Canaan Club - 36. Chapter 36

Several minutes of searching for Pratwith’s backyard later, the first-years stood gaping as they were greeted with the sight of an ancient relic. How else were they supposed to react to an actual colosseum being the school’s sports stadium? Of course, it was more refurbished than the original with comfortable seating for the thousands of people in the audience.

Speaking of the audience, it was quite clear that there were more Pratwith fans present than Ironward ones judging by the smaller section of groups that immediately shot up and began cheering as soon as Rafe and the others walked in. Nevertheless, it didn’t deter any of them. A million more were watching from their TV screens.

“A lot smaller than I thought!” Frodd spoke louder than usual, making Landon snicker.

One would have thought it was because of the booming crowds had there not been a particular troop of Pratwith participants, signified by their magenta and blue uniforms, gathered around nearby. The barbarian was graced with the most amount of sneers and glowers.

“Dude!” Daeran hissed at him. “Don’t let them hear you say that.”

The redhead just shrugged remorselessly. “I hope they do. It’ll make an onslaught upon us, and then the authorities will have no ifs, ands, or buts but to kick ‘em outta their own field, makin’ their group o’ hallions a smidge tinier. Which means more space for our fans. The perfect usurpation, am I right, lads?”

He looked to them for approval but was met with dumbfounded stares instead.

“How long have you been thinking about that, bro?” Joe scratched his head.

Frodd patted him on the back with a self-assured smile. “It’s always sound t’ look for any opportunities for victory in a war, mate.”

“That can be our last-ditch effort in winning this thing,” Rafe scanned the area as if scoping out for the biggest threat. “If you see me on my last leg, take it as the go-ahead to rile them up into a rabid frenzy.”

“Aye, aye, captain!” the club-wielder saluted gleefully.

Soon enough, all combatants have changed and made it to the arena, but not before stopping to ogle their surroundings. They might have been in enemy territory right now, but it was still a wonderful sight to behold. A lot more innovative than the dullness that was the War Field back home.

Taking up the center of the colosseum were three wide, square platforms, not too far but not too close and separating the two schools on either side. And in the centermost stage, a whistle-wearing zebra – not a man with the head of a zebra, but a full head-and-toe zebra – clopped onto the stage.

Who lost their pet? Rafe was about to open his mouth and joke, but the animal spoke up before he could.

“Ironward Academy to the right side of the arenas, please! Teams One and Four are stationed on the left. Teams Two and Five in the center. And Three and Six on the right,” it announced in a loud, gravelly voice, gesturing to the fighting platforms with its hooves.

While most balked, like Rafe, some weren’t surprised in the slightest, like the coaches and Andre. As they moved to their respective places, the blond stared at his friend until he noticed. Though, the omé just smirked in amusement, answering, “Some shifters are very committed.”

Splitting into even smaller groups helped with scrutinizing each individual player. And almost simultaneously, each eye rested on one opponent in particular.

“Is that her?” Joe subtly pointed to one of the girls in the forefront of her team. “Right there?”

Rafe nodded.

Silver hair from a round head that cascaded down to her waist, green, piercing eyes, above-average height, and athletically built. Topping that all off was a glare directed right at Rafe.

Dylan Hallace. The most powerful on the team.

“She looks pissed. You do not want to mess with that kind,” Landon nudged the blond superhuman.

Andre did the same on the other side. “Good thing we’ve brought our own grump to deal with her.”

Huh. Maybe she was a female version of him. Not that he would admit that out loud.

Rafe prodded the young wolf right back. “If that’s the case, then I think her ‘Andre’ is somewhere nearby.”

“I’m sure. Good luck, guys.”

With that, Andre waved at them before heading toward the other coaches, ready to start his job.

He was instantly replaced with Sigil, who sauntered up and looked over the groups. “Saddled with you guys. It’s a twenty-minute-max one-on-one. Win by knockout or getting them out-of-bounds. Same for losing. No unapproved weapons, no direct outside help, and no techniques that will interfere with the other matches. Understood?”

Rafe was glad for the way his coach spoke because he was beginning to get restless. He was more than ready to get this thing underway and throw some hands. “Got it. We’re ready.”

“As ever!” Joe agreed enthusiastically.

The others repeated this sentiment, which brought an approving grin to the unicorn shifter’s pale face. “Keep calm out there.”

“Alright! Are all teams ready to proceed?” the zebra looked everyone over.

Sigil, along with the other coaches on both sides, gave a thumbs-up.

“Very well. Then, the first match will proceed as follows. For Team One, Daeran Davidson of Ironward against Vultros Aether of Pratwith…”

At that, said boy instantaneously deflated, his shoulders sagging. “Oh, come on.”

His roommate had the opposite reaction, rubbing his shoulders as he pushed him toward the stage. “You’re up, buddy.”

“Chin up, man. You’ll do fine,” Rafe encouraged.

Frodd chimed in helpfully as well. “Hopefully, you’re fightin’ the strongest, then if ya win, it’ll demoralize ‘em!”

That only worsened the panic.

Daeran could only sigh dramatically and accept his fate. “Why do I have to go first?”

-POI-

An eagle humanoid hybrid with wide wings and a snake for a tail now stood before him, the reptilian appendage hissing hatefully in his direction. Daeran couldn’t stop his body from leaning back slightly. He knew not to show weakness in such a dire time, but it was a snake for god’s sake!

He hated snakes.

A lot.

Uncle Declan hated didn’t like them either. Had to deal with a bunch of them back home. He wondered if his-

“FoCuS!”

Right. Right.

“Don’t think I’m walking into this blind, foul mage,” his eagle-headed opponent hissed, menacing yellow eyes cutting into his very soul. “I’ve studied your use of the dark arts, and they won’t work on me.”

Daeran swallowed, trying to remain calm. “Well, good for you.”

God, he was gonna get his eyes pecked out, wasn’t he?

“Are the combatants ready?” the zebra referee exclaimed from just outside the edge of the ring.

“Let’s go!” Vultros was primed, crouching slightly into a martial arts stance.

Which made him all the more intimidating. Daeran nodded, choosing to remain silent as he internally panicked.

“Alright! Let the match… begin!”

The Pratwith fighter responded immediately. Daeran was almost sure he started moving before the ref even finished. Maybe he should tattle and win that way.

Vultros’ hands, which were strangely human, touched the tiles of the ring, and sparkling white magic flowed from long arms and spilled onto the beige flooring. The dull tiles were painted over with gold, spreading out into quickly-forming puddles until it was directly under Daeran.

The brunette leaped away with a yelp, mentally thanking his anxiety for the quick reaction. His previous spot, along with what the golden coloring touched, was replaced with blocks of aurous blocks that sprouted from the ground. Beaming streams of auric magic tailed him, forcing him to hop and maneuver out of the way of the slabs suddenly growing out of the ground. He winced when the sharp edge of one caught him below the calf mid-flight, slicing off a bit of his new track pants.

“You could make a fortune off these, man,” Daeran spoke as he flipped back out of the way of another tile. “Mind if I take a few with me?”

Vultros gritted the teeth behind his beak. “Your jibes won’t work on me!”

Well, a conversation was out of the question. He couldn’t really blame him either. Daeran knew the griffin was trying to back him out of the ring by having him continuously dodge backward. He needed to attack soon.

So, the brunette waited until the golden stream puddled under his feet. He kept calm even as he felt himself catapult into the air. Before he could be rocketed completely into the stratosphere, he slid down the sides of the slab, then used it as a jumping pad, his eagle-headed enemy in sight.

Secretly, he wished for his opponent to be ill-adverse in the art of proper fighting, diving in with a kick and hoping to whatever god was watching that he struck true.

Unfortunately, divine intervention was not on his side this time around – why would it? – for Vultros simply sidestepped the attack and delivered a roundhouse kick of his own. Arched perfectly to knock Daeran’s head off. The brunette quickly ducked and blocked the incoming punches, trading them with a few of his own, all while trying to pinpoint a weakness.

Maybe it’s his wings.

He won’t be able to fly with them. He could certainly use magic to make up for it, but it would drain most of his reserves if he was going to attack with it, too.

Wings it was.

Daeran jumped back from a side kick, then darted forward once more, taking advantage of the millisecond of inactivity between his foe’s movements. The moment his fingers brushed against the soft feathers of Vultros’ black wings, he drudged up a substantial amount of magic that’ll surely render the appendages useless for the time being.

However, he forgot one thing. His uncle Declan had always said that a slight thump on the head would turn him into an amnesiac since he was already a scatterbrain – a good-natured tease, bless him. Out of all things, how could he forget the seething snake tail thing that was coming straight forhimohshit-

He literally had to stop, drop, and roll to evade its deadly fangs, swallowing the unmanly squeal that wanted to leap out of his throat the second he was aware of it.

“Jesus!” he stood upright and wide-eyed. “How do you even sleep at night with that thing?”

“If you must know, I sleep soundly…” Vultros smiled as much as could with his beak, laced with scorn and sadism, “while the unfortunate who think they can get the drop on me at most vulnerable wither and die screaming from a single bite.”

Gulp.

“O-Okay. Good to know.”

And he was relegated to dodging golden pillars and flinching away from that frightening reptilian attached to his opponent’s ass for the time being. Those two factors kept Daeran from getting an actual hit in.

“To be honest, I don’t believe you even are a mage!” Vultros called out.

Oh, so now he wanted to talk?

“Yeah?” Daeran blinked as he hopped a good distance away from the golden stream, which was beginning to overtake a majority of the ring.

“No mage would have this much skill and aptitude in such shady sorcery. And you’re definitely no warlock either. I sense a human presence within you, but only partly.”

A slash of fear made his stomach go cold. He had to respect the deduction skills on this one, but to out him on live television? Yeah, that was what Daeran was most worried about. He damn near dropped out of the whole thing altogether.

But he was similar to his friend Rafe in a way. He needed to get stronger, too.

If they found him again…

They always finish what they started, and Daeran needed to man up and face the horrible, cacophonous music eventually.

That dread translated into a nervous smirk as he dashed for the griffin. “Got a guess, bird-face?”

He didn’t get to hear Vultros’ answer. His beak was moving, but no sound reached his ears. Only the heightened clamoring of his heartbeat.

Huh? Did he use some kind of sound spell on me?

“Man, Ironward’s really downgraded these days, huh? Why is that little shit even here!?”

The abrupt explosion of voices made Daeran stumble, allowing the griffin to summon another auric column and nick him in the back. He hissed when he felt his back partially sliced into, but that didn’t do anything to right the wrong in his ears.

“Yeah! How could they even let someone like him into their school?”

“I bet they don’t know about what he did. He’s keeping it a secret.”

Daeran felt his chest constrict, unable to stop himself from glancing at the crowd, filled with both Pratwith and Ironward fans.

However, their faces.

Oh, god. Their faces.

All were in solidarity of leveling their hatred, disgust, and contempt at him. A red haze tinted the arena as they proceeded with their scorn and mockery.

“He’s ashamed. He should be. I’d be if I 7&$#4^8* to 2@1&%.”

Daeran stopped moving, mouth agape. “N-No! No! That’s not what-”

Men clenched their teeth in repugnance while women’s hands flew to their mouths in shock.

They knew. How!? How did they find out!? Was anybody from his hometown in the audience? Were they trying to sabotage him? He expected this to happen eventually, but not so soon. Now now!

They knew, now, and it was all going to happen again.

“What the fuck!? That’s fucking sick! What kind of person does that!?”

Tears, undeserved, trickled down Daeran’s cheeks. His breathing sped, and his nails dug into his palms so harshly, he felt his own tainted blood seeping out.

“I-I’m sorry,” he tried to yell out to them, but his voice was no louder than a whisper. A child trying to cry out for help in the dark with a ravenous monster creeping nearby. “I’m sorry! No!”

They knew. They knew. They knew. They knew. They knew. They knew. They knew. They knew-

“Get that psycho out of the ring!”

“Beat the shit outta him, then toss him out on his ass. We don’t need his evil blood staining our academy’s floors!”

The vicious murmurings and bellows of the glaring horde coalesced into a damning chant that brought black spots to Daeran’s vision.

“GET HIM OUT! GET HIM OUT! GET HIM OUT!”

“S-Stop! Stop! God, just make it stop!” he hunkered down, knees at his chest.

On the outside, Vultros stared down at his foe’s small, whimpering form in confusion, a smidgen of concern in his yellow eyes.

He shook himself. No. Now was not the time for sentimentality. It was probably a ploy to play on his worrisome nature. Draw him near before striking.

“Chickening out, already, dark mage!?” Vultros snorted, preparing to shove his opponent out of bounds with a block of gold. “Then, allow me to grant your request!”

“LeT mE oUt! lEt Me OuT! LeT mE oUt! lEt Me OuT! LeT mE oUt!”

A wall of gold erupted from the ring and sped toward the quivering brunette.

Then stopped.

Then exploded.

Vultros covered himself with his wings as shards of his own attack came hurtling back at him. All the while, the sky darkened as a torrent of dark energy swirled around where Daeran once was. Such power was enough to silence most of the audience and momentarily pause the other matches.

When the griffin unfurled his wings, he grinned at what he saw. “This is what I’ve been waiting for. This… wicked presence. Strange. It’s cold and cruel yet inviting. Just what are you, Daeran Davidson?”

The response he got was his vision going black for a second. Right before he was set flying by a clouded fist to the face, his eyes watering. Vultros grunted and rapidly flapped his wings to stop himself before he sailed too far. The eagle-headed boy took a nose dive for the being shrouded in black, attempting to catch it off guard with his recovery time but was instantly smacked away by a backhand.

Vultros stumbled and skidded. A streak of blood trailed its way down his beak.

Gleaming red eyes that shone through black adornment promised pain before charging at a breakneck pace. Vultros smirked excitedly. This was the challenge he had been hoping for.

He leaped, narrowly avoiding being bum-rushed by the figure but just near enough to strike out with an upside-down hook kick. The back of the griffin’s sneaker connected where Daeran’s back would be, but a cold feeling rushed up the bones of his leg in the process, as if he dipped it in arctic water.

Springing back, he rested five fingers on ring tiles, conjuring a block as tall as he was and telekinetically pitching it dark arts user. Those sinister beads within the shadows burned once again before twin laser beams, splitting the gold in half to zip toward its target. Vultros leaped into the sky, but it came with a cost. The lasers were able to slash near the ankle of the griffin’s blue track pants and lacerate the skin there, making him grunt in pain.

Still, he maneuvered high above to stare down at the black mass eerily watching his every move. “You’re wild. Even with all that power, there is no rhyme or reason. Which is why I will-”

“Vultros! Look out!”

The panicked shout from one of his teammates brought him out of his monologue to find a lengthening tendril jutting from the shape’s left side cutting through the air for him like a bullet. His body moved on its own at that point, drawing his wings near each other to barely avoid the dark wisp.

Unfortunately for him, that wasn’t the only one. Before he could even blink, an entire throng of strands whipped and lashed out at him. His instincts saved him from the first few, but the next caught him by the knee, smacking it like a belt and sending that same unearthly sensation that coursed through him moments before. However, this time, a numbing feeling accompanied it.

His right elbow was given the same treatment.

Then his left.

His stomach.

His chest.

Then his wings.

The griffin plummeted. Cracked the floor when he landed. He was done for.

The shadowy figure sauntered forth, but it looked more like he was walking on air.

Even so, despite the danger of losing, Vultros couldn’t help but chuckle. “Went for the wings, have you? You deliberately fought like an animal to trick me up in the end. I have to say, it does… sting a great deal.”

The figure stopped right before him, tilting its head as if studying the creature below through a magnifying glass.

Under its menacing gaze, its victim smirked triumphantly.

“Do you mind telling me how it feels?”

“Daeran!” Joe yelled in alarm.

Something was wrong…

But it was too late.

There was a near-inaudible snick before a familiar hissing noise could be heard. The figure winced and looked down to find the griffin’s snake tail biting into the back of its calf, a part where the blackness was less… coagulated.

“Gotcha.”

The air was still for a moment.

The thing trembled, but only for a second. Then a faint shriek as if somebody outside the colosseum was screeching from a distance. Finally, the darkness billowed from Daeran’s form to reveal the brunette, eyes half-lidded but standing…

Standing… until he wasn’t.

He moaned lowly before tipping over and falling on his back in an unconscious heap. Vultros remained where he was, unable to get up, but still appearing victorious.

The zebra referee clopped over and inspected the downed combatant before announcing, “Daeran Davidson is unable to continue! Vultros Aether of Pratwith wins by a knockout!”

-POI-

A black void. A familiar friend.

“Shit! It was poison venom, right?”

Was that… Rafe?

“Should I-”

And that was Landon, piping up for a second before the smooth sound of his coach, Sigil, he believed, cut in. “Don’t worry. I got it.”

There was silence for a beat. Another. And another before-

He shot straight up, obsidian transforming to a light pink before dulling back into the natural colors of his surroundings and his fellow players in a tight circle around him.

And he felt… fine. Slightly light-headed, but he was okay.

“Here you go, buddy. Drink up,” he turned to find Andre kneeling beside him, holding a water bottle underneath his mouth.

Daeran quietly and obediently did so, the water rushing down and through his parched throat, making him feel even better.

“Is it all gone?” the omé’s question was directed at Sigil, who nodded.

“Completely. He’ll be a bit woozy for a bit. Rest up and he’ll be fine.”

So, unicorn shifters had healing powers? Neat.

“Hey, man,” Daeran’s attention went to his roommate, who was staring back at him with worry. “You… You kind of freaked us out a little.”

“I-I did?”

“You were actin’ up, lookin’ like the devil right before ya,” Frodd chimed in, regarding him oddly. “Then ya went all ashes and smoke on us.”

“Is everything okay, bro?” Joe asked.

Oh.

Looking up, the audience members had moved their sights to the ongoing battles beside them. Nobody knew and nobody cared.

He must’ve freaked out again. If someone wasn’t doing it soon enough, then his head would play with him until he did. And it happened a lot earlier than last time. He didn’t know what that meant, and he dreaded finding out down the line.

At least, it would be quiet for a little. He hoped he could sleep properly tonight.

“Don’t worry. It-It’s just… my head,” he stammered. “It just likes to play tricks on me sometimes to get me to use… whatever you just saw.”

Daeran hoped his eyes conveyed the plea in his heart. He got that they were worried, but he didn’t want to go into it further. He was so exhausted, wanting to lay back and think about nothing for the rest of the day. No. The rest of the week.

The rest of forever was too good to be true.

Their deepening troubled expressions weakened the hope that they’d just move on. That is until Rafe promptly nodded and kindly patted Daeran on the shoulder.

“Well, as long as you’re okay.”

The brunette smiled in gratitude. “I’m good.”

Rafe got it. There was a silent understanding in those silver eyes. Like he knew Daeran wasn’t ready to dive into haunted memories just yet.

“Well, that’s one point for them, I guess,” Joe sighed.

And the disappointment is back.

“Dammit. I-I’m sorry,” Daeran turned to his partners, the fact that he lost catching up in his brain and making him feel oh so guilty. “I started this whole thing off badly. I-I don’t even know what happened.”

“It’s only one loss, bro.”

“Yeah, but that’s usually telling of how future matches will probably go, and I suck. I won’t blame you if you replace me with someone else.”

“Where the hell is this coming from!?” Rafe suddenly snarled in his direction, making him wince.

Frodd was in agreement with the superhuman, pointing his club in the brunette’s face. “Yeah! We’ll do no such thing!”

“But I-”

“Davidson,” Sigil spoke up, calm and soothing. “Take your loss. Learn from it. Don’t sulk about it. There’s more than one way to be a sore loser, you know.”

“You win some, and you lose some,” Andre wrapped an arm around his back, smiling that bright smile that could warm the coldest of hearts. “And since you lost today, you’ll most definitely win next time.”

“What the water boy said,” Rafe nodded, giving him a determined glare. “Though, let’s try to keep up a winning streak instead of the occasional loss, yeah?”

Daeran looked around his teammates. All encouraging and optimistic. Nothing like the hallucinations his mind invoked on him during the match.

Nobody knew.

And as long as that was true…

“I- yeah,” a small smile worked wonders on his usually despondent face. “You guys are right. Thanks.”