Chapter 71 - Pawns

There was a breathless tension in the air around the arena as hundreds of eyes watched in rapt fascination at the scene playing out before their eyes.

The small boy whom everyone had discounted as another victim to pad Adept Hawthorn’s rampage across the arena rankings, was still alive and well, dashing along the border of the arena while Hawthorn could only cautiously draw closer.

Previously, any of the students watching would have laughed out loud at such a sight. Now, no one could. It seemed only reasonable and prudent to approach this deadshot archer with the utmost caution, even when everything seemed to suggest the Adept was holding the upper hand.

After all, in a true battle complacency came at a steep cost. One only had to look at Hawthorn’s torn face to understand this. On his right cheek, a bloody flap of skin curled down and showed flashes of white teeth beneath. Only a second’s hesitation had prevented such a wound from being a fatal one.

Hawthorn cursed under his breath at the pain flaring from his cheek. He paid no further attention to it, however, other than to use it to further hone his focus on hunting down his elusive prey. He readily admitted that he had badly underestimated the brat. It infuriated him to no end that not long ago he had derided his cousin Dalian for making such a basic mistake. Now, he had repeated the same mistake, and only his finely honed battle instinct and experience had saved the day.

Humiliation burned his face worse than the wound did. As his hand tightened upon the globe of fire it cradled, he closed the final fifty feet that separated him from the brat.

It was time to end this.

Skyle had begun to stumble on purpose, skidding on the sand and just barely catching himself a few times. In truth, he didn’t have to try very hard. The burns on his back must be far more serious than he had feared, and the pain was getting increasingly worse. He was also not used to extended battles such as this. Just running along the perimeter had depleted most of the remaining stamina he had.

As such, even the cautious Hawthorn would not be able to resist drawing closer. Skyle skidded and slipped as he kept running, and as he did so he began to throw more frequent looks over his shoulder at Hawthorn. He did his best to infuse as much desperation and fear as he dared into his features, careful not to overdo it.

It was all an act. A carefully, meticulously contrived facade. It was all the more convincing because Skyle truly was in desperate straits, and if he were capable of the emotion he would surely be swamped in fear. As it was, he was doing the best he could under the circumstances.

As much as he loathed the idea, the rest would be up to luck.

Hawthorn no longer taunted Skyle, nor did he play with him with meaningless words. It seemed the small boy had at least gained his grudging respect. Skyle would have much rather have his opponent underestimate him again, but his foe was too smart for that.

No matter, for even his caution could be used against him.

Skyle skidded on the sand once again, and this time he wasn’t able to recover in time. He sprawled on the ground with a painful crash, sending a small cloud of dust into the air. Shaking his head dazedly, Skyle scratched at the ground as he tried to scramble to his feet.

Hawthorn was still holding on to his shield as he approached closer. His face had stiffened into an emotionless mask. The eagerness in his face had faded now, and his eyes narrowed into suspicion as he steadily moved closer with his fire bolt held up high. He did still not fire, as he had not failed to notice the boy still held on to his bow. It was suspicious, to say the least.

The little boy lay just inside of the arena. A sudden dive would send him straight through the barrier and waste Hawthorn’s fire bolt. The few seconds he would need to summon another one would take precious focus away from what the boy was doing, and he could ill afford the distraction. Not anymore. He would not underestimate the boy again.

He did not want a repeat of what had happened before. This time, he would make sure he finished his enemy off.

45 feet. 40 feet. 35 feet. Just a little closer, and he would be close enough that his fire bolt would reach its target before he could move away.

The boy finally regained his footing. He sent one final look toward Hawthorn, and the expression of naked fear and despair finally snapped something in Hawthorn’s predatory instincts. His patience had finally run out. It may not be close enough, but it would have to do.

Hawthorn flung his arm up, and the firebolt turned into a streak of light as it sped towards the boy.

As though a signal light had been fired, the brat instantly burst into motion. He did not rush toward the barrier, however. Instead, he dove away from it.

Hawthorn realized his mistake. He had aimed at a point between his enemy and the barrier, assuming the boy would try a desperate lunge towards safety. His prey’s move in the opposite direction was a courageous one, and it sent his firebolt splashing harmlessly against the barrier.

Immediately, Hawthorn began casting another spell. He realized the shortcomings of the firebolt. It had longer range, but it was too narrow and focused. He needed another Flameburst spell, like the one he had used before. Though it had a much shorter range, its area of effect damage would make it impossible to dodge at close quarters.

As all this flashed past his thoughts, he did not neglect the positioning of his Fire Shield. He carefully positioned it between himself and the boy, all the while advancing closer and continuing to prepare the Flameburst spell that would finally end this fight.

All signs of lethargy had fled from the boy. When he dove, it was a perfectly executed evasive maneuver. It ended in a roll that smoothly led to the boy regaining his feet. He didn’t stop there either.

His elusive prey immediately launched himself into a desperate dash, and while he did so he lifted his bow up and tugged on the bowstring - with no arrow in hand. The move badly shocked Hawthorn, as he couldn’t comprehend what the boy was doing. Only at the last moment, did he catch the glint of a silvery object pinched between the archer’s fingers.

“Dalian’s badge?” The thought flashed incredulously in Hawthorn’s head.

He immediately shifted his fire shield to meet the new threat. His opponent’s bow twanged loudly and Hawthorn could barely catch a streak of silver before his shield popped and crackled with a jittery release of power.

“It’s the magic in the badge!” Hawthorne cursed inwardly. “It’s causing fluctuations in my shield’s structure!”

The thought flashed in his head as he considered the implications, but he was committed now. It was only a minor disturbance, mostly impeding his sight directly in front. His Flameburst was almost ready, and that would be the end. The fact that the brat had been forced to use the badge as a projectile meant he truly had run out of arrows.

Tracing the last few elemental runes for the Flameburst spell in the air before him, Hawthorn peered through the confusing fluctuations of power in his fire shield. He didn’t even consider lowering the shield, even now. If his prey was this outstanding with a bow, he could just as easily have been trained in hand-to-hand combat, and Hawthorn himself had none. He had his magic and nothing else. Fortunately, the fire shield should easily repel any frontal physical assault.

BOOM!

The sudden explosion rocked Hawthorn back in his steps. It was not the force of the blow, for his shield had done its job and absorbed the impact. It was the surprise he felt at the unexpected attack.

"He still has arrows? But I didn't see any in his hands or back! What is going on here?" Hawthorn snarled in his head, still unable to understand what had happened.

Sparks and burning pieces flew into the air as his shield still rippled from an impact point directly in front of Hawthorn's forehead.

"If I didn't have my shield up right in front of me.." Cold sweat rolled down Hawthorn's back.

Still, he was a veteran of the arenas and had maintained his composure. Even the shock of the unexpected attack had not interrupted his spellcasting. For a brief instant he considered backing away while his fire shield recovered and he regained vision. However, he was loath to allow his cunning prey the opportunity to flee back across the barrier. His Flameburst spell was almost ready. He just needed to stay alert for any more surprises.

Suddenly, he caught a blur of motion moving to the side of his fire shield, back towards the entrance to the arena. Before he even turned his head, he automatically shifted his shield’s position. He had expected something like this, but would not be caught off-guard.

It was why he watched in stupefied confusion when he saw a bow clatter to the ground.

“It was a decoy!”

The cold thought flashed in his head. Immediately, he tried to shift his fire shield back to its original position, but it was already too late.

By the time Hawthorn turned his attention back in front of him, the boy was already soaring through the air in his direction. His fire shield was still adjusting from his last shift, and Hawthorn's panic only made it more difficult to retain the focus to move the shield in time.

As it was, the fire shield was still flickering unstably when the boy was right on top of him. Hawthorn desperately tried to finish the last elemental rune, but was interrupted by the booted feet that struck his chest. The sudden blow was the result of a flying dropkick that delivered all the mass and momentum of the brat's body and focused it into one narrow point.

All breath violently exploded from Hawthorn’s lungs as he was launched off his feet by the impact. Hawthorn’s face was twisted with shock and pain. He had been wary the brat might have combat training, but this kick had been delivered with impeccable timing and overwhelming force. Was this still a kid?

Truly panicked for the very first time, Hawthorn tried to roll with the impact like he had seen the boy do earlier when he avoided the firebolt. Reality brought a rude awakening, as Hawthorn’s limbs lay twisted in a tangle and refused to obey his commands.

Then he felt a sudden weight upon his chest. He thought of pushing it away, but then he saw a shadow rapidly expanding in his vision. Though he wanted to shield his head, his arms simply would not obey his commands. His vision exploded with stars as he felt a vicious blow that crushed his nose. It jarred his brain and scrambled his thoughts. He couldn’t even tell which direction was up or down as he twisted feebly to get away from the pain.

It was no use. Blows continued to rain upon him nonstop. He heard disturbing crunching noises with nearly every flash of pain. He couldn’t feel his arms or legs. He tried to squirm and roll away on the ground while struggling to draw a single breath into his quivering lungs so he could at least scream in pain, but the weight on top of his chest would not relent.

Then a blinding light descended upon him, and blessedly, the pain was no more.

A deathly stillness permeated the entire valley. Hundreds of spectators were each asking themselves if what they had just witnessed had truly happened or was simple a mere delusion.

Skyle gritted his teeth as he felt the barrier’s protective shield firmly push him off from where he had straddled Hawthorn’s chest. His knuckles were torn and bleeding but he did not seem to notice. This had been an act of calculated brutality on his part, as each blow from his fists had targetted specific parts of his opponent’s face.

It was a simple list that he ran down. He began with the most sensitive and easily destructible nose. A single blow had been enough to crack the cartilage and cause incapacitating pain. Then he moved on to every accessible part of Hawthorn’s face with chilling, methodical deliverance enforced by brutal strength. If one blow was not enough to break bone or sever tendons, another would follow, then another, and another. It was well that Skyle had two fists, for a single one would not have been able to endure the rigors of his retaliation.

That’s what it all came down to, in Skyle’s mind. This was not about vengeance. He had no room in his mind for such petty, inefficient considerations.

This was retaliation. It was about delivering the maximum amount of damage possible in as efficient a manner he could manage in his current circumstances. This would ensure that his target would be disabled for as long as possible, while at the same time serving as a further warning to anyone watching from outside and even thinking about emulating Hawthorn’s behavior.

Basically, he was slaughtering the alpha in order to warn off the rest of the pack.

Mess with me at your own peril.

Skyle was still dissatisfied with the amount of damage he had inflicted. Skyle had considered gouging out Hawthorn’s eyes with his thumbs or crushing his throat, but had promptly decided against such methods as he still was not sure what exactly would trigger the barrier’s protection.

What he was certain of was that he did not share the same kind of protection the students did. This had been obvious to him for two reasons. First, Hawthorn had seemed blindly certain he could kill him, whereas he had only gravely injured his other victims. Second, the injury to his back could easily have been fatal if he had been a fraction of a second slower in rushing through the barrier, yet no protective barrier of any sort had defended him. With his level of elemental defense, or lack thereof, if the barrier wanted to protect him it would have activated the moment the spell began to burn his unprotected skin.

He had gotten lucky. This much, Skyle knew. He had only thrown the badge in hopes that the object would provide some temporary distraction. His earlier fall inside the arena had been in order to reach the one place where he was certain there would be an intact arrow waiting for him - the first arrow that had missed when Hawthorn first entered the barrier.

Skyle had been planning on distracting Hawthorn with the badge, convincing the Adept that he truly had run out of arrows. Then he would produce that final arrow and try to circumvent his shield. If all else failed, he had planned to make a final stand by the fallen sword lying right by the entrance of the arena.

However, he had been lucky. He certainly had not expected the small badge to produce so great an effect upon the Adept's fire shield. Thinking fast on his feet, he had capitalized on the opening and had been able to use his strength against his opponent's weakness.

Breathing harshly, Skyle slowly stood up while commanding his legs not to shake. The fire burning in his veins was slowly subsiding, and with it a crashing wave of exhaustion hit Skyle. He needed to leave this place before he could be waylaid again. Walking toward the exit of the arena, Skyle realized that he had underestimated just how dangerous the academy could be to a talentless cripple like him.

As he thought of this, a deep suspicion began to well up within his chest. This certainly could not be normal, even accounting for the academy’s policy of nonintervention in student affairs. His petty personal grudge against Dalian might have been beneath the authorities’ dignity to interfere with, but Skyle was under no illusion that every action within campus grounds would be strictly monitored. If so, why had they allowed this second fight? By now, nearly every soul in campus had to know what was happening, and yet not a single staff member was present.

Skyle shuddered as he rephrased his last thought. No member of the academy staff might be visible, but were they truly not present? With his currently abilities, it would be difficult or near impossible for Skyle to spot a Master level elementalist who did not wish to be seen.

If they were here, then why had they not interfered?

Skyle’s blood ran cold as it slowly dawned upon him that they already had.

Having just barely reached the barrier, Skyle froze in his steps. Already, he could see the looks of shock and hear the cries of surprise coming from the crowd below.

Skyle slowly turned around, all the while hoping he was wrong.

The fluctuations of fire energy he spotted told him he was not, even as he turned his bitter, disappointed gaze upon their source.

Hawthorn stood on his feet as he met Skyle’s gaze. His face was marked with bruises yet no signs of crushed bones and little blood could be seen. His nose was once again straight and most telling of all, the bleeding wound on his cheek from Skyle’s earlier arrow was also gone, and only a slightly puckered scar remained.

Skyle truly was bitter and disappointed. Not at the academy, who obviously would do anything in order to further their own goals. To Skyle, this was only rational, and if he was to be the sacrifice needed for this to happen, then it was only Skyle’s own fault for not being to see it coming earlier.

No, what truly disappointed Skyle was that he had not seen it coming before. Like a foolish lamb, he had walked into the slaughterhouse. Now, he would be the fresh meat used in the feast Aegis Academy had been starving for this whole past year.

None of the events that had just transpired surprised Skyle anymore. If anything, it all made perfect sense now.

The only surprise at this moment was the look in Hawthorn’s eyes. Without the fire shield sapping his concentration, his spellcasting had been far faster than before. His hands had already finished preparing his spell, and only waited for the fire Adept to unleash the deadly elemental force upon Skyle’s defenseless flesh.

Yet, at this moment Hawthorn hesitated, and the look in his eyes surprised Skyle. Not because he saw compassion for his young victim or shame at having cheated to achieve victory over a talentless cripple of a boy.

No, Hawthorn was torn at this moment because within his eyes the burning embers of a fierce pride struggled against the shackles of a greater power. He knew he must submit, and this knowledge only galled his spirit all the more.

He only just now had realized, just as Skyle had, that they were both mere pawns caught up in a far greater game.

Skyle saw the bitterness within his opponent’s eyes that reflected what he himself felt.

“What fools we have been,” Skyle noted with the most emotion he had allowed himself in all this time. “Mere bugs playing at being kings.”

As he slowly backed away from the roiling power of Hawthorn's spell, Skyle could feel the hard shell of the barrier spell push forcefully against his back.

"As expected,"

Skyle’s lips curled into a crude, mocking sneer. "So this is what it means to be a pawn."

As though that had been a signal, Hawthorn finally released his spell with a great, enraged cry. The fire Adept didn’t even bother watching the results, for he knew there could be no change in this script.

The tide of fire swallowed Skyle whole, for this was a pawn’s fate.

To be used, then disposed when its purpose had been fulfilled.

“NOOOO!” came the shrill cry of a familiar voice.

It was the last thing Skyle heard before darkness took it all away.