Chương 21: Chapter 20

Shadows reached out in vain, trying to impale their target; their spindly forms withered under the intense light bathing the field. The sources of both magics clashed. The light wielder held the upper hand, although this match was by no means decided. Cal wasn't too invested in the fight between Rolland and Benjamin. He would like the latter boy to come out ahead; unfortunately, the fight was tilted against his direction from the start. Some people liked to think certain elements were superior to others.

In Cal's experience, that was a load of rubbish. They all had their strengths and weaknesses. That being said, certain ones did have advantages when facing others. The best example of this was being played out in front of him. It certainly didn't help that the fight was occurring on a bright and sunny day. Poor Benny. Disadvantaged or not, the kid seemed to be enjoying himself. Even if neither side was giving it their all right now.

"You want my instruction?" Marcus regarded him with a tilt of his head, responding to the request he had made moments ago.

"Well, I need to learn how to use this thing." Cal flipped the spear in his hand a couple of times.

"I figured you could give me pointers. Since, you know." Cal's eyes moved between their weapons.

"I'm afraid I do not," Marcus replied, missing his meaning.

"We both use pointy sticks." Duh. Cal thought that obvious. The man could be visibly seen holding back a groan.

"That is a simplification; the trident and spear require two vastly different styles of fighting." Cal wasn't convinced. Truthfully, learning it by himself wouldn't be too difficult. It was a spear after all. Just because he didn't put much thought into choosing it didn't mean there was no consideration at all. In this world and his last, pointy sticks were mankind's greatest invention. They'd been a battlefield staple for hundreds of years precisely due to their ease of use.

"So you're telling me." Cal began skeptically.

"If I gave you this thing. You wouldn't know how to use it?" The man didn't meet Cal's eyes, keeping them on the ongoing fight.

"I'm under no obligation to assist you."

"True enough." Cal hadn't expected the man to agree right then and there. Rome wasn't built in a day; he'd whittle him down with time.

"I heard you had lunch with another party yesterday," Marcus commented in a manner similar to inquiring about the weather. Cal wondered who provided him with that bit of information. His interaction with Petro on the main floor hadn't been long. However, there were plenty of students around at that time. Did Petro tell the man himself, or was it another student? Cal couldn't discount it being a staff member either. If it was someone else, was it a random coincidence that it got back to Marcus?

Or was he keeping an eye on Cal specifically? He hoped not. Cal did not need people tracking his comings and goings.

"Food was alright," Cal responded in a noncommittal fashion. They watched in silence for a little until Marcus continued.

"Petro is an ambitious man. At times he can reach further than he should." Was that a warning? Cal had thought them of the same faction, based on their presence together in the city. Without knowing the relationship between Marcus and Petro, it was difficult to determine what to say next. Alice had returned late last night and went to bed shortly after, so he'd not had the opportunity to talk to her about the lunch. In hindsight, he should have asked Lily.

If he had, then maybe he'd not be second-guessing whether or not Marcus was trying to play some 4d chess move. The fight they had been spectating ended. Predictably, Rolland had come out on top. Cal looked to the side, where their teacher had set up the equivalent of a lawn chair and was currently napping.

"Shall we?" Marcus gestured to the now empty field. Cal bit back his reflexive refusal. Benny seemed to warm up to him after a fight, so would Marcus be the same? Fuck it. He wordlessly walked into the starting position.

"Well, now I'm hurt." His actions weren't missed by Rolland, who seemed in good spirits.

"When I ask you for a spar, you claimed tiredness, yet you so readily accept another? Come to think of it, there was a rumor I heard about another altercation you involved yourself in. You're quite fortunate I managed to catch that in time. It would be a shame for your attendance here to be cut short." Cal paused in his step.

"You think I owe you one or something?" The edges of Rolland's mouth moved upwards.

"A 'thank you' would not be amiss." Oracle and this guy must be related in some manner; he'd never wanted to rearrange someone's face so hard before. He took a breath and let it out slowly.

"Thanks," he muttered and went back to focusing on the upcoming fight. Cal had been through a lot of them recently. Far more than normal for him in a 'civilized' space. From his first days in the Federation, finding a sparring partner had always been a difficult task. Initially, it hadn't even been his reputation that had scared them off. He could concede that had changed nowadays, and it was a combination of both of theirs. It was an odd feeling, being in a place where everyone seemed to be jumping at it.

The change in pace did present a complication for him. As a rule of thumb, he threw most of his natural regeneration into the void, keeping only a quarter of his regular tank full at any given time. Lately, he'd been contributing less than he'd liked, using magic far more liberally than he'd originally intended. That needed to change. The confrontations like that with the Spirit being an exception. That was a necessary expense. Beating up noble brats? That was a discretionary expense.

Sure, he'd splurge now and then, but he couldn't do it every class. Of course, if he kept the fight short, he could have his cake and eat it too. He doubted that working here. Marcus did not strike him as incompetent; he'd not be able to make a repeat of his 'strategy' against Benny. Which meant this would be a drawn-out fight. He was going to lose. Fine. Nothing he hadn't done before. Both parties squared off. Marcus didn't stand on ceremony, waving his trident forward.

It came to life, sparks running down its length. The wind picked up, drawn towards the man. It swirled around, forming a cocoon of air. The sparks grew and turned into bolts of lightning, leaping out to touch Cal. Cal waited patiently for their arrival. A short step, a swing of the spear, and he came out no worse for wear. The bolts having been deflected or dodged. Lightning was pretty great at being a quick and powerful form of attack. It also proved one of the more difficult elements to control.

The consequence of that meant it was often treated as a fire-and-forget type of attack. Cal didn't press forward. That barrier of wind killed any hopes of being able to pull off a blitz. With his current restrictions, he'd either be flung aside or ripped to shreds if he tried. On the upside, the power used to maintain it would be a continuous drain on his opponent. Bolts in greater quantity lashed out. Cal didn't pay them much mind; the real threat was hidden at their flanks. Blades of wind.

Compared to their neighbors, what they gave up in speed and power was more than made up for in sheer lethality. There was a reason wind was his favorite flavor of magic. The magics converged on him. The bolts were designed to block his front while the wind arced around to hit him from the sides. Cal made to repeat his previous feat. Greater in number they may be, that amount of bolts wasn't enough to push him. He stepped past the first bolt, prepared to retreat another step to avoid a blade of wind.

His plan was scrapped as his instincts demanded he leap away entirely. They'd not been wrong, as the ground he'd been standing on erupted in a geyser. The magics impacted each other, mixing before giving chase to him. Sparkling water shot towards him, some of it in long tendrils, others barely a drop. Regardless of the form, Cal noticed they were coated in a thin layer of wind. Better than your average cultist. He considered letting it wash him away, but it wouldn't be sporting if he went down that easy.

Cal eyed the broken-up wave surging towards him. There, there, and there. No more dallying about; he met it head-on at one of the gaps that didn't look like bait. He weaved through the tide, dodging what he could and deflecting what he couldn't. One of the streams he pushed away rounded back on him. It wasn't the only one, as more and more attacks came up for seconds, thirds, and so on. He needed to make some concessions and allowed several of the smaller attacks to brush up against his blazer.

He didn't bother raising his shell for them, as the slight contact was not enough to pierce the material it was made out of. The ground beneath him gave way once more to a torrent of water. Similarly to the last, he managed to avoid it. The intensity of attacks kicked up a notch, and Cal found himself starting to struggle to cope with it all at the current level of augmentation he allowed himself. How long had it been? Had he reached the point where he could gracefully tap out?

His body was moving to dodge again when suddenly four separate geysers broke the ground, boxing him in. The waters closed in on all sides. Welp, that was that. He stood, waiting for the inevitable, when his senses informed him of some interesting developments. Maybe he'd be able to go on the offensive after all. He sprung up, ascending into the air a dozen meters and rising. He wasn't alone up here; wind blades rushed to greet him. It was a trap, a good one as well. It took quite a bit of effort to set up.

Cal had willingly thrown himself into it. Knowing that while the height would expose him, it would allow him a clear shot towards Marcus. Who, in setting up and maintaining the whirlpool of death Cal found himself in, had lowered his protective barrier. Cal still had his back to the man, not wanting to give anything away. Airborne, he twisted his body, narrowly avoiding a slice to his shoulder. For once, he used the focus in the spear.

Drawing the ambient magic into it, he found it to be a slow process; the quality of the thing was subpar. He avoided several more attacks but soon found himself in a situation that could not be resolved with a simple shift. He tapped his foot, and a small burst of fire propelled him just enough to be out of harm's way. Fighting midair was always a pain in the ass. Precious moments passed as he did his best to survive unscathed. The water had started to finally catch up. He was running out of time.

The spear was warm to the touch. He put what was left of the magic he'd rationed for this fight into it. Forfeiting after a single attack with 'all' his magic seemed reasonable. Then they can shake and be fake friends or whatever. His form stalled, having reached the apex of his jump. Now or never. His grip tightened, and he drew his arm back. Cal flipped himself, orientating himself upside down. Not the most comfortable of positions.

However, it did give him the nice sight of Marcus' eyes starting to widen in realization. The spear tore forward, having left Cal's possession. Once it impacted, Cal planned to detonate the magic left within it. It wouldn't do much, but a hit would be a hit. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. He didn't make a habit of throwing sticks, so it was to his surprise that the spear ended up on the right trajectory to hit Marcus.

Provided the man didn't move… Why wasn't he moving? Did he plan to take it with his shell? Wait. Why couldn't Cal sense his shell??? Cal's growing horror ceased as the spear was intercepted by a column of earth, burying itself deep. So he used four elements? Color him impressed. Below him, the outstretched tide was wavering, sections of it collapsing. Nonetheless, it still posed a danger. Hmm… maybe he should have saved some more to deal with this.

Before he could begin to form a plan, the attacks were swallowed by the rising earth. That wasn't Marcus. If he could accomplish that, the fight would have ended far sooner. The earth formed a platform that caught Cal after he righted himself, slowly lowering him back to the damp field.

"Lad." Ferguson had woken up sometime during the match.

"Can you do me a favor and not go around trying to kill students? My heart can't take it." In no way did Cal pout in response to that.

"It's not my fault," Cal corrected swiftly, turning toward the man who had started walking over.

"Why didn't you dodge? And where was your shell?" Marcus pursed his lips, stopping a little away from him.

"I may ask the same of you. Your shell was notably absent near the entire match." Cal called on his shell on an as-needed basis. It must have looked slightly strange from an outsider's perspective.

"I." He pondered hard for an excuse.

"Forgot." Surprisingly, it must have worked because neither looked dubious about his claim. Marcus spoke next.

"The manifestation I weaved was rather complex; had I broken concentration by taking defensive measures, it would have continued on its path." So he'd stood there, risking an attack for his sake? Cal's evaluation of the man rose.

"I had faith in our instructor's intervention." Marcus gave a slight bow to Ferguson.

"It was not misplaced." Cal's evaluation sank back to previous levels; he did not share that same amount of confidence in the drunk.

"You shouldn't have; I didn't wake up until the end," Ferguson immediately proved Cal's sentiments.

"And you two, what were you doing just watching? Could have done something yourselves!" Ferguson directed his ire to their audience, who Cal now noticed had hard stares leveled his way.

"Apologies," Rolland spoke with a dry tone, maintaining his focus on Cal.

"I believe we were both captivated by the performance." Benjamin numbly nodded. Cal shifted uncomfortably, not understanding where the weird atmosphere was coming from. He hadn't gone any faster than he'd done before; hells, he actually moved slower during most of that for efficiency's sake. It wasn't like he knew how to fight all of a sudden either; he'd spent most of the time just avoiding getting hit. Sure, he'd been told he was pretty good at- His thoughts screeched to a halt. Millie.

Millie had once told him he was pretty good at dodging while she was using him for target practice. Millie, Ms. Perfect in everything I do, had told him he was pretty good at something. Translated to normal person speak... well, he didn't know what it meant.

"Aye, noticed, did you?" Ferguson addressed Rolland.

"Wasn't easy to see during your fight cause of the piss poor spearman-ship, but the lad's got better battle sense than some friends of mine." He gave a skeptical look to Cal.

"That does beg the question of where you learned to move that way." This wasn't his fault. If they had told him, 'Oh, by the way, here's what you can do without raising any eyebrows,' he wouldn't keep running into these situations. But no. Let's send the kid without a lick of training or information into a social and political hotbed. What could go wrong? Ah right, some of them were betting on the 'wrong' part. Bastards. He hoped the investigation and subsequent trials were going well.

Albert had promised to record them, and he couldn't wait to watch them on his return. Seeing them squirm and sentenced would make this all worth it. Why stop there? He should visit the more important ones in prison. Maybe bring a cake? Bake it with a pound of salt and have it say, 'Why don't you cut this open instead?' He'd probably have to threaten a lot of people to get away with that. Doable. None of the fantasizing helped with his current situation, and he racked his brain for a response.

It was easier than anticipated.

"Death is a powerful motivator." Perhaps he came off as edgy there. However, the truth was the truth. Dying was an unpleasant experience. One he accepted and yet tried to avoid all the same. You could only get disemboweled so many times before getting fed up with it. His words had more of an impact than expected, with the group falling silent for a time.

"She is, ain't she? Tough teacher that, for one so young." Ferguson broke the silence, pity in his voice. Cal was caught between warring emotions. On one hand, he was thankful the man had bought his explanation. On the other, the pity made him want to punt the drunk out of the training grounds.

"I'm going to go get washed up; see you next week." Cal left without further violence. Sometimes knowing you could was cathartic in and of itself.

"I didn't know we were allowed up here," Cal commented while admiring the nighttime scenery. His feet dangled off the side of a taller building near the main entrance of the Academy. It had just the right angle to allow a view of the city below. The hustle and bustle of which was a stark contrast to the now sleepy campus. Lights dotted it, replacing the stars that hung above unseen.

"Rules only matter if they can catch you. I- we're way too fast to be caught by anyone who'd care." Lily was with him, hands propped up behind her, legs swaying back and forth.

"What did you want so badly that it couldn't wait? This is supposed to be me time."

"It probably could have waited." She shot him an irritated look.

"I wanted to talk to Alice about it, but she said she's staying in the city tonight." Which struck him as hypocritical due to all the grief she gave him when he stayed out late.

"Heir business," Lily answered a question he'd not been asking.

"Nothing for you to worry about."

"Right... anyway, remember that guy you described as a leech?" Her legs stopped swaying.

"He cornered me yesterday, and we ended up having lunch."

"Is that so?" Her head tilted to its side, and she stared unblinking at him.

"You better start explaining what exactly happened." Cal snorted; her constant empty threats had lost their charm. An explanation was why he was here, so after that display, he obliged and recounted the events of the day before.

"Ugh, why didn't you text me!?" Lily's hands grabbed fistfuls of her hair.

"I told you to text me!" She stood, pointing in his direction with sparks flying off her. Cal felt her reaction overblown. In his opinion, he'd handled it well.

"I could have watched through the window and recorded it all! Do you have any idea what a missed opportunity that was? I can just imagine that slimy smile crumbling. It would have been perfect."

"Sorry?" Cal offered, now seeing her point. That would have been funny.

"You should be. Be better. You said you got the wine all over his clothes?" Cal nodded.

"Next time don't stop there; drown the fucker in it," she said, vitriol dripping off her tongue.

"I'm honestly not sure if you're being serious right now."

"Half serious, I can't think of anyone who likes him all that much. However, he's still a noble. Should any serious harm come to him, the circumstances will be heavily scrutinized. As in, we'll have Justiciars sniffing about and an official inquiry." He made a note to stop almost 'accidentaling' students.

"Seems you've thought about it," Cal spoke cautiously.

"Hard not to. He's lucky to be a small fish compared to others and not worth the effort to deal with that way." Up until this point, Cal had written off her past behavior as playful. Now? He was pretty sure this girl was genuinely murderous. He didn't call her out; it'd be a very pot-meet-the-kettle situation.

"Anyways, you wanted to know more about him? Well, House Lucerna used to be a cadet branch of House Ardere. When your house still had them, that is. They're still under Duke Procellae's political camp, although we don't know enough to say what the Duke's opinion of them is." He'd wager that was one of the pieces of information Alice was hoping he'd be able to squeeze out of Marcus.

"Overall, you did well. Jokes aside, don't pull another stunt like that without my say-so. This time your target had no teeth; if he did, we'd be in an awful mess right now."

"I didn't do it randomly; I saw how you guys wrote him off." Her gaze shifted to him for a moment before moving back to the city.

"You're more perceptive than I gave you credit for," Lily muttered, sitting on the ledge again.

"Let me handle explaining to Alice what happened with Petro. Her sense of humor isn't as good as mine. If there's nothing else, get off my roof." One of her hands made a shooing motion.

"As the lady demands," Cal said in a snooty way. Standing, he was prepared to step off the edge and head back to the dorm when a voice rang out behind him.

"I thought I felt your magic up here, Lilliane." A young man had joined him, his dark eyes traced over to Cal.

"And to think I dismissed that photo and accompanying rumors. Do you forget your obligations so easily?"

"Lucas." Lily spat, still seated.

"I would say it's not what you think, if I cared at all what you did."

"Harsh words." The man took a step forward, and Cal got a better look at him. Long brown hair came past his shoulders, and Cal recognized him from the stage earlier this week.

"You'll have to learn how to mind that tongue."

"I won't have to do anything." She laughed, turning her gaze back to the city.

"You and your lot are irrelevant; leave with your own two legs while you still can."

"Such a violent woman." He started getting closer to Lily, and Cal stepped in his way.

"Your father will be disappointed," Lucas said, looking past Cal.

"I'm not going to ask a second time," Lily said simply. Her fingers drummed on the ledge, each tap eliciting a spark greater than the last.

"We'll pick this up another time then." Lucas grimaced, backing off. Not without shooting Cal a glare.

"I didn't ask you to get involved," Lily spoke after the man had departed. Cal himself was puzzled; he hadn't meant to interfere.

"It wasn't for you. I was protecting myself. Someone recently told me what happens if a noble gets a boo-boo; I'm not confident in lying to the Justiciars when they ask why that guy walked up here in one piece and left in more." The frown Lily sported since the man's arrival broke a little. They stared out to the city together; Cal wasn't sure what to say.

"What, no questions?" Lily prodded at his silence.

"Your business." Cal shrugged.

"So it is." Lily agreed.

"Any reason you're sticking around? Told you this was me-time." Why hadn't he left? It wasn't a question he could answer. He gave her one last glance before disappearing into the night.