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Chapter 10: The Grading II

A single spotlight shone a perfect beam onto the stage, illuminating the relative darkness of the stadium. And in the right in the heart of the stage, the bright red circle seemed to burn like a ring of fire under the glare of the light.

There was no one else save the first candidate from Anarchy and the Agen, and Harry found himself wishing that at least one of the Canines were present as well. He was immensely thankful that he wouldn't be expected to fight in front of a roaring crowd baying for blood, but for some reason he couldn't decipher he felt as though he were being watched by someone in the shadows. He tried turning his back on it but the prickling sensation only intensified.

"Fighters to position!" the Agen called in a loud, ringing voice. Harry glanced briefly at where he'd last thought he saw somebody standing in the doorway, before stepping onto the stage to face his opponent.

Standing in nearer proximities, Harry gained the opportunity to scrutinize his rival closer. He didn't like what he saw though. It was clear from his body build that he was trained to be a fighter of Teren. But it also meant that Harry was much lighter, and could probably be more agile if he knew how to play this game well.

"Three! Two! One! Begin!" the Agen roared.

Immediately Harry sprang forwards for the first attack. He'd feigned a wary defensive posture even before the match had begun, hoping that the man would take his bait, and he did. Harry went for an open strike, slicing his hand to land a powerful blow aimed for the neck. The man didn't move to dodge however; instead he reached up and grabbed Harry's wrist in what felt like an iron lock, his fist closing tight around the younger's appendage.

All too aware that a single snap from the man would probably shatter his bones, Harry kicked out wildly as a distraction before abruptly twisting around as hard as he could to face the man again. Pain shot up his wrist to his arm, preventing him free movement, but Harry pushed the thought from his brain roughly and slammed his foot into the other's ribcage with as much power he could muster.

The man gave a growl of pain and his grip on Harry slackened. Harry wasted no time to push home his advantage and delivered a perfect knee-kick to the other's chest, followed by a forward punch. But where he'd expected to wound, his knuckles only rapped upon hard muscle – and in his attack Harry had temporarily overlooked defense.

He knew he was in trouble the moment the man caught his fist in his own.

'Not again!' Harry groaned aloud in his head. He fought to free himself of the iron grip the man held over his shoulders, and desperately tried for a twist-kick but no avail. In the next moment his feet left ground, and Harry was flung to the other side of the ring, his elbow crushed beneath his weight. Painfully Harry rolled to the side to avoid the incoming blow. His left arm hung limply by his side, useless.

Harry was lying at the edge by now, panting heavily, each breath almost painful in his lungs. The man advanced with his final attack aimed for Harry's skull – a single crushing blow, and the fight would be over. There was no place left to duck, and Harry had yet to find strength to stand.

Then the man was upon him.

At the last possible moment Harry threw up his arms in a form of defense. And right at the moment the man struck, Harry surged forwards to his feet, shoving his rival backwards with a cry. The force of Harry's blow caused them both to stumble backwards, but while the man stepped back to regain his balance, Harry was sent careening forwards until he skidded to a halt at the opposite end of the ring.

A coppery tang filled his mouth; somehow he had managed to bite his tongue during the tumble. Gritting his teeth, Harry remained on the ground as he tried to catch his breath, waiting for his rival to draw closer.

"Not so difficult are you?" the man from Anarchy grinned at him, coming to a halt before where Harry lay panting for breath.

It was then when Harry struck out with his favourite move; he hooked one leg around the other's and lashed out with a strong kick with the other. Caught by surprise, the man lurched forwards – but while he was fighting to regain his balance, Harry slid on the floor under his legs, between his two feet. In the next second Harry was already standing on his other side, the man's exposed back facing him.

"Not really," Harry said lightly by way of reply.

He dealt a forceful elbow-strike right in between the man's shoulder blades, causing the man to howl in agony. The man tried to twist around, but Harry sliced his hand through the air in a fluid motion and delivered a fatal palm strike to the back of his neck.

The man's eyes rolled, disbelieving. Then he keeled forwards and landed with a hollow thump in the middle of the floor, Harry standing over his fallen body.

There was a moment of silence, then the Agen raised a hand.

"One point to Canines!"

"Ouch!"

"Did that hurt?"

Harry bit his lip in a vain attempt to keep himself from growling. Rab was sitting opposite him as he inspected Harry's arm with a professional sort of air.

"No, it's just that ouch is such a nice word to say," Harry snapped despite his best efforts not to.

His fellow Canine didn't seem to mind. "Looks like it's been twisted," Rab continued. "And by the way, I've already fixed it back in shape – so you're welcome."

So that was what that hollow 'crack' sound was all about, Harry thought to himself as he rubbed his elbow ruefully. His eyes had watered in pain, but he didn't dare to rub them too hard just in case his contacts decided to break or something. He didn't have much experience with contacts; the Dursleys never bothered to give him anything more than his old pair of glasses.

"So there's only two more left!" Rab said in an ecstatic sort of voice. "Congratulations by the way, you took down one of Anarchy's!"

It was as if he was trying hard but failing to suppress his excitement. Harry managed a grimace in return. "Thanks."

He was sitting in the dojo at the basement once again, awaiting his turn. His next opponent would be the candidate from Red Circle, and for some reason Harry felt more apprehensive than he did when he faced the fighter from Anarchy. After all, he had had experience with fighters of Teren and Fyr, but he had yet to come across one that had potential to become one of Cyl. Harry himself was one that favoured speed and accuracy over strength. What advantage was he going to have over his second rival?

He'd fought Cain before though, and Cain was incredibly fast. Still, he didn't know what to expect from an opponent whose gang dominated half of Cyl. For all his agility, Cain still belonged in Fyr. Right?

Come to think of it, the ringleader had never actually mentioned which element he belonged to.

"Harry!"

A sudden urgent call jolted him from his thoughts. Rob was heading their way, a grim expression on his face.

"What now Rob?" Rab asked his brother, but it was Harry he looked at when Rob finally replied.

"You're up next," he told him. "There's not going to be a second round, you're going straight to the finals."

Harry felt his heart skip a beat. "The finals?" he repeated. "What happened?"

"The man from Red Circle died," Rob replied bluntly. "He was killed by the second guy from Anarchy. You're to face him to decide the victor."

xXxXxXxXx

Killed.

Anarchy's second candidate had killed the man from Red Circle for his own victory. Just for the chance to be Graded. For some sort of sport.

Harry felt sick. He had anticipated it all the while, had known it was bound to happen – but the reality of it only managed to sink in now, when he stood facing his second, and last opponent in the fighting ring once more.

He wasn't quite sure how he felt about it now. He'd entered the ring and fought his way through the first round with a single thought in mind, of winning the match so he would be Graded, so he could earn a place in the Canines as he waited for his seventeenth birthday to finally come around. For a moment he'd managed to delude himself that this was a normal kind of martial arts sport, and he'd even felt the slightest sense of euphoria as he stood over the man from Anarchy, and the Agen announced him as the winner. He wanted to learn how to fight in the first place, and it brought him a sense of security and accomplishment when he realized how far he had come.

But killing was an entirely different story altogether. It struck him with the intensity of a blow – he was associating himself with people who didn't care if they took a life. It was a twisted hierarchy of strength; the survival of the fittest.

And now he'd stooped to their level, joined them even.

"Fighters, to position!" the command came.

For the second time that day, Harry stood within the ring, his bare feet cold against the floor. The second candidate from Anarchy was nothing like the first fighter of Teren Harry had met either; in fact he was only almost as tall as Harry was. But there was a slight distinguishable fact of him and the rest of the fighters Harry had met – he couldn't name it exactly, but there was a definite wildness in his gaze when the man's eyes met Harry's. Harry wasn't quite sure how he was supposed to deal with that.

"Three! Two! One! Begin!"

Harry tensed immediately, waiting for the man to attack – but much to his surprise, none came. In fact the man stood with uncharacteristic stillness at the opposite end of the ring. The only indication that he wasn't a statue was his eyes, which followed Harry wherever he went.

Instantly Harry felt unnerved; he had yet to encounter a fighter as such. Somehow, he had the strong feeling that this man from Anarchy was no professional fighter; he was a natural. And that just made him all the more dangerous and unpredictable.

A tense minute ticked by in silence, with Harry moving slowly to the left to gauge the other's reaction. Still the man made no move to react. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, Harry inched closer another step so that they were within striking range.

In half a heartbeat, the man had lunged forwards with eerie quickness, striking out with a perfect roundhouse kick. Harry dropped low to the ground to avoid it, but part of the blow caught him on his shoulder. Harry threw out his arm to protect himself but the man's actions were fluid – within the next second he had caught Harry's arm in his grip and twisted it viciously. The man finally ended the onslaught of attack with a powerful blow to Harry's jaw, causing the younger of the pair to be thrown to his side, copper filling his mouth.

Swearing creatively in his head, Harry rolled to duck the man's foot streaking downwards to crush his ribs. Instead, he swung both legs upwards in a scissor-motion and locked them around the man's waist. But instead of connecting with bone, Harry felt something hard press against his leg through the man's robes. His rival gave a feral snarl and tried to throw Harry off him, but Harry used the momentum to lunge forwards, crashing his full weight onto the man.

For this brief moment Harry had the upper hand; he was on top of the man, his legs pinning down the other's arms bent beneath him in an awkward angle. He was about to go for the middle of his rival's forehead – one hard blow from his palm and it would be over – but it was right at that instant when he saw something slide out of the corner of his vision, something glinting silver in the neon light.

A sense of déjà vu stole over Harry, and quite suddenly he was back at Privet Drive, watching as Cain drew his blade to hack down on Uncle Vernon – what felt like ages ago.

His eyes widened in realization a fraction too late.

In the span of less than a second, Harry spun away from the man as fast as he could, allowing his instincts to take over. But right at the last moment, when he thought he was safe – something sharp and unbelievably cold pierced into his side, nicking his flesh.

The effect was instantaneous; Harry felt as though his side was caught on fire. Blood spurted out from the wound rapidly, and Harry's hand came away from his shirt stained crimson red.

The man allowed Harry no time to recover, with a wild growl he pounced on Harry, knocking him flat on his back.

Harry's murderous green eyes found the man's own as his opponent closed in on him. The man's eyes were glittering now, high in anticipation and crazed delight as he bent over the younger boy in front of him.

"You – cheated," Harry hissed, the words a deadly whisper from his lips as he panted for air.

There was no call from the Agen; either the man didn't see what had transpired, or he simply didn't care. No one would know what was happening save them both.

The man grinned, leaning close as he delivered another blow to Harry's ribs, his lips barely parting as he spoke. "Too bad for you no one will ever find out."

He raised his fist into the air, and Harry saw something glitter in his hands.

In a flash of insight Harry realized how the man from Red Circle had been killed. All his speed couldn't save him against a blade within such a close range. Harry felt red hot anger blaze in him. If he wanted to play, two could play at their game.

Piercing emerald eyes met black, and Harry grinned, revealing bloodied teeth.

"Isn't it a pity," Harry hissed, his voice reaching only the man's ear. "I cheat as well."

The next moment Harry struck out with his foot in what seemed like a powerful kick, but only those who knew magic would notice the darkness tainting the edges of his green eyes. The man was blasted off his feet by a powerful wave of wandless magic, coming to land at the edge of the ring, knocked unconscious. The sleek silver blade skidded from his limp fingers to a halt in the middle of the ring, where the Agen stared mutely, his expression unreadable.

Harry could barely stand from the sheer agony devouring his side, he stumbled to the edge of the ring, eyes locked on the Agen who still seemed stunned at this development of things. The man from Anarchy lay still at the edge of the ring, unmoving. Harry didn't feel like he cared.

After what felt like an eternity, the Agen cleared his throat and spoke.

"Victor to the Canines!"

-X-X-X-X-X-X-

Harry barely managed to stumble towards the doorway when it was slammed open from the other side. Only his quick reflexes saved him from being thrown backwards onto the stadium floor.

"That is totally against protocol," Harry heard a familiar voice say, before Cain himself stalked through the door. His eyes were bright with feverish excitement, and it was by sheer will that he managed to stop himself from shaking Harry and demanding an answer from him. Instead he stopped short and looked Harry up and down, clearly torn between asking and the latter.

Harry rolled his eyes and the ringleader's countenance. Behind Cain the rest of the Canines had gathered; Rab, Rob, Darren, Reeves and Matt were staring at him with varying expressions, most of them torn between curiousity and wincing at their expected outcome.

"I surrendered," Harry said flatly just for kicks. "Didn't fancy myself getting – ouch!"

Cain had grabbed Harry's upper arm tightly, and there barely hidden beneath his sleeve a golden band was tied around his right arm. Harry let his words trailed off, savouring the almost comical expressions on the Canines' faces. Rab dropped the can of beer he was holding, and Matt's mouth had fallen open. Darren just blinked rapidly, and Reeves was grinning so widely Harry thought his face might just split in half. Cain looked positively delighted; and for the first time since Harry had known him he broke into a genuine smile.

Reeves broke the revered silence with a burp. Then Cain laughed, and he walked forwards and threw a one-armed hug around Harry, squeezing him tightly. "To Harry, the victor for Canines!" he cheered loudly. Harry glanced at him, the pain in his side temporarily forgotten. He'd never seen the ringleader act like this before – and the sight amused him more than he cared to admit. The Canines gave a cheer in the form of an infectious roar, and Reeves took the opportunity to mess up his hair with one hand, smearing beer all over the younger boy.

Harry scowled, before wincing as someone's elbow grazed his wounded side. The next thing he knew Cain's gaze was drawn towards him, and before he could protest the ringleader had reached over and forcefully removed Harry's hand which was gripping the stab wound tightly. Cain's hands came away stained with Harry's blood.

Immediately his gaze sharpened, and a cold fierceness stole over his eyes. There was no way Harry would be bleeding as such unless his rib had punctured his skin – which left only one option.

"Rab," Cain said instead, pulling Harry away from the others, though he was careful not to jostle their youngest member too much. "The antidote from this morning," he told Rab. "Anarchy's certainly living up to their name."

X

Thirty minutes later found Harry alone once more in a room, waiting for his cue to appear.

His wound had been dressed and he'd showered and changed. Apparently there had been poison lacing the blade that had pierced him, which explained the burning sensation. Harry found that he didn't really hold it against Anarchy or the man; he himself hadn't played fair either. If any, the man had presented him the perfect opportunity to end the fight without needing to kill the other or something.

Now all that was left was the Grading itself. All the fighters representing their elements would be present, Harry was told. He felt slightly nervous at the thought; what if he didn't end up in Fyr? A part of him hoped he did, it would be infinitely easier if he ended up among familiar faces – yet he remembered that none of the Canines seemed to think he'd end up in Fyr. What would he be then? Cyl?

"…the victory of this year," Harry heard the Agen's amplified voice through the screen. "goes to the Canines!"

There we go, he thought to himself.

Harry stepped forwards out through the black canvas into the stadium.

There were more people than he expected – to his right the Canines were roaring triumphantly, in front of the stage stood fighters of Cyl – and to his left fighters of Teren. Harry's heart sank when he recognized the first man instantly – six foot tall, deep set eyes. The man that had ambushed him that day. As if to confirm his thoughts, the man looked up and met Harry's eyes, and he gave him a conspiratorial wink. Behind him two more fighters of similar height stood, their gaze resting on him. Harry swallowed and turned away.

"The victor's skills has been analysed in his fights against both fighters from Anarchy," the Agen continued. "Although he displays remarkable strength, he does not belong in Teren."

Nobody said anything; Harry thought that was pretty obvious from his stature. The thought of him belonging to Teren was as Reeves put it, simply laughable.

"This young fighter before us displays a unique mix of qualities one would seek from elements Fyr and Cyl," the Agen said, and Harry felt his pulse quicken. He looked to his right to see the Canines before realizing that Cain wasn't one of them. Where was the ringleader?

"Indeed, he is the second case to be witnessed ever since the system of the elements was established. Fighters of Fyr are known for pain, endurance and power; Cyl for deadly speed and accuracy. Our new victor here belongs to neither."

The man paused, turning to look at Harry, who was staring back at the man blankly. Did that mean he wouldn't be graded? What on earth did he mean by a unique mix of qualities?!

"The victor of this year shall be marked," the Agen spoke, "as a fighter of Fyris."

Harry blinked, uncomprehending, as voices traversed throughout the entire hall, spreading and growing louder. Was that a fourth element? Or was it a mix of both?

"Fighters of Fyris, please step forwards," the Agen called.

Harry would never forget what happened next. Cain stepped forwards seemingly out of nowhere, a grin on his face, and he slung an arm around Harry's shoulders. There was no one else besides him; the rest of the Canines were still roaring their infectious cheer below.

"Welcome to the pack Harry."

A/N: So I never had the chance to edit this yet. This chapter was immensely difficult to write; I deleted the last 3k words to rewrite this entire thing. Thought I should post this for you guys before Christmas Eve :) so here goes. I'm really sorry for not being able to reply to your reviews yet, hope this makes up for it. That said, please review and tell me what you think!

Rating system's still the same.

Merry Christmas people!