W ithout a shred of reassurance or optimism, Rava announced, “Today, I’ll be assessing your combat abilities. You will be randomly separated into partners and will spar for three rounds.
“Whoever wins two out of three is the victor. The result of each round will be determined by unconsciousness, if an opponent has been physically restrained and cannot escape, or if the opponent surrenders.
“I’ll be watching each of you as you fight and will deliver detailed outlines of what you must improve on. Let’s begin.”
He read out lists of names. The students called stood up and gathered in the ring beside their partners.
Finally, he called, “Clove Willowborn and Ash Orion.” And then, “Luc Vale and Rhys Aarinth.”
Jam was paired with someone named Cazima, the girl with angel wings.
Once we were all prepared, Rava addressed our group on the arena sand.
“If you are unable to show restraint, I will expel you from this Academy. You are forbidden from maiming or killing any students. After all, what good is an adventurer who puts their teammates, and possibly other civilians, in danger because of their lack of control?”
Fantastic. That was essentially where I was at the moment.
I faced Rhys, whose face was darkened by a scowl.
“I’m going to win,” he informed me, his voice a growl. If there was any way to describe this man, I’d use the word feral.
He was handsome in a traditional way. With a strong jaw and high cheekbones, the haughty attitude spoke to a comfortable upbringing.
So where did this man learn to act like a well-dressed murderer? I almost expected him to toss his head back and cackle evilly.
I tapped the corner of my mouth while looking at him. “Right there,” I told him. “You’ve got some stray spittle. Just there.”
The throbbing vein on his forehead bulged a little more. “You’re going down. I’m the best fighter in this class, and if you think a little sass is going to save you from me, you’re dead wrong.”
Damn. Father would love this mage. If fates were changed, he would have made a wonderful Prince of Darkness in my stead.
The bloodlust was something I could never quite enjoy as much as other demon kin.
“Very well,” I said, readying myself.
Rava called, “Prepare for the first round! Begin in three, two… one!”
I instantly erected the protective Shield Strike. There was no way this hothead was going to hesitate or show any caution.
I couldn’t hear what spell Rhys cast, but a spear of crackling blue mana shot from his open palm.
It smashed against my shield. To my surprise, I stumbled, almost as if I felt the reverberation through my body.
Rhys grinned savagely. “Feel that stun, bastard? My Mana Spear can get through every basic defense, even if just a little. At least you’re not weak, though.
“You’re still standing. Grinding your body into the floor will be fun. ”
I hadn’t met someone with this much ego since cousin Valeria fifty years ago. She was just as insufferable and loved to hear herself talk just as much.
My shield was still up. But there was another use for it that I hadn’t tried out yet.
If there was ever a time…
I released the defense spell for a second and then instantly summoned it again. This time, I pushed its range. If I could max out a basic spell like Fire Flare, then this should work too.
Instead of calling the shield to protect me, I pushed it. It tried to push back toward me, but I extended it, forcing it away.
When it materialized, the shield’s face smacked into Rhys’s body. He fell onto his back but quickly rolled to his feet.
I couldn’t use Fire Flare like I needed to.
The lack of control was too dangerous. Even though I didn’t like this guy, I wasn’t about to blister his face beyond recognition.
But I couldn’t win with just a shield. That meant I needed to get within close range and use my demon bone staff to its greatest advantage.
It wasn’t ideal, but I’d do what was necessary.
And I had to be fast.
Letting go of the shield, I summoned it again, this time letting it protect me.
Rhys’s ugly laugh transitioned smoothly into another spell. This time, a handle appeared in his hand. Attached within was a whip of golden electricity. Like he was holding a cord of lightning.
The first strike hit my shield, but to my surprise, it held.
He must be holding back. That looks like an advanced spell, but he doesn’t want to risk killing me. Can I use that to my advantage?
Another blow shattered my defense. I thought I’d have a few seconds for Rhys to pull the whip back and coil it for another strike.
But I’d misjudged the versatility of the spell. With a flick of his wrist, the electric cord extended and snapped forward, wrapping around my wrist.
The burn was enough to make me hiss through my teeth.
Rhys’s laugher reverberated in my head, mocking and already celebrating a victory.
What does he think this is? A duel of honor?
If the whip had wrapped around my neck, I would have considered surrender, since that would’ve been a win if he was using the full power of the whip.
But he wasn’t. And only my hand was caught.
Summoning my staff into a blade, I channeled mana into the weapon’s sharp edge and sliced through the whip.
It snapped against the ground, out of control. A small cloud of dust and smoke filled the air.
I can work with that.
I was hoping my weapon would break the spell entirely, but it was already re-growing itself.
I didn’t have much time. If Rhys had even another second to strike, the match would be over. With two simple spells at my hand, I was at a serious disadvantage.
Even with those two meager spells, I still had a chance.
I wasn’t the Dark Prince for nothing.
And I’d been hurt worse than a few electric burns.
I tried casting a Shield Strike to hit him again, but Rhys was prepared for that. He rolled out of the way of my mist shield.
The whip lashed out again.
This time, it wrapped around my wrist and forearm.
Rhys yanked on his spell, pulling me forward.
He’s faster than I expected.
There was no use in cutting it if he was able to reform and capture me again. I had to choose another route.
Gritting my teeth, I did the last thing Rhys expected.
I was fast and strong, too. And I’d need use that to my advantage.
Rhys was taken aback, which gave me a few precious seconds to finish this risky move.
I wrapped my wrist around the whip one more time, curling it around my knuckles so I could grab the cord in my hand.
My skin sizzled and popped.
Pain lanced through me like a hot iron.
Ria and the Underworld couldn’t be more opposite. But it would seem that burning flesh smelled the same just about anywhere.
Rhys’s eyes widened in surprise and horror as I tightened the whip in my hand. Rhys didn’t summon more slack into the weapon, so this must’ve been as long as it got.
Good. That’s what I need.
With all my strength, I yanked the weapon. The handle flew out of his grip, which must have been sustaining the spell, because it disappeared the second it left his hold.
Blade already in hand, I blasted Fire Flare right above Rhys’s head, and then cut off the spell as fast as mortally possible.
Still, the fire forced my opponent to duck out of the way. He shot another mana spear at me, but it didn’t matter with my speed.
Rhys froze, eyes wild with hatred and boiling anger.
My bone-white dagger was pressed against his pulsing throat. A thin trickle of blood ran down, staining his collar.
I panted, “Submit.”
For a moment, it looked as though Rhys was going to ignore the rules of the match and attack again.
But finally, he said through gritted teeth, “I surrender.”
We didn’t exchange any more words. We were both lost in our minds, both drowning in the rage and adrenaline of battle.
It took another three minutes for the final matches to conclude. I spotted Clove glowing and holding a hand over her bruised neck.
Slowly, the reddish purple mark faded. She caught my eye and gave me a sheepish smile.
Others already looked pretty battered. A few of Cazima’s wings were singed at the edges, and she looked a little ruffled.
Jam appeared to be half-drenched in yellowish slime, something she was gagging over.
Rhys’s rough voice pulled me out of my observations. “C’mon, bastard. Give me some real spells. A real battle. None of that trickery bullshit. May have saved you that first round, but I’m ready for you now. You won’t slip that knife in again.”
He was grinning savagely.
A little unhinged, if you ask me. Did they provide mental screenings at the Academy?
Something about his expression put me on edge.
It wasn’t desperation. It was a complete, all-encompassing emotional focus on a single goal.
The hair on the back on my neck stood on end. This man wasn’t joking. Wasn’t pretending.
If he’s getting angrier, I can use that against him. He might have the air of a dangerous opponent, but that doesn’t mean he’s invincible.
No one is.
When the final match concluded and Rava finished taking his notes, he announced, “Let the second matches begin on three, two, one!”