Chapter 127: Chapter 127: A Friendly Duel

Chapter 127: A Friendly Duel

  Stryg stretched his legs and arms in the cold morning air. His duel would be coming up in a few minutes and he wanted to be limber for whatever came at him. Most of the others in class seemed reluctant to duel, but Stryg was eager to test his skills, although he was prohibited by Loh to reveal his newfound magical abilities. He was strictly limited to chromatic orange, grey, and black magic. Stryg smiled to himself, that was enough for him.

  “Ugh, I hate duels,” Nora Azol muttered.

“You know, if professor Loh was our instructor this year we would have already fought dozens of duels,” Clypeus Gale said.

  “Thank Stjerne. You don’t know how happy I am that our first actual duel is at the end of the quarter. I’m all for duels being treated like a midterm or something. I don’t think I could stomach duel after duel like last year,” Nora shivered.

  Clypeus draped his cloak over her shoulders, “You’re too modest. Most students in this class wouldn’t stand a chance against you.”

“Nah, I’m just lazy,” Nora giggled. “...You think Freya stands a chance at winning today?”

  “She’s one of the three most skilled magi among all the 2nd years. But, so is Stryg, and he’s got something she doesn’t.”

“What’s that?”

  “Sheer bloody tenacity.”

~~~

  Like the other students, Callum Veres stood outside in the dueling courtyard. Before today, they were all studying indoors, pouring over several books depicting the theory of magical dueling. That was all about to change. Today was the first official match of duels. Most of the class was preoccupied with preparing for their own matches, but his mind was elsewhere.

  Callum stared at Stryg stretching at the other end of the courtyard. He was the only goblin in class and he preferred to do most of his training alone, even after class.

  Sylvan, Callum corrected himself. Stryg was a Sylvan goblin. Stryg wasn’t from around here. He used to be a part of a tribe, the Blood Fang tribe to be precise. And that name had created a question that had haunted Callum’s mind endlessly the past few days, Why does your tribe have the same name?

  Callum’s father had told him the meaning of the Veres ancestral sword, their family’s legacy. Krikolm’s true name was Bloodfang. Callum had been stunned, though he had stayed quiet. He wouldn’t say anything, not until he figured out what it meant, if anything.

  The past few days Callum had tried looking on his own for more information regarding the Blue Rose and Krikolm’s disappearance, but he came up empty. And so, the question still hung in his mind. Why did Stryg’s old tribe, Blood Fang, share the same name as the Veres sword?

  Callum groaned in frustration. It had to be a coincidence, there was no other explanation. The Blue Rose nor Krikolm could have had anything to do with Stryg nor his tribe. 

  Names were a fickle thing, they didn’t really matter, not really. What sort of name was Blue Rose anyway? It was strange, silly even. Every text he had looked for in the Veres personal library only mentioned her as the Blue Rose or Lady Veres, never by her first name. It didn’t make any sense, everyone shared the same surname, how was anyone supposed to tell her apart from the others?

  It was already hard enough to find any small mention of Blue Rose. Callum had spent sleepless nights trying to find out more about her and he couldn’t even figure out her first name. 

  Callum sighed, what a waste of time. 

All he knew of Lady Veres was her damn moniker, the Blue Rose. How was that supposed to help?

  Wait, Blue? The Blue Rose? Why was that her moniker anyway? Sure, names weren’t important, but they had to have come from somewhere, right?

  He had assumed that the Blue from her name came from the fact that she wore blue armor. But, House Veres’ colors were crimson and black. So, why would the family leader choose to wear blue armor? Wearing a different color scheme would be considered defiant and disrespectful to the House.

  The Blue Rose was the family leader and a great one at that or so Callum’s father had said. In which case, she would have never disrespected the House in such a manner. So, why would she change the color of her armor? Was she trying to stand out? No, that didn’t make sense, she already had it all, the brains, the looks, the magic. There was no need for her to try and stand out, she already did.

  Callum cocked his head in thought. Or maybe it was because she already stood out? Maybe it was something that she couldn’t hide, something that others might see as a weakness. House Veres always tried to hide their weaknesses and faults. But, what if she couldn’t? So, instead of hiding it, she embraced it? It had to be something too obvious to ignore. Something like a missing limb, or a wretched facial scar, perhaps? No, the Blue Rose was said to be a beauty. Maybe it was something like...

  Callum froze, he slowly turned to Stryg. The morning sun had begun to peak above the horizon. The light bathed the goblin’s skin a warm blue.

  “It can’t be…” Callum frowned.

“Oi, Stryg! You ready?” Kithina ran past Callum and jogged up to the goblin.

  “Hm? Oh, hey, Kitty. Yeah, I’m pretty much ready,” Stryg smiled.

“Great! Take your sweet time out there, okay? I want it to hurt,” Kithina laughed maliciously.

  “You know you’re not supposed to waste time on fights. You're supposed to win as efficiently as possible, not play with your prey,” Stryg shook his head.

  “You’re no fun,” Kithina pouted. “Where’s the Stryg who went overboard and would beat people half to death?”

  “Efficiency is key,” Stryg hissed.

“Ooh, scary. Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Her eyes gleamed brightly.

  “Huh?” He furrowed his brow.

“Don’t worry about her, she’s just excited is all,” Callum walked up to them.

  “Cal, do you have any intel?” Stryg asked.

“What? Intel, what are you talking about?” Callum swallowed.

  “Intel on gold-eyes? Anything I should know about?” Stryg asked.

  “Oh, yeah, of course,” he laughed awkwardly. “Uhm, yeah. Ahem. Freya’s one of the most talented mages I’ve seen in the academy. She’s a dual manifold mage, a chromatic orange and white. You may have a strong body, but her magic is impressive. You should be very careful.”

  “Yeah, especially with her white magic. You don’t want to get flashed with a bright spell again like last year’s final exam,” Kithina said.

  “Right, I almost forgot. Cal shot a blast of light straight into my eyes,” Stryg narrowed his eyes.

  “Sorry, about that,” Callum raised his hands in surrender. “I wasn’t trying to hit you, honestly. I was trying to help you against Clypeus. I was trying to stun him. You see, vampires may have good night vision, but their eyes are sensitive to light. I just didn’t expect your eyes to be sensitive… too.”

  “Cal, you alright? You look like you just saw a shade?” Kithina grabbed his arm.

“...I’m fine,” Callum nodded slowly.

  He stared into Stryg’s lilac eyes, their slit pupils undulating in a strange pattern. Coincidence, it had to be a coincidence, Callum shook his head.

  “First challengers, up on the dueling ring, now!” The professor called out.

“Looks like I’m up.” Stryg headed to the platform.

  “May Lunae give you strength!” Kithina called out.

Stryg looked back at her. He knew she didn’t believe in the gods, but he appreciated the gesture. 

  “Thanks,” he smiled wryly.

~~~

  Stryg hopped up onto the dueling ring. There were no rungs or walls of any sort to prevent someone from falling off. The platform stood a few feet above ground and was about forty feet in diameter. It paled in comparison to the arenas where magi actually dueled in front of cheering crowds, but the academy platform still had plenty of room for mock duels.

  “I’ve been waiting too long for this,” Freya smiled cheerfully from the other side of the ring.

“Why, gold-eyes? Do you like to lose?” Stryg tilted his head to the side.

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  Freya chuckled, “I get it. The arrogance. You won last time, it only makes sense. But, this time we aren’t just using our fists. This is a magical duel. Things won’t play out the way you think.”

  Stryg smiled, his small fangs gleaming in the sunlight, “Show me.”

  The professor climbed up a nearby 10 ft wooden tower and sat down, looking down at the entire ring and the duelists. The rest of the class stood around the platform, eagerly awaiting the match.

  The professor cleared his throat, “The match will only end when a duelist concedes, is knocked off the platform, or is knocked unconscious. Spells are allowed, killing is not. Any death that ensues from the match will lead to the expulsion of the duelist responsible. A white mage healer will be standing by in case of any injuries. Attacking anyone besides your opponent is prohibited. Failure to abide by any of these rules will lead to expulsion. Understood!?”

  “Understood,” Stryg and Freya said in unison.

“Begin!” The professor yelled.

  Freya did not hesitate. She thrusted her palms forward, two fireballs blasted forth, one after the other. Stryg felt his orange mana flow into his hand. He stuck his palm out and spread his fingers, a stream of fire blew forth and met the fireballs in a clash of heat and flame.

  The brightness irritated his eyes, but not enough to trigger the change in his vision. The flames died out as quick as they appeared. The ring was suddenly filled with black smoke. 

  Stryg narrowed his eyes, the smoke shifted to the left. He ducked his head in time to dodge a double kick from Freya. She vaulted over him, spun in the air, and delivered another kick to his back.

  He rolled away and managed to come out with only a scrape. Freya landed softly on her feet. The agility magic coursing through her body lessened her weight. Her entire body was covered with dark veins, a full-body agility spell, Stryg noted.

  “Why are you running away?” She smirked.

“You’re not the only chromatic orange, two can play that game,” Stryg sucked in a deep breath and dashed at her.

  Freya jumped in the air and threw a spin kick. He swept his feet to the side, evaded the blow, and followed up with a hook to her abdomen. Her hand caught his wrist and pushed away. Her body spun through the air and landed with a single elegant step.

  She grinned, “Not fast eno-”

  Stryg punched her sternum, she barely managed to jump back in time. His fist ended up merely glancing her shoulder, but the force was enough to send her skidding to the ground. He jumped up high and aimed his feet right down at her face. Her eyes widened, she curled into a fetal position, her head slipping right past the downward kick. The ring shuddered from the force of his landing.

  Freya pushed herself to her feet and tried putting as much distance from Stryg as she could. He turned to face her, his lilac eyes cold, pupils as thin as blades. Her shoulder was swelling with pain, but she was far from done. She placed her hand over the injury, soft white light covered the area, the healing spell mended the injured muscles in a matter of seconds.

  “Interesting,” Stryg flexed his claws.

Freya wiped her mouth, “We’re not done yet.”

  He ran at her, she ran right back at him. He threw a quick jab, she swerved her head around the strike and threw two swift jabs. Stryg dodged them both and went to counterattack, but Freya was swinging in with several more strikes.

  She assailed him with a variety of punches and kicks, all at different angles with incredible speed. Wherever she saw an opening, she’d strike with all the strength she could muster. Stryg tried attacking back, but he couldn’t find a chance. His entire focus was on trying to dodge each blow. Little by little she began pushing him to the edge of the ring.

  Stryg glanced back at the grass beneath the platform. The moment of distraction was all Freya needed, she jumped and kicked him in the chest. He blocked her foot with his forearm. The force of the blow pushed him back, but not off the platform.

  Freya landed a few feet away. “You’re heavier than I thought,” she glared.

“You got this, Stryg!” Kithina yelled from the crowd.

  He ignored the students’ voices and focused on his fight.

  “Stryg may be naturally fast, but they’re both casting agility magic and Freya’s spell is more powerful. The margin is small, but she’s faster,” Nora noted quietly.

  “It’s a close match,” Callum nodded.

Clypeus shook his head, “No, it’s not. Do none of you see it?”

  “See what?” Callum narrowed his eyes.

Clypeus pointed at the goblin, “Look closely at his skin.”

  Stryg cracked his neck, wrung his hand, and glanced at Freya, “I thought that would hurt more. I don’t know why I spent so much time dodging. Well, whatever.”

  Nora took a sharp breath, “Stryg’s veins. I can’t see his veins.”

Callum’s eyes widened, “Then that means-”

  “He hasn’t been using agility magic,” Clypeus finished.

  “Cocky as ever. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you your place. The place where all goblins belong, the ground beneath my feet,” Freya sneered.

  Stryg stopped moving, his lips formed a thin line, “What did you say?”

“Oh, no, did I hurt your little feelings?” Freya winced mockingly.

  Stryg stood silent. She took his lack of a response as a chink in his armor. She had finally gotten to him. Freya smiled and pressed on.

  “Sorry, to burst your imaginary bubble, but here’s a reality check, you shouldn’t be here. Or did you really think you deserved to be in this academy? You, a goblin?” Freya laughed. “This place is meant for the elite, the best Hollow Shade has to offer, not some savage. You should be out with the rest of your kind, cleaning the stables and cooking our food.”

  “...Let’s try this again,” Stryg bent his knees and leaned forward on the balls of his feet. He crouched low and let the orange mana flow through him. His veins darkened from his agility spell.

  “Bring it,” Freya grinned. “I’ll make su-”

  He dashed to her far right, her eyes lost sight of him. Freya whipped her head to the side. She felt the punch before she saw it. She gasped as the air was forced out of her lungs, her ribs breaking on impact. Her vision swam as her body flew through the air. She smacked into the ground with a loud thud. Her limp body skipped on the platform, like a stone in a pond.

  The crowd of students gasped and winced as they watched Freya skid all the way to the opposite edge of the ring. She tried getting up but only managed to cough up splatters of blood.

  Freya drew panicked shallow breaths, her eyes flitted about. She looked down at her broken ribs and whimpered in pain. She reached out with trembling hands. A faint white light glowed from her palms. Stryg ran over in a burst of speed. 

  Freya looked up in terror, “I conce-”

  Stryg smashed his fist over her jaw. Her mandible cracked, her cheek split open, and her teeth flew out in a bloody mess, dyeing her face a bright red. 

  Freya’s head smacked into the ground, but there was still anger in her bloodshot eyes. She threw her hand over Stryg’s face and summoned the most powerful bright spell she could manage. Rays of white light exploded across Stryg’s face. The ring of his irises broke and expanded, his vision darkened to a world of black and silver.

  Ribbons of white spread over his body, it irritated, but the light wasn’t strong enough to sear his skin. Stryg reached out and entwined his fingers with Freya’s own, his claws digging into the back of her hand. Grey mana vibrated within his arm and he spellcast the complex drain spell with singular intent. He began to leech the white mana from Freya’s body into his own.

  Freya groaned helplessly. He watched with emotionless eyes as her mana was drained. Her bright spell began to flicker, the ribbons of white light wavering and breaking apart, until they disappeared completely. 

  Stryg took a long deep breath, he could feel the white mana flowing through his veins and beginning to settle within his heart. Freya’s head lolled on the floor, her white mana drained, her orange mana spent.

  Freya whimpered weakly and with her uninjured arm, pulled herself over the edge. Stryg’s hand shot out, caught her blonde locks, and yanked her up before her body touched the grass below.

  The crowd watched in stunned silence as Stryg dragged the exhausted Freya away from the edge.

 

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