Canaan Club - 39. Chapter 39

Rafe and Vultros stood stock-still before each other, one eyeing the other for any movement despite the match having yet to commence.

“So,” the griffin started, beady eyes looking his opponent up and down, “you are the one that has been fraying the nerves of my teammates. I can see you hold yourself well.”

Rafe snorted. “Don’t think that buttering me up will get me to go easy on you. This is gonna hurt. A lot.”

“I don’t disagree. But our leader was fussing quite a bit, so I expect you to have some semblance of pain tolerance before then.”

It wasn’t difficult to see that he was talking about Dylan Hallace. The blond’s peaked from the corner of his eye to spot said “leader.” Tall, arms crossed, and an annoyed pinch in her expression probably to mask her uneasiness. Maybe his teammates were on to something.

He’s met many Apollo superhumans during his time at the Coat, but the name “Hallace” has never come up, which meant that they must have not been important. If they were, he would definitely have known. His father was really big on nailing Wolfram knowledge into his brain.

“I take it that’s unusual.”

Vultros nodded. “It certainly is rare, but do not flatter yourself. You won’t be getting past me.”

“We’ll see about that,” the superhuman shrugged and turned back to him.

And as if knowing their conversation had come to an end, the zebra clomped away from the arena and exclaimed, “Let the match… begin!”

In an instant, Vultros’ wings fluttered, kicking up into a brisk rhythm that took him into the skies. Rafe eyes followed him, but no other movement from him was made. He just watched as the griffin summoned huge blocks of gold from thin air and hurled them at him.

The superhuman waited as a couple of projectiles got close. His feet remained stationary. His hands, though…

With a relaxed pace, he raised his arms, extending them to face the incoming auspicious slabs. They clashed against his hands, producing a low chime. Still, Rafe didn’t budge from his spot, and like throwing pieces of trash away, he simply tossed the golden blocks to the side.

“If you want to play statue all day,” chirped Vultros from above, “then let me help you with the decorations!”

The griffin propelled downward, knees creating cracks in the stage floor and slamming a hand down in front of him. The earth quaked, and a moment later, Rafe’s vision went dark as he found himself in a tight space. Golden cubes entombed him, squeezed tightly between the manifested walls.

Rafe hummed calculatingly. “Cozy. But…”

In an instant, a red glow shined through the dimness before twin lasers speared through the solid before him. And with a single spin, the golden blocks were sliced, causing them to collapse and crumble around him.

“It got stuffy a little too quick for my taste.”

A second round of lasers abruptly shot from his gray eyes, and Vultros yelped as the very edges of his right wing were clipped, singing off several feathers in the process. The griffin’s face scrunched up in frustration before leaping toward the unmoved blond with a high-pitched caw.

Though, instead of a fist thrown in the superhuman’s blank face, a certain hissing appendage cut through the air and bared its fangs.

At last, Rafe moved, which was unfortunate for Vultros. A simple incline to the right was enough to completely avoid the snake attack. The Pratwith fighter tried again and again, but the superhuman was proving to be adept in the speed department. He was a blur as he dodged and weaved around the volley of his enemy’s serpent tail.

“You can’t dodge forever!” Vultros rasped, irritation seeping into his voice.

Soon enough, this was proven to be true when the snake suddenly dipped and went for Rafe’s legs, curling around his left ankle and squeezing tight to keep the blond in place. Said boy, however, remained expressionless despite the predicament.

Vultros, seeing he now had the upper hand, chuckled smugly. “Didn’t think of the switch-up there, eh? Going for your upper body as a distraction before going for the lower half.”

Rafe didn’t say a thing, looking down at the sentient tail around his leg.

“Nothing to say? Well, then, we might as well end this. Now, go to sleep!”

The snake hissed as it opened its maw to bite into the blond’s calf, but Rafe just snorted. “Hopefully, you can grow this back.”

“What-”

Before Vultros could question, gray became red once more before it carved the space between the two, which included the serpent tail. The thing didn’t even have time to let out a final hiss prior to being severed in half.

The griffin screamed in pain, stumbling back and watching in horror as his appendage flopped like a fish on land, then stilling and disintegrating into ash. It was a sort of symbiotic relationship, it seemed. Without it being attached to its owner, it took seconds for it to die and rot.

“Dammit!” the Pratwith fighter’s face twitched and grimace in discomfort, teeth gritted to keep from screaming. “You-”

He was about to curse out his foe, but when he shook off some of the pain to glare, there was nothing before him. The tailless griffin, panicking, swiveled his head all around him until-

“Over here!”

Vultros snapped to his left and was greeted by the sole of a shoe to the forehead. There was nothing at all after that.

Rafe’s diving kick punted Vultros across the platform and sliding out of bounds, dirt and dust uprooted from his trip. The griffin was knocked out in every sense of the phrase, earning Rafe a flawless victory.

“Vultros Aether has been knocked out of bounds!” the zebra announcer, who the blond swore just popped into the ring like some teleporter, shouted. “Rafe Gold of Ironward wins!”

He dusted off his shoulder. “Easy.”

Easier than he wanted it to be. On one hand, it was another point to their score – which was how the competition functioned. The team with the highest accumulation of wins reigns champion – but on the more personal, selfish side, he barely worked up a sweat, and he wanted a challenge.

Oh, well. He’d have to wait for the silver-haired big boss.

“Holy shit, dude!” Joe gently elbowed his arm. “Is that a new world record or what!? That took no time at all!”

“About time that thing got cut off,” Daeran snorted vindictively as he stared at the pile of ashes that was once Vultros’ snake tail.

Guess he was feeling a bit avenged after watching that. Rafe couldn’t blame him.

“Quick and efficient. Not a scratch on you. Good work,” Coach Sigil nodded.

Rafe reciprocated. The unicorn shifter was a mystery he’d have to wait to figure out, but it did feel good to receive some praise after a fight. He made his way down the line of congratulations from his teammates when he spotted Frodd, who was oddly hanging in the back of the group instead of bursting to the front with his boisterous manner.

Right now, he was, for some reason, crouching on his toes, looking up at Rafe with an obviously fake smirk that split his face in half while he jabbed the grass with the top of his club, nodding a little too enthusiastically. “Nice, nice! Very nice!”

It was like he was hopped up on something, but before he could question it, a grinning Andre was beside him, offering him a bottle of water. The wolf had been running around passing refreshments to all three teams and there were only a couple of beads of sweat trailing down his neck.

“I don’t even think you need this.”

Drawing his attention away from the other boy’s neck, Rafe smirked. “No prize for me, huh? Alright, I’ll make it a bloodier show next time. How about that?”

The omé shook his head and laughed even if he knew it was half of a joke. “You do that. I guess I should expect limbs to fly off if it concerns you from now on. You’ve definitely improved since last time. Those lasers of yours are coming to you a lot easier, aren’t they?”

“Yeah. Barely have to put a thought into them, now.”

They were coming to him naturally now. At least, the red version was. No need to retraumatize himself for that.

The seventh match went by relatively swiftly, being that it was the speedy and very peculiar Landon Vondran – the zebra said his full name, which a slumped Landon wanted to keep a secret for whatever reason.

He was a strange fellow but a good fighter. The Pratwith’s witch was no match for his vampiric speed.

“I don’t know why, but witch blood does not taste good,” the ginger undead picked at his left fang with his thumb.

Daeran gazed at him, bewildered. “Were… you trying to fight her or eat her?”

“Why can’t I do both?”

Definitely strange.

“You okay there, dude?”

Rafe spun around at Andre’s voice only to find the omega kneeling next to a certain jittery barbarian, who had recently evolved into scratching and swallowing every ten seconds.

“Uh? O-Oh, yeah! Just fine, just fine!”

The blond locked eyes with his best friend, sharing in their bemusement.

“The eighth match shall proceed as follows. Team One, Joe Sloane or Ironward against Dylan Hallace of Pratwith.”

“I can go again if I could,” Rafe punched a fist into his palm. “Is that allowed?”

Sigil sadly shook their head. “Everybody goes at least once. I’d send you back out if I could, though.”

“Big boss time!” Joe elatedly crashed his knuckles together. “Female Rafe, here I come.”

“If she is, then you need to be smart and cautious. More than you’ve ever been,” Rafe advised and teased back at the same time.

“If anyone knows how to compliment themselves and insult the other guy in one breath, it’s you, bro. Don’t worry. I’ve still got a few more tricks left up my sleeve. I’m not a one-trick pony.”

-POI-

Despite his amped mood a few seconds ago, Joe moved in on soft footfalls. To be honest, he didn’t think he’d be the one to face up against what he and his team presumed to be the strongest member of the opposing group before Rafe.

Well, at least if I lose, he’ll know what to expect. He knew his friend wasn’t fond of surprises.

So, the noirette stood in his stead for now, staring back at the girl with a smile on his face ‘cause why not? He wasn’t an ill-mannered jackass. His momma taught him better than that.

“So, you’re the big bad?”

Dylan’s eyes flickered somewhere over Joe’s shoulder before resting their viridescent gaze back on him. “And?”

“The team and I’ve been fussing over you before we got here. You’re pretty strong, right? Why don’t you show me what you got.”

She tilted her head up and pondered that for a moment before nodding, a slight upturn of the corner of her lip not going unnoticed. “Ditto.”

He knew he shouldn’t, but he felt like he won something anyway.

“Not much for conversation, are ya?” he got down into a fighting stance. “That’s alright. I can work with that. Something tells me this match will be a quick one, so I won’t hold back either.”

Another nod, silent this time, before she prepared herself as well.

“Begin!”

With that, Joe leaped into action, a spear and shield fazing into existence as he charged at his opponent. The latter’s still posture was giving off familiar vibes of a certain blond, which meant that, if this was truly Rafe’s girl counterpart, there was no room for underestimation.

Man, he should have made that bet official.

He immediately went for her silver-haired head, swiping at it with his spear, but Dylan merely crouched to avoid it. The noirette spun and shifted the momentum into his left side, diving forward to barrel against her with his shield. She evaded that as well, leaping into the air and over him.

So, she’s fast, he thought. I need to slow her down somehow.

“So…” Joe started as he promptly threw his spear at her. “You remind me a lot of my friend over there! The one with the blond hair.”

Dylan sidestepped the projectile, then turned her attention from her foe to the Ironward sidelines. The second her sights were off him, the Ares superhuman twirled before pitching his shield like a frisbee. For a moment, he thought he got the drop on her. However, those hopes were swiftly dashed when she, without even looking, effortlessly ducked.

As if the defensive construct was a paper airplane passing overhead.

“Yeah?” the Apollo replied curtly. “So what?”

Joe extended his arms and summoned a pair of mini-guns in his hands and fired off rounds of blue energy balls. Dylan began a series of hops to dodge the barrage, no complicated acrobatics or complicated maneuvers in any of her moves.

So, she wasn’t much of a show-off. Dammit, he really should have made that bet official!

“I can tell when someone’s grown up in the COW, and that face full of sunshine tells me you’ve spent a fair share of your time there. I’m surprised you’ve never seen him.”

Her attention flickered over to the blond superhuman, an odd gleam in them. “Now, that you mention it, his face does come to mind. If I’m not confusing him with any of the other runts of the litter, he’s the runaway heir, right?”

Hearing that, the noirette faltered briefly.

“That’s big news now?” he winced, fruitlessly hoping that his buddy conveniently didn’t catch that part. “Huh. I thought Daddy Gold would’ve kept that under wraps.”

Dylan shrugged. “He’s been a missing person for quite a while. Honestly, I don’t blame him.”

Which meant she related in some way? Questions for later.

Flashing a double-edged dagger into his hand, he sprinted for the girl and reared his arm back, ready to get a few slashes in. Though, before he could even bring the weapon down, his world suddenly went white, and a searing hot and powerful force propelled into him like a punch to the gut, causing his body to go flying prior to skidding across the stage floor.

Joe groaned, placing tender fingers across his burning chest. It took a bit of time for his vision to unblur, but when it did, he was greeted by the sight of a hole in the uniform, and a big patch of red and pink smoking in the middle of his torso.

“H-Holy shit! You…” then, much like the blast, it hit him. “Oh, yeah. Right. Apollo superhuman.”

Why did it slip his mind that Apollos were adept at controlling light? Shit! He was lucky enough not to have gone blind from that.

However, instead of losing his nerve, he grinned at her, making a check mark with his thumb and index finger. “You make a pretty neat night light!”

That momentarily caught her off guard. “Thanks?”

Once again, Joe glided toward her quickly, fashioning a metal shield that spanned his whole body. The moment Dylan’s form began to flicker with literal concentrated solar energy, he brought up the barrier. The light was even stronger this round, so he counted himself lucky that he had something to stave off blindness for the time being. However, he should reiterate that it was stronger, so he wasn’t all that bewildered to find himself knocked onto his back by the sheer intensity.

“Damnit!” he punched the ground. “Nothing gets through to that, huh? It’s like my move but more efficient. So, it’s better. Damn!”

He made a sturdier shield, being cautious of the remaining energy he had. “That’s gotta cost ya a lot of power, so, until you’ve completely tapped out…”

Not the best of plans, but it was all he had for now. He was still trying to find a weakness even after three more attempts, each meeting with the same fate as the others. A tougher shield didn’t work, projectiles were only sent back, and even a freaking flamethrower was no use.

“You done?”

Joe took a couple of deep breaths before letting out a chuckle. “Bored? Gimme one more chance. I’ll get through your little trick if it’s the last thing I do.”

Joe could imagine the panicked looks on his teammates’ faces after hearing that. Yeah, it wasn’t the right thing to say so soon in the match, but there really was no way around this.

Around this…

Wait! Joe felt the lightbulb in his brain turn on. Maybe that’ll work!

The noirette his feet and focused, his powerful mind filtering through images of his current desire. Esoteric energy scurried hungrily like a hungry animal for the mental pictures and grasped onto them, magnets bolting to iron. For a time, the Sloane family were thought to be magic users, which was one of the main reasons for not being a legacy family. From conjuring weapons for thin air, it colored mages who knew of their abilities green with envy.

There were some grounds for fear when dealing with the strongest Ares superhuman household in the world, and Joe had to look the part at least if he was going to be bringing a war.

Steel materialized across his body, laying the foundations of armor. A double-edged sword, glinting brightly, appeared in his right hand while a bronze, diamond-shaped shield strapped to his left arm. A visor hung from the top of the ‘helmet’ area, the screen as dark as sunglasses to protect him from the blinding light.

It had been a while since he pulled this off. Childhood memories of having special force unit knowledge crammed into his head as a part of his studies – the extra school time was not fun – were brought to the surface.

Man, he remembered getting together with his siblings and pretending to be some military ops team going to war against the baddies. As a self-appointed general, he conjured what he’d thought at the time were cool-ass soldier garments. It wasn’t the best-looking suit. Joe could guess he looked pretty lame to the others, but it would be worth it if it got a shot in.

“The little kid in me is currently screaming, you know,” he spoke with a metallic tinge. “He’s been wanting to test this wear in a real fight. And now…”

“A dream come true,” Dylan responded dryly, rolling her neck. “Too bad they’re going to be destroyed.”

“You forget, though. I can always make a better one!”

The Ares superhuman charged for the Apollo, sword in motion for a strike. The explosion of radiance filled his vision and smacked against him once more, but most of the force and sheer luminosity was luckily parried off by the steel and visor.

Kid me, you are a genius! Joe cheered internally.

He quickly cut off the celebration as Dylan snorted, thrusting out a hand toward him. Just centimeters from her palm generated a sphere of violent red, orange, and yellow. A miniature sun that grew in size until it barely reached the length of her fingers. Before Joe could panic, the concentrated ball of heliacal fire launched like a bullet, meeting blast-to-chest with the dashing hunk of metal.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” Joe cursed and spat, feeling like his torso was melting off. The armor was doing better than he expected against this power – go, kid me! – but that didn’t stop the searing heat. Dylan’s eyes widened just the slightest bit as Joe continued to stomp forward, her flames deflecting into four different directions.

“Huh. Looks like your elementary school art project has some uses after all.”

He couldn’t help but laugh aloud. “Read my mind! Guess past me had a few tricks up his sleeve for present me!”

And why, when he was losing horribly, did it feel like an accomplishment when a low chuckle slipped out from her?

“It certainly passed the defense test. Let’s try out offense, shall we?”

Without a hint of a warning, Dylan was suddenly coming at him, forcing the armored noirette to defend. He crossed his metallic-adorned arms, and a millisecond after that, he felt it.

Dylan Hallace didn’t have that much of an intimidating figure. From the looks of it, arm and leg day were skipped for six of the seven days of the week. Either that or her school’s ugly uniform wasn’t doing her any favors.

Unfortunately, for her opponents, it cost them when they underestimated her because she punched hard. Joe could have sworn he was hit by a Mack truck and a burning stove all at once. The metal there and around his chest area were quite literally dissolving.

“Oh, fuck,” he hissed.

Dylan answered that with a follow-up fist to the stomach and a roundhouse kick to his shoulder. He could hear the sizzle as he was sent skidding back. And those attacks were so fast, Joe hadn’t had the time to regain his bearings.

“Man, who trained you up, girl?”

“We aren’t really recognized by your family and the legacies, but I think that’s because we’re too dangerous.”

He blinked. “What?”

Color him intrigued because now he was drawn to the background behind that statement.

The combatants traded a variety of punches, kicks, and sword slashes, albeit Dylan’s were arriving and striking true at a faster rate. The defense of Joe’s armor might have been sick, but it didn’t aid well in terms of speed. And it got even worse since every hit, landed or not, melted through the steel. Very soon, Joe was going to have to absorb the bio-soul energy back in if he didn’t want to be in a brazen bull-type situation.

“I’m not getting anywhere like this. It’s all or nothing!” Leaping away, his sword and shield flickered out of existence, the energy returning to him. Not a moment later, he dove back in while on the inside, his power began to meld. If she won’t move, then he’ll just have to make her. Unless she can fly, she can’t stay still while the whole stage is being destroyed.

Please tell me she can’t fly.

“Hey! That little light explosion thingy looks pretty flashy. Mind if I give it a whirl!?”

Ten percent was put into reinforcing his armor. Another ten was placed in his dodging skills, ducking under a wide kick before rolling behind Dylan and wrapping her tight in a full nelson. The noirette made his grip crushing. He had a bit of an aversion to hurting girls, but this one was a tough cookie. Besides, the impending detonation will do the rest of the work.

Hopefully.

“I see,” she stated, calm despite her predicament. “You’re gonna do that bomb technique to try and push me out of the ring.”

Joe snorted. “Try not to sound too scared! This will be over in a twinkle!”

“Oh, it shall.”

It was getting a little warm below the knees, but Joe disregarded that as he let loose his power. Atomo Obliteration erupted from the suit of armor, crimson enveloping him, Dylan, and the area surrounding them. Rock and grass were once again uprooted from the ground to be sprung elsewhere or incinerated completely.

Joe had loosened his hold on the Apollo superhuman.

And that was when he began to notice. She wasn’t moving. In fact, it was as if she was utterly unperturbed by the explosion she found herself in. Joe had a view of the backside of his opponent with her long, silver hair flapping harmlessly through the energy.

But just before he had any more time to do… well, anything, a burst of light cut through the red, and Dylan came shooting backward. The air, alongside his power, was shoved roughly out of his lungs as his foe literally shoved him out of the explosion and over the edge of the stage.

Broken and dissolved steel vanished as Joe collapsed in a heap on the dirt floor.

“Joe Sloane has been knocked out of bounds!” he heard the announcer proclaim through the fog. “Dylan Hallace of Pratwith wins!”

Now how was that for an anti-climactic finish?

-POI-

“I… I don’t know what happened,” a healed-up Joe’s mind boggled with confusion as he shook his head. “One minute I had her, then the next… I was on a rocket ship out of bounds.”

Landon whistled. “Holy hell, she had you beat in every way, man.”

“Yeah. She’s good,” the noirette turned to his fellow superhuman. “Honestly, I’d say you have this in the bag, Rafe bro, but now I don’t know you’re gonna work your way through that one.”

Rafe had been glaring across the stage at the eighth match winner, gauging everything he knew about her so far. He was never good at analyzing or making predictions based on complex calculations, but he knew to believe in the old adage that all things had some kind of weakness, visible or not.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever faced off against an Apollo before,” he finally replied. “My father never seemed too fond of them. Probably thought they were stronger than him, but he’d never let anybody know that.”

“Are you even up next?” Daeran asked.

“The ninth and final match shall proceed as follows…” the zebra piped up a second later. “Team One, Froddgenskaenn of Ironward against Dylan-”

“Nope! Nope, nope, nope!”

The rejection was loud, cutting him off. All eyes snapped to Frodd in shock, who was standing back up. However, he was paler than ever, a blue tint flushed across his nose. The barbarian clutched at his stomach as he heaved.

The dude’s been getting sicker and sicker ever since his match. Rafe spotted the half-bitten lead on his club, which was currently laying at his feet on the floor.

What the hell did he eat?

“Uh… dude? Are you-” Joe was about to place a consoling hand on the redhead’s shoulder, but he exploded into action before he could.

Frodd hopped twice, each time tossing one of the shoes he grumbled about, and began sprinting in place, holding his stomach tighter. “I-I-I’m sorry… I can’t… oh gods…”

Andre was downright worried now, moving beside Joe. “Frodd? Do you need to-”

“The jacks! G-Gonna boke!” he screamed before taking wide bounds away from his team and out of the arena.

Silence, except for the part of the crowd that paid attention to the other matches, overwhelmed the area after the… spectacle. A little memory of a tidbit floated past Rafe’s mind. This was all being filmed live.

Oh, were they going to hear from their other peers about this.

“I’ll take him. Keep the show running,” Sigil sighed, rubbing the space under his horn before nicking a water bottle from Andre’s bag. The omé didn’t even notice, staring in the direction where Frodd just ran off to. “You’re in charge, water boy.”

That broke him out of his reverie, nodding shakily. “O-Okay, Coach.”

The quiet came back when Sigil went to follow, and that seemed to piss the blond off.

“The hell was that?” he asked exasperatingly.

Make no mistake. He was concerned about the guy, but did that forfeit cost them a win or what? Nobody was saying anything.

“He’s been fidgeting since his match,” Daeran bored holes into the spot where the barbarian had been suffering in silence. “I tried asking him what was up, but I got nothing. He just… kept shivering a lot and kept repeating himself. Like a kid on a really bad sugar rush.”

Rafe huffed. “Then, who goes next?”

And just as soon as he asked the question, it was answered in the form of a talking zebra.

“It seems that Froddgenskaen has dropped out of his match. In his place, Rafe Gold of Ironward will face off against Dylan Hallace of Pratwith!

Well then.