20 Chapter 19 []

My eyes wander over to Khris—my opponent.

Her eyes are cool and focused. Hair smooth and pristine. A prettier picture than the one she showed me in that crawl space only a couple weeks ago.

Through a series of far-away glances, and small interactions I slowly saw the life return to her eyes. It especially warmed my heart to see her relieved smile after her trip to the capital. I was hunted down upon her return, and she assured me she made good on her promise. I also learned she was pretty cool when she wasn't beating me into the ground.

After some staring I finally catch Khris' eye, she responds with a sly smile. She then "slits" her throat with her finger—sticking her tongue out a little as she does this. I silently chuckle at the passive threat and return it—"slitting" my own throat with my thumb. She rolls her eyes with a smile returning her attention to the fight.

My foot taps in anticipation as the combatants in front of us fight. I look to my right to check on Kate. Among the combatants is a fire user, and she looks a little pale. Her eyes fixated on the fight, mask of composure immaculate, but the hand at her side is gripping so hard it's shaking—I'm afraid she'll draw blood. I place my hand atop hers hoping the small gesture would calm her down.

Kate's eyes remain fixated on the fight, but I feel her hand relax a little.

'This is just from watching.' I think, eyebrows creasing in worry. We're also farther away than we were back at the campfire. 'I don't even want to think about her fight.'

As luck would have it Kate is going to be fighting a fire user. I of course wanted to say something about this, but this isn't the same as normal sparring sessions. There's no choosing or swapping here, not to mention I'd be far out of line if I tried anything now. So the most I can do is hope Kate will be alright.

The current fight happening is between Charley—the elf boy I've come to know—and a human boy from class four. The human boy's name is Seliro, and he wields a broad sword he's cloaked in flame.

It's always interesting to watch Charley fight, one, because of his short stature—he's 4'11—and, two, because he's a support type elf. This of course means he can mark any living thing besides himself—in this case, Seliro.

Charley is currently running from Seliro, frantic as he dodges his large arching swings.

"Just give up already we already know how this is going to end," Atashida yells.

Mr. Ron glowers at him.

"Shut up Atashida—AH—I have him right where I—AH—want him—EGH," Charley shouts.

Atashida—Charley's teammate—is a human standing at an impressive 6'6. For whatever reason, the two are always butting heads, and it's not uncommon for their arguments to turn into fights. I had to give it to Charley though, I can't quite tell if he's fearless or stupid. He never backs down from anything, and while he hasn't won many fights he has beaten Atashida on multiple occasions.

Atashida scoffs.

"Running for your life is quite the interesting strategy—" he yells.

"Atashida," Mr. Ron growls.

Atashida looks a bit disgruntled but says nothing else.

Charley laughs, "Ha, you got in trouble. Cocky bastard—EEP!"

Charley once again narrowly dodges another sword swing.

"He's not wrong though. This is getting boring—I'm not even trying," Seliro sighs, "I'll be getting serious now if you don't mind."

Seliro then stops his lazy assault, changing his stance. Charley looks a bit scared—his confident smile trembling.

"A-aha ha, You're finally getting serious. I was getting bored myself," Charley announces, breathing heavily as beads of sweat drip down his face.

"Really," Seliro asks.

Charley tentatively nods.

"Well then," Seliro says, leaping toward Charley, closing the distance in an instant.

With a single swing, he sends one of Charley's blades flying.

"So that was intentional," Seliro muses with false wonder.

Seliro then slams the hilt of his blade into Charley's gut. A concerning crunch can be heard before Charley coughs up an even more concerning amount of blood—dropping his second blade. Seliro lets Charley crumple to the ground.

Seliro gives him an unreadable stare before turning to approach the instructors.

"He's been incapaci—" he starts abruptly stopping.

Somehow Charley—very much capable of moving despite the devastating blow—had crawled up to Seliro's leg, yanked up his pant leg, and scrawled a mark before Seliro could react.

"Aha ha. I win," Charley laughs—totally drained.

Charley tries to stand and immediately falls clutching his stomach, whimpering quietly. The instructors don't move an inch or call the match. Our upperclassmen, who is the acting nurse for these matches, looks concerned.

We wait a while before Seliro finally twitches. A few moments later he's fully regained his movement.

"Impressive," Seliro says, mostly to himself as he flexes his hands.

"To be able to mark me in your state," Seliro whispers crouching down to Charley.

"Your mental fortitude must be unshakable, so I must commend you…" Seliro starts before realizing Charley is out cold, "He's been incapacitated."

Seliro then crouches down to pick up Charley. He walks him over to our upperclassmen who stands near the instructors. Her eyes were practically begging the instructors to call the match before. She quickly ushers them over to the beds to apply first aid.

'What a crazy guy.' I think, staring at the two as they're tended to. 'He has my respect though.'

Because while he's usually all talk his determination and grit can be seen in his actions. And after all this time.

'It's finally my turn.'

I look to Kate with a grin plastered on my face. I feel it fall a little as I notice how tired she looks, but she fills my heart with a small smile in return.

"Good luck," Kate whispers.

I nod standing up.

Khris and I now stand near the middle of the cavernous room—eyes locked. I give Khris a grin, excited to finally fight on equal terms, hand already inching for my dagger.

"—Ready," Mr. Ron asks.

We both nod, and Khris immediately releases a mass of shadows, condensing them into the shape of two, bladed shields she grasps in each hand. The two cover most of her forearms with some overhang that covers her hands.

Khris watches me, not advancing. I unsheathe my dagger, spinning it once as I sprint toward her. She braces as I stab her shield, testing its strength. It doesn't give not even cracking, and as I continue to press her arm trembles. She throws a right hook stabbing at me with her shield, I slide my dagger off her shield to deflect, pulling away from her.

Khris turns as needed to keep me in sight as I circle her. She throws a few bladed jabs that I doge easily. Unable to put me on the defensive, she remains guarded. I lunge toward her, slamming her right shield away with a swipe of my dagger. I grab her left wrist with my free hand bringing my blade to her neck.

I let a small jewel of blood spill as I ask, "Do you yield?"

Khris says nothing, only smiling as I feel a small pain at my side.

"Do you," she asks, pressing her shield into me lightly.

Knowing we both had each other at blade point I shake my head. We slowly release one another, backing away as we do so, resetting the fight. My hand fishes into my pocket's shadow for my second dagger.

'Time to get serious.'

Khris watches as I twirl my new blade thoughtfully. I brandish both blades and sprint toward her. I slash at her shield as she fends me off, trying to catch me on her blade.

We continue this exchange of blows. Jabbing and slashing. Parrying and blocking. Khris falls into the trap of syncing with my movements, believing to have mastered them. That of course being a mistake I hone in on.

I suddenly switch up my pattern, ducking down low, slashing at her thigh. My blade slides through her unguarded flesh easily, as I use my momentum to knock her onto the ground.

Once I'm on top of her I discard my blades grabbing her wrists instead. I force her wrist to the ground, immobilizing her shields, though I knew this wouldn't be enough to make her yield.

Knowing Khris' influence over her shadows is being tested due to her current blood loss I release more shadows of my own. My shadows can't find any cracks in her shields to slip into so they surround them instead. I work at chipping away her influence, and it's just as I remember.

Khris' shadows feel unbreakable, following her command of fortitude to the letter, but similar to last time something is making them waver. Her breathing grows heavy as she thrashes beneath me. I continue to work at her influence, holding her firm. I can feel her warm blood pooling but I need to focus.

Finally, I feel her influence crack, my shadows hungrily fill, and expand it. Khris strains, but I've won. 'I can't override your influence, but I can diminish it.' My eyes flash open, and I press into her wrist more, making her now fragile shields crack.

Khris sighs donning a defeated smirk.

"I know when I've lost—I yield," she says, "Now get off."

I oblige releasing her. I help her up as she releases her shadows. Mr. Ron nods acknowledging the match's end. Khris slings one arm over my shoulder—making an effort to make me support more weight than necessary—as I walk us over to the nurse.

"I hate when you do that to my shadows," Khris mutters as I guide her, "You make them all sleepy, and hard to tame." I chuckle at the bizarre description. I couldn't imagine what that'd feel like.

Khris chokes me slightly, squeezing my neck between her arm—annoyed. We quickly arrive at the nursing area, a section of the gym now adored with a large padded blanket, and two beds. It wasn't currently occupied luckily as we weren't permitted lethal force in these sparring bouts. It's only a precaution in case the nurse had more than two patients at a time.

Khris allows me to lift her onto a bed, and the nurse has already hurried over. The nurse scrawls a mark on Khris' thigh. I watch, morbidly curious, as the cut on her thigh closes itself. The only trace of its existence is the smeared blood on her the nurse promptly starts to clean. I look down at my own leg seeing my right pant leg soaked in her blood. I sigh realizing I probably won't get that stain out.

"Sit sit," the nurse urges me as I sit down on my bed. Her eyes linger but she grabs my hand drawing a mark on my open palm. The mark then chooses this moment to let pain wash over me. Knowing it'd end soon I remain composed as the nurse looks over me. She urges me to lay down insisting I looked queasy before finally walking back over to the instructors.

Khris and I lay in silence, our bodies worn out from repair.

After a while Khris yawns, stretching on her bed, "That was fun, huh."

"Yeah, it was."