***
Yet smoldering with yellow wounds across his body, the largest one a gaping hole in his abdomen, Sean twitches while rolling over and pushing himself up on his hands and knees, glaring at James strolling towards him, a crow moving in on a corpse, the scythe casually held in his hands. After he sighs in bitter reproach to his situation, he suddenly realizes two things while looking at James.
The first was how that black magic, the traced cuts in the air, work. James could use them to warp himself or something else that touches them through time and space to another location. The second, as he watches James raise his weapon in a wide whirl, with other runes on him and his blade glowing a burning red, was that those runic tattoos and patterns act like real runes. Taking note of these two facts, Sean grins as he comes up with a plan to use them against his foe.
Pausing in his stride towards him, James hammers his scythe down to the floor before him, releasing a flash flood of fire from the point of impact through his runes towards Sean. Before the furrow of flames consumes him, he rolls like a log to his right, clear of the spell’s path, then pushes himself up and swiftly skates on air towards James. Seeing him coming, James smirks again before another slash forms the black magic in front of him like a shield.
This time, however, Sean is prepared for, had even expected, it. Instead of barreling into it again, he spirals out of the way with a twist of his air balance, rushing past it and James, and drifts across the floor in a wide arc to turn around and dash back at him from behind. James, having been looking to a spot nearby and expecting him there, barely has time to realize Sean avoided the trap and whirl around to him. The Brawler rams his shoulder into him and shoves him backwards, into the warping portal.
In the next instant, James hits the ground hard a few yards away, wincing from his wings being crushed beneath him, and tries to sit up until Sean smashes him from above, his elbow dive bombing his chest to leave a large crack of green energy across his indigo armor.
The look on James’ face mirrors those in the audience around the arena before he scowls, getting ready to sit up and strike back, when to his puzzlement Sean runs his hands all over him, in seemingly random paths, petting and poking at his armor and face. Growling like a mad dog, he bites at Sean, grabbing for him so he could sink his sickle into him, but Sean pulls back from his reach and springs away backwards, a great leap putting distance between them.
Rising onto his talons, James is about to continue the combat between them with spells when he notices his runes are already active. To his growing horror, he realizes all of his runes had been activated in chain sequences, and he can only stand there as huge plumes, flashes, and blasts of arcane, lightning, and fire magic burst out of him without control, the sight startling and blinding some of the spectators.
When the aftermath of the explosion of spells fades out, James is still where he stands. He hasn’t been harmed by his own spells, but the problem is his magic system, the runes, were overloaded and wasted all of his energy to use his spells, temporarily preventing him from using any while it recharged. He yet reflects on his bad situation when a yell yanks his attention to Sean incoming through the air at high speed. He raises his scythe in time to block Sean’s lunging punch when he reaches him, the rod parrying his fist, but James is not prepared for the rest of Sean’s wild assault.
With a forward flip, he kicks James’ rod down, exposing his face, then spins like a twister with fists out to rapidly, repeatedly whack James in the face, marking a darkening yellow bruise across his right cheek and nose. Exiting the spinning, Sean flips backwards in mid-air, his foot hooking the rod of James’ scythe and flinging it out of his hands, straight up into the air, and becomes a twister again, but with his left leg out to roundhouse kick James in the face a few times, his left cheek and neck bruising dark orange from the impacts. He then concludes when he stops spinning after James falls over, catches the scythe when it falls back to them, and slams it down into James, burying the blade in the crack across his chest and spraying red energy out of him.
***
Leaving James pinned by his own weapon, Sean hovers back a good distance from him, lands on his feet, and takes a moment to accept applause from the audience, grinning while flexing and posing. Not all of the audience responds in favor of him, but some students whoop and cheer for him, building up his confidence that he has pulled it off and won the fight. However, the crowd’s unanimous gaping at something brings his attention back to James, and he comes to not like what he sees.
After pulling the scythe out of him, James pushes himself up while his mangled wings flex before their feathers peel off of them, gray butterflies scattering from hedges, and swirl around him before diving into his wounds, their color turning from red to green as they nearly or completely close up. With James’ colors becoming brighter, the color in Sean’s face darkens. James had healed himself.
If that isn’t bad enough, James’ figure has also dramatically altered. Then lacking feathers, his naked wings are large, jointed limbs, their ends appearing as sharp, spear-sized scalpels, flexing like alien mandibles behind him. Meanwhile, with his scythe in hand, the runes all over his face and body activate again, this time in coordinated control to cover him in a static aura of his magic, white lightning, blue arcane, and red fire crackling across his frame. Staring at his empowered, more savage appearance, Sean shakes his head with a cringing grimace, knowing that he is still deep in the woods.
With his runes burning and surging over him, there is cold fury in James’ face when he raises his scythe, bending it back over his shoulder, and flings it with great force, arcing through the air and across the arena towards Sean, the runes on its blade glowing blue. As Sean side-thrusts to his right to dodge it, the sickle sticks itself to the floor, and a massive blast of arcane energy sprouts from the point of impact, its shockwave barely reaching him.
Recoiling from the blast in a mid-air roll, he has only a split second to flip backwards and avoid the lunge of James’ mandibles in their attempt to seize him in a pincer grip. For the next several seconds, Sean once again finds himself on the evasive, desperately staying out of reach of a surprisingly swift James, his hands, talons, and wing blades lashing after him with searing and bursting energies from his runes.
After they make a tight, zigzagging circuit around the arena, Sean finally decides, after a close call of a fiery slash from James singes his beard, to fight back. Scowling, he puts both his legs up and kicks at James, and, instead of his feet, a direct, booming blast of air hits him, stopping his pursuit and knocking him back. Staggering from the brief, disorienting blow, his talons dragged across the floor, James is about to resume the chase when he notices the green glow on him, and looks to find his chest and neck are wounded.
Blinking, he wonders how it happened, since Sean had not touched him, before he realizes something with a jolt. Had Sean used his own air balance to harm him? In theory, that should be impossible. Air balance is a method of movement for Alkalians in battle morph, and because the substance is simply air, it shouldn’t be capable of hurting other battle morphs. Whatever happened, it happens again when Sean dashes by him, a quick thrust shooting him past James to the right instead of colliding into him, and instead an unseen force slams into him, leaving brighter green across his shoulder and arm. Nearly falling over from the blow, James has to believe it was true, Sean is attacking him with air balance, but he is too slow to counter as Sean’s assault continues, each dash pass or over him followed by another blast pounding him.
By the time the accumulating wounds on James’ whole figure have become a darkening yellow, he comes up with a response. Reaching out with his left hand, he mentally calls his scythe back to him, the weapon flinging across the arena and into his grasp. In the next instant, he turns and swings out in time to catch Sean in mid-dash, impaling him upon the blade with a slick, ripping sound. He sneers at the wounded look on his face until Sean suddenly grabs the rod of the scythe, generates more air balan
ce, and then with a twist and yank pulls him off the floor and into a rapid spin in mid-air, Sean its center and James the propeller wing.
The audience of the arena, having been cheering in swells at the battle, gasps in awe at the spectacle below, the two fighters locked in a funnel of fury. Within the twister, each one refuses to let go, for fear that they would be thrown and off guard long enough to be finished off. James hangs on to his weapon fiercely, snarling as fire, lightning, and arcane flows from him to Sean, damaging him with burns breaking out all over him as he keeps a grip on the scythe still hooked to him. In quick time, James’ snarl becomes a smirk as he sees the branching wounds burning red, knowing Sean will have to demorph at any moment.
His sense of victory is brief, though, when he picks up on Sean grinning back at him. He tries to think of why he could be grinning like that when he collides a few times with stone, his armored body bashed brutally by each impact and turning his wound energy to red. By the time he understands, that in their whirlwind Sean had guided them over to a wall of the arena to smash him against it, James is already launched away, his grip loosened from the hits to the wall, and in the midst of tumbling across the floor demorphs, his human form lying sprawled and still when he stops.
***
Landing, and still standing, on the arena floor, Sean huffs in his battle morph’s fatigue, his armor tattered by stripes of red across him, while the audience stares in silence for a moment. Then, the overhead speaker announces to break the silence, “The winner is Sean Wyseinburg.” Following immediately is the most of the freshmen students standing up and cheering, whooping and whistling, and the applause spreads through more of the crowd with claps and bravos.
Sean is slow to respond, but once he realizes he really is hearing applause for him his huffing becomes laughing when he gets into the moment, flexing and posing in victory. In the midst of his celebration, he notices some officials appear to put James on a cot to carry him out and to the infirmary. Oddly, he frowns, feeling sorry for beating James so badly, and he himself is not looking forward to demorphing after all the damage he has endured. He puts the dread out of his mind, though, and returns to waving and grinning at the spectators, his sense of pride and glee overwhelming him as he soaks up as much praise as he can.
***
A few minutes later, after Sean was dismissed, the next pair of fighters enters the gym. They are similar in the fact they are wearing kinds of uniforms, but different in their genders. Amelia strides across the floor in her black bolero and pants with green stripes while Buster marches in a thick military suit of gray and black. Each has a badge gleaming upon their chests to further set them apart, Buster’s being the coat-of-arms for his clan and Amelia’s her well-exposed cleavage. Most of the audience cheers for the well-known King of the Pit, and he acknowledges, waving his arms and grinning at them. As for Amelia, seemingly oblivious to them, some of the students, male or female, either stare in wonder or scorn at her.
The two fellow seniors put themselves a few yards apart in the center of the arena and look to each other. Buster takes a deep breath, lets it out, and then says, “Well, here we are, finally. I’ve been waiting all week for this. No, I’ve been waiting the whole semester for this! I was very sure that I would get here, but to be honest, I didn’t expect to find myself facing-off with you, Amelia!”
Amelia chuckles, brushing back some of her long brown hair, and replies, “Nor did I, Buster. But who could have known that Ryan would get himself into hot water like he did?”
“Heh, yeah. The guy’s pretty lousy, but even that bit he did to Irene is just awful. Besides it being cruel and unethical, harming somebody not in morph, there’s also no sport in it!”
Amelia chuckles more dryly at the mention of Irene. “Yeah, there is that. Ryan’s never treated women properly. He’s certainly no gentleman, like you.” Her eyes twinkling, Amelia says, “You are quite the gentleman from what I remember. Right, Buster?”
Her comment chops through Buster’s chipper attitude, causing him to blush and fumble for words. “Er, hehe, uh, yeah, I guess that’s right. That was awhile ago, though, wasn’t it?”
“Hmm. Yes, it was. About a year ago, I think it was. That’s when you became so prominent in battles you crowned yourself the champion of the pit arena, and so I became, well, interested in you.”
“Ah, right. Yeah, that sounds right. Hah, I made quite an impression on you, didn’t I?”
“Oh, I suppose. But I think I made a greater one on you. I was the first one you went all the way with, right?”
“…Yeah. That’s right. I try not to think back on it, though.”
“Oh, but why? Did you not like it? Enjoy it?”
“Ah, well, yeah, sure I did. Really, I did! But, now to think back on it, it’s almost, you know, embarrassing.”
Amelia laughs at the rare sight of a timid Buster, and says, “That’s too bad. I had hoped you would have felt more, oh, enlightened from it, than embarrassed. Like Matt has.”
“Yeah, I suppose that’s another word for it, but…” Buster pauses when the last thing she says sticks to him, coyness replaced by curiosity. “Wait, did you just mention Matt? You mean, you, and Matt…?” When Amelia nods, he bursts out laughing, saying when he can talk again, “Why does that not surprise me? Of course you would be interested in the freshman freedom fighter!”
Amelia shrugs before replying, “Yes, I did show my interest in him, soon enough, but he was the one who approached me, first. He has been shy and hesitant, but once he’s warmed up to it he makes for a great partner. I think he’s getting better at it, even, since the last time. At this rate, he could soon be as much a ‘gentleman’ as you were, Buster.”
“Heh, oh really? Well, good for him, I suppose. If he had to get smitten by someone around here, he’s lucky it was someone as beautiful, and charitable, as you.”
“Aw, Buster, that’s such a nice compliment from you. Thank you, but, aren’t you somewhat jealous that Matt could soon surpass you in it?”
“Eh, I don’t know. Fighting’s my only real passion, and it has been awhile, so what could I do about it?”
“Hmm. Well, if you were up to it, later tonight we could give you a chance to match Matt. That is, if we don’t beat ourselves up too much, here!”
“Haha, yeah! Um…” Buster looks around at the arena audience, quieting as the match is about to begin, and then smirks back at Amelia. “Tell you what. If I win this, then sure, I’d be down for it. I could look at it as a kind of ‘prize’ for my victory. But, if I lose, I would have to decline. If I can’t beat you in battle, then how could I please you in bed?”
Blinking at his proposition, Amelia then chuckles, smirking back at him. “That sounds fair enough. I’ll almost feel bad, though, for defeating you here and not making it up to you later.”
“Heh, you need not worry about that, I’m a tough guy. And besides, I’m sure somebody we know would love to indulge you later, if I lose.” Amelia shakes her head before the two become rigid in pose, ready to morph as the countdown above ends and the siren goes off.
***
Out of two morphing flashes, one green and the other grey, the seniors reappear in their battle morphs, Buster being the larger one as a MechWarrior, two heavy guns mounted off his back and his left arm twisting into a shotgun aimed at his smaller foe. He fires once, but all he penetrates is a sudden screen of deep mist, steaming up and past him in a haze. Puzzled, he looks around, his mechanical vision and sensors blinded by the hot mist, and gets struck by a bolt of energy from behind, the spell jabbing the weak spot of his neck and leaving a green glowing wound. He whirls around, getting a glimpse of Amelia in the thickening mists around them, before a gust of a different gas, like smoke, swirls into him, disorienting him while particles sting at his armor, leaving sparkling spots of wounds all over him.
Blind and slightly desperate, both his gun mounts gatling barrels sweeping rapid fire in all directions, Buster knows if he can’t get a cle
ar shot at her hiding in the mists surrounding him, Amelia’s spells will grind down and eventually defeat him. In a few more moments, when his gun mounts’ cores are near overheating, and more plumes of smoke, like poison, enter the gaps of his armor to spread internal damage throughout him, his wounds darkening to yellow, he finally figures out what to do.
With a large propulsion of air balance, he launches himself up into the air, escaping the formidable fog, and hovers high above the arena to aim his arms as special guns down and rain grenades into the mist. The enchanting emerald haze erupts with the fiery flashes of the grenades exploding, the gases blending and scattering, before Buster’s scoped vision at last locates his target by a far wall of the arena, where she had fled to avoid the blasts.
The only thing serving as armor, or at least clothing, for Amelia’s humanoid battle morph is a light aura of her magic mist, the most of her bare body visible except for the parts the mist thickens to cover her sexual features. She could have been a beautiful sight if her body also isn’t wounded, her shoulders, arms, legs, and the left side of her face afflicted with yellow glowing burns from the grenade blasts. She looks herself over, frowning at the wounds, and back across the arena to where Buster lands, his gun mounts now rocket launchers. Her frown gets deeper as she takes the moment to heal some of her wounds with wisps cast over her, the burns changing to green in color and disappearing from her face.
Not going to give her more time for healing, Buster fires a few rockets from each gun mount, and they arc through the air to converge downward at Amelia. With the energy missiles coming from her right and left, and a wall behind her, she has only one escape route. She takes it, surging forward on a twister of mists containing her lower body, while the rockets barrage where she was once standing.
Alkalians Page 37