The Dragon Games

The Real Deal

"That was ruthless," Instructor Finnegan said.

All the blood drained from my face.

The corner of Instructor Finnegan's mouth tugged up. "I'm relieved to see you have some fight in you, Black." Then he turned to Rick. "Alright, pledge? Need a doctor?"

Rick sat up, slapping the dirt off his shirt. "Fine," he grunted and then stormed back to the Windsors.

The following matches either ended in seconds or not at all. Grace and a few others made quick work of their opponent, flicking them out of the circle like a rag doll. But when most pledges entered the ring, they would lift their hands and stare awkwardly at each other, their eyes more grey than black, until Instructor Finnegan got fed up and ended the match.

Occasionally, their hair would ripple, but it was unclear if it was the Divine or the breeze.

Before I knew it, it was my turn to fight again. I stepped into the circle, facing down a burly, vaguely familiar-looking face. While he stretched on the other side of the circle, Rick approached me. Instructor Finnegan – divided between four other matches running alongside mine – did not even notice.

"How's the back?" I said. My smile dimmed when I saw the look on Rick's face. His jaw was tight, and the tips of his ears tinged red. "Sorry. I didn't mean to hit you so hard."

He tipped his dead toward my new opponent's direction. "You don't remember him, do you?"

"Should I?"

"Tobias."

"Tobias Smalls," I burst out, remembering him at once. "We fought a bidding."

Rick smiled, but there was nothing friendly about it. "It's good luck Tobias knew Grace before bidding. If she didn't testify on Tobias' behalf, he probably wouldn't have received any bids at all. The squads couldn't decide whether you were powerful or he was weak. No doubt when they heard your last name, they were inclined to side with the latter."

My eyes narrowed. "You fought me. What do you think?"

"I think you strike fast without warning."

I lifted my brows, pretty sure he was accusing me of cheating. "As opposed to striking slowly and announcing my moves beforehand?"

Rick's mouth curved. "Do you know what a roundhouse twist is?"

"The what?" I said, startled by the abrupt change in topic. "No."

"Too bad, because if you can't block it, Tobias will break your arm."

The air prickled by my ear. That was my only warning before Tobias fired his Divine. I got my hand up just in time, and Tobias' Divine ricocheted, hitting him square in the face.

His head whipped to the side, and he hit the ground like a rock. When he peeled his face out of the dirt, blood gushed from his probably broken nose.

Huh. I guess I did know what a roundhouse twist was. We just called it the bone-snapper in the raiders.

After Tobias, I breezed through my matches, finishing off each opponent without breaking a sweat. Compared to the others, my fighting style was ugly – a mutant of different moves I had picked up from the streets – which worked to my advantage.

After fighting enough pledges, I began to pick up on patterns and predict their next moves. Meanwhile, they had never encountered an opponent like me before and had no idea where to begin fighting me.

But the same could be said for Grace Windsor. She used the same moves as every other pledge, but she was such a powerful Divine wielder that she could get away with being predictable. Her opponent could see her blow coming from a mile away and still fail to block it.

Naturally, it wasn't long before I was in the finals, facing off against Grace Windsor. A large crowd had formed around our match, including a few pledges from squad Balthasar and Steward. As they cheered and hollered, Grace and I circled each other, paying no attention to the noise.

We only had eyes for each other, our hands high, ready to move at the slightest twitch. 

Grace struck first, going from zero to a hundred in the blink of an eye. She launched a rapid series of attacks, each blow faster and harder than the last. I did not have time to think. 

I had to rely on my instincts, blocking and ducking, unable to gain ground or shift from defense to offense. I knew Grace was powerful, but I hadn't realized she was this powerful. She was the real deal, on par with Drax.

I was so focused on her that when a Windsor stuck a foot in my path, I hit the ground hard. I threw my hands up, trying to shield my face from the worst of Grace's blow, but nothing came. Grace had retreated, giving me space to regain my footing.

"None of that," Grace ordered the crowd, breathing hard. "Let us fight."

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then both sides clapped for Grace's sportsmanship, and I stood back up. The fight resumed, and it didn't go any better for me. I wasn't used to fighting in the constraints of a ring. I got careless with my position and had to eat a blow to my cheek to avoid getting knocked out of the ring. A gasp went around the crowd as my head whipped to the side.

When I looked back at Grace, a hot trickle of blood was trailing down my face. When the iron hit my tongue, I grinned, licking my lips. I don't really consider myself a violent person... but I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy a good fight.

Grace's hand wavered, half startled, half repulsed. Then she grit her teeth, steeling her expression, but this time, I attacked first.

Grace easily absorbed attacks aimed at her chest, so I swung exclusively below the ankles, trying to knock her off balance. I did this four times, moving closer with each strike. Grace was getting frustrated, her counters coming harder yet sloppier. 

On the fifth time I lifted my hand, Grace preemptively blocked, anticipating the attack. But instead of firing at Grace's feet, I abandoned the Divine and kicked Grace square in the gut. Grace grunted and fell hard on her ass, landing a foot outside the ring. 

That's the thing about powerful wielders; they get so fixated on their Divine that they forget they have hands and feet.

The crowd burst into cheers, but when I turned around, I found a line of Balthasars had elbowed their way to the front row. And the loudest cheerer of all was Edmond Balthasar. He stepped forward, his eyes glittering under the midday sun, his stare locked on my face. "My turn."

"Halt," Instructor Finnegan said. "If you are not in Windsor or Tudor, you must wait until tomorrow to spar."

Edmond sighed, turning back to the Balthasars. "I suppose we'll have to postpone our afternoon fun. But don't worry, friends. I'm sure Black and I will cross paths soon enough."

Edmond was civil enough with Instructor Finnegan around. Dinner was another story. I piled my plate high with food, always hungrier after using the Divine. As I ate, I felt someone's stare on me. I looked across the mess hall and locked eyes with Edmond. His lips curled. 

The girl beside him put a knife against her throat, pretending to slice.