Chapter 20 – Gun Shy
I dive, my back bumping haphazardly against the sparring arena floor. The halberd tip recoils off the ground with a sharp clang.
I stumble back onto my rickety feet. My opponent casually twirls his weapon's grip in his hands like a performing baton twirler.
His eyes glint.
He lunges forward. With a cry, my feet forcefully throw me out of the way. He twists, turning the course of his momentum and swiping the body of the staff towards my ribs. My knees buckle forcefully, avoiding the attack within a hair's length. He chuckles mirthfully. My back barely straightens itself fast enough to evade the halberd blade slashing upwards, skidding my nose.
I stagger away, raising Warbreaker a smidge higher. Another successive attack desperately dodged.
My chest pumps raggedly. My tongue's drowning in tasteless saliva. My brain's struggling to recall how long I've been fighting for. An alert eye glances at the board.
Only a minute left and neither of us have lost aura. I only need to survive that long and this nightmare will be over.
Sky Lark, my opponent, rests coolly against his weapon, smiling self-assured at his eventual victory. He claps condescendingly at me.
"Not bad. You're a nimble one, Liddell-boy. All those hours on the cheerleading squad is really starting to pay off," Sky whistles. "But, uh, I don't think they find this nearly as entertaining as I do."
He points upward, towards our classmates sitting in the spectator section. A plethora of boos rains down upon me. Roughly a quarter of the class is cupping their hands around the mouths and droning their displeasure: several of them are screaming at me to fight back or simply lose, so long as the fight ends, others cradle their stomachs and laugh at my performance while the less vocal merely flick through their Scrolls disinterestedly.
"It's a sparring class!" One yells at me. My shoulders stiffen. "You're supposed to fight, so fight already!"
"I came here to fight the best, not watch these two idiots screw up for three minutes! This is ridiculous!" Another rants. My lungs gasp for air.
"Stand still, damn it! Sky, knock his ass out already! I'm not losing my turn!" Russel shouts.
I'm jittering. I'm trembling, and I can't stop it. It's like a helicopter light's beaming on me, sirens screaming deeply into my eardrums, deafening me. I-I'm not- I can't-
Please, stop it!
"Made you look!"
A weight smashes my skull, knocking me to the floor. My senses blur, my mind unable to register the scorching agony before a metal boot strikes me in the forehead.
A breath tears out. Warbreaker falls from my grasp as slides away from me. My head feels like it's been run through three brick walls unprotected. My mind muddles to remember where on the field I am anymore. I blink rapidly but my vision refuses to clear. The pain runs deep into my veins.
Leave it. Calm down. Focus.
Aura. Let your Aura do its job. Breathe.
Breathe…
My ears start to unclog. A muted sound registers with my drums. I can feel the pain sweeping away. I think I'm starting to comprehend the obnoxiously upbeat noise…
"Down goes Liddell! Down goes Liddell! Ladies and gentlemen, I think that's all she wrote. The challenger's not going to reach the count of ten. I think the champion's going to retain for yet another decisive victory!"
Sky, doing a horrible boxing commentator impression and parading himself around the arena. It's as though he believes he just won a world championship.
Grunting from the pain, I fight to stand back up.
"Oh? What's this, ladies and gentlemen?" Sky announces, stepping up to my prone body. "I think he's about to stand up! But, does he have the power to keep fighting? Will he reach the count of ten?! Ah-one! Ah-two! Ah-three! Ah-four!"
Part of me wants to stay down, as if that'll end the match and instantly remove the bile building around my swelling lungs.
But, I know for a fact that's not how this works. As an encumbering air of dread begins to rise from Sky's encroaching presence, I hesitantly pick myself off the floor, lest he takes his boot and stomps on me until I can't.
"And, he's up!" He shouts, overexcitedly. "Our challenger is walking, ladies and gentlemen! He may be stacked smaller than a toddler wearing stilettos but man, does he know how to put one foot in front of the other! What a trooper!"
My shoulders brace together. I can hear, up in the stands, the sounds of the rest of his team laughing besides themselves at us. At me.
Why the hell did I stand up? It's no better here than it was on the floor…
"Come on, Eren!"
My head snaps towards the opposite part of the stands. Leaning waist deep, practically falling, over the guard rail is Ruby, flanked by both Jaune and Yang at her side, all of them cheering me on loudly.
"Kick his stupid butt!" She shouts.
"Yeah! Go to town!" Yang chimes in, fist hammering on the rail. "Break his teeth! Twist his ankle! Boot him in the gut! Choke him out! Snap his damn jaw!"
"…Better yet, don't do any of that!" Jaune shouts belatedly. "Ju-just win! Win normally!" Yang gives him a look that causes him to raise his arms in defence. "You're a scary woman. That's all I'm saying."
A bashful blush blooms on my cheeks. This is the kind of stuff Mum and Louise would do during karaoke night.
The three of them continue egging me on, cheering unabashedly like I'm a high-profile wrestling star. Oh god. These guys don't know a thing about moderation, do they? I'm a second away from burrowing my head in my hoodie and hibernate for the semester.
Seriously. These guys…
"Aww, that's cute. Your fellow cheerleaders are rooting for you!" Sky coos belittlingly. "Always had Arc pegged as the cross-dressing type. He just looks like the kind of guy who only wears pants because the dress code told him to."
My attention snaps to him, a burning heat begins to well up in my gut. I board it in, blocking it from moving any further, letting out a small gust of air from my nose.
"But, I have to say, that blonde girl…" He hushes his voice, leaning in closely with his eyelids drooping leeringly.
"She has one hell of a body, am I right?"
…Excuse you?
He grins. "I mean, damn. I bet she was popular with the guys back at combat school. Jumped between her fair share of boyfriends no doubt. Hell, I wouldn't mind getting her alone for a couple of nights, if you know what I mean?"
The heat burns through the boards, flaring up my insides, burning up through my throat.
Sky hums to himself in feign thought, shrugging his shoulders. "On second thought - Nah. She's too easy for my tastes. I prefer my girls to put up some challenge. Much more fun that way."
She's more challenge than you could ever handle, arsehole.
"You're scowling pretty hard there, dude. You're going bright red," he smiles. I blink. Reaching up, my fingers find the curvature of lips sullen and my skin piping red hot. I'm not only scowling, I'm downright glowering.
"Are you getting upset?" He niggles gleefully. "Are you annoyed? Getting a little uppity? Am I bothering you? Am I making you feel angry? Popping a few veins up in your noggin?" He gleams at me.
"Are you jealous?"
…Wh-what?!
"Hey, I'm not gonna blame you. She has every box ticked as far as assets go: Long legs, full lips, those curves," he whistles.
Fire ignites on my cheeks, clashing against the growing bonfire set off in my gut. As they grow, I'm finding it harder and harder to differentiate which frazzling feeling is stronger between the two. It's painful, worse than the kick my skull endured. My eyes struggle to focus.
"Say, be honest with me, have you peeked at her lovely, large-"
"No, I haven't!" I snap. My saliva boils, my tongue unable to hold back the bile burning my tonsils but the hell should I care? Nobody talks about Yang like that! Nobody!
Sky throws up a hand, calmly walking around me.
"Woah, boy! Calm yourself! You're getting all wound up, you should sit down before you hurt yourself. Go for a walk. Drink some tranquillizers or something," he says. "I didn't mean to offend you, man. Just cool down. I get it. She's not your taste."
He smirks.
"What about the other blonde? He tickle your fancy?"
My flush intensifies, the heat withering away my cheeks.
"You're getting red again. That's no good. Get any redder and your head will explode," he pesters. "Look, don't push yourself. Your muscles will go all stiff like that. Luckily for you, I hang out with Russel. I know a technique that'll loosen those noodle arms of yours."
Sky walks towards Warbreaker, picking it off the floor – Where I momentarily forgotten it. He circles around, returning it to me via a forcefully push into the arms.
Then, he turns the barrel, towards his heart.
"Shoot me."
My throat freezes.
"Go on," he whispers. "Shoot me. Right here. It's easy. Just push down on the trigger and, bang! My Aura will take the hit." He smiles eerily. "Or maybe it won't."
P-press the… T-t-trig-
What the hell am I doing? Just press it already! He's full on Aura. I know it, he knows it, everyone in the class knows it, thanks to the board. I have a full clip. Just shoot already!
He persists. "Come on, already. I'm doing you a deal here. Limited time offer. Shoot one bullet, get a hit free. Only available for three seconds." He tightens his grip. "Going once."
Shoot him! He almost gave me a concussion! He… He made all those c-comments about Yang! He doesn't think we're going to do it, so prove him wrong!
What if he's bluffing? What if his Aura won't protect him? Wh-what if it breaks through?
"Going twice! You're losing a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity here, Liddell."
I-I can't do it. He's too sure. Too confident that he can take it. Th-this won't end well. Nothing good will come from shooting him.
Augh! Stop that! Just shut up! Stop thinking!
Fire! Fire, fire, fire! Shoot him!
Make him and his entire team feel it!
"Think about it, Liddell. If you shoot me…"
He stares me dead in the eyes.
"You can be Beacon Academy's first serial killer."
Put the damn gun down!
A shriek comes squeaking from my mouth. I release my grasp on Warbreaker, legs fumbling over one another as I botch my attempt at fleeing from the weapon, collapsing to the ground a shrivelling mess.
A loud horn blares through the sparring hall. The match is over.
"Oh! So sorry! I'm afraid our offer has timed out. Better luck next time," Sky chuckles. Taking a few unimpressed glances at Warbreaker, he tosses it back to me, turning around and doing his best to look dutiful as Miss Goodwitch storms onto the field.
"Both of you. In front. Now," she commands. With absolutely no craps left on his person, Sky casually does as he's instructed.
I look up at the screen.
Miss Goodwitch explained the rules at the very beginning. Sparring matches take place here, in the practice arena, under a time limit that differs depending on the type of match taking place: three minutes for duels, five for pairings, and a whooping ten minutes for team versus team fights. Victory is achieved either through knocking your opponent's Aura under twenty percent capacity –otherwise known as the critical zone- or by having more Aura, collectively in multi-person battles, than your opponent(s) by timeout.
Timer's empty. Sky's Aura is completely full. Mine lands at roughly sixty-five percent.
I lost. To the surprise of no one.
I stumble back onto my feet, congregating around Goodwitch as she asked.
"Do either of you wish to explain what that last minute was all about?" She demands. "Because from I was standing, all I saw was a complete farce!"
Sky shrugs. "Just a bit of friendly guy banter, Miss. That's all. Liddell here just overreacted a little at a joke of mine. Isn't that right, Liddell?"
I stay silent. Goodwitch glares at him, hands firmly behind her back.
"Is it now? Well, Mister Lark, if you enjoy fooling around and acting like a child on the battlefield so much, perhaps that's a tactic you'd be willing to try on your first mission. Say, on a Grimm?" She says.
Sky visibly shudders. Imagining him trying to insult and pander against a fully healthy Nevermore brings a slight smile to my face.
"Don't do that again, Mister Lark," Goodwitch says.
"Y-yes, Miss," Sky replies, nodding his head repeatedly.
"As for you, Mister Liddell," she starts, turning to me. "I feel the need to reiterate that the purpose behind sparring is to tamper your fighting ability against opponents with different skills from yours… through actually sparring with them."
I bow my head.
"S-sorry, Miss…" I say.
"Wherever this reluctance comes from, it will only prove to be a hindrance on the battlefield. If you remain unwilling to fight by your first mission next semester, then I cannot deem you suitable for active duty. Is that understood?"
My muscles tense but I nod in acceptance.
"Yes, Miss…"
Goodwitch hums in acceptance.
Whipping out her crop, she points it in the direction of the locker-room. "Now, both of you go clean up and get changed. I need to have a word with the rest of the class about… audience participation." She grumbles her last words out, bending the tip of her crop back and forth. I let out a small gulp. I've never been gladder not to be up than right now.
A shoulder barges against mine.
"You know, I think I figured out how you and Xiao Long became friends," he smirks. "You're just as easy as she is."
Bastard.
Fumes gas from my nostrils as Sky simply saunters away, whistling a merry little tune to himself as if his life is golden and he is made of platinum.
I should've fired.
I really, really should've fired…
My locker makes a hollow clunking sound as I shove my clutter inside. I work at an almost rabidly quick pace. A veil of fatigue is present but, I'm still stricken with adrenaline, rushing to clamber all my equipment together and leave as soon as possible.
I'm soaking in sweat. I was supposed to go to the men's changing room, thankfully segregated from the women via Scroll authentication scanners because Beacon Academy has some sense of decency, and take a shower but, as long as Sky's still around, I don't dare give him the opportunity.
I'm still in my normal clothes. I won't even grant him that chance either. He'll take it, I know he will.
I looked like such an arse out there. A tool. A complete, total, bin-bag disposed tool. After that last minute, he barely even tried. He just made a show out of it, a joke. He made me his goddamn punchline, and now the entire class sees me as a stupid, boring arsehole!
I slam the locker shut, huffing out uneven breaths as my shoulders rise and fall.
He wasn't serious, when he pushed the barrel towards his chest. He only said that just to get under my skin, that's all. It doesn't mean anything. That's not who I am.
I shouldn't have even reacted. That was a mistake. That's all they want. That's all they ever want: A reaction. If you don't give it to them: They'll get bored, piss off somewhere else and just… leave me in peace.
I rasp a sigh, resting my head against the door.
That wasn't me in there, that was the anger thinking. I don't want to hurt anyone.
That wasn't me. It wasn't…
I let out another sigh, running a hand through my frazzled hair. That couldn't have gotten any worse if it tried.
"Excuse me?"
My breath cuts. I lurch. The locker makes a metallic booming noise as I spin around into it. Pressing myself up against it, like a cornered rodent, I gaze up to see…
A girl. A tall red-haired girl.
Not Sky. Or Cardin, or Russel.
I just dove away from her, like some sort of demented psychiatrically patient. Am I trying to my best to make everything think I'm a twit today? I'd best apologize, right now.
"I-I'm so-"
"I'm sorry!" she… apologizes? "I didn't mean to startle you like that. I should've given myself away more."
Buh… Whah?
"N-no, no! Y-you shouldn't be sorry!" I say frantically. "I-I shouldn't have reacted like that. Th-that was so, so rude of me. That was completely my fault."
She shakes her head. "You're being far too harsh on yourself. You didn't know I was c-"
"O-oh, no! I-it's fine, hon-" I pause. Did I just interrupt her? "O-oh god, I'm so sor-"
"Truly, I'm sorry-" She pauses. "Oh! Now I just interrupted you. I'm s-"
"I-it's fine! No. Wait. Crap. I-"
"So-"
"Sorry!"
The pair of us go quiet. I stand statically, holding out my arms like a mime struggling to perfect the box technique, refusing to connect her eyes with mine as I bumble around in my fluster.
My posture relaxes. I pull my wriggling arms back, rubbing at my neck.
"Sor… U-um," I start, cutting myself off before it devolved any further. Neither of us wanted to do that awkward dance again.
She raises up a hand, smiling comfortingly.
"Apology accepted," she says calmly. I blink, but I quickly nod and return the smile.
"Um, yeah. Apology accepted too," I reply. Of course, I never thought that she was at fault in the situation but… Eh. Never mind. Doesn't matter.
I really need to stop being so jumpy, though. At this rate, I won't need anyone to make me look like a fool. I'll be a country sized village idiot in no time.
The girl giggles lightly, walking forward and offering her hand. "We haven't been introduced. My name's Pyrrha."
Pyrrha? Wait…
"A-ah! Y-yes. I remember you," I say.
Her hand falls back slightly, eyebrow raising slightly. "You… do?"
I nod, "Y-you're Ruby's partner."
"Oh!" She exclaims, face brightening. "Yes. Yes, I am. You're her friend that she joined the Academy with, aren't you?"
"A-ah, yes," I affirm, noticing that her hand is still waiting for a shake. "Oh, u-um, sor-"
Stop it. Bad Eren.
I take her hand, shaking it gently. "I-I'm Eren. It's, uh, i-it's nice to meet you. I, um…" My forehead furls. Should I add anything else to that? I feel like I should. "I-I saw your fight. You were, um, very good. I've never seen anyone strike so fast."
She was one of the competitors from the fight right before mine, and it went almost exactly the opposite way mine did.
It was her against this lean student wielding an augmented quarterstaff. What did it do, exactly? No idea. Pyrrha never gave him the chance to use it. Her swings came down starkly yet cleanly. Not a single one's position lacked purpose in their placing. Each of Pyrrha's strikes tossed his defence around, wearing him down blow by blow until it crumbled into nothing. Poor guy was floundered. Several lightning fast slashes to the sternum later and the match was over.
Eleven seconds – The fastest knockout of the day so far. It was the tidiest mauling I've ever seen.
Her hair appears to still have some damp water droplets dripping from her ponytail. She must've only finished showering by the time my fight finished.
"Thank you but, it's nothing compared to some of our other classmates. My abilities aren't quite as impressive as them. It's honestly quite amazing to see so many fighters here who can shatter entire walls or have such pin point control over their Aura," she says.
I'm… not sure if she's putting herself down or if she was fighting an entirely different match from what I was watching.
She asks, "How did your match go? I never had the chance to see you fight."
"It, uh…" I swallow. "I-it happened."
"It… happened?" She parrots.
I hum a reply, "Y-yeah." Very slowly, I might add. I felt like I was stuck dodging halberd swipes forever. Weirdest taste of limbo I'll ever have.
"So, how did you do? Did you win?" She quizzes. My eyes wander to the school-bag right at my feet.
"Nn… N-not exactly," I admit. My mind churns somewhat on how much I should tell her. Whatever amount's enough to not raise any more questions than I'd like.
"I, um… I-I lost. Beat me on a timeout," I answer meekly. "D-didn't dodge enough, I'm afraid."
"Oh. That's a shame. Maybe you'll have better luck next time?" She says hopefully. I hum back a reply. I'm not so sure that'll be the case. I have to throw my die first before I can let luck decide, but… it's a lot harder in practice.
Sh-shooting someone I mean, not… yeah.
"You're a gun specialist, aren't you? You fight at long-range?" She enquires. My head tilts up. That's… not a question I expected but, I'll roll with it.
"Uh, yeah. I-I have a bayonet attachment on it but, I prefer not to rely on it too often," I say.
"Well then, it's natural that you didn't win. You weren't trained to accel in one on one duels," she nods, taking a stance oddly akin to what Miss Goodwitch takes when she's explaining something. "Fighters like you are typically team-players. You're better suited to covering teammates and working on larger terrains with more room. Wide open spaces are more ideal. You were fighting with a huge disadvantage on your side."
She smiles, "I don't think you should be ashamed at your loss. If anything, surviving the full three minutes is quite the accomplishment. You should be proud of yourself."
That's… incredibly nice of her to say but, I shouldn't be.
I seriously, shouldn't be. What happened in there was humiliating.
Still, I repay the smile.
"Th-that's very nice of you to say but, i-it wasn't anything special, honest."
Just let her believe it. It's better than talking about what happened.
Pyrrha shakes her head, "I wouldn't be so certain. That could very well be a sign of potential. There have been some notable long-ranged combatants in the professional fighting circuit across the Kingdoms who managed to make a successful tradition from the team divisions and became very successful in the singles tournaments due to how they adapted their fighting styles." She rests a hand on her hips.
"Maybe you could be just as successful?" She suggests hopefully.
I tug at my hood, "I… don't know about that. I-I still haven't decided on what Weapon class to take." And the deadline's two weeks today. I'll need to make my mind up soon but, I haven't fully considered all my options. About what would and wouldn't work with my style.
"I wouldn't worry. We still haven't even attended all my new classes for this semester yet. You still have time to decide," she says cheerfully.
"Mm. I suppose that's true."
Doesn't stop me from worrying about it, though. Then again, when has it ever?
"U-um, thank you for the advice," I say politely. "R-Ruby did say that you were a really nice person."
"She's mentioned me to you already?" She raises an eyebrow. "How funny. She and Yang have been telling me all about you, too. They've been very insistent that I meet you."
"Th-they have?" I blink. Ruby and Yang have been talking about me?
Oh god. Ruby and Yang have been talking about me.
"What… have they been telling you, exactly?" I ask, eyelids lowering cautiously.
"Oh, don't worry. They haven't been saying anything horrible about you," she says.
Well, that's good.
"Just that you're shy, awkward, a worrywart and may suffer from an acute neurosis."
That's very much less so.
"They thought that those traits would've caused some misunderstandings so, they thought it best to tell me beforehand," she says. "I believe Yang's words were, 'Not everybody's going to look and think, Oh! Look at that poor helpless shy boy instead of: Ew! Creep! Get away from me!"
"Of course, she'd say that…" I grumble to myself, body sagging.
Since when did I hire a P.R team to help with my social life? Poor helpless shy boy? I'm not that socially inept, am I?
…I have good friends.
Speaking of friends, Jaune still hasn't fought yet. He said at the very start of the class that he would volunteer and fight but, we're only twenty minutes away from the end of class and he still hasn't gone in.
My eyes dart around the surrounding area, scanning around for a tuff of blonde hair.
"Is something wrong?" Pyrrha prompts, her smile disappearing in concern.
"N-no. Nothing's wrong, exactly," I reply anxiously. "I'm just looking for-"
My head snaps at the faraway jostle of metallic armour. Its steps are heavy, weighty, like a tank with walker legs attached. I wouldn't be surprised if its boots cracked the flooring from how loud it's clanking.
That can't be Jaune. His armour consists of only a breast-plate and several ligaments on his elbows and knees. It's not that hefty.
The booming sound draws nearer. Further down the locker-room, coming out from the other side of the pillar, is a towering figure wearing a full-set of hardened steel armour bearing a large bird insignia on the front of the breast-plate.
He looks my way, face falling upon recognising me.
Cardin.
Oh god, no.
As if on reflex, I swing open my locker again and burrow my head into its innards, fingers fiddling about as I pretend as if I'm doing something important.
"E-Eren?!" Pyrrha yelps. "What's the matter? What are you doing?"
I don't reply. I can't reply. He's right there.
"Liddell-boy," he greets, a hint of displeasure apparent in his voice. "You're still here, I see."
Don't lift your head up. Don't turn around. Don't acknowledge that he's there. He doesn't exist. It's just you and the locker.
"Hello to you too," he sniffs. I feel his eyes thankfully peel away from my back, focusing on some else. As if suffering from a vocal cord whiplash, his tone turns decisively laid-back and smooth. "And you must be Pyrrha Nikos. Saw your fight. Eleven seconds. Not bad. Not bad at all. You might actually live up to what everyone says about you."
"Uh, I'm… sorry but, I'm afraid I don't know who you are," Pyrrha replies with a tinge of discomfort.
"You don't know me, huh? That's no good. Hell, that's just screwed up," he sighs melodramatically. A weight falls laxly to the ground. Peeking underneath the door slightly, I spot an endurable-looking onyx mace, cracking the flooring in quarters just from lightly falling on it.
"Well, let me fix that for ya," he says, heaving his mace off the ground. He walks nearer to her, baring over her with his half foot advantage. "The name's Cardin Winchester. Don't worry about remembering it." He sticks his face dangerously close, mere centimetres away from hers and growls.
"When I'm through with you, nobody's going to forget me for a very long time. Your 'invincible' streak is over, Pyrrha Nikos."
My hand clasps on Warbreaker's stock. Both have gone silent, the harsh thrashing of breath the only thing I can hear from behind the locker door.
"If you're so certain of that," Pyrrha starts. A feeling of calm intensity glows from behind the locker door. "Then you'd better bring your best. I'll fight you whenever you want, Mister Winchester."
"Heh," Cardin chuckles darkly. His boots gradually move away from Pyrrha's personal space. "Keep those words in mind, Nikos. Shouldn't you be heading back soon? If you stay in here any longer, Goodwitch is going to feel concerned." He spins around, sauntering away with his onyx mace resting on his shoulders. "And I wouldn't want you to miss the chance to eat those words."
With that, Cardin leaves us in peace, off to partake in his match.
I let out a fresh breath. I release Warbreaker, unsure what exactly I would've done with it had I drawn it. I didn't shoot Sky in the fight; how could I shoot Cardin here? If anything, I would've earned myself a first plane ticket out of here and onto a kingdom criminal record or something.
"Well, he was certainly pleasant," sighs Pyrrha. Her heels clink against the floor as she peers over my shoulder. "Do you two know each other, Eren?"
"N-no," I splutter, fumbling everything into place. "W-w-we just, um, we bumped into each other one day. I don't… I don't know him."
My locker closes with a stronger than expected slam.
"W-we should leave," I stammer. Scurrying around, I put on my school bag with my uniform in it, speedily making plans to leave this room as quickly as possible.
"Aren't you going to take a shower? You're looking very sweaty there," Pyrrha asks. I shake my head vividly.
"I-it's fine. I can, u-um, I can take a shower in m-my dorm." Which had thankfully been fixed last morning. Shifting myself closer to the door, I power-walk away. "L-let's go."
I don't want to stick around here any longer.
By the time Pyrrha and I finally return to the sparring arena, Cardin and his opponent were already in the arena. Cardin's opponent, a lean looking guy wearing bronze pauldrons connecting down to these gigantic detachable looking metal gauntlets, stares menacingly at Cardin who's currently leaning on the handle of his faced down onyx mace.
I stand at the rails, only a pace away from the stairs. Pyrrha stands next to me, her face lacking a smile and her eyes firmly focused on the combatants. Our teams are only a fair set of rows away but neither of us remind the other of that.
Pyrrha wants to see if Cardin can back up his mouth.
I'm hoping that he can't.
Miss Goodwitch stands between the pair of them, Scroll pad tucked under her arms, ready to begin the fight.
"He's aware…" Pyrrha murmurs. I blink at her.
"Aware? S-sorry Pyrrha but, who's aware?" I ask, totally benign.
"Cardin. He's analysing his stance," she answers, nudging my attention to his opponent, standing at the ready. I have no idea what exactly I'm supposed to be looking at.
"Look at his feet. Do you see where he's placing them?"
Honestly, it looks he's just standing with his feet further apart. I see people standing like that all the time on martial arts movies.
I shake my head, she explains further.
"He's slanted slightly. He's placing more weight on his right foot than his left. He's giving away a tell," she nods. "No matter what Cardin does at the start, he'll be the one to throw the first strike." Her eyes narrow. "Cardin knows this. He'll have the advantage."
They can read that much from slight weight distribution? I mean, I've never been one for fighting against human opponents but… damn. I wish I had her eyesight.
"Ready?" Goodwitch announces, raising her arm into the arm. I gaze up, keeping an eye on the board timer.
Pyrrha nods to herself, "Let's see what he does with it then."
"Begin!"
Bronze's fist burst out from his right, a long elastic coil rod springing out from its chamber, flying in an acute angle, a cross streaking towards Cardin's chin.
One.
Smash!
In a single movement, Cardin picks his mace off the ground and, with his left hand, smashes the gauntlet deep down into the ground like he's simply planting a tree.
Two.
Another fist seeks purchase in Cardin's chin. He reels his head. The uppercut skids. Barely that, it practically shaves his chin that's how closely it missed.
Three.
Plucking the coil out of the air, Cardin pulls the missed gauntlet and pulls hard. Bronze comes flying across the ring, straight towards his opponent's primed mace.
Four.
Boom!
The mace empties all the air in Bronze's lungs, the strike is so powerful that the spectators in the stands can feel it.
Five.
Cardin retracts, pulls the mace out from Bronze's gut and lands another powerful clubbing blow on his back. If his Aura wasn't there to protect, Bronze would be paralyzed and put into a coma right now.
Six.
By the full brunt of his face, Cardin snatches Bronze out of the air and with a brutal growl, hurls him wildly into the air.
Seven.
As Bronze's body soars straight in the air, Cardin grabs the coil of the gauntlet buried in the ground and yanks it, pulling him straight back towards him.
Eight.
Cardin readies himself, both hands firmly grasped on the handle of his onyx mace. Bronze falls towards him.
Bang! Mace meets chest as a resounding clash booms throughout the hall. His opponent's body is limp but unfortunately, Cardin isn't finished yet. He pushes him full body weight against Bronze…
Nine.
And drives his carcass straight down into the floor.
Ten.
The match horn blares. The bronze warrior's Aura dip into the critical zone as dust and smoke floods from the impacted flooring.
Heavy boots clunk and crunch against bits and pieces of the broken floor as Cardin walks out from cloud of dust, completely untouched.
Ten seconds. He knocked his opponent out in ten seconds!
"Holy shit!" One of my classmates yells. Everyone up here in the stands begin chattering and muttering to each other. Saying things like 'That guy's a total monster!' and "God, I hope I never get into the ring with him.'
Nobody's going to forget him anytime soon, huh…
The dust clears. The bronze warrior lies crumpled in, Jesus Christ, what looks to be a five-metre-deep crater. I can see his chest heaving up and down so, his breathing is still okay. Just knowing that instils a sense of calm.
I'm trying my very best not to scream here.
My fingers tear into the railing. My heartbeat's choking on the amount of blood pumping right now. He… He did it. He actually did it! He beat Pyrrha's record and mangled his opponent like a lifeless prop.
I think he might even be as strong as Yang.
He looks up, locking eyes with Pyrrha. She stares back, undeterred by his gaze, absolutely refusing to back down from him. He lifts his onyx mace, completely ignoring the destruction he caused behind him, Goodwitch kneeling next to bronze to make sure none of his attacks broke through. It's as if he was trying to send a message to her – Get in the ring with me, and this'll happen to you.
Then he locks eyes with me. I falter, almost reeling away from the railing. His gaze is withering. He doesn't look away. I visibly suck in my chest.
He smiles.
A/N: Yeah. So, may have beefed Cardin up a little. Just a tad. Nothing major. Honest.
Though, his current ranking doesn't fully represent his combat ability. He's better than what he was in canon, and one of the physically strongest fighters in the year, but he's not better than Pyrrha. That's stretching my creative liberties a bit too much. He's still a big beefy bastard, though.
But, with this chapter, my first year of writing Calamity Factor comes to a close. Probably should've had something a bit bigger to cap off the year or something but, them's the breaks.
I just want to thank everyone for sticking with the story so far, as slow as I can be with updates. This story was written with the purpose of both providing an entertaining story of decent quality as well as receiving feedback from an audience on what they finding appealing and what they don't. Though I don't believe my story and writing ability to be infallible, I believe that from receiving your opinions both prositive and negative have helped me improve on my writing style and overall writing quality.
Thanks again for reading. As always, if you have any opinions on the story so far, be sure to let me know in the reviews. Constructive criticism is encouraged.