“No I haven’t.”
Rei fumbled to a stop.
“What?” he asked after a moment.
“I haven’t done everything I can,” Lennon clarified, like this should have been perfectly obvious. “I’ve been doing a lot, sure. I’ve been pushing you, shoving you to your limits and beyond them. But that’s hardly all there is to do.” He smiled, then, and for the first time all day the look was back in his eyes, the hungry, feral intelligence that had had Rei and the others take pause on more than one occasion during their training sessions. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Ward… You typically grow the most from direct combat. Is that right?”
Something clawed at Rei’s gut at the question, a mix of feelings that took him a moment to parse out. There was excitement, there. Hope, too.
Excitement. Hope… and fear.
“Yes, sir,” he answered slowly, carefully.
That predatory glint was still alive in Lennon’s gaze. “Thought so. Tell me, then… Did you learn something today? About me? About my Device?”
Suspicion joined the cacophony of other feelings, the knot of anticipation in his stomach tightening.
Rei nodded. “A bit.”
“How I move? How my weapons move?”
Rei was sure, then. All morning. All afternoon.
“Sir… Did we just spend ten hours warming up?” he asked.
Lennon’s smile widened. “I wouldn’t say ‘warming up’? Seems benign… Maybe ‘leveling the field a little’?” He raised an eyebrow at Rei. “So? What did you learn?”
This time Rei answered promptly. “That I might have a shot at hitting you if you were fighting at half-speed.”
The Lasher snorted. “Ward, you couldn’t touch me at quarter-speed.”
“Will I be allowed to try?”
Rei let the hope rage, then, the excitement and desire burn away the fear and trepidation. He saw it, now. 2 hours of learning how the Lasher moved on open ground. 4 of seeing how he attacked when he held the element of surprise, and another 4 to take in how he applied his chain-swords in face-to-face combat. It had all been a warm-up.
A warm-up to this.
“Yes,” Christopher Lennon, very possibly the strongest military cadet in the Astra System, said simply. “After some build up.”
And then Lennon’s eyes flared with light.
Rei’s stomach did a flip as the field bloomed with shapes, pressing up under his bare feet to lift the yard or so the training chambers allowed for. The first thing to materialize were old, rusted structural beams, growing skyward and curving overhead as they did. Between them, heavy metal slats, worn by time and the elements, built themselves up until Rei and Lennon were standing in a sort of dome with eight arching walls, illuminated mostly only by a circular 4-foot opening at the apex above them. A rolling door to their left was askew, having fallen partially off its tracks, letting a few more rays of light in to cut through dust-choked air. Under Rei, the plain, flat concrete floor was caked with dirt and some kind of grainy residue.
Salt storage, he realized, just as the Arena spoke.
“Field: Abandoned Depot.”
Rei swallowed, his original excitement getting weighed down a little bit as the voice solidified his understanding of what was about to happen. Across from him—apparently having to adjust the starting spaces to accommodate where Rei had already been standing—the Lasher waited, still with his arms lax at his sides, still with his white teeth cutting clear against the darker skin of his face as he smiled. There wasn’t any anticipation there, per se, but there might have been interest.
And that interest was enough of a compliment to get Rei to steel himself as the next announcement made it all very, very real.
“Sparring bout,” said the Arena. “Cadet Christopher Lennon versus Cadet Reidon Ward. Cadets… Call.”
Rei forced himself not to hesitate.
“Call.”
Shido came into being once more, the compressing weight of its steel comforting around his arms and legs. Rei’s heartbeat quickened as he brought the Device’s claws up to his face at the ready.
It redoubled again when he saw that Lennon, too, had called on his CAD.
There had been no holding back on the summoning, none of the restraint of a partial call. Where a slight, soft-looking third year cadet had been waiting before, a beast of black-and-grey lined in glimmering red now stood, the trio of glowing crimson strokes down the faceplate of his helmet like three vertical, hungry eyes. The armor of the Device might still have been wanting when it came to intimidation, but Ouroboros made up for it in the relative dark of the Abandoned Depot. Its light was nothing short of sinister among the shadows, especially where the red pulsed from the undersides of the three externals that hovered behind Lennon’s back and shoulders.
And that wasn’t even to mention where it shimmered between the razored segments of the two chain-swords the Lasher now held in either hand, their terrifying lengths coiled limply about the ground before him.
Rei decided, in that moment, that he wouldn’t bother counting how many times he was about to die.
“Cadets… Fight.”
Rei didn’t let Lennon take control of the field. If he’d wanted to, the Lasher could have blitzed him in a blink and sent him flying into next year with his own natural speed. A fight like that would have been worthless, though—for all involved—so as he lunged forward Rei was a little relieved to see the third year standing his ground, waiting for him.
Pleased, that is, until he actually reached the Lasher.
Shing!
Rei had to go almost to his knees as a blinding flash from his opponent’s right weapon cleaved through the air in a whipping horizontal arc. As soon as it passed overhead, though, the left was cutting down, forcing Rei to roll sideways out of the way. Shido’s steel toes gave him purchase as he kept his feet, lancing forward even as the chain-sword struck the concrete ground right where he’d been standing, creating an eruption of fractured cement and a small cloud of dust.
Like a bomb going off, Rei thought as he closed in, supposing it was an apt-enough metaphor.
Shido shot forward, swiping at the Lasher’s left arm, but the third year proved less than dependent on his usual agility as he twisted and dodged the blow gracefully only by millimeters, leaping laterally to put some space between the two of them. Rei felt his boots scrape roughly against ground as he shifted direction abruptly to follow, intent on keeping at better range. As he chased he found himself again in rhythm with the chain-swords, his Cognition and Speed pulling him just out of death’s reach with every one of Ouroboros’ strikes.
“That’s it!” came Lennon’s voice, mechanical through his visor. “Don’t bother trying to block. Who knows if you’ll be able to Tuesday? What do you lean into?”
“Speed,” Rei muttered in answer, powering forward. He somersaulted under a low blow at his legs, landing in a crouch to avoid another that would have taken off his head. He cut at Lennon’s own knees, but the young man kept careful pace with him, always staying just out of reach.
“Exactly. So keep up.”
And with that, ever so subtly, the chain-swords began to move a little faster.
At first Rei felt a thrill of panic as he adjusted almost too slowly for the shift. What had been inches of clearance turned into an inch as he darted and weaved through the assault, ever pushing forward to try to get through. His eyes followed every blare of red in his NOED, reading every preemptive twitch of the Lasher’s body. He was almost close enough to strike out again, almost to where he would be able to—
WHAM-CLANG!
The first impact precluded the second by so little time, they felt practically simultaneous. Rei had let himself get drawn in, let himself get so focused on Ouroboros’ rolling song that he’d not kept an eye on the broader fight as a whole. The steel-clad leg had come up seemingly from nowhere, catching him a sweeping kick through the hips as he made to dodge side
ways, rocketing him backwards.
Straight into the rusted metal slats of the slanted wall that he’d somehow missed being maneuvered against.
He fell to the ground with a thump, ears ringing from the impact that the reactive shielding hadn’t completely been able to absorb. He tried to catch himself, but tumbled downward when he failed to get his hands out in time to brace himself. He landed on his side hard, his neuroline whirring to clear his mind.
“Get up, Ward.”
The words were gentle, but unforgiving. Rei blinked once, coming back to, his vision clearing. With a grunt of effort he rolled onto his stomach and lurched to his feet, staggering for only a second before he found his balance.
Lennon stood 10 feet away, weapons calm on the floor again, waiting for him to regain the fight.
“Do you need a second to—?”
Rei, though, cut the A-Ranker off with a lunge at his throat.
He might have been mistaken, but he thought he heard a low “Ha” of laughter as Lennon dodged. Rei sailed by, turning the attack into a diving roll to keep from getting cut in half from behind as he made out the sharp sounds of clinking metal that told him the chain-swords were whirling into action at his back. Almost as soon as he hit the ground he was up, spinning and launching himself at Lennon again. This time he kept his assault tighter, depending on the short strikes and jabs they’d been working on so frequently over the last weeks.
“Excellent! Stay inside your range, but don’t commit to over-extension! That’s how you do it!”
Of course, not a single blow landed even with the Lasher going at a fraction of his usual speed, but the confirmation of improvement was welcome just the same. Rei redoubled his attacks, keeping low so as best to react to Ouroboros’ unpredictability.
“Good adaptation! Good adjustment!”
Another kick came, testing him this time, and this blow Rei felt comfortable trying to block. He twisted and accepted impact on both forearms, then wrenched his claws down in an attempt to cut into the offending shin, but not fast enough before Lennon retracted the leg with a twist. Unwilling to be left disappointed, Rei bent low and swung his own kick at his opponent’s knee. Lennon—deft as always—planted and shifted so that Rei’s ankle took him in the front of the joint instead, sending a jarring shock from toes to hip as steel struck steel. He recovered by throwing an elbow at Lennon’s face, but the third year jerked back.
That was when Rei knew he’d lost.
The twisting elbow brought him too far around, left him unable to defend himself. In such close proximity to a User who typically fought better at range, this might have been acceptable given Rei himself was basically a Brawler, might have been recoverable.
But then Lennon powered forward from his lean back, slamming his steel faceplate into the side of Rei’s head.
Again Rei saw stars, staggering sideways, trying to catch himself. The filthy ground betrayed him, one foot slipping against dust and salt residue, bringing him to a knee. His vision cleared faster this time, steadying as he caught himself on a hand and made to twist around, looking to join the fight again. Lennon, though, seemed to have decided Rei only got one free pass in the match.
A free pass he’d already cashed in.
Shtunk-shtunk!
Pain bloomed through Rei’s chest and abdomen, swallowing with it any breath he might have drawn to scream. With an “Urk!” his whole body spasmed, and he collapsed fully to his side again.
There was a wrenching pressure in his torso, echoed by a new bloom of agony, and he watched the twin chain-swords sliding across the ground away from him, recalled from where they’d taken him—point first—through lung and gut.
“Fatal Damage Accrued,” the Arena announced. “Winner: Christopher Lennon."
At once the pain began to recede, and after a second Rei was able to gasp in a massive, aching breath. He twitched and jerked a while longer, but eventually his mind cleared enough to find himself looking at a pair of black steel boots.
“Not bad, Ward. Changing things up like that will be exactly how you win on Tuesday. Let me know when you’re ready to go again.”
Lennon’s feet had only started to turn, likely aiming for the starting point again, when Rei choked out a word.
“Now.”
The third year paused in his departure.
“Now?” he repeated.
The pain had receded enough for Rei to turn his head and look up, meeting the three vertical red lines of the monstrous face.
“Now,” he said again, starting to push himself up on aching arms.
*****
Sixteen times. In the end Rei wasn’t able to stop himself from tracking his deaths. It became easier to do than trying to keep tabs on the time as he fought the Lasher, exchanging their breaks for the less-lengthy—but also more-frequent—reprieves the Arena forced him to take after every FDA. Sixteen times he fell, and sixteen times he crawled back up again. He didn’t know how many hours had passed, didn’t know how long they’d been facing off in the Abandoned Depot. The field was scarred, now, broken and battered by the passing storm of their fighting. Lennon had been opting not to reset it after every match, like he wanted Rei to have a visual representation of their efforts. The walls were dented and cleaved through, the ground a jagged mess of fractured cement and the occasional clawing slashes where Shido had cut into it in low swings. Rei was aware, distantly, that he had more than likely already hit C4. If he paused, if he just took long enough a break for his Device to register him as out of combat, he was almost positive he would get the upgrade notification.
He didn’t pause, though.
Sixteen times. Sixteen times he died, but each one was a bit further apart, required a bit more effort from Lennon to achieve. They always restarted the match at a speed Rei supposed probably matched his own, but every minute or two the Lasher would accelerate just a fraction, just a little. Once, twice, three times. After his fifth death Rei managed to read the third year well enough to earn a fourth upping in the Ouroboros’ terrifying whirling, and after his twelfth he reached a fifth. At that point, though, there was nothing much for him to do but survive the onslaught, dancing and dodging and twisting this way and that as he struggled to find his shot, fought for even the slimmest possibility of that elusive blow he so desired to land.
It was no good, of course.
He just didn’t have the reach.
Shlunk!
With a retching nausea Rei felt himself get cut in half when a chain-sword caught him just above the waist, cleaving him into two. His entire body spasmed as the incomprehensible pain of the simulated death erupted upwards from the wound, lighting his every nerve on fire. He went down in a mess of spasming limbs, what little leg function he might have managed through the torment robbed by neural interruption as his spine was severed. He didn’t even feel himself hitting the ground, landing with a heavy thump that kicked more dust and grit into the dimly lit air.
“Fatal Damage Accrued,” the Arena announced. “Winner: Christopher Lennon."
Seventeen, Rei thought to himself, staring unseeing at the far wall as he gasped in air, feeling sensation slowly return to his lower limbs. Seventeen deaths, and no closer.
He just didn’t have the reach.
“Keep going like this and I’m going to have to start going full-speed on you.”
Lennon’s legs appeared in his vision again, and with a groan Rei managed to roll onto his back to give the third year a lopsided smirk. “Bull.” He winced as his abdominals—still suffering much of the simulated pain involved in being split wide—protested him speaking.
After allowing himself a couple seconds more, Rei tried again, ignoring the lessening discomfort this time.
“Bull,” he repeated. “Forget full-speed. I haven’t even matched you at quarter speed yet. Just like you said.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s obvious to anyone who has any solid experience in CA
D-fighting,” Rei threw the A-Ranker’s words back at him with a snort, trying to sit up. Just barely managing it, he tested his legs out, bending his hips, knees, and ankles, pleased to find them all mostly working. “Plus, I’ve seen you fight.”
Lennon shrugged. “If you know everything there is to about me, then why haven’t you hit me yet?”
Rei’s wince, this time, had nothing to do with pain.
“I can’t,” he grumbled, finally starting to climb to his feet when the tingling along his shins and toes started to fade. “I don’t have the range.”
“You’ve got claws. You’ve got more reach than most Brawlers.”
“Being able to run faster than most people doesn’t make me any more likely to outrun a horse, does it?”
Lennon’s helmet dipped at that. “Point made. Still… You’ll figure it out. You’re a quick thinker.”
“If I could think my way out of this, you expect that in the—” he checked the time at last, his heart sinking a bit “—fifteen hours we’ve been here, I would have come up with a way to lay a finger on you, don’t you?”
Lennon shrugged again, the motion a little comical, clad in steel armor as he was with his face hidden and a chain-sword in each hand. “In that case I’d say not all problems can be overcome with brains alone. Isn’t that why we’re here in the first place?”
“Yeah,” Rei grunted, looking down at Shido’s claws somewhat wistfully. “If I evolve, I just want a little more reach. That’s it. Just enough that I’m not so completely dependent on getting nose to nose with my opponents.”
“You’re probably there already,” Lennon voiced the same assessment. “Want to wait and find out?”
Rei hesitated. He did want to, but…
“No.” He shook his head. “Not yet. I’ve still got more to give. The last time I had a fight with this level of discrepancy in CADs was Commencement, against Aria. My Device Ranked in nearly every spec.”
Iron Prince: A Progression Sci-Fi Epic (Warformed: Stormweaver Book 1) Page 96