Ansel wiped the blood off his upper lip, fighting back against his lightheadedness as he straightened his posture. Dominic's words were cold and harsh, but Ansel could notice a faint tremor in his eyes every time he spoke. 'Is this really what you want, Dominic?'
Dominic stretched his arms, spinning them in circles to loosen his joints as he began to approach his opponent. "I'm not going to make this quick, Ansel." Then, with a staggering burst of speed, Dominic rushed toward Ansel, aiming a jab at his gut.
Ansel had realized Dominic's intention to attack the moment he decided to stretch his arms. This time, he knew what was coming. Dominic may be fast—but he wasn't inhumanly fast. He couldn't execute a sudden change in impulse like an accessor with a broken chord of agility. That was something Ansel could use to his advantage. 'It's just like bullfighting...'
As Dominic lunged toward Ansel, he clenched his teeth as hard as possible. The veins on his face bulged as his feet lifted off the ground—now relying on inertia to carry him forward. But at the last second before impact, Ansel jerked his body toward the right.
Dominic's fist contacted the empty air, and he was sent rolling across the ground. Each of his rolls was measured in length and duration—a masterful attempt to regain stability when presented with an unforeseen evasion. But then, Dominic realized something. The direction he was rolling... 'Shit. I'll go out of bounds.'
Slamming his fist into the sandy earth, Dominic ceased his rolling motion. Every muscle in his body tensed up as he skidded against the ground. The skin of his knees and the knuckles of his left hand scraped against the dirt. The friction elicited a searing sensation alongside a torturous pain.
Dominic came to a stop just by the sidelines, panting heavily. The crowd was still in a rowdy state, but for different reasons this time. A group of students was making its way toward the viewing tower—where Headmaster Xerxes was watching—urging for the match to be ceased.
* * *
"Get out of the way!" Cerua shoved aside a lanky boy, storming through the crowd of onlookers as she marched toward the tower, followed by the rest of the training club. A few first-year students sent sour glances their way, but the upperclassmen could understand the severity of the situation. But then...
"You shouldn't go any further." An unfamiliar upperclassman blocked the tower's entrance. His hair was a dark gray, combed into a neat middle part. His purple eyes were like those of a snake, slanted with a sort of sinister elegance, yet when he spoke... his voice sounded warm. It was as if he were an older brother giving a gentle lecture to a younger sibling.
Still, Ansel's friends couldn't let the spar continue. "Get out of the way. This fight shouldn't be allowed by academy regulations, yet not a single staff member is willing to intervene. Why? Is this some sort of plot concocted by the higher-ups?"
"Cerua's right. There's something being hidden from us," Sven added. "...It's obvious at this point. There's a hidden agenda to this fight." Sven approached Ishi, who was easily a head taller than him. "...Stopping this match is the right thing to do."
"...Just get out of the way or fight, okay?" Eyra threatened, tilting her head to the side with an expression of infuriated disgust playing across her face. "Do you want to fight? You'll fall unconscious within half a second, and we'll get inside the tower regardless."
Rotteger clutched his arms behind Eyra. He didn't have the strength to speak. After witnessing Dominic's first hit on Ansel, a feeling of utter dread had coursed through his body. Though he wasn't particularly disliked among the cohort, he wasn't a very noticeable person either. When Ansel had first asked to sit next to him, Rotteger had assumed he was just another people-pleaser, operating with the shallow motive of befriending everyone.
However, as the weeks went by, Rotteger realized that Ansel was a lot of things, but shallow wasn't a word that could accurately describe him. He was the first person Rotteger could consider a true friend, and in the short time they had known each other, a friend group had blossomed. It was all because of Ansel. So if something were to happen to him...
Rotteger's glasses fell onto the floor. He took a step toward Ishi with a blank look in his eyes. Rotteger didn't say a word. There simply wasn't a need. Tensing the muscles in his forearm, he retracted his hand in the span of a second, instantly following the movement by aiming a full-knuckled punch at Ishi's head. 'Maybe if this bastard understood half of what Ansel was experiencing... he would have the decency to let us through.'
Then, a hand reached out and tightly grasped Rotteger's wrist. Beside Ishi stood Instructor Hargrove and Franka, who had made their way to the tower after hearing signs of commotion. "Kid," Hargrove spoke, "you can't go in there."
"Why the hell not?" Eyra tried to control her temper, but seeing Hargrove—the same person who showed such utter satisfaction in Ansel's humiliation—intervene in a moment like this only fueled her anger. "Do you get off on watching him suffer?"
"Of course not," Edward shook his head. "The fact of the matter is that there are bigger players involved in this match. Interrupting would be detrimental to not only your livelihoods as students but to the faculty and potentially even Ansel himself."
"The real fact of the matter is that this isn't okay." Sven hardened his gaze, the skin of his left hand beginning to tint blue and crack. "...It doesn't matter if all of you are in on it. We can't just let Ansel die."
"Sven," Franka called out, "please think carefully before unleashing your ability here. It's a densely crowded area. And besides, going against the authority of an instructor will guarantee you an expulsion, if—"
"Screw that!" Cerua stopped her aunt. "Do you think we would really care about expulsion at a time like this? There are bigger problems at hand! So please... just let me through." Her tone turned desperate. "I would gladly get expelled."
"There's one thing none of you are considering." Ishi sighed, the corners of his lips slightly upturned. "Why are you all assuming that Ansel will lose the match? I, for one, think he deserves at least a little bit of faith, for surviving this long anyway."
"Are you serious? How the hell can you be joking right now?!" Rotteger yelled, trying to free his wrist from Edward's grasp. He continued to struggle, although fully aware Edward's strength eclipsed him by an insurmountable factor. "He's going to—"
Then, a voice from the crowd yelled out: "H-he... he dodged Dominic's attack!"
* * *
"That was close..." Dominic muttered under his breath, slowly getting back up onto his feet. The skin of his lower legs was bloodied—sanded off by the friction. The knuckles of his left hand were blown open, and blood pooled between his fingers, slowly dripping onto the ground below.
Drip, drip, drip.
Ansel's expression didn't change as he observed Dominic's injury. 'Could hate really drive you this far? What do you really want, Dominic?' Ansel wanted to stop the fight and ask Dominic that question, but he knew that possibility was just a dream at this point. In the end, only one person could come out the victor.
Dominic charged forward with another strike. This time, he lunged with a measured speed, aiming for Ansel's neck. His fists shot through the air, beads of sweat flinging off his arms as he relentlessly attacked.
Swish, swish, swish. Every time Dominic's fist came close to making contact with him, Ansel jerked his body away in the opposite direction. To him, this wasn't instinct. He had to think through every movement and react accordingly—he was in a total flow state. Yet...
Swish, swish, swish, swish. Dominic's strikes began to pick up in pace. Ansel dodged and dodged. 'Left, right, down, right, left...' The perfect sync he had established was slowly being diminished. 'He's getting too fast... he's going to hit me. He's... going to kill me.' Ansel tried to hang on for as long as he could, but then—
WHAM! Dominic broke his own flow, surprising Ansel with a sudden punch to the gut. Ansel felt his ribs crack from the sheer pressure as he was flung back twenty meters across the sand. He rolled and thudded across the ground, coming to a stop with blood leaking from his mouth.
His fingers dug into the ground to distract himself from the pain as he retched and coughed. Blood, thick and crimson, splattered from his mouth, mixing in with the sand like paint specks flicked across a canvas of beige. "Haaah..." Ansel heaved. He felt as if he were on the verge of passing out, but 'I didn't die... why didn't he kill me?'
"I told you, right?" Dominic started walking toward Ansel at a casual pace, as if certain his victory was imminent. "I said I wasn't going to make this slow. Don't expect me to grant you the liberty of a quick death. I'll stomp you into the ground until your face doesn't even resemble a face. Then I'll kill you."
'Shit!' Ansel mentally screamed. Every semblance of composure he had garnered during his time at the academy and training with his friends vanished in an instant as fear crept over his heart. "Why..." he gasped, "why do you—"
SNAP! Dominic's foot shot out, slamming against Ansel's jaw—sending him rolling back even further. A fresh wave of blood was regurgitated from Ansel's mouth as Dominic took another step forward. "Because that's the only way to properly humiliate you. I have to make this as painful as possible for you." He smiled. "I hate you. Of course I hate you."
"I'm sorry—" SNAP! Dominic kicked at Ansel's ribs this time. A pain unlike any other flooded through his torso. It was the single most painful thing he had experienced in his entire life. 'Am I really... about to die?'
* * *
The training club had been momentarily distracted by Ansel's brief upper hand. Upon seeing Dominic's brutal actions, they realized that Ansel's victory held an impossible chance. The match had to be terminated.
"Ansel!" Rotteger called out, trying to break free from Edward's unrelenting grasp. Seeing his friend struggling to fight—half-dead, lying on the ground—was a feeling of utter dread like he had never felt before. "Damn it! Let me go!"
"This is stupid," Cerua clenched her fists, turning away from the group and beginning to forcefully part the crowd. "If the faculty aren't going to do anything, then I will."
"No! Stop!" Franka rushed forward to grab Cerua's arm. "You can't. You can't interfere. You know what will happen if you use your ability out there, Cerua! Try to use your common sense!"
"Common sense?" Cerua laughed with a bitter sound. "What the hell even is common sense in this situation?! Because, from the looks of it, you and I have totally different definitions. So just let me go... don't feel obliged to protect me just because we're related by blood. You're practically just a stranger to me."
Franka couldn't deny that Cerua's words stung, but she didn't release her grip. "I don't care. Just please... don't go." Watching her niece's expression, Franka noticed the tears welling in her eyes. "There's nothing we can do."
* * *
Ansel let out a dry breath as he fell onto his back. How many kicks had he taken? How many bruises were scattered across his body? How many of his bones were broken? How long had it been?
Everything was too much. Even the sensation of the sand beneath his back felt painful. "Haah... haah..." he breathed through his mouth, his nose ruined. "Please..." He watched as Dominic's silhouette appeared above him.
Ansel couldn't make out Dominic's expression. His eyes were blinded by the blood. He saw Dominic's mouth move, but the words were drowned out by a terrifying ringing noise that dug into his brain. The crowd of onlookers was like a school of fish—a powerful swarm, intimidating yet distant, hidden beneath the depths of the ocean and unable to take action on land.
Teachers were rushing to restrain members of the training club, who had forcefully tried to enter the arena. Even the faculty members seemed to be questioning the judgment of the higher-ups.
* * *
"This is getting quite concerning..." The hooded figure beside Xerxes scratched her chin. "...I guess he'll still be able to live with a deformed face, but... it's a less-than-desirable outcome." She sighed.
"...I know you won't tell me what you're really up to here. But... ordering the faculty not to intervene? It seems to me that you want to push this child to the absolute brink. You want to break him."
The woman chuckled, slowly reaching up with her hands to lower her hood. An illustrious shade of midnight-black hair scattered out, perfectly straight and tousled by the wind. Her figure was fair and elegant—a deep contrast to the ragged cloak she donned. She slowly turned her head, properly meeting Xerxes' gaze for the first time in her life. Iseul Lim smiled. "Yes... that's exactly what I want."
* * *
Ansel's chest panted heavily as he gazed up at Dominic's silhouette with terrified eyes. The tiniest gust of wind, the sound of someone sobbing, the sight of Dominic's bloodied knees—they all twisted and turned into an all-encompassing fear. Ansel wanted to vomit, but nothing was left inside his stomach except blood.
Dominic leaned down, straddling Ansel's torso. He pulled his hand back, and then—
THUD! Dominic's fist connected with Ansel's cheek. CRACK! Dominic's next punch shattered his jawbone. THUD! THUD! CRACK! CRACK!
"P...lease," Ansel whispered. "Stop." Had everything in his life led to this moment? Had all that training gone to waste? Was this his fate—to be brutally beaten to death by Dominic during his third week at the training academy?
Tears began to stream down Ansel's face, broken sobs distorted by his ruined mouth spilling into the air. "Hic... hngh, aah! Please... don't kill me!" he yelled out, clenching his watering eyes shut—pretending that nothing existed. Nothing in the universe existed but for him. His death was imminent, but that was it. In his personal void, death was death. Whether it was accepted with open arms or denied with terrified fervor—your feelings didn't matter.
Dominic's face remained blank. He stopped his fist directly in front of Ansel's face, deciding that it was time for the fight to come to an end. Ansel had been thoroughly humiliated and utterly disfigured. The only thing left for him was to die. And then, Dominic's job would be done. He would finally get the only thing he had ever wanted. The reason for his existence.
Dominic sighed, his head sagging down to calm his racing thoughts. 'This is it... I'll finally see you again.' Dominic extended the pinky finger of his right hand, aiming it directly at Ansel's forehead.
* * *
Ansel was curled up into a ball inside his infinite void. His sobs were inaudible, drowned out by the nothingness around him. He wanted to yell out, but the void wouldn't let him. What would his last words be? Just unintelligible sobbing? 'Please...' he thought, 'please just let me say something! Anything! I want to say something before I die!'
"Mom..." Ansel finally spoke. "Dad..." Despite the emptiness of his personal void, he could hear the words reverberate through the space as clear as day. Ansel froze, but the tears kept streaming down his face. 'Nobody would answer...'
Then, a humming noise echoed from behind him.
"Shine."
Ansel slowly turned around, pushing himself up with one palm while his free hand brushed away the tears. Behind him buzzed the same golden orb—the one that refused to be forgotten. The one that he could never seem to forget. 'What do you want?...'
"Shine."
The orb spoke. Its voice was neither that of a man nor a woman. Ansel wasn't even sure if the orb was speaking a real word. It sounded as if an orchestra had accidentally played a rogue chord. The voice sounded like the strings of a harp being twisted in a vortex. It was utterly alien, but...
'Please... go away.'
Then, the orb moved forward. It was Ansel's instinct to recoil, but he found that he couldn't move. He was trapped, half-lying on the floor as the vibrating particle ventured closer. Ansel's eyes widened, but they showed no signs of fear. As the orb grew closer, a warm feeling embraced his body. 'What... are you?'
The orb contacted Ansel's forehead, sending ripples through the dimensional form of his body. Then, as if breaking the surface of a pool of water, the orb entered Ansel's mind—its golden humming fading into the nothingness. It left nothing behind for Ansel in the infinite void except its final message:
"You have to shine."