the majority left the Arena crippled and crying from her powerful grips and bites.
“She’s a glatchin’ zombie,” Catherine had repeated every time.
After an hour, Lílitha had completed her respite period and was ready for another 1,000 challengers. Fully energized, she was able to beat the first few with no problem. Hopes were being crushed left and right, and the Fistborn students were thriving on it.
“And now… the next challenger facing our Lílitha… a young Earthian girl from the state of Indiana… with a score of 62 tacks… Calista Medley!”
Harrison leaned forward, his sapphire eyes locking onto the human girl. She was anything but confident as she continuously adjusted her suit, her feet shifting as she circled to look at the crowds. The screen zoomed in so they could see the fear plastered across her face.
Delaine scoffed. “Why is she looking around so much? Focus on your enemy!”
As if she heard her, the girl looked at Lílitha, who leaned on one of her feet as she scrutinized her. Her arms were crossed as she regarded her with contempt.
“She’s bored,” Reilly observed.
“I don’t blame her. All we’re gettin’ are losers,” Catherine grumbled. “Hardly anything to fuss over.”
“The next fight starts in 10… 9…”
The girl quickly got into position, gulping. As she stared at Lílitha, the insecurities melted away, replaced with determination. Her emerald green eyes hardened.
“Hmm.” Harrison squinted. There was something about her…
“What?” Stösten asked.
“Nothing.” He waved it off, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that she reminded him of someone. He couldn’t place who…
“FIGHT!”
===
Calista uncomfortably twisted and turned in her combat suit. It was nothing fancy, just an elastic second skin that stretched over her body with protective padding stitched in, with the tougher parts covering the most sensitive areas. It was light and flexible enough to move around easily.
The color was torturing her. It was all orange, nothing like the suits she’d seen in the competition. Orange wasn’t even part of the school colors! What were they thinking?!
She was in the second group of challengers, waiting in the hall for her turn. The first group had already been taken to the dugout, going out one-by-one to confront Lílitha Houdge in combat.
Calista’s nerves skyrocketed with every fight that passed. Everyone was humiliating themselves by being smashed into the ground after five seconds, even the ‘higher’ species. Paeseoans, Seeyastians, Martians, Mercurians, and all sorts of mixed species had the glitches kicked out of them.
Lílitha was the most vicious fighter Calista had seen in her life. At first, she thought she was downright adorable, resembling a 7-year old girl with huge eyes that curled at the ends and a shining, innocent smile.
Now, she was her worst nightmare, her sharp teeth glinting threateningly each time she dug them into her opponents’ armor. It was almost as if she wished the armor wasn’t there.
She wrung her gloved hands together, sweating profusely. The cooling mechanism in the suit didn’t help her. She felt helpless and completely alone. Her family had gone to a separate room to view the fights virtually, the Arena reserved for the students.
That was another thing: she thought she’d be fighting in front of the Versus school students. That was nerve-wracking enough. But it turned out that the entire school was watching, from every career in both the Versus and Technological Wings.
Every career offered by the Earth schools were related to the Versus, but the Versus Wing was more directly related to the fighters, the teams, and the competition. The Technological Wing worked to innovate new machines, applications, and artificial intelligence to improve the Versus as a whole.
The Versus Wing had other careers besides the Versus Fighting School. They had a Fighting career for those interested in fighting and the military, but not interested in participating in the Versus. They also had a Fighting Education career for those aiming to become coaches; Journalism for future writers and reporters following the fighters’ progress; and Strategic Analysis for those wanting to become professors and evaluators screening the new fighters. Like Professor Estalen from her practical test.
The Relations career was for those aiming to deal with the business and legal side of the tournament, and the Medical Science school was for doctors, nurses, and other medical personnel treating fighters after being injured and helping innovate new tech to avoid serious lesions that could end a fighter’s career.
The Technological Wing, on the other hand, was for designers, engineers, and innovators working to build new programs and structures to make the Versus more exciting and more incredible. The ones in the Design school were the most important, since they would be the ones custom-tailoring the fighters’ suit designs for each and every fight they had.
Catalina would be amazing in that school. She deserved a chance there, but it was so expensive.
“Calista Medley to the arena. Repeat, Calista Medley to the arena. Your fight begins in T-minus 150 seconds.”
Glancing at the other waiting candidates around her, she took a deep breath, trying not to spit out her stomach. It flipped over and over again like a pancake. She could hear the announcer introducing her as she approached the arena entrance.
“And now… the next challenger facing our Lílitha… a young Earthian girl from the state of Indiana… with a score of 62 tacks… Calista Medley!”
She’d heard the announcer yelling out everyone’s grades, so she expected it, but the shame was overwhelming. She wished she could hide her face with her helmet.
When she stepped out onto the arena, she felt like she would die. She started hyperventilating again and her sweat glands squeezed out every drop of water she had in her. Her suit started feeling tight and uncomfortable, and her helmet seemed to tighten over her head.
Was it suffocating her? It wasn’t covering her face; there was an invisible protector surrounding her eyes and chin, but her nose and mouth were completely exposed. Yet she felt like her head was trapped in a little box.
She looked around at the crowds, gulping deeply. There were all sorts of people, but hardly any humans. And those few patches of humans she found were all jeering at her. Above the seats were numerous capsules holding more people, which circled around the open ceiling.
Reluctantly, she looked at her opponent: the childlike, indigo-skinned girl with long, straight dark blue hair. She had her weight leaned on one leg, her arms crossed. Her black eyes regarded her with boredom.
They were supposed to exchange formalities as a sign of mutual respect, so Calista approached her, trying to smile. She was sure she looked like a Smiley virus instead. “Um… hi,” she started, cringing at herself.
Lílitha raised a brow.
“Uh… just wanted to say good luck. Or… not good luck, but… may the best fighter win. And… I’ll do my best.”
Lílitha rolled her eyes. “Just show me what you’ve got.” She stretched out her small, blue hand for a fist bump, which Calista returned. They got into position.
“The next fight starts in 10… 9…”
Lílitha smirked, her eyes devilishly glinting in the light. Calista closed her eyes and took another breath. Don’t look at the crowd. Don’t look at anyone. Just look at her. She’s your enemy.
Her emerald eyes opened again. As she stared at her opponent, they hardened. If she could stand up to that gang in the bar, she could stand up to an Ilamikoan, right?
“FIGHT!”
As Calista expected, Lílitha charged forward. That was something she did in every fight. She wanted to gain the upper hand as fast as she could by delivering the first blow.
So she needed to turn the tables.
At the same time, Calista snapped out her leg, her foot arching to meet Lílitha’s head. It wouldn’t be too hard, since she was about a foot shorter than her. This seemed to catch her off guard a bit as she skidded to a stop, but she managed to duck under the blow.
Calista then threw her fist down at her face, hitting her nose. The crowds exclaimed, not in concern, but in surprise.
However, Lílitha didn’t allow any pausing. She immediately retaliated with an uppercut to Calista’s chin, stretching her arm to meet the length. Her head snapped back before a foot slammed into her side, immediately knocking her off-balance.
While the suit protected her from injury, the pads were designed to take in impact and transfer it to her pain receptors. It would hurt when Lílitha hit her, but it wouldn’t damage her. It was probably to measure her pain tolerance.
Unfortunately, Calista’s tolerance was quite low.
She scrambled to stand as fast as she could before Lílitha could kick her again. She blocked her foot and stood, staying on defense as she tried to find an opening.
But Lílitha found one first.
Her foot slammed into her midriff with the same force as a wrecking ball, knocking the air out of her. With her back lowered, Lílitha was able to grab her shoulder and wrap her legs around her waist, her arms snaking around her throat. Calista clawed at her hands as she choked, falling to her knees.
She tried to throw her weight backwards, but Lílitha forced her to pitch forward, pinning her onto her face. Despite the girl’s size, she somehow managed to weigh her down like a sack of sand.
Calista’s fist struck onto the ground as her frustration grew. She could hear the loud cheers of all the students around her, further fueling her anger.
No doubt her former friends were watching this just to mock her. They’d make a broadcast about it for sure. They were cackling. She hated giving them that satisfaction.
Lílitha’s arm shifted to hold her under her armpit, leaving her shoulder exposed. Calista’s eyes widened when she realized she was going to bite her.
But this gave her an opening.
With all her strength, she pushed against the ground to lift herself, giving her arms just a bit of leeway. Just as Lílitha opened her mouth, exposing her sharp knives, Calista held all her weight on one arm, jerking her other elbow into her opponent’s face.
She could feel the sharp teeth on her elbow, wincing. But the hit worked, eliciting a satisfying groan of pain from Lílitha. With her hold weakened, Calista rolled over and pressed all her weight onto her enemy, practically crushing her. There was no room for her to land a good bite, so she was trapped.
However, she was able to stretch her arm out and punch Calista in the cheek. The human girl cradled her jaw as she rolled off her opponent, allowing her to breathe.
It was a good move, but it really seemed to bug Lílitha off.
With a shrill roar, Lílitha leapt, kicking at Calista’s face. As the human girl veered to the side, she was smacked across the face, forced to turn the other way. Her arm was suddenly twisted behind her back as two harsh blows were delivered to her stomach, sending her to her knees.
She was unable to block or counter the Ilamikoan as she grabbed her head and smashed her forehead against hers. No doubt it hurt her, but it hurt Calista more. She fell on her back, wailing in pain. As a final blow, Lílitha pinned her down and punched her twice in the face.
“GAME OVER!” the announcer finally yelled.
Lílitha’s fist halted and she stood, glaring down at the Earthian girl. With a contemptuous huff, she turned to the crowds and basked in their cheers, pumping her small fists in the air. Calista remained on the ground, breathing heavily.
Her nose itched fiercely before she tasted the metallic tang of blood. She wiped her nose in surprise. The sight of scarlet red goop on her glove instantly nauseated her. Blood wasn’t something she was prepared to see or touch. She’d dealt with it when she got her code red, but this was… scarier.
The adrenaline faded, replaced by exhaustion and horrible pain. It seemed that the invisible protectors left her nose exposed, probably to further test the hopefuls’ tolerance.
Calista had an answer for that.
She passed out.