Supermage

by Aaron Oster

  “Get out of my way. If anyone doesn’t belong here, it’s you,” Morgan said in a flat tone.

  The boy’s condescending sneer slipped and an angry red began to suffuse his face.

  “We’re ranked in the top fifty, now step aside and let us pass,” Sarah said, stepping in front of Morgan and trying to diffuse the situation.

  “Oh, and what might your name be, gorgeous?”

  Another boy separated himself from the group and stepped up to join him. He was tall and lanky, with skin so pale it appeared to be green. Long strands of greasy hair hung down his face and when he smiled, Morgan could see a mouth full of very yellow looking teeth.

  “None of your business, slime ball,” she said, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

  “Oh come on, don’t be like that,” the boy said, stepping forward and leering at her. “After all, I think you would quite enjoy my company.”

  “Get out of our way,” Morgan said, stepping up beside her, a frown now touching his lips. “We’re here to compete in a ranked fight so we can keep our spots. If you want to fight and are ranked in the top 50, then I’ll be happy to take you on.”

  “Like I said, there’s no way a couple of weaklings like you are in the top fifty,” the other boy said, stepping right up to Morgan and grabbing the front of his shirt. “Now I suggest you beat it, before you make me angry.”

  Morgan sighed; then slammed a fist into the boy’s solar plexus. The boy wheezed, letting go of him and bent double, clutching at his stomach.

  “Come on, Sarah,” Morgan said, stepping past the shocked group of people and walking up to the desk.

  The woman sitting behind had looked up when the commotion had started and was now looking at the two of them with narrowed eyes.

  “You do know that fighting outside an official match is against school rules, correct?” Her tone was icy and her gaze like steel.

  “He attacked me first,” Morgan said with a shrug, completely unapologetic.

  “We’re sorry for the trouble we caused,” Sarah quickly put in. “They were refusing to let us pass.”

  “Why didn’t you come in from this entrance if you’re in the top fifty?”

  “We didn’t know there was a separate entrance,” Sarah answered. “The woman at the main entrance guided us here as it is our first time in the arena.”

  “Well, we can sort this out easily enough. Tell me your names and current ranking in your respective class.”

  Sarah quickly gave her the information and the woman looked down to her desk, checking their names and corresponding ranks. After a few moments she looked up with a smile.

  “Your names are on the list. I would caution you, however, to not be caught fighting outside of academy sanctioned matches, as there are severe consequences for any who do.”

  She waited for them both to nod their understanding before continuing.

  “I can see here that neither of you has fought in the arena before. Would you like an explanation of how the rankings function, or has that already been explained to you?”

  “It’s already been explained,” Morgan answered. “We’re just here for our weekly match.”

  “It’s on then, punk!”

  Morgan turned to see the boy he’d punched approaching with his groupies once again. His face was beet red and he looked about ready to burst.

  “My name is Grub, and I’m ranked 5th in the super class. I’ll take him on!”

  27

  “Grub? You mean like those little white things that live in rotten trees?” Morgan asked.

  “Not Grub, you stupid commoner, Grub! You need to roll the R on the tip of your tongue, not that some common trash like you could say it right!”

  “I’ll take on the redhead,” the greasy boy said, walking over to the desk. “My name is Frush, and I’m ranked 3rd in the mage class.”

  Morgan noticed that he too pronounced his name with that weird R sound and wondered if they were related.

  “You keep referring to me as a commoner. Does that make you a noble?” Morgan asked as the woman checked the other boy’s names to verify their identities.

  “Not yet, but I might as well be,” Grub bragged. “Me and Frush here come from a very wealthy family and it’s only a matter of time until Queen Beatrice gives us what we deserve.”

  So he was right, they were related.

  “So you’re from the South Kingdom,” Sarah said, now looking a bit more interested.

  “That’s right, gorgeous,” Frush said, clearly looking directly at her chest. “Maybe after I beat you and take the top spot, you’ll come back to my room and I’ll tell you some more about it.”

  Sarah’s face flushed a deep red at the insinuation, but this time Morgan could tell why she was turning that color. She was angry; very angry.

  He wasn’t sure why an invitation to someone’s bedroom would make her so upset.

  “That’s quite enough of that!” Everyone turned to see the woman glaring at them. “If you have any grievances, you can fight it out during a match.”

  She looked around, as if daring any of them to argue with her. When no one did, she continued speaking.

  “I have confirmed your identities and have set up the matches accordingly. Please follow me to the fighting area.”

  She then walked out in front of them and headed back into the arena. Grub glared at Morgan, and Frush threw Sarah a wink before following her.

  Morgan started to walk when he noticed that Sarah wasn’t moving. She was glued to her spot, practically shaking with rage.

  “Are you alright?” he asked, walking over to her and placing a hand on her shoulder.

  She turned to him and Morgan felt his stomach drop at the look in her eyes. Then she seemed to come to herself and visibly relaxed.

  “I’m fine,” she said, brushing his hand away. “Just need to show that slimy little toad that he can’t talk to me that way.”

  “Okay then,” Morgan said, hurrying to catch up to her.

  Why did girls have to be so confusing? One second she looked ready to burst and the next, she was so calm- it was almost scary!

  They caught up to the others just as they entered the main fighting area filled with stages. Morgan could see that each stage had a number painted on the side, as well as two people standing next to each one as the competitors fought.

  He watched a few fights as they wove their way through the throngs of people and found that he wasn’t impressed. With very few exceptions, most people were just floundering around and hoping to get a lucky hit, rather than fighting with any real technique.

  “Here we are… Stage twenty.”

  Morgan turned his attention back to the woman as they all walked into another fenced off area.

  Here, there were only two stages, with four people standing alongside each. It didn’t escape his notice that as soon as they walked in, everyone on the outside who wasn’t fighting turned their attention towards them.

  A man stepped up to the small group then and asked the woman for the names and ranks so he could record them once the fight was finished. When the woman was done, she left the area, giving them all a nod.

  “My name is Percival and I am in charge of the ranked matches between students in the top fifty of their classes.”

  Morgan looked over the man who began talking. He was tall, maybe six and half feet, with dark coffee colored skin and coal black eyes. He was bald and very well built. Morgan could immediately tell that this man was to be respected. After all, they wouldn’t put a weakling in charge of a place like this, especially seeing as he likely oversaw all ranked matches; including those of fifth year students.

  “The rules for first year fights are simple. To win a match, you must either render your opponent unable to fight; or strike a hypothetical death blow.”

  He looked over the four students standing before him, making sure to make eye contact with each.

  “While injuring your opponent is allowed, attempting to actually kill them is
most definitely not. If it is deemed that you are about to strike a killing blow, the match will be stopped. Our referees are very good at spotting this, so when a match is called, you will immediately cease all fighting. Any continuation after a match is called will result in a warning.”

  His eyes bore into them and his voice took on a threatening tone.

  “There will only be one warning. After that, your ranking in the class will be dropped by ten. If you continue fighting after that, I will intervene. If I am forced to stop a match, the offending student will be kicked out of the school indefinitely and banned from ever entering again. Do I make myself clear?”

  They all nodded emphatically, none wishing to earn this man’s ire.

  “Good. Supers, you will be fighting there. Mages, stage twenty one.”

  “Good luck,” Sarah said, as he headed towards the indicated stage.

  Stepping onto the raised platform, Morgan saw a small man standing at the center. He heard Grub climbing up behind him, and saw the man motion them both over.

  The stage was about twenty square feet, so it was large enough to fight, but still small enough to ensure that there would be no running away.

  They both stopped in front of the man, who grabbed Morgan’s wrist and pulled him around so he was facing across from Grub.

  “I’m sure Percival explained the rules so I won’t bother going over them. This match will be between Grub, who is ranked 5th in the class and Morgan, ranked 9th in the class. Since Grub holds the higher rank, it will not increase, should he win. Morgan’s will only drop by one. Should Morgan win, however, his rank will increase by two while Grub’s will fall by the same amount. Any further questions?”

  He looked to both of them, but they shook their heads.

  “Very well. Each of you, back up to your side and wait for my signal to begin.”

  Grub gave him one last glare before walking over to his side of the stage. Morgan walked to his as well, pulling the gloves onto his hands and tightening the straps to secure them. He noticed that quite a crowd had gathered behind the gate, all talking excitedly.

  Maybe they’d already seen fights between students in the top fifty? Morgan didn’t know, but he also didn’t have time to think about it further.

  Morgan took up a fighting stance as the referee held his arm up in the air. Across the stage, Grub just cracked his knuckles, looking confident.

  “Begin!”

  The referee swished his arm down through the air, then quickly left the stage.

  Morgan shuffled forward slowly.

  He wasn’t sure what Grub’s ability was, so he had to careful. He also couldn’t use any of his mage skills while so many people were watching and, as he’d discovered during his fight with the golem, his fly skill wouldn’t be useful in a fight with a quick opponent.

  Grub, on the other hand, looked completely unconcerned. He swaggered right into the center of the stage, leaving himself wide open.

  Morgan hesitated.

  Was he really that dumb, or was it a trap to lure him in?

  He shrugged to himself and decided on his favorite course of action: go for it and see what happens.

  He launched himself towards the bigger boy, springing lightly on the balls of his feet. Grub didn’t look at all surprised, instead slamming both of his fists together and activating a skill.

  The ground shook for a moment, then chunks of rock began flaking off the ground and flying towards him.

  Morgan stopped, watching in fascination as the boy was slowly covered in a rocky armor. He left his face uncovered for some reason and walked towards him a confident smile.

  Morgan didn’t move, staring at the approaching stone covered boy and wondering how much power he would have to use for it to be considered a death blow.

  “Got nothing to say now, you cocky bastard?” he sneered, throwing a few punches in the air in front of him.

  “Look at him, you guys!” he called to his groupies standing by the side of the stage. “He completely froze up when he saw my awesome power!”

  “He looks like he’s about to piss himself!” one of them called out, getting a round of laughter from the rest of them.

  “What do you think, guys? Should I finish him off quick, or play with him a little?” he asked, holding his arms out to the sides.

  “I bet if you hit him hard enough, he’ll start crying for his mommy!”

  “I bet he begs for mercy within ten seconds!”

  “He’ll probably shit himself, too!”

  The others in his group began voicing their opinions, each growing more detailed and graphic as to what Morgan would do when Grub started fighting.

  Morgan just stared as the boy strutted around basking in the attention of his followers and completely ignoring him.

  He’d been wrong to think this boy was a threat. He was a complete moron!

  “I bet he runs off the stage, after he’s pissed and shit himself. Then he’ll trip over himself in embarrassment and end up eating his own shit!”

  “You guys are too much,” Grub said, holding his sides and roaring with laughter.

  This was the chance Morgan had been waiting for.

  The idiot had dropped his guard so much that there was no chance to defend himself.

  The air distorted around his body as he activated his heavy handed skill and threw a punch towards Grub’s exposed head.

  “Stop!”

  Morgan stopped in his tracks, his fist extended straight out just a few inches from Grub’s head. He stared at the boy not believing how someone could be this stupid.

  The idiot hadn’t even noticed he’d lost. He was still carrying on about all the ways he would make him soil himself.

  His minions did notice, however, it was hard not to and went silent as Grub continued on.

  “I think I’ll tear his clothes off and make him run back to his room naked! Though I’d probably be doing him a favor. After all, who wants to walk around in shit stained pants?!”

  He roared with laughter, but it soon died down when he realized he was the only one still laughing. His expression darkened and he glared at his silent groupies.

  “Why aren’t you laughing? That joke was funny!”

  Instead of answering, one of them just pointed to his side, where Morgan still stood with his fist outstretched and an incredulous expression on his face.

  Grub’s head whipped around to see Morgan’s fist just a few inches from his face. He held the pose for another few seconds before relaxing and backing away.

  “The match is over, and Morgan is the winner by deathblow!”

  The crowd was deathly silent at this and Grub stared; first in shock, then outrage.

  “That doesn’t count!” he yelled. “He attacked me when I wasn’t looking!”

  The referee gave him a disgusted look.

  “The match had officially started and you were stupid enough to not only take your eyes off of your opponent, but completely drop your guard and start making fun of him. If he hadn’t attacked you, I might have called the match on principle! Morgan will be raised to 7th in the class. Since you can’t drop by two ranks, as Morgan currently holds that spot, you will be dropped to 8th! You’re lucky I don’t drop you by one hundred ranks for the utter stupidity you displayed just now!”

  The referee was screaming by the end, spittle flying from his lips and flecking across the boy’s face. He turned back to Morgan, his anger settling somewhat.

  “You should be congratulated for pulling your punch when I called the match. Were I in your position, I don’t think I would have had the self-restraint.”

  Morgan thanked the referee and turned to walk off the stage, glad that his fight had been so easy.

  “This match shouldn’t have counted! I demand a rematch!”

  He stopped when Grub’s voice rang out and turned to face the other boy, who hadn’t released his skill and was still clad in rocky armor.

  “I already competed in a match this week,” Morgan said w
ith a shrug. “If you want another fight, you’ll have to wait until next week. Though, I’m not sure if I’ll fight you again, seeing as you’re ranked lower than me right now.”

  “No, we’re going to fight right now!” he shrieked, nearly beside himself with rage. “You cheated and I’m going to make you pay!”

  As he took a threatening step towards Morgan, the referee’s voice sounded once more.

  “Stop! This is your only warning. Take another step and you will be demoted by ten ranks!”

  Grub froze in place and Morgan could see the struggle going on behind the boy’s eyes. After a few tense moments, the stone armor began to fall, hitting the stage with a loud clatter.

  “This isn’t over, you piece of shit! You’ll pay for this, be sure of that!”

  Morgan shrugged once again and walked off the stage. He could see that Sarah’s match hadn’t started yet and walked over to the side of the stage to watch.

  For some unknowable reason, Frush was thrusting his hips back and forth and making odd noises while staring at Sarah. Sarah, for her part, was standing absolutely still and waiting for the referee to begin the match.

  “Don’t worry sweetie, I promise I’ll be gentle! Unless you like it rough, I’ll be fine with that, too!” Frush called out to her.

  Morgan looked to the referee, who had a disgusted look on her face and was standing by the side of the stage as if trying to decide whether to should start the match or not.

  He quickly made his way over to the woman while Frush continued to do his weird dance and calling out things that made absolutely no sense to him.

  Why would Sarah want him to ‘go hard all night?’ If she was up fighting all night, she wouldn’t be able to function during Gold’s torture sessions. Morgan was puzzled.

  “Excuse me, referee,” Morgan called out.

  The woman turned to him and quickly walked over, looking relieved for some reason.

  “Why aren’t you starting the match?”

  “Can’t you hear what that boy is saying to her?” she asked, in shock.

  “I can, but I don’t understand why that should prevent Sarah from fighting,” he said, looking confused.