A loud cracking sound was heard inside the gym. The solid wooden knife in the 12 year old’s hand was crushed into pieces.

While Timofey went to a stand to replace it, some of those around him showed looks of apprehension. However, Ryan wasn’t one of them, and he even took this opportunity to lecture the pixie further.

“You can’t even hold a knife properly and you want to spar with your instructor? Boy, I need to correct the adults. I don’t have time for…”

“Then, you can start with me,” Timofey interjected. Out of all the practice knives on display, he chose the one which looked sharpest.

“Did you not hear what I said? You’re a kid. When the second round starts, just find a rock and hide underneath it.”

Some of the adults were getting tired of his attitude, but Ryan was too far gone to notice. When he turned towards Rachel, the girl was watching him with furrowed brows.

“Rae, why did you allow these kids to join us? I understand why you’re protecting Finn, but those two are disposable.”

‘Disposable?’ Timofey almost fell into a trance. ‘His own people are disposable?’

For a while now, the pixie was somewhat remorseful for his species' attacks on the others. A few times, he even considered apologizing to Alric on their behalf.

However, in what world were children something to be abandoned? What would this man think of the countless sacrifices he and his peers had made for their young ones?

When Timofey arrived in front of him, Ryan paused for just a moment. A few years ago, the boy’s tilted head and expressionless face might have triggered an alarm bell. However, the man’s fighting days were far into the past as were his senses.

“Let us begin.”

“Fine,” the instructor snorted. “We’re having a spar! Anders, pair up with the other kid, and let’s get started.”

When he turned back towards Timofey, the boy still had no stance, no defense, nothing.

“Now?”

“Yes, come at me. Show me what you’ve…”

In the middle of Ryan's sentence, the pixie’s heel smashed into his face. With the grace of an Olympic gymnast, the boy did a back flip and landed a few feet away.

“This a knife fight!” the instructor shouted while trying to stop the smoke which flowed out of his nose.

Before he could wipe away the water which gathered inside his eyes, Timofey approached with inhuman speed and stabbed the wooden blade into his crotch. The man bent while screeching, and the boy punched his neck. Ryan rolled on the floor wailing before the pixie stomped on his head.

“This is a fight,” Timofey growled while slamming the man’s skull repeatedly into the ground. A few moments later, Anders’ giant hands managed to pull him off, but not before enough smoke had poured out of Ryan that his unconscious face could no longer be seen.

“Somebody, call an ambulance!” his partner shouted.

“They might not come,” said Rachel. “Grab the first aid kit from the lobby. We’ll drive him ourselves.”

While Anders and the bodybuilding instructor carried Ryan to the car, everyone else scurried off leaving Alric to deal with his brother. However, after finding themselves alone, neither boy knew what to say. Eventually, Alric opened his mouth only for Timofey to raise a hand in front of it.

“Don’t,” said the pixie while shaking his head. “If anybody asks, you can find me at my computer.”

The youth wasn't sure what to do anyway, so he let his partner leave. What would happen now? How would the others react? He didn’t know.

‘I’m in way over my head,’ he mumbled while sitting on the floor.

Ever since he was little, Alric was confident in his brain. He was just five when his father lost his accounting job and started a new career in drinking. His mother took on more responsibilities, and the babysitter cared only for his one year old brother.

Alric was alone. In the years which followed, he learned how to eat when his father was asleep, and how to bathe himself without making a sound. There was no one to help or cheer him through school, yet he was always first in his class.

The boy learned to think for himself and to live on his own. Loneliness made him strong. It made him smart.

‘It made me arrogant,’ he realized now.

But then, at 17, the teen failed at the one sport he thought he’d be invincible at. His girlfriend dumped him, and his grades were about to drop.

Subconsciously, Alric saw the demon’s invitation as a chance to prove he hadn’t lost his touch. Like a gambler doubling down after taking a hit, he bet all his chips and lost everything.

‘No.’ The teen slapped his cheeks and shook the thoughts away. ‘It’s not over.’ He picked up the knife and resumed his training.

The remaining classes were most likely cancelled, so Alric was left on his own. Only several hours later did someone finally check up on him.

“I brought food,” said Rachel after knocking on the opened door.

“How’s Ryan?”

“In intensive care. You don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

Alric walked out of the pool of sweat he had created and used a towel to dry himself off.

“If Tim goes, I’ll have to follow.”

“No need,” Rachel reassured him. “I’ve already made my stance known to the others. The bodybuilder and Muay Thai teams have chosen to leave, and Ryan will not be returning.”

“I’m sorry,” the youth bowed his head on his partner’s behalf.

“Don’t be silly. I’m the one who called you here.” Rachel handed him a chicken salad bowl while she organized her thoughts.

‘Why is it always salad?’ the teen winced. For such a large establishment, the food was surprisingly bland.

“Alric, although I’m not mad, you do need to keep an eye on him.”

“I know.” The problem was: What could he do if something like that were to happen again?

“You need to be ready.”

“I know.” 'But, how?'

“I’m not talking about the pixie having another outburst.” Rachel waited for him to lift his eyes. “For now, improve your strength and keep watch. However, when that demon announces the final round, I expect you to be prepared and capable of taking Timofey out.”

…………………………………………………………..

According to Amon Grigori’s rules, both partners needed to keep each other alive until the final round. Alric knew he had to find a countermeasure for the pixie until then. Unfortunately, not only was Timofey some sort of a genius, but his combat skills easily matched his peers.

To help clear his mind, Alric asked Rachel for a spar. Normally, it would’ve been a great idea if only the girl knew how to hold back.

“Faster,” she encouraged while poking his solar plexus and liver. “Keep your mind empty and move based on instinct.”

‘Easy for you to say.’ This thought was enough of a distraction for Alric to get hit several more times. After slicing and poking what he felt were every vital point on his body, Rachel slammed into him, swept his legs, and sent the teen flying on his back.

“Pause.” Alric lifted a hand while gasping for air.

“Never get too comfortable. Once you get used to your opponent’s flow, you should assume she will change it.”

After his lungs had somewhat recovered, the youth grabbed Rachel’s hand and pulled himself up.

“Why did you gather all of these people when you’re like a female Yoda?” Alric was referring to her knowledge, but all she could hear was short and green. The girl’s smile became a bit unhinged, and she proceeded to punish his body.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the next day’s knife lesson was led by Rachel. This didn’t sit well with her, but there was no other choice.

All of her life, the girl looked down on teachers. Instead of practicing their art and testing its limits, most of them lived through the next generation.

When she won a tournament, they bragged about it online as if it was their win. When she grew in rank, they expected thanks. Her sweat, her work: Those felt secondary in importance.

“Anders, don’t take unnecessary risks just because you’re bigger. Hannah, great stance!” As she corrected her students in rapid fire succession, Rachel wondered if she would become like her mentors, just another teacher who preached and did not do.

‘Focus,’ she scolded herself. This was not the time for inner monologues. Ryan was gone, and she needed to step up.

The loss of their muay thai instructor was also cumbersome. Thankfully, by combining full contact karate taught by Anders with the boxing skills promoted by a certain Miss. Emma, this hole in their training was covered.

In the days which followed, they managed to re-establish a routine. Her class would start at two in the afternoon and end at four. Alric would always ask her to help for an hour or two afterwards, but after taking on an unfamiliar role, Rachel was tired.

The boy was nonetheless relentless. The girl tried to refuse numerous times, but in the end, she would always give in.

“How about we take a break?” she suggested after a week of almost nonstop training. “Rest is also important.”

“Not if I want to catch up to Tim. I’m not a prodigy like you, so I have to make up for it with work.” By now, Rachel knew the youth’s intentions were pure, but his wording was horrendous.

“I’m not some prodigy,” she said a bit louder than planned. “I’ve trained my ass off since I was 10, two to three times a day for years on end.”

While she huffed and puffed, Alric carefully considered her words. Still, after some deliberation, he shook his head.

“Not possible.” Be it hand to hand, weapons, or even take-downs, the girl could do it all. “You can’t learn so many fighting styles without some serious talent. Not in a mere five or six years.”

It took Rachel a few moments to understand his words, but once she did, the woman felt conflicted. ‘Should I slap his stupid face or feel sorry for him?’

“Alric, you do realize I’m not your age, don’t you?”