Blood Curse Academia - Orientation

CHAPTER XXI (21)- The Combat Contest

Though they stuck to the basics for the rest of the tutoring session, Roba promised to begin his training in spatial manipulation spells at their next session, with the caveat that Kizu needed to keep up with, and improve upon, his current academic studies.

In the days that followed, Kizu slept whenever and wherever he could, often taking naps during his free periods and lunch breaks. Fatigue haunted him during the daytime, letting up only in the dead of night. He constantly went over possible solutions to his horrible sleep schedule. At first, he resolved to prepare a sleeping draught in his next brewing class. But as the days went on, his lessons in brewing never gave time to him for personal projects. And so, it fell to the back of his priority list.

While enjoying one such after-class nap, Basil unintentionally woke him up while rummaging around in the room. Blearily, Kizu lifted his head to glare at him. He noted that Basil looked like a handsome Hon man today, with a firm chin and dark black hair tied into a tail. As he drifted off again, he thought about the potential hazard of Basil always appearing as a different stranger everyday. If an actual stranger broke into his dorm, how would he ever know?

When Kizu woke up again, he was alone with Mort. Basil hadn’t stuck around, not that Kizu was complaining. Having the dorm to himself suited him just fine.

He spent the night studying and reviewing Roba’s lessons, with heavy emphasis on practicing his shielding technique. Whenever he needed a break, he read from his divination book. As he did so, his mind kept wandering back to Basil’s proposed infiltration plan. It might very well get him significantly closer to his goal of locating his sister, but it also posed a massive risk. It definitely should wait until after he tested the divination ritual with his sister’s stamp. With luck, that would be enough of a link.

After a long night of studying, the morning finally came. It was time to watch the combat testing. He took out his orb from his recovered satchel.

“Orb,” Kizu said, activating it. “Can you show me where they host the combat tests?”

It bobbed in the air. “Affirmative.”

“Okay, lead the way.”

It felt good to be able to follow the enchanted object again, letting his mind wander as he walked through unfamiliar halls. Eventually, the orb guided him to a new area of the academy grounds. He found himself in a courtyard amphitheater, tucked between two administrative buildings. As he scanned the seats, he spotted Harvey.

“Hey,” he said, sitting down beside the boy.

Harvey jumped at the noise, but visibly relaxed once he saw it was Kizu. “Ah, hey.”

“Who’s fighting? Do they have stage names, like Demon Slicer or Lemon Eyes?”

“What?” Harvey looked confused. “No, they just have normal names. They’re students like us. What kind of stage name is ‘Lemon Eyes’, anyway?”

“Too bad. When I was a kid my sister used to read me stories about mage tournaments. They always went by flamboyant fake names to conceal their identities.”

“That’s silly. Why would anyone want to hide the fact that they’re fighting? Everyone knows chicks love guys who can fight.”

The words were light, but Harvey appeared agitated as he glanced around the stadium. He sank into his seat, trying to appear as small as possible.

Before Kizu could ask him what was on his mind, Arclight strolled out into the center of the amphitheater. She raised her arms into the air, her prosthetic hand glistening in the sunlight.

“Welcome,” her voice boomed across the stands. “To this year’s first combat re-testing! Though the year has only just begun, we already have a few brave souls who have volunteered their heart and health in hopes of improving their standing. We begin with two of the academy’s best and brightest: Here to defend her position at the top, we have position number one, third year student Kajima Sene! And coming for her crown, the challenger! Fifth year student Weston Leer, our academy’s current number two!”

The two students walked out and Kizu knew Sene on sight, she looked as indignant as ever, as if annoyed about being there. As for the other contestant… Kizu wouldn’t have realized he was a student at all if Arclight hadn’t introduced him as one. He appeared more man than boy as he towered over Sene. Muscles bulged from beneath his ill-fitting uniform. He even had a bit of scruff on his cheeks, the start of sideburns growing parallel to his Tainted scales.

“There are many new faces in the crowd, so let me give a brief history of this tradition.” Arclight looked more serious than usual and the amphitheater went silent. “Duels like these began long ago. Back when dragons still flew over Edgeland and Hon was still a fractured set of warring states. The legend says, magic was brought over to us from a nation lost to time, and the harbinger of spellcraft taught us one additional tenet. ‘Blood for life, and life for magic’. Long after the harbinger’s disappearance, this tenet of truth remains. A drop of blood is enough to decide the fates of empires. And so, it remains the deciding factor in your own studies as well!

“The fight is to first blood!” Arclight reverted back to her exuberant self as she launched into the rules. The S-class fighters remained respectfully quiet as she continued, though Kizu was sure they’d heard the spiel a thousand times before. “Moving outside of the ring also disqualifies you. You may verbally yield at any time.”

“Want to make a bet?” Harvey asked as the two contestants shook hands in the center of the field.

“What’s the bet?”

“You do my brewing homework for a week if Weston wins.”

“You realize Sene is the reigning champion, right?”

“No way she takes him out. She looks like she has noodles for arms.”

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Kizu agreed. He wasn’t about to bet against Sene. He thought her skills at brewing were a bit overrated, but this wasn’t brewing. “But if Sene wins, you do Krimpit’s homework for me. I don’t exactly need help with brewing.”

“You’re on.” Harvey grinned, finally seeming to forget whatever had distressed him earlier.

“Isn’t the whole point of school to learn?” someone asked behind them.

Kizu glanced back and saw Tara, the percussionist from Music F. It felt odd, meeting her in a place like this. He had never seen her without Gregor before.

“Maybe so,” Kizu admitted. “But you’re the one using music as a dump class.”

“Fair enough.”

Weirdly, Harvey didn’t even look over at her. Kizu had expected him to check her out at least once, but the Tainted boy only had eyes for the combat down below as Arclight signaled the start of the match. She jumped up into a referee box where Professor Kateshi also sat.

For a brief moment, the two contestants stood completely still, staring one another down from across the arena. Then Weston twisted his hand in place and formed a fist, quick as a viper. A pillar of stone rose up, blocking Sene’s vision of him. Unimpressed, Sene raised two fingers and the stone shattered into rubble. As the pieces fell to the stadium floor, Weston struck at the falling gravel, sending the airborne stones flying at her like shrapnel.

The gravel parted around Sene, thrown to either side of her by a physical shield of rushing wind.

Weston was on one knee. For a moment, Kizu wondered if the hulking fifth year was already conceding, but then he noticed his hand clutched a wand and he was sketching madly in the dirt with it. The challenger slapped his hand over the design and it glowed.

From the dirt rose a skeletal figure. With hollow eyes and bones linked together by magic, the decrepit warrior was a haphazard assembly of lopsided limbs. Not a true undead, but some sort of summoned creature replicating one. It lumbered forward into the mix, but accomplished nothing much of note as it clumsily swung its limbs around. If anything, the most useful aspect of it was its gruesome visage. And Sene didn’t seem very scared.

The reigning champion stepped into the summoned creature’s guard, raising an open hand and pressing it against the skeleton’s ribcage. It was blasted backwards, its bright bones now blackened. But, to the creature’s credit, it reassembled itself as it rose up from the dirt and closed the distance without hesitation, resuming its relentless sloppy strikes. A nuisance rather than a threat. Something to buy her contestant some time.

Sure enough, while Sene batted around the reassembling summon, Weston was sketching a new glyph in the dirt with his wand. This one was far more complex, and when he finished it, he tossed aside his wand and thrust both hands inside the glowing glyph. From it, he unsheathed an ebony longsword with a wicked serrated edge. It glowed a deep and malevolent purple.

Again, Sene blasted the skeleton away, and again it reassembled itself, leaping back into her path.

“She looks pissed,” Harvey noted.

“She always looks pissed,” Kizu told him, though he had to admit, she looked particularly livid right now.

As she blasted the skeleton back again for the dozenth time, Sene finally took note of Weston flanking her with his conjured weapon. With a wave of her hand, she began to rise up into the air. Weston lunged forward, trying to close the distance, but by the time he reached her, she’d already floated several meters out of reach. She looked bored as she brought her fingertips together. When she separated them, blue sparks flickered.

Sene shoved her hand down. A crack of thunder followed the split second of blinding lightning. Weston barely managed to dive out of the way in time to avoid it, and in response she sent down another beam of lightning after the first. And another. And another.

Weston’s hair stood on end as he glared up at her. He was covered in dirt and soot, but somehow, he had managed to keep a hold of his weapon. He ran a finger down his calves, and they began to emit an ominous orange aura. Then he leapt into the air, brandishing the blade. When another blast of lighting struck from above, he sidestepped, as if invisible platforms had appeared under his feet. He kept on moving, dashing up the empty air and swinging his sword in a rising arc aimed at Sene’s neck.

Sene clapped her palms on either side of the serrated sword, and in a single motion she wrenched it from his grasp. It sank halfway into the ground, hissing as it dissolved into nothing. Where Sene’s hands had touched the blade, the skin now glowed a deep violet. Even from afar, Kizu could see the pain twist her expression. But she ignored it.

Kizu expected her to cut him down with a bolt of lightning or an explosion then and there. Instead, the Hon girl kicked the challenger in the chest, planting her foot over his heart at a nearly untraceable speed. The kick sent Weston flying back down to earth. He hit the dirt with an audible thump.

The purple glow spread along Sene’s forearms, withering the skin as she slowly descended on her opponent and placed a foot on his chest. Weston just lay there, dazed, as she leaned over him. Finally, for the first time in the fight, she drew her wand and gripped it tight with one of her corrupted hands, as if to show how little his magic affected her. Then she flicked it across his cheek, leaving a thin red line.

“First blood goes to Sene!”

Harvey groaned.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure Krimpit won’t assign too much homework,” Kizu reassured him.

Harvey glared at him, but quickly became distracted by the next match. Kizu noticed that ‘first-blood’ was very literal. One student crushed her competitor’s foot with a boulder, breaking his bones. But still ended up losing after getting nicked by a conjured knife. It was a strange system that placed blood above everything else.

Arclight was moving through the competitors from the top down, starting with the highest-ranking students and descending in order down the ranks. Probably to avoid embarrassing the lower students right off the bat. For that, at least, Kizu felt a bit of gratitude for the woman. His upcoming match next week loomed over his thoughts.

“I wonder why they use so much elemental and conjuring magic,” Kizu said. “I haven’t seen a single hex in any of the matches.”

“Hexes are considered poor sportsmanship,” Tara explained behind him. “Most people don’t even bother to learn them.”

“Seriously?” Kizu was aghast. “The crone hexed people all the time. I’ve never seen a witch bother with throwing stones or starting fires - they just turned people into frogs and stepped on them.”

“Which is probably why hexes have such a bad reputation.”

Kizu admitted that might be true. Now that he was looking for it, he saw that all the shields used in the combat bouts were physical ones. Apparently, the competitors were unconcerned with anti-magic defense because they knew their opponents wouldn’t bother hexing them. A wall of water could block a fireball just as effectively as an anti-magic shield, and it could block a sword strike, too. For matches like these, it made sense to just rely on one shield that solved both problems, rather than switching between the two.

Each match was more lackluster than the last. It went from contestants hurling lightning at one another, to looking more like a game of tag between children as they chased each other around trying to trigger a touch spell. At one point, Kizu turned around to ask Tara a question about an enchanted weapon, only to find her gone. He couldn’t say he blamed her, and she wasn’t alone. At the end of every competition, a few more students left the amphitheater stands.

Harvey slowly reverted back into being jittery as the fights lost their entertainment value. His leg shook, and every few seconds he glanced over his shoulder.

“What’s up with you?” Kizu finally asked him. “All day you’ve been looking like an agouti in a bath with caimans.”

Harvey glanced around for the millionth time, flushing.

“I tried asking out a girl,” he admitted quietly.

“And it went poorly?”

“Yes.”

At first Kizu thought that was all he wanted to say on the matter. But after a pause, the floodgates burst open.

“She’s in my enchanting class. She’s so pretty. It’s like she’s magnetized my eyes to her face. No matter where I look, I always end up coming back to her. When you left the cafeteria the other day, I asked your roommate for advice-”

“Wait, you asked Basil for advice?”

“You said you wouldn’t help me!” Harvey snapped. “And Basil said he’s been with tons of girls here at the academy. That experience has to count for something.”

“What did he tell you to do?”

“He told me to pay attention to what she looked at, and then try to take on the traits of whoever she kept looking towards.” He paused, trying to summon up the next words. “And she kept looking at this loud guy with spectacles and tied back hair.”

“Did it cross your mind that maybe she kept looking at him because he was loud, not necessarily because she was attracted to him?”

“I know that now,” he said piteously. “But I got a hair tie and some fake spectacles and went to class yesterday. I made some really loud comments too.”

Kizu wondered just how loud this kid was. Harvey wasn’t exactly a quiet person.

“So, everyone looked at me and laughed. The guy who was being looked at before turned red as a beet. Everyone thought I was mocking him. But I thought, okay, that’s fine, the girl’s laughing too. I can pull this off.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“After class, the guy cornered me and punched me in the face. I punched him back, because what else was I supposed to do? I broke his glasses, and he crawled off and said he’d get his brother and his brother’s mates to thrash me next time.”

“And I take it his brother is a bit more threatening?”

“He’s the half-troll fifth year,” Harvey said glumly. “They’re half-brothers.”

All of the sudden, Kizu became acutely aware of his close proximity to Harvey, along with the fact that everyone else in the amphitheater had a clear view of them sitting next to one another.

“Well, none of them have shown up here yet,” Kizu said. “And I doubt they will now. Most people are departing, not arriving. Plus, Arclight is within shouting distance if anything happens. You’re probably safer here than anywhere else on campus.”

Harvey perked up. “That’s a good point! In that case, let’s stay here as long as possible.”

It made no difference to Kizu - he’d already planned to wait until the end, intending to scout out what his competition might be for next week. While it probably wouldn’t be the same fighters, he at least would know what to expect from others around his skill level. And with each passing fight, he found himself being put a bit more at ease.

He found the most interesting fights to be between summoners. The creatures they summoned always looked unique, even if the spell was the same. He noticed half a dozen other skeletons like the one from the first fight, but some had more rib bones, one had gems in its eye sockets, and another actually had two skulls. More importantly, none of them appeared nearly as resilient or resolute in their purpose as that first undead warrior. Most dissolved after breaking once or twice. None of them could have withstood Sene’s beating for more than a few seconds.

Finally, they got down to the students ranked 700 or under. There were only four of them. In the two matches that followed, Kizu was of the opinion that nobody should have won.

The first match consisted of the two students each summoning a small, mangled, and malnourished monster, and then running away from the other’s creation for ten minutes straight until one of them tripped and scraped their knee.

In the second match, the contestants tried at first to throw pebbles at one another using elemental magic, but soon realized that actually picking up and physically hurling stones proved far more effective. Eventually, they ended up in a fist fight that resulted in a lost tooth being spat along with a glob of blood.

Their pitiful performances should have relieved Kizu. And they did, as far as his bout next week was concerned. Unfortunately, the audience seemed every bit as invested in those dead weight matches as they had been in Sene and Weston’s bout. While the number of students in the stands had dwindled to a fraction of what it had been at the start of the day, the audience hollered and laughed at the contestants at a volume that rivaled the first match’s cheers. And the heckling. It was never ending. Kizu felt extreme discomfort at the idea of being down there himself.

Once the matches finished, Arclight made some closing statements, praising all the students who’d come to compete, as well as announcing the movement of their rankings. Then she dismissed them.

“Let’s catch Arclight and walk with her,” Kizu suggested as the majority of the remaining students stood up to leave the amphitheater.

Harvey nodded eagerly, following on Kizu’s heels down to the arena pit. The professor raised a bushy eyebrow and smiled as they approached her.

“What do we have here? Kaga Kizu, you’re not scheduled to compete until next week. Scoping out the competition?”

“You already signed up?” Harvey asked, astonished.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Kizu muttered. “Actually professor, I wanted to ask you about something you said during my initial combat test. Do you mind if we walk with you?”

“Of course not!” Arclight laughed. “My role as a professor is to teach, and the first step to learning is asking questions! Ask away!”

Kizu decided to just cut right to the heart of his question. “You mentioned that I didn’t use my familiar, Mort, during my examination. But he’s not exactly a threatening animal like a tiger or griffin. How would you have used him?”

“Why do you believe so many people prefer cats and birds as familiars? Why doesn’t everyone have a crocodile on hand?”

“Because they’re expensive?” Kizu guessed.

“Not at all! Supply is fueled by demand. And prices go down with competition. No, guess again!”

“Because they’re so big,” Harvey guessed, jumping into the conversation. “I eat close to three kilos of meat every day. Crocodiles probably eat even more.”

“Almost! You’re closer, but crocodiles usually eat less than that. It’s not the upkeep, but the size!”

“People don’t want larger animals,” Kizu said. It made sense. Just imagining the amount of work a gorilla-sized Mort would require to maintain made him shudder.

“Size is the heart of the issue, because larger animals don't work as effectively as familiars. Sure, you can still take on certain attributes from them - for instance, great physical strength from a more destructive creature. But that’s not a familiar’s primary use. What you want from a familiar is another vantage point from which to channel from. So, a nimble creature like a crow or a mouse is far more advantageous than something powerful, like a panther. They offer a means in which to adapt in creative and unpredictable ways during the fight. The utility of the bond is everything!”

“You mean, I can cast spells through Mort?”

“Exactly! Only it goes far beyond that. Not only do they increase the amount you’re able to channel before exhausting yourself, but you can amplify your magic through your familiar as well!”

“That’s ridiculously powerful!” Harvey said. “Why doesn’t everyone have familiars?”

“Because it also creates an opening for any enemy to exploit,” Kizu said, thinking. “I feel the reflection of the emotions and pain from my familiar.” He hesitated before finally asking a question he’d been wondering for a long time. “What happens if Mort dies?”

“Killing a familiar is bad form,” Arclight told him. Her voice was unnaturally grim. “But if that were to happen, you’d be out of commission for an indefinite amount of time. A piece of your very soul dies alongside your familiar. If that ever happens, you want to be around people you trust to take care of you for the next few weeks. The closer you’re bonded, the worse the break will be. I know people who’ve never recovered from their familiar’s death.”

“But how do I actually channel through Mort?” Kizu asked. He wanted to change the subject away from death.

“The same way that you cast spells normally. You only need to focus on your link simultaneously. It won’t feel natural at first, like juggling with someone else’s arms, but you’ll get used to it.”

“Do you have a familiar?” Harvey asked.

For the first time since meeting her, a question silenced Arclight. Her one good eye stared down at her prosthetic arm as she flexed it into a fist. Kizu felt the pressure building in the air as she squeezed the fist, his lungs felt as if not getting enough air with each breath. Hyperventilating slightly, he was about to change the subject when she finally answered.

“I did,” she admitted, unclenching the obsidian fist and dispelling the air’s weight. “And I don’t think I’ll have another. Like I said before, it’s a point of vulnerability.”

Kizu desperately wanted to pry. Before he could devise a tactful way to do so, however, they rounded the corner and found three very large boys standing across them in the hallway, blocking the path. One of them definitely had troll blood.

“Lucas, Satin, and Green!” Arclight greeted them, beaming. “How are you on this lovely day?”

“Been better,” the one with trollblood said. He eyed Kizu first, and then his eyes slid to Harvey. “Weston lost his fight.”

“Yes, it’s a pity. But he definitely has improved since last year! The problem is that Sene also continues to improve. Closing the gap between them will be a challenge!”

“We want to fight next week,” another one of them said simply.

Arclight positively beamed at them. “Well, your probation is over now! The appeal finally went through. So long as you don’t perform with malicious aggression again, there shouldn’t be any issue at all with that.”

“Good.” The half-troll nodded his approval. “I want to fight them.”

Of course, he pointed at Kizu and Harvey.