“I did.”
The answer was so blunt, so straightforward, that it took Rei a second of gathering himself before he could speak.
“Is that allowed?” he finally got out. “Won’t you… Isn’t that going a little heavy on the favoritism, ma’am?”
Dent graced him with an amused look. “Favoritism? Give me one way this demonstration wasn’t equally valuable to everyone in your class, Ward. Or will be to the remainder of the first years.”
Rei saw her point immediately, of course. 1-A had been energized as they’d left the subbasement space, much like they’d been energized after watching the first week of the Intra-School matches. And if they got an extra few afternoons to recover, what did it matter? It just so happened that Rei, Aria, Viv, and Catcher were probably the ones in most need of the rest, but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be others who couldn’t have used it.
But still… First Christopher Lennon, and now this?
The concern on his face must have shown, because the captain shook her head as she appeared to do her best not to roll her eyes.
“Ward, this Institute is not based on ‘fair’ treatment. You’ve been told that from the beginning. Instead of worrying about how my choice may or may not make me look in the eyes of the rest of the school staff, consider instead the fact that you might just have earned this assistance. Believe it or not the colonel and I—and several others among the higher officers—have high expectations for you. Setting that aside, consider too that Laurent is likely to be the backbone of your class’ presence at Sectionals, and Arada and Catchwick both have an excellent shot of qualifying on their own as well.” She smirked. “We support the cadets who reach for more than we offer them outright.”
Rei felt a little better, at that. He’d been aware of this since the captain’s speech at the Commencement Ceremony, of course, but it was still good to have it reiterated, to be made to feel like he—as well as the others—at least in some way deserved this extra attention they were receiving.
He had just opened his mouth, intending to thank Dent, when a message pinged his NOED. Beside him Aria and Viv both blinked in unison, telling him they’d gotten the same notification, and seeing who it was from Rei hurried through his gratitude.
“Your assistance is very much appreciated, ma’am. If we might be dismissed, I have a match coming up in an hour or so I need to prepare for.”
“Of course,” the captain answered, waving them all off. “Good luck, cadet. Fight well.”
With mirrored salutes, Rei, Aria, and Viv all turned on their heels and jogged across the now-empty subbasement, making for the east hall. As soon as they made the corner, though, the three of them halted, every eye among them lighting up as they opened Catcher’s message.
Reading it, Rei felt his heart sink.
“Dammit,” Viv muttered. “Still… At least it sounds like it was a good match…”
Rei nodded with a grimace. Catcher had lost his pairing against Martin, unfortunately, but not without a fight. It had apparently taken nearly 6 minutes for the C1 Duelist to wear him down. His message was chatty as ever, but there also lacked a sincerity to it that that made it feel like Catcher was putting up a brave front. Who could blame him? Aria and Viv’s matches the following day were against opponents neither were likely to have too much trouble taking on, and a single victory after that would have them qualifying as individuals for Sectionals. With this loss, Catcher was in the loser’s bracket, meaning he’d have to win four more pairings in a row to make the team. Rei knew the feeling well, but he’d never really expected to start with anything more than a first-week loss given Dyrk Reese was at the helm of the tournament.
After hitting half of the 4-win streak, he supposed a lot of the wind would be sucked from Catcher’s sails, at least for a few days.
“Whoa… Whoa.”
Viv’s sounds of disbelief had Rei glancing up and around at her through the text of the message, wondering what was going on.
“There’s more,” she answered his questioning look. “Keep reading.”
Curious, now, Rei did so, finding indeed that there was an entire additional paragraph to the message as it scrolled up across his frame while he took it in line by line. Finally reaching the end, he stared at the final statement, then went back and reread the it all again to make sure he’d understood correctly.
“She lost?” Aria sounded utterly taken aback. “Kay lost? And to another Lancer? No way.”
According to Catcher, though, it was true. Kay Sandree, considered the top User of her Type among the first years, had lost her match. But that wasn’t the surprise, at least not for Rei and Viv. To Aria, the name of the victor probably didn’t ring any bells given that the pair of them had only briefly met once, then in occasional passing when she came over to 304 to study or watch an SCT fight together. To Rei and Viv, however, the listed victor of the pairing was several times more shocking than Kay’s actual loss.
But there, at the bottom of Catcher’s message, was a cropped screenshot of the day’s results so far, making the fact absolute. Kay Sandree had indeed lost.
To Chancery Cashe.
CHAPTER 46
Early November – Two and a Half Weeks Later
“Good, Ward! Now keep up that pace! Faster! Faster! Excellent! Now… switch!”
Rei disengaged from his brutal assault on Christopher Lennon’s bare-handed—and yet impervious—defense, dropping and rolling sideways to let Catcher lunge into place after him, Arthus leading the way. Breathing hard, Rei watched the sword cleave in a flurry of sweeping arcs, driving the Lasher backwards one step at a time despite every blow being turned away by a snapping forearm or open palm like the vysetrium-lined steel was nothing more than a child’s toy. Rei waited, trying to recover what energy he could while Lennon shouted out feedback and encouragement, holding for the call to come again. 10 seconds. 15…
“Switch!”
It was Catcher’s turn to get out of the way, spinning sideways in a graceful off-step that offered a perfect opening for Rei to leap into. Shido cleaved through the air in a ripping punch, but Lennon stepped left and drove a knee upward at Rei’s gut as he started to sail by. The blow came at what must have been less than half-speed for the Lasher, because Rei managed to get his free arm tucked in time to block, giving himself an opportunity to roll sideways, out of the way of the worst of the impact. He made to slash at the Lasher’s other leg as he fell, but the third year turned the failed attack into a front kick that caught Rei in the chest before he so much as touched the ground. He went rocketing backwards, launched under the force of the almost-lazy strike by Lennon. He slammed hard into the flat wall that bisected their field, barely catching himself and lurching to his feet before he collapsed to the floor, seeing stars for a moment before Shido started to work his neuroline and clear his vision.
“Switch!” came the call again, and as he blinked away the brief bout of dizziness caused by the impact, Rei saw Catcher leap in once more.
It was their fifth week of training under the Lasher’s guiding hand, and despite Lennon’s apparent concern that second Friday that he’d been too hard on them, there had appeared no sign of letting up in the sessions since. He worked them bloody—often literally—and when it was only Rei and Catcher training against the third year the intensity of the conditioning seemed to double, and that despite the brief breaks in these alternating bouts. Even Aria and Viv—who now only worked with the Lasher for an hour each week—had learned not to eat before training, lest their dinner be lost to the floor of the training field.
Not like Rei cared. Christopher Lennon’s training had been indispensable in the last half-month, for all of them.
Gillian North had proven a tougher opponent for him than Camilla Warren, having done Rei the courtesy of taking him seriously in their match the day after Catcher had lost his fight against Laquita Martin. She’d let him come to her, and theirs had been a fight of cat and mouse
on the flat white of a standard Neutral Zone. He’d been faster than the Mauler—several ranks faster, in fact—but North had proven to sport an impressive Defensive spec in addition to the natural Strength and Offense of her Type. He’d had to dance around her, chipping away at the girl’s reactive shielding and armored limbs for nearly 5 full minutes, all the while doing his best not to get caught in the direct arc of her axe’s swing. He hadn’t come out of the fight unscathed—a limp left arm had marked where he’d lost the limb just above the elbow in the last 30 seconds of the match—but he’d managed the win in the end, finally cleaving through the Mauler’s shielding to hamstring her behind the right knee, bringing the back of her neck down low enough for an easy blow to the brainstem.
After North, the following week had proven easier, with Rei paired up against a poor D6 Lancer from 1-B named Austin Burrows. That fight had taken less than a minute, his opponent lacking not only in the Speed and Cognition he needed to keep Rei at bay with his longer weapon, but also in the Defense and Strength that might have saved him once the distance between them had closed. In the end, Rei had been left standing the victor as Burrows had tumbled off the ledge of the wide Cliffs variation they’d been fighting on, falling screaming after Shido had slashed through both his legs.
The match had been so short, in fact, that Rei had started to wonder if Dyrk Reese was trying to build up some false confidence in him, a suspicion not helped when his fifth pairing against Valentino Lewis—a Brawler from 1-C—had gone much the same way.
His own pairings weren’t the only ones that had gone well, though. He and Catcher were the only two facing off against the Lasher in that second hour of their Friday training because Aria and Viv had insisted it be so. The pair of them had dominated their third matches as expected, with fortune favoring them both a week later for their fourth wins. Viv had had the distinct pleasure of putting down Leda Truant with relative ease, while Aria had had herself a decent match against Amelia von Leef, a Saber from 1-D, and another attendee of the summer training group.
With those final victories, Aria and Viv both had earned themselves the nomination among the first eight to qualify for the Sectionals tournament that would be happening after the winter leave.
Along with them, Kastro Vademe, Laquita Martin, Lena Jiang, Zain Kadness, and Hannah Tethers had also claimed their four wins. Chancery Cashe ended up the surprising eighth and final no-loss qualifier after taking down a second top ranker name Xander Phillips, the only other summer group Phalanx aside from Aria. Rei had attempted to congratulate their silver-haired suitemate as soon as they’d seen her next, but the Lancer had only given him a quiet thanks before retreating—as was her fashion—to her room, red in the face at the attention.
Catcher, too, had done well for himself since his loss to Martin. He’d been down for the days following the match, but it had been the first Friday after that Aria and Viv had insisted Lennon spend half their session working with Catcher and Rei alone, and the Lasher hadn’t tolerated the Saber’s subdued enthusiasm for more than about 2 minutes.
“Did you think you were never going to lose?” he had demanded of Catcher after the third time he’d put the blond boy on his ass with even less effort than usual. “Did you think you were going to drift through life on talent and hard work? Get up. You’re hardly a failure. You only get to think that of yourself when you stop trying to win.”
It had, apparently, been what Catcher had needed to hear, because though he’d been quiet for the remainder of that training session, his usual energy was back by the following Tuesday night, returning after a decisive defeat against Sam Dorne. The next week, though, was the true victory, when Catcher took less than two 2 minutes to drop Mateus Selleck, who had also lost in the third round. That evening, the four of them had granted themselves a single day of rest, cobbling together a makeshift dinner party in Rei’s room from food and drink smuggled out of the mess hall in their bags. They’d had ample cause to celebrate, after all. Not only had Aria and Viv qualified, but Rei and Catcher had both climbed one step closer to making it to the final rounds.
Almost more importantly, however, had been the fact that not a single one of them had been able to stop from relishing in the bitter expression on Selleck’s face as he’d walked off the field for the last time, fallen from the year’s Intra-Schools brackets for good.
WHAM!
Rei flinched and looked around. Viv had just slammed into the other side of the wall to his left, and he caught her eye only long enough to be shot a gleeful grin before she had to duck and roll under the driving thrust of Aria’s spear. For a second or two he watched the girls going at it on their half of the field, Duelist-level Speed doing much to match Phalanx-level reach and Defense. It was nice, seeing the two of them having fun. Rei had always felt bad about hogging Aria as a training partner, and witnessing both of the girls enjoying themselves brought back memories of a time before the four of them had been a group. He recalled Aria’s hesitation, her shyness around them even after they’d invited her to train with them. It made him happy, remembering the genuine excitement and—inexplicably—disbelief on her face.
It might have made his chest throb, too, watching Aria smile as she cut and slashed at a retreating Viv, except his own circumstances didn’t leave much opportunity for feelings in the moment.
“Switch!”
The command brought him back in a flash, and Rei shoved off the wall to reengage Lennon as Catcher leapt out of the way again. This time he didn’t go in for the heavy lead, instead darting forward with a series of short, tight jabs, channeling a tempered version of the Gatecrasher’s style as he tried to challenge the Lasher with Speed rather than pure force. His adjustment looked to be received favorably, because the A-Ranker was nodding even as he swatted the blows away like the annoying buzzing of a fly that wouldn’t leave him alone.
“Good, Ward! Yes! Play to your strengths! When an opponent is quicker than you, closing up your attacks can help you keep a tight defense and fast offense.”
They continued like that for almost a minute, Rei throwing his swift punches at a rate and speed he would have been amazed at had he been thinking of anything other than going faster, faster. When his shoulders began to burn he threw in a couple snapping kicks at Lennon’s legs, which were blocked with the same ease as any other strike.
More nodding greeted this variation, though, which would have had Rei smiling had he had a moment to consider doing so.
“Switch!”
The call came again, then again, then again. For another 30 minutes it repeated over and over, ringing out in short order long after Rei and Catcher both were heaving in lungfuls of air, the reprieves between these intense bursts of assault no longer enough to keep up with exhaustion. At last the Lasher caught Arthus in an overextending slash, twisting to toss Catcher over narrow shoulders in a snapping pull that had the Saber flying across the floor some 10 yards, only barely holding onto his Device. The moment he’d bounced to his feet, though, Lennon held him up with a raised hand, doing the same to Rei as the third year looked between them.
“Hold. Take a breather.”
For about 20 seconds they stood like that on either side of the Lasher, struggling to get enough oxygen while watching his lifted arms for the moment they knew was coming.
Then Lennon gestured them both forward with quick jerks inward of both hands.
“Together! Come!”
In a mirrored collapse, Rei and Catcher lanced in without a second’s hesitation.
It was evidence not only of these special Friday lessons, but also of the weeks and long nights the two of them had been training in vicinity to one another. Not missing a beat Rei read Catcher’s intended angle of attack in the slight crouch of his last few steps, and instantly he dropped to his knees. The steel plating of his greaves screamed across the projected floor as he slid forward the final yards, Shido slashing at Lennon’s legs. Catcher, in the same moment, leapt, arching right o
ver Rei’s head while he cut at the third year’s face with a passing slash.
They didn’t so much as nick the Lasher.
One dark-skinned hand swatted Catcher’s sword out of the way, while Lennon’s right foot came up in a pair of snapping kicks to slam both sets of Shido’s claws aside. Undeterred, Rei twisted and extended one leg in a sweep, hoping to catch Lennon behind the ankle. The third year leapt clear, but Catcher, too, had corrected his failed attack with record speed, and Arthus was thrusting at the red griffin stitched into blue fabric even as Lennon found himself in midair. For a heartbeat Rei thought they finally had the boy, but the Lasher simply smacked the sword downward as he threw his legs out into a split. Catcher tried to recover, but Lennon’s other hand caught him a chop in the side of the head that had him tumbling sideways. Rei barely managed to miss being slammed into, and chose to rush forward with another volley of tight swings until Catcher could recover and rejoin.
For 5 more minutes or so they fought like that, the Lasher saying nothing now, trusting them to give everything they had to this final exchange. There were no breaks, this time, no rest or reprieve. It was just them, paired off against him like two sorry mortals charged with taking down a god of war. Every breath was agonizing, by the end, every motion coming in a burn of protesting muscle. Rei and Catcher fought on, refusing to slow down or give in even a little, but every movement was a push through pain and exhaustion.
Fortunately for all, the Lasher chose to put them out of their misery before their bodies could fail them completely.
WHAM-WHAM!
The two hits came without mercy, a quick coupling of punches at what looked to be Lennon’s full baseline speed that caught Catcher in the stomach and Rei under the chin. The world went black for a moment, and Rei felt himself falling into a darkness with no beginning or end. The next thing he knew, he was looking up from his back at the solar lights suspended from the ceiling above, their brightness making it hard to read the lines of text that must have started spilling down the frame of his NOED while he’d been out.
Iron Prince: A Progression Sci-Fi Epic (Warformed: Stormweaver Book 1) Page 85
