“What do you make of Vreem, Jensen? I must admit to being curious as to why you let a failed assassin into my school.”

“I think he’s dangerous. I saw his eyes as he attacked me- there was no hesitation there. There was no mercy; if he had a chance, he would have killed me without any regret.”

“That isn’t too uncommon in Solwick. There are plenty of psychopaths who wouldn’t bat an eye at mass murder roaming the streets, held back only out of fear of the warlords.”

“And now there’s one less on the streets; and hopefully, in a few years he’ll become a problem for the denizens of the Beneath.”

* A conversation between Headmistress Hoplix and Professor Jensen

Vreem - the start of Competency in Combat class

Troom was telling the truth when they said we’d be directed to an arena. To the south of the primary Deepvein building, there are a dozen stone arenas with varying sizes. I suspect that they are magically larger on the inside though, as the arena we entered was the size of a two story house on the outside, and is the size of a stadium on the inside. There’s a crowd of six Triads, eighteen students in total- and standing taller than even the elvish students, burly, muscular and proudly green stands Professor Jensen wearing chainmail. He looks uncharacteristically grim, his hands held behind his back and posture as straight as a spear. When he speaks, it is almost solemn.

“I am Professor Jensen, and although I may not look like it, I am a warmage. I am a firm believer that everyone who sets foot in the Beneath should be able to hold off a skinmelter hound, or any other beast of the tunnels, for at least seven seconds. That’s how long it should take a competent backline to line up a shot and kill the creature, or for a competent frontliner to come and get it off you so you can line up the shot. Are there any questions?”

The naga from earlier, clad in unenchanted but polished chainmail raises a clawed, scaly hand. Jensen nods to them, and they speak.

“Sssome of usss- *ahem* some of us have prior combat experience and training. Are we going to spar or face captive beasts?”

“You raise an excellent point, but one I have already thought of. I’ve already read a report on each of you- and I believe that some of you can handle yourselves in a fight. However, the only person here that I know can fight is Vreem- remind me, how close did you get?”

I step forward and emulate Jensen’s posture, speaking confidently and clearly.

“If you had been one fifth of a second closer, I would have killed you sir. Nevertheless, you defeated me, so in accordance with the Way of Things I am yours to command.” even if I was holding back my ability to disrupt spells, it likely wouldn’t have worked. Jensen’s mana control, reflexes and senses beat me fair and square. I still note that saying it seems to make Jensen uncomfortable- I wonder why?

Still, the other students look very curious, and perhaps a little bit afraid- Kira in particular looks like a nightmare is coming true. Even more so when Kaelan steps forward with a raised hand, and Jensen nods to allow him to speak.

“I can also attest to Vreem’s talent… and durability. However, I do not believe he has ever received formal training, and am eager for a rematch now that I understand his capabilities.”

For the first time in this lesson, the shadow of a smile flickers across Jensen's face for a moment.

“In that case, let me finish answering this student’s question and then we’ll get into sparring matches. So, back to what I was saying, you will mostly be training against each other for the first semester or so. Occasionally, we’ll get a master illusionist to create tangible replicas of the beasts for you to fight. Only in your third year will you start actually fighting beasts one-on-one in this class, although you may be pitted against them as a group earlier than that. Now before you get to hacking each other into pieces, I’ll allow Healer Ashtrunk to introduce themselves.”

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

And sure enough, stepping out from behind Jensen is a stick-thin elf wearing the red uniform of a healer, glaring at us with what I am certain is killing intent. How didn’t I notice them before? They are visibly ancient even by elf standards, with grey hair and clouded eyes the pale pink of a bloodless corpse. As they begin to speak in what I can only describe as an extended death rattle, the very air tastes stale- it tastes dead.

“You are all… under my care. You are my patients until you leave this arena. That means that… I am to keep you alive. I will not keep you happy. If you break a bone, I will accelerate it until it heals, and then break it and try again until it sets properly. I will not heal bruises. Unless you are about to be crippled, maimed or killed I will not step in. If I have to heal you, I will inflict as much agony as is medically feasible and leave you feeling better than ever afterward. If I have to step in, I am obligated to check the health of everyone involved. If you kill anyone under my care, I will turn your blood acidic and your heart into a cancerous mass. Please test me.”

I… don’t think I want to. Judging by their threats, they are a true biomancer- and their threat lies not in killing me, but in exposing my secrets. I can heal myself independently, so all I need to do is avoid killing any other students. It shouldn’t be too difficult, I’ve rewired my reflexes and instincts for nonlethal combat by now. Another incident like what happened with Kaelan is borderline impossible. Regardless, Jensen is stepping forward again, with a strained smile on his face. He seems excited; eager even.

“Alright! Now that you understand the stakes, I’ll pair you into groups. Remember: sparring matches go until either duelist concedes, or is unable to.”

He very quickly sorts us all into pairs- and as I walk toward a circle in the sand alongside my sparring partner, the naga from earlier, I begin to adjust myself and prepare my plans. I can’t help but smile.

Skador K’soon POV

As I slither alongside my opponent, I cannot help but feel uneasy. They are a juvenile clad in shoddy, homemade leather armour; The only weapons I can see on them are a rusted dagger and a beautiful steel handaxe covered in dried blood. And yet, Professor Jensen himself was almost slain by them; I wonder what circumstances could create a person who can challenge a Magister, but not clean their weapons?

“Professor Jensen called you Vreem; my name is Skador K’soon. It will be a pleasure to test myself against you; but I couldn’t help but notice that your weapons are in… subpar condition.”

When I mention ‘your weapons’, their eyes flick to their hands; and although it would be imperceivable to most mammals, I can see the feverish heat in their fingers as their nails slowly extend and sharpen themselves. Vreem stays silent for a few seconds, until we reach our designated patch of sand.

“I’m not used to having external weapons. How deep can I cut without putting your life in danger?”

“I… I’m sorry, but I do believe that we were going until first blood?”

“Jensen said that we would go until one of us concedes, or is unable to. If you want me to stop after the first drop of your blood sees daylight, then that is when I will stop. I will not be stopped by you drawing blood; I don’t think you could cripple, maim or kill me if you tried.”

“Those are bold words, Vreem. Nevertheless, let’s not test them- I can’t imagine ‘healer’ Ashtrunk accepting ‘but they said to!’ as an excuse. I’ll stop when you concede.”

“Then we fight on Jensen’s count.”

As if Vreem heralded it, Jensen’s voice booms across the arena.

“Everyone ready to rumble? Good. You will start when I say to fight, and you will expect the unexpected. Three!”

The arena is silent, as if holding it’s breath.

“Two!” I tense, spear pointed at Vreem.

“Fight!”

And before Jensen even finishes saying the word, Vreem shoots toward me like a crossbow bolt.