Dreadlords Graduation

[Edric]

The Blackwood - Outside the Academy

"DO YOU KNOW WHY WE DO THIS TEST?"​

Edric almost seemed to flinch as the shouted words echoed through the forest around him and the others, his fingers tightening into fists, his expression kept a neutral mask as he hid the anxiety and dread that slowly crawled up his spine. He did not look at where the voice came from, did not even acknowledge that it existed at all.

No.

His focus was entirely upon the bloody streak of flesh that had once been his fellow classmate.

If he had been asked, the boys name would never had slipped his tongue. He had been one of the weaker of the class, his magic having something to do with mending stone or the like. Edric had never much paid him any mind, he'd not been a threat. Not to anyone at all. Least of all Fermin who had rolled over him like a stone thrown from a mountain side.


It wasn't supposed to be like this. Edric thought to himself bitterly as his eyes finally peeled away from the bloodstain and turned towards the bellowing Proctors.

"To weed out the weak. To find those are worthy of the title Dreadlord, and those who are not."​

The test.

The one that they had all been preparing for, fighting for. The inevitable gate which all Dreadlords had to walk through in order to claim their title. Or that was how it had been before. Then the Revolution had come. Those above had promised again and again, told each and every Initiate at the Academy that no such thing would happen now. Yet here they were. Not upon the tower, but within the ring nonetheless.

Edric glanced down at the cuffs which sat around his wrists, the pulsing runes along the cold steel searing quietly against his flesh.

His gaze flickered seconds later to the others down the line. Some wore them, others did not. Did you want to be here?

He asked himself quietly, though quickly decided it did not matter. Edric already knew what he would do. Knew what would happen the second they demanded to step into the ring and freed his magic. Until then though he was stuck. Frozen in place, watching his classmates murder one another. Either for fear of what would be done to them, or glee at finally being able to test themselves.

"Congratulations, Dreadlord Fermin."​

The Proctor said with a smile.

"Now, whose next?"
​

As the man spoke, Edric could hear a similar phrase echo out behind him, nearly drowned out by the thunderous boom of someone's magic erupting within the forest. Another victor declared, another fight started.

How many would there be?

 

[Zael Castomir]

"I ain't that man," Zael said under his breath.

Those Republic liars. Downright. Spineless. Liars. They had given their assurances, and their assurances weren't worth a damn, because here they all were in the Blackwood, not one bit of foresight from the new regime to ensure that this didn't happen. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

So the promise was broken. And the time had come to take a stand. To rebel as never before.

Because he had his mind made up. He wasn't a piece of shit like Fermin, feebly willing to just give in. He wasn't going to do this. Before the Revolution had come, yeah, he'd had it set in his head that he'd kill whoever he needed to in order to graduate; he couldn't see any other way. Not anymore. There was a way, and it had been there the whole time. Zael wasn't going to just turn on the people he knew, the people he grew up alongside, the people he fought and bled with for years, his friends, merely at a Proctor's command, merely because those sadistic cunts wanted a show of blood.

They could make a murderer of everyone else here.

But they weren't going to do it of him. He wouldn't let them have that.

With that resolution Zael had a supreme sort of clarity. He knew precisely what was going to happen: he was going to have his turn, those nulling cuffs were going to be taken off of him, and then he was immediately going to attack every Proctor he could. Hell, if he was lucky, he might even be able to set a few other Initiates free, and if he was luckier still, they might have the same courage to fight the real enemy here.

Either way, lucky or unlucky, he didn't expect to make it out of here alive.

And there was no fear of it.

Now, who's next?

No sense in waiting.

Zael put on the biggest shit-eating grin he could possibly manage, as if all this were nothing to him, as if it were all a joke, as if this were really a waste of his time and that they, no matter who he was facing off against, ought to just name him Dreadlord already. Better they see this façade than the true fury boiling beneath.

"Me. I'm next. I ain't got all day, so hurry it up, would ya?"

 

[Henk]

What the hell had it all been for then?

Things were supposed to be different. The revolution was supposed to have done away with this very thing, buried it in the bloody, rotten past of this godforsaken academy where it belonged. The days where the students of Vel Anir were pitted against one another like dogs for little more than amusement and sport had ended. That's what had been repeated to them over and over all year.

Nothing had changed. They still wanted to tear everything apart.

Everything that Henk had worked to build. The confidence that he'd found, the bonds he'd made, and the goals he'd set. They were pulled away from him at the final moment like a mutt with a dangled treat. The men and women who he'd grown up with, whom he'd grown to love as his own family were now being slaughtered by one another mere feet from him. Each one that fell to this sorry excuse for a test was like a knife being shoved in his gut.

And for the first time in his young life, Henk felt nothing in his heart but rage.

Burning, eating holes inside of him like a parasite. Anybody could see it, the way his skin flickered and strobed with the light that Henk usually kept under control with ease.

There was no point to this. No matter what the Proctor claimed, it was a meaningless show of power. They lost lives, and the ones who survived became killers of their own brethren.

Somebody beside him said his name, but the Initiate was too busy seething at the grisly scene playing out before him like a macabre dream he couldn't wake up from to look and see who it was. He spoke though, softly enough to hide his fury, back to them.

"I gave them everything. We gave them everything. I was so stupid."

Foolish. To believe they would change so easily, so quickly. To think that he could make change on his own, merely teaching the ones that came after them. To be convinced they gave a flying fuck about whether any of them lived or died.

The cuffs almost seemed to throb around his wrists as they held back the power that ached to explode out of every one of his pores. The shouts of the Proctor, the murmurs of the others, it was a muffled cacophony of white noise.

So they wanted him to pick a side: His friends and classmates, or his very life. It wasn't really a choice. If they put Zael, Kristen, Alistair, Ralene...

Noel...

If they put any of them in front of him and told him he had to kill them, then that was it. Everybody in Vel Anir and their mother knew Henk wouldn't kill another Initiate, even if it meant dying. But he hadn't come this far to roll over and just accept that end. A couple of years ago perhaps, but he'd learned. He'd changed.

He had friends now. Real friends. He knew what it felt like to love, and be loved.

Above all else, he wasn't scared of these people anymore. If they wanted to kill the people they cared about, then they were his enemy. He felt it slipping, the last grain of sand in an hourglass. The moment he was free of these bindings, nobody else was going to die. Nobody except for that Proctor sneering over a bloody lump.

From the corner of his vision, he saw Zael step forward. And wordlessly, so too did Henk.

If he was going to go out in a blaze of glory for what he believed in, there was no better partner than him.

"Yes. Let's end this while there's daylight."

 

[Samantha Black]

Ralene stood among the few Initiates who had come willingly, unshackled. At the time there had been a great deal of confusion. Today of all days, she'd not known what to expect. For years the lower levels of Initiates had sat and spectated the graduating classes arms race to the finish line. Watched as Initiate tore life and limb from fellow Initiate without care of remorse.

She could remember, years ago, the first time they'd lead her lower grade in to bear witness.

Remember it being the clincher of her determination to grow stronger, more powerful, smarter than her fellow Initiates. Ralene had decided that day that she would survive no matter what. Even if it meant taking down her classmates one by one. And she'd done just that since then - proven her might with blade, body, mind, and magic. Yet here she stood, feeling the eyes of those she'd slowly grown close to and come to know in a way she never would have expected.

This wasn't what had been promised by the new Republic and perhaps she'd been too willing to follow without question those Proctors she had known for some time had resented the new laws and new ways. Some had even openly defied the rules put into place - she and many others had been the target of their anger and aggression throughout the year. Perhaps at the time Ralene had figured it was nothing more than further training, to test her steel against those who might displace the new order.

But wasn't that what she had been trained for? To follow orders?

Now here she was, inundated by the weight of disgust and anger and confusion sinking into her. This wasn't how it was supposed to go and she was not going to play ball. So as Zael and Henk offered themselves up as the next round, Ralene slowly and quietly drifted back behind the others, looking as though she were moving to get a better view of what would promise to be a very interesting match.

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Fuck fate. Fuck destiny. Fuck this fickle republic of dog shit.

Blood was soaking into the needle-covered earth, a metallic tang mixing with dark soil and wet bark and fresh pine. Usually it was a smell that Everleigh enjoyed, a shady and cool forest couldn’t be complete without those heavy and heady and yet refreshing scents. It was ruined now, soured by bloodshed. The translucent hairs on the back of her neck rose in that rumble of paranoia that seemed to attack all the dark corners of her mind.

She wasn’t shackled, but why would they bother? If she used magic, her eyes would glow thanks to that rune tattooed at the base of her neck. Besides, to her, it was clear why some were shackled and some were not.

The poison eater breathed in, trying to steady the heart pounding against her rib cage. A chill crept down her spine, not the usual frisson that overtook her before a fight. Everleigh wasn’t against killing, really, more often than not, a touch of her poison was like falling peacefully to sleep. Short and sweet and most importantly, painless. Especially as she had gotten older she had realized being cruel did little in making her feel better.

Yet, she still deemed herself a murderer. So the least she could do, because Everleigh wanted to live as well, was to pick one of the weaklings and give them an easy death. It wasn’t right, Everleigh hadn’t planned on killing for graduation, but at the same time, was she not poison? What did poison do? Wasn’t her nature to kill whether it be directly or indirectly?

Her thoughts stalled the moment Zael spoke aloud.

Everleigh’s seamless, unflappable poker face, the one that had gotten her through countless tortures and miseries and maladies, broke as he stepped into that ring. Everleigh swallowed hard, keeping back the words she wanted to shout. It hadn’t been that long since they had spoken about the future, since Zael told her that he wouldn’t do something wrong… And then Henk stepped forward. Where Zael had gotten an expression of agonizing worry, Henk received the opposite.

How. Dare. He. Everleigh was seething like a feral beast, first glowering at Henk as if she would kill him herself, and perhaps she would have. But Henk wasn’t the problem. Even if someone else had stepped forward, they wouldn’t be the problem either. The problem was someone, the one the initiates called Proctor. Yes, how dare they was far more accurate in how she felt.

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair had not been shackled. He wish he could say it was because the Proctor's like him or that he simply followed along when ordered. Unfortunately, he had asked questions and had been against going. The Proctors, however, did not find him dangerous enough to waste a pair of nullification cuffs on. That was a little demeaning.

While he noticed others looking for way to escape, ways to kill the proctors, or easy opponents for their fights, Alistair was looking closely at the cuffs on an initiate near him.

The runes were good, high quality, likely from master Leofrid, that resided in the city. If so, then they would not be the easiest to break, but...he could do it.

Once his own analysis was done, he looked back up glancing over to his allies that he was sure were on his side. Edric, Evie, Zael, and Henk were easy to spot. Henk and Zael had volunteered to fight and he likely had an idea what they were aiming for. Wait, where was Ral.

He almost turned his neck to look for her, but he stopped when he saw her out of the corner of his eyes. She was moving, preparing for her next move. Alistair needed to get moving too, but his first goal was simple. He needed to get juggernaut out of his chains, his eyes glanced to Edric. Once he got him out, then the fun would begin.

For the first time, Alistair realized that a seething anger was beginning to bubble up inside him. It was an anger for Proctors who were so blinded that they would lead the Academy to ruin, fighting a battle that had already been loss.

 

[Davi]

"Aren't you going to watch?"

Davi looked up at the other initiate - Lorelai, he thought her name was. He couldn't recall much about her other than her magic seemed to create bubbles of some type or other. It had seemed frivolous and useless so he hadn't thought to bother himself learning more. She would likely be one of the dead by the end of today, along with himself no doubt. His manacles rattled as he got himself comfortable against the tree and leant his head back to close his eyes.

"What's the point?" It would not matter whether Henk or Zael died other than the fact Zael annoyed him more than Henk did. Henk at least knew when to shut up. Zael in contrast appeared to have mentally stopped growing at the age of 10. Both of their magics were impressive and geared towards fights such as this. It certainly would be something to see for most. "It's just going to creep in to your mind your powers aren't as strong as theirs. It'll make you second guess yourself, question the last 12 years of pain. Then what will happen? You'll freeze and be taken out by someone like Mildred," whose only ability was to heal. Useful and powerful in its own right but here? In the field? Useless.

"I would never-!"

"Are you sure?" Davi cracked open an eye. "When the chips came down, before watching Henk and Zael try to fry one another, do you think you could ram a sword through anyone's chest here?" doubt clouded the other initiates face and Davi closed his eye once again. "So take my advice. Don't watch."

 

[Noel]

Noel had been roused awake prior to dawn. Proctor Wallner was there and telling her to come with him. To the Blackwood. She'd been there before with the same Proctor, years ago, and so she knew exactly what the plan was before she'd even gotten out of bed.

Thinking quickly she blurted out, "I need to alert Guardsman Dumon, we have a sparing lesson planned at dawn."

No sooner had she finished speaking than the shackles had gone on. Her magic was rendered useless and she was forced down to the cool morning air of the forest. Noel had considered screaming but decided against it. Maybe she'd alert a member of the Guard but it was far more likely the Proctors would maim, or possibly even kill her, for such an outburst.

Once she was there she took in the surrounding faces. Most of their class had been taken here. These Proctors would all end up imprisoned, if they were marched up to the gallows, by the time this day was done. But not before half of her class was dead.

Not before she'd be forced to end a fellow student's life. Again.

She could barely process what was going on when Zael and Henk stepped up to fight. She'd wait until the very end to volunteer. Noel knew Edric wouldn't put himself out until then. And if he stepped up sooner she'd take that moment to step forward. If anyone deserved to die today it was her.

Spoiler: Before

The Blackwood - Three Years Ago​

Finding friends at the academy was a feat harder than getting through the academy alive. Everyone here was competitive because they had to be. There had been no revolution, there never would be, Vel Anir would be exactly as it was today for all time. Yet despite all of that Noel had managed to not only find a friend but a best friend.

Rachel had been brought into the academy only a few weeks after she had. They'd seen a lot together, comforted one another after beatings, given each other pointers on how to beat some new challenge or how to better hone their magics. Moreover Noel trusted Rachel with every secret, with her very life.

So when Proctor Wallner had collected the two of them for an excursion into the Blackwood they'd both been exchanging nervous looks for the entire hike. What could he possibly want? What test were they facing today? The only thing they were certain of was that it was good he'd picked the two of them. They had each other's backs, they were the closest thing they'd likely ever have that was comparable to family.

"You two are close."

The words hung in the air as Proctor Wallner abruptly stopped in a clearing deep within the forest. He turned on one heel and stared daggers into the two teenagers. Then a sinister grin came about over his face.

"Your friendship is a cancer. The academy has tolerated it so far as we figured one of you would've washed out by now."

Washed out. They thought Rachel or Noel would've died by now.

"We have to cut that cancer out. If this continues you'll both fail. If we do this, well, we just might get one of you to graduation."

"Sir? What do you mean?" Rachel's words were bold and confident. She had always been stronger than Noel, more serious, and were it not for her help Noel never would've learned how to properly wield a spear or handle a sword.

"A duel. To the death. If you refuse I'll slay you both here and now."

"No." But there was no real point in refusal. As soon as the words had left Wallner's lips both of the girls knew that in a best case scenario only one of them was leaving those woods alive.

 

[Jaxan]

This 'ere was a proper day. A real damn good day.

Mr. Jax had done all enthusiastically and such. There weren't any reason at all to resist what the Proctors wanted. And when they showed up and Jax found out they were gunna get to do the thing he'd been lookin' forward to for years after all?

Hot damn! What a pleasure. If he waited long enough there'd be so much blood and viscera from fallen students that ole Jax would 'ave a real easy goin' of it.

"Rip 'is head off!!" Jaxan screamed as if he were watchin' a sporting event and not two of his classmates fixin' to spar until one of 'em stopped breathin' for a good long while. There were lots of sour grapes sittin' around at the venue but for Jaxan and a few englightened others this day was fixin' to be the greatest spectacle they'd had in their entire lives.

 

[Sable Pembroke]

There was nothing that Sable could say, feel, or express that his fellow classmates weren't already. He could see the pain and betrayal in their eyes. He knew exactly how bitter they were that all of the supposed change wrought by the revolution had somehow come to nothing. Why were they doing this? Why were the proctors reenacting the empty, honorless slaughter that their predecessors had inflicted upon the initiates year after year? Sable could feel the resounding sentiment resonating from his classmates, his friends.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Yet he could do nothing about it. Say nothing about it. Not because it had already been said or done, not for lack of trying, but because he'd been bound and shackled the same as several of the other initiates, and then more so.

Sable knelt, forced down with the runed cuffs binding his hands behind his back. His eyes were red with rage, teeth clenched around the gag that had been forcefully shoved into his mouth when he wouldn't stop screaming at the proctors as the bloodshed unfolded. If he'd been allowed free he would have protected them. Maybe now they wouldn't be...

No. Instead he was forced to watch, hatred simmering in his heart, as his comrades killed each other. Just like the initiates before them had, year after year. Just as they were sure to continue to. Year after year.

Even still, the hulking, prostrated form of Sable shook and struggled against his bindings as Zael and Henk offered themselves up. He roared, muffled and hoarse, behind the gag. He cast his gaze to whomever might meet it, pleading, desperate. This could not go on.

 

[Charon]

For once, Charon was not locked up, chained, bound, or left to isolation. The runed cuffs had only been applied to one of his wrists, and even then it was only to keep the monster in human flesh that was Charon from debilitating every single person present.

That was for the best. Charon would gladly take the 'graduation test' over and over until his muscles frayed apart, his bones were reduced to dust, and his blood poured from every broken seam on his body. He watched the previous fight with all the anticipation of a starving lion in the presence of fresh, bloody meat. Even through the suppression of the cuff, his eyes shone that horrible, scarlet hue, his sharpened teeth shining like gleaming blades in sunlight.

"Ah-ah, Jaxan," Charon gently chided his classmate in a rare moment of lucidity. "They ought to make it last."

Charon was here to murder one of his fellow initiates. Slowly. Torturously. And for once, he would be sanctioned to do so. Today was meant for him, and the only thing in his way was a few minutes, and a few bodies. He may as well have enjoyed the show.

 

[Edric]

“Good. Square up lads.”​

The Proctor said, motioning towards Henk and Zael. His eyes watching the rest of the crowd like a hawk. Edric followed his eyes, slowly looking down the row of his peers and taking in each one in turn, eyes eventually landing on Sable. A small, rueful smile touching his lips before he slowly turned his eyes on some of the others.

Everleigh, Alistair, and then Noel.

For a few moments Edric stared at her, the conversations they’d had turning over in his mind as Jaxan suddenly shouted.

“Quiet, boy”​

The Proctor hissed.

“You have your own troubles coming for you.”​

Edric frowned for a moment, and then slowly turned his head towards where the man was indicating. Behind them, between the ring of Initiate’s standing around Henk and Zael and one of the other groups walked Proctor Sikerus, and over his shoulder was draped a lithe figure with platinum blonde hair.

“Those of you who need a challenge, will get a challenge. Henk, Zael. Begin!”​

As the man finished speaking, Proctor Sikerus threw the figure onto the ground.

 

[Liliana]

”How DARE YOU!” Liliana spat, her face a visceral make-up of utter rage and seething anger. The gag that had been stuffed into her mouth was half spat on the ground, the collar of runemarked iron around her neck seething against her skin as her fingers twitched in their attempted weavings.

She stared daggers at Sikerus and the other Proctors, utterly ignoring the presence of the other Initiates as though she alone had been trussed up and dragged into the woods.

”Do you know who I am?!” Liliana hissed, looking up at the man who had dragged her. ”What I can do to you?! What my father, what my COUSIN WILL DO WHEN SHE LEARNS OF THIS!?”

A wicked grin spread on Sikerus’ face as he stepped forward and kicked Liliana in the face. His boot thrashing against her jaw and sending her whirling across the ground. The blonde flipped over, drawing herself up on her knees and spitting blood onto the ground. ”I’m going to leave you a drooling simpleton you rat fucking mongrel.”

Sikerius smirked, and then jerked his head.

“Jaxan. Why don’t you earn some of that swagger. Break your little Queen Bee in half.”​

The Proctor commanded with a wolfish grin.

 

[Jaxan]

Gods ChaCha made his skin crawl sometimes. "I just wanna see some blood boy-o." He'd at least do the kid some honor by keepin' his reply short. All that really mattered for Jaxan was fuel for his magical fire. Whether there was sufferin' or a quick decapitation was fine, same result for his arcane talent.

It woulda been amusin' to see Lil gettin' dragged 'round like she were a sack of potatoes. Woulda been, had Jax not been tryin' his hand at servin' House Lorel once he graduated from this place. Whereas he woulda snickered had it been any other initiate with Lil he had to keep a face of stone.

After all, if he weren't in her good graces his whole plan would go out the window.

But then it all shifted 'round and years of careful plannin' got thrown outta the entire fuckin' building.

"Uh," Jax thought on it for but a half second. There was no way he could defy a proctor, not this late until the game. "Break 'er in half, eh?"

Fuck. This wasn't part of the plan. House Lorel was more likely to order Jax's pretty little head on a pike than offer 'im up a cushy little post.

"Sorry Lil."

Jaxan entered one of the dormant rings, bone fragments and blood litterin' the dusty cobblestone floor of the arena. He cracked both his knuckles and grinned at the blonde-haired high born. "I don't wanna do this, hope you understand." Jax concentrated and the remains o' those students who fell before 'em started to rise up in the ring, surroundin' both Jaxan and Lilliana.

"I'll make it quick."

 

[Trix]

"No."

Until Lili had been dumped unceremoniously on the floor, Trix had been keeping quiet.

Watching.

At the start of the school year if anybody had asked her, Beatrix Umbra would have been the first to say she would rather the year end in the usual bloodshed atop the tower. It had been what she had trained for all these years after all, and it had felt to the young girl that the revolution had taken that way of proving herself away. She'd spent the year finding other ways to do just that, but along the way she had made... friends. Friends beyond those joined in the joy of causing others misery. That in turn had led to her discovering new ways to harness and deploy her magic. She'd grown. And she'd be damned if that was going to be taken away.

"Fuck this" she muttered quietly, surprising even herself. This was far from who she had been a year ago. Perhaps that was why they had made the mistake not to shackle her with runes. Perhaps they had assumed, wrongly, that she would be the first and eager one to prove herself like she'd been boasting all year round. Casting a glance in the direction of the Proctors she quietly crouched and pressed her hand into the earth.

 

[Kalix]

Kalix looked around, slow and dazed. Shackled at his wrists and with a collar around his neck, the proctors made sure that Kalix was not going to be able to use his magic until they wanted him too. There was an odd sense of peace to the initiate, perhaps only in violence could he ever feel at home.

“Initiate Kalix, step forward.” Kalix blinked, slowly looking at Proctor Novgorodoff. He knew better than to be too slow around the proctor. He stepped forward, looking over his shoulder, seeing Liliana and Jaxan about to go at it. Zael and Henk in another ring.

He took another step towards the ring he was going in. He wondered who he would be going up against. More chump wouldn’t have a chance against him.

Another step. His mind wandered to how he got chewed out after the canal campaign because Raf had died. Where was Proctor D’Amour? Did she know about this? All that talk about the academy being different was false. Good thing Kalix hadn’t lost his edge like some of the others.

The last step that Kalix took made him think to Lysander, remembering when he had hidden to see if his brother would live. He had and Kalix was going to follow in his footsteps.

“Aren’t you going to take these off?” Kalix asked the proctor. Novgorodoff didn’t even look at Kalix, his old eyes looking at all the other initiates it. They were afraid, Kalix saw it in their faces. He couldn’t suppress his smirk. This was going to be a walk in the park.

“Who wants to fight Kalix?” Proctor Novgorodoff asked. No one stepped forward or said a word. Seconds passed and with a sigh, Novgorodoff cleared his throat before speaking again. “Listen up! If any of you pitiful weaklings want a chance to live, then step forward now!” Kalix’s brow furrowed in confusion and swerved his head to look at the proctor. “This is your only chance! The only chance you’ll get to fight an initiate unable to use his magic!”

Kalix stared hard at the proctor. He looked down at his shackled wrists. Fear was slow yet powerful as it traveled along Kalix’s spine, causing him to shudder. He thought of Evangeline’s story, how she was given a pairing knife. He thought of Lysander’s story, how he was forced to go up against his lover, a man who could null magic. They had survived. They had used their wit and triumphed.

But Kalix wasn’t smart. Never had been, never needed to be— and Proctor Novgorodoff knew that. So he took away from Kalix the one thing he did have: insurmountable strength.

And now, Kalix was nothing. A normal person. The perfect free ticket to surviving graduation.

 

[Zael Castomir]

Zael strode into the ring with utter confidence. His chin was held high, his smile satisfied, and his steps were assured. His armor clanked and rattled ominously.

He held out his shackled wrists for the nullification cuffs to be removed. And whilst the attending Proctor did just that, Zael looked over to his opponent and said, "You got balls, Henk. I respect that."

When the cuffs were gone, Zael felt the swell of his magic inside of him once again. He cracked his neck—once to the left, once to the right. He drew his sword with languid effort. Looked to the Proctor.

And did nothing.

Instead, he turned his gaze to Henk.

"I think we both know what's gonna happen next," Zael said, purposefully circling around. His eyes were hard set. Lining up the perfect trajectory.

Zael's veins ran bright orange beneath his skin as his very blood turned to fire, his muscles supernaturally quickened. Roaring flames wreathed his sword. And then he echoed some of Henk's very words, spoken in Vel Janix: "I'll be givin you everythin I have."

BOOM!​

The explosion which burst from Zael's back and propelled him forward echoed throughout the forest and incinerated the ground behind him. Like a crashing meteor Zael flew toward Henk, sword immaculately aligned with his intentions:

A deadly, remorseless thrust to kill his enemy.

Henk

 

[Henk]

There was nothing on Henk's face as the cuffs around his wrists were released to indicate he heard Zael's taunts, but he followed his blonde-haired companion in circling around, keeping the fire-mage straight ahead of him at all times. In opposition to Zael's blade, Henk merely raised his in front of his face. Surely his preference to fight hand-to-hand would be a major disadvantage, but he hadn't brought any weapons to use even if he'd wished to even the odds.

Once Zael had finished his theatrics, Henk dug his boots into the dirt underneath him, posture tightening as he spat. "Shut up and stop wasting my time." Yes, he knew what was about to happen. Blood was going to be spilled, and it certainly wasn't going to be his. The pale blue gaze of the boy almost seemed to look through Zael as he made a final promise.

"I'll be givin you everythin I have."

A little smirk broke through the quiet fury resting on Henk's face.

"You'd better."

An earthshattering explosion detonated at Zael's rear, sending him hurdling towards Henk with his sword inlaid to run him through. If Zael's aim was true, Henk couldn't possibly have moved out of the way in time to avoid at least some form of injury. Just as Zael had said, though... They both knew what was about to happen. They'd understood as soon as they'd looked into one another's eyes. The person Zael leveled his blade toward wasn't Henk.

His body moved before he even gave the command, shifting to the side and dropping to one knee as Zael reached him, the tongues of flame enveloping the charging warrior lapping at Henk's flesh as he passed him by. Henk locked eyes with the opposite proctor, a smile splitting his face at the quickly widening eyes on the man's face.

Opening his palms up, light poured from his fingertips, pooling in his hands like a bright, shimmering liquid. Henk closed his fists around the light, gripping and stretching it as it solidified beneath his touch and fashioning it into the shape of a spear.

A relatively new trick, but one that the Proctors here didn't seem to know about. At least, not the one who had a glowing spear of light hurled right between his eyes.

 

[Noel]

Stupid. So fucking stupid.

Even in her half-attentive state Noel could tell they weren't trying to really duel one another. They were trying for something else, something that would see the both of them killed. Violently killed.

And while Noel cared little for what happened to Zael seeing him throw his life away was... well, it simply wasn't allowed. Not like this at least. The Proctors would massacre both of them.

"Stop this! It isn't fair!" She shouted at the top of her lungs. As loud as her vocal chords would possibly manage.

The bout wouldn't stop, the Proctors wouldn't care, but maybe it'd distract them long enough to not realize what was happening. To not comprehend that Henk's strike was deliberate. Maybe they'd assume it was a simple mis-fire and if one of them happened to be felled by the spear of light it would be because of their own incompetence.

There wasn't anything else she could do, shackled and awaiting her own death, but it was the least she could to do spare his life.

Spoiler: Before

"Noel. Look at me." Rachel repeated for the umpteenth time. Two hands clinging to her ears and squeezing at the flesh of her cheeks. "We have to put on a show. Or else we both die here."

Noel wiped away the tears that ran down her cheeks and she nodded solemnly. "It isn't fair. This isn't right."

Rachel simply nodded and kissed Noel's forehead. Then her best friend, no... her only friend, backed away and drew her axe. She met Noel's gaze with a serious stare and the raven-haired girl knew that Proctor Wallner wasn't going to relent. She knew that Rachel was right, they had to square off or both of them would lie dead today.

If a quick and simple fight was all that was required to advance Rachel's career, to ensure that her friend persevered through the academy, then that's what Noel would do. They'd spent countless nights talking of futures as Dreadlords with Rachel insisting she'd be the youngest Archon in the history of Vel Anir.

Now it was time for Noel to pay the ultimate price for the one person whom she cared about in this wretched place.

She exploded off the back of her heel, rushing towards Rachel with a spear in hand. Her platinum armor fell apart and towards the ground, it would do no good against an opponent like Rachel. She got within a few meters of striking, for a millisecond she actually believed she may have to pull back so as not to injure her friend, and then it all came crashing down.

Rachel's mastery of gravitational magic was unparalleled. Noel felt the weight of it all fall upon her at once. She was pinned to the ground and gritted her teeth as she stared up at her friend. All that awaited was a swift blow from Rachel's axe, or for the pigtailed girl to increase the gravity so high that Noel's own body collapsed and brought about her death.

She hadn't had a good life but at least she'd had a life with one person whom she could trust.

 

[Zael Castomir]

Quick as lightning, it happened.

Henk, right on cue, stepped just enough aside to fully clear himself of Zael's blade. It had to look like Zael intended to take his head off, ram his blade right through his neck, or this bird of a ruse wouldn't fly.

Good job, brother. I knew I could count on you.

Proctor Malaneaux, the one just behind Henk, saw Zael coming right for him then. A hasty barrier went up, and as Zael's blade hit it and he for a split second hung in the air, he could see a tiny look not of fear—Proctors were damned inhuman, they never felt fear—but surprise. And hey, that was good enough.

Another burst of propelling flame from Zael's back (and he prayed to Kress Henk didn't somehow stumble or get thrown into the backblast of that) saw his blade penetrate through Malaneaux's barrier. The magic shattered, and the fiery blade plunged into the Proctor's chest. Zael drove him down to the ground, glaring down at him. Malaneaux, the utter demon, tried to grab the blade to wrench it out of his chest. His hand blackened in the effort.

And with that Zael raised his foot and smashed Malaneaux's face into the dirt. He didn't know if Malaneaux was alive or dead, but beneath the leather of his boot and the metal of his sabaton he felt something harshly crack. Behind him, Henk had manifested a spear of light, and let it loose on the second Proctor attending their fight. Somewhere, Noel yelled.

The element of surprise was now gone.

Zael looked up then. Saw the closest Initiate to him was Sieglilly. Thank fucking Kress! She wasn't cuffed or collared, even better. He reached out his hand toward her, beckoning for her to join—

And he froze. The horror of realization came over him. Around Zael was a telekinetic aura so strong that it warped the very air like a heat mirage. He couldn't move.

Sieg was doing it, the grimacing terror and desperation in her expression saying it all. Where Zael had hoped that she would finally see the chance to help end Proctor Malaneaux's torments, his threats and mutilation of her mother with every failure Sieg had suffered in the Academy...instead she completely gave in to her fear. She didn't think that Malaneaux would send her another severed finger from her mother's hand if she rebelled, no...it would surely be her mother's head. And she thought that there was no other choice but to obey the Proctors' commands, to graduate as Malaneaux demanded of her. In order to save her mother's life, she had to become Zael's enemy.

Elsewhere, Zael sensed that malicious eyes were upon him. Seconds mattered, fractions of a second mattered, and another Proctor was surely on the way to assist Malaneaux and Henk's foe.

"SIEG! NO!"

She didn't answer. Not with words. Only with tears that streaked down her tortured expression.

I'm sorry, Little Lilly.

An inferno erupted from Zael's outstretched hand and engulfed Sieglilly. From the waist up she was incinerated, only a blackened skeleton were once there was a young girl. Her bones fell in one direction, and her flesh and blood legs fell in another.

The telekinetic aura dissipated. Zael turned, able to move again, trying to face the oncoming threat.

And he was immediately pelted with arrow-sized shards of ice from his foremost tormentor, Proctor Kimble, who had come onto the scene just then. Shards penetrated through Zael's armor, skewering him. Multiple impalements ran up his torso, his arms, down his legs.

And the last shard plunged through Zael's right eye, its tip bursting out through the back of his skull. Zael's head whipped back from the force. Blonde hair and bits of bone clung to the ice, and little wisps of flame from his Fireblood leaked out. He had stumbled, but he had not fallen.

His sword dropped to the ground, his hand incapable of holding it now.

"You were a waste of my time, boy," said Proctor Kimble.

Zael, fueled by sheer determination and with a gait like the risen dead, took a shaking and unsteady step toward Kimble.

And another.



It had all been a matter of seconds.

Henk

 

[Gaage Eberwhit]

Gaage wasn't shackled, but for the first time, he wished he had been. Would have made him feel a little better about looking at so many other Initiates bound and forced to kill each other for the amusement of the Academy... Gaage loved fighting. Blood, guts, killing shit? That all ruled. This though, this was... It just felt wrong. They were supposed to kill other things, not each other.

Yeah, Gaage had killed initiates before, but it was never intentional. He never had a desire to. Shifting on his feet uncomfortably between Trix and Delaney, he leaned slightly on the latter, muttering under his breath. "I don't like this shit. Some of these poor bastards were forced here, and I don't kill people who didn't ask good and damn well for it." Delaney had, over the last couple of months, more or less become his girlfriend. They'd both known this was coming, this final choice. It wasn't supposed to involve all of this tough, it wasn't what they'd been told.

Trix seemed just as unenthused, especially when they brought in that Lorel woman. Gaage hadn't really done much in the way of working with her, but he knew well enough that she could be just as dangerous as any of them when she was pissed, and she definitely looked pissed.

What could they do? Refuse? Gaage wanted to be a Dreadlord. Well, okay, he didn't want to, but it wasn't like he was good at anything else. This was more or less all he had, besides the woman standing beside him.

And she planned on leaving the first chance she got, anyway...

"What do you think?" He mumbled to her. "Are you runnin'?"

About as soon as he'd said it, there was commotion over where he'd seen scar-face and hothead about to square off. Bodies were dropping, and they weren't all initiates.

"They're fighting. Holy hell, they're actually going to try and fight them."

They must have been out of their minds. Even Gaage wouldn't try a stunt that crazy. Might as well ask to get kebab'ed by a dozen proctors at once. Now he looked from there, and back to Delaney, fingers twitching.

She wasn't going to fight too, was she?

Delaney Lennox

 

[Delaney Lennox]

Like Trix and Gaage, she had nothing binding her. It was likely because she was the Queen of Shadows and all. She enjoyed killing people on a level that some might find psychotic but she had not spent the last year learning self-control so she didn't kill the idiots to be thrown at the same idiots now. Fuck the Proctors for making her change for the better and shit then pulling this fuckery.

Normally Delaney might have been offended by his question but she was planning on leaving after graduation. It had been a point of contention in their relationship thus far since she wanted to leave and Gaage wanted her to stay. She supposed it was really their only point of contention.

"No, fuck this. These Proctors just took all the fun out of killing my fellow Initiates!" She growled as she caught Trix's movement.

Trix had slowly crouched down and her hand was resting on the grass. Delaney knew what she was capable of and her eyes immediately started to watch the ground for movement. Sure enough, there were vines working on another Initiates bindings. She didn't have time to think about who it was or if she wanted to help, she just started to run on instinct. The shadowy tendrils started to race toward the vines and intertwined with them to add a little extra magic to the mix. If they worked together, they could free everyone quicker than working on their own.

It was then that she heard the commotion from Henk and Zael's fight. There was a release of tension as the good Initiates also said fuck this. She was pleased to see they were all on the same page here.

---

Gaage Eberwhit Trix

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Oh, the horrible idea of taking Kalix on crept at Alistair, but this wasn't about revenge. They needed to survive and that would not help him. Still, maybe a quick fight. He kills him and then goes back to solving the problem. No! He needed to focus. Thankfully, Henk and Zael's match was a good distraction.

Like a horrible carriage crash that he saw coming, but could do nothing to stop, Alistair watched as Henk and Zael began their faux battle. Sure enough, things escalated when the first attacks were thrown at the Proctor. The chance of their success was small, but the chance of success if the others did not jump in was zero.

Alistair's talents would not lend to direct confrontation with the Dreadlords, not at the moment. Even his runesaber was just a tool at the end of the day, not a miracle worker.

Instead, Alistair watched as all the eyes turned on the Proctors and the rebels. Other Proctors would inevitably join in, so Al would have to be quick.

He discretely began to shuffle over to Edric's position and came up behind him, careful not to draw too much attention.

"What do you fancy your odds are in a fight?"

Alistair did not wait for an answer, but rather discretely moved a dagger from his belt and made to scratch at some of the runic markings. A scratch here and there and some magic applied in certain spots in the formation, and he could break the enchantment. It might leave a little damage on the hands, but it was Edric. He could figure it out.

While he did this he looked around for Ralene and sent her a quizzical look. The question was simple.

Well? Are we doing this?

Edric Ralene

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

There was too much going on at once, Everleigh realized. First Zael and now Liliana. Both of them in a ring. Both of them in danger of dying. Of course, Everleigh truly believed that Henk would die if Zael was willing to kill an initiate, but she knew Zael wouldn’t. Then what of Liliana? The carnage and viscera around the ring was the perfect situation for Jaxan to show off. Everleigh had despised every single person in Liliana’s little group, feeling that whatever they offered, she could do. She could recreate things she ate like that rotund turd Ignatius Voll, create acid like Jaxan, control toxins far better than Trix thought she could… Everleigh would do whatever Liliana wanted.

She looked down at her hand, thinking back on the Southern Cortosi Isles and how when she had burned her hand from that nullifying collar, Liliana had grabbed it to inspect it. Or in Alliria, when that healer had caused Everleigh great pain, did Liliana not break that woman’s neck? Liliana Lorel had taken Everleigh Ebersol under her wing in more ways than one could understand, and there was a bond that felt more than just friendships… perhaps a sisterhood?

Words echoed in the poison eater’s head.

“I don't want to marry. I don't want a husband, or a happy little life pulling the strings of political puppets. My family has had a plan for me my entire life, Evie. I am so tired of it, and I'm going to show them I'm more than another pawn on their chessboard.

“I’ll— We're. Going to be so much more than they expect, Evie. We'll take it all."​

Liliana was powerful, but who would be faster? Jaxan with his blood magic or Liliana, could she crook a finger fast enough to weave what she needed to? Everleigh’s heart ached. What to do? What to do? This wasn’t what was supposed to have happened, they both had plans, they both deserved so much more than this and yet…

Her attention moved back to Zael, as the shackles were taken off both him and Henk. Everleigh swallowed hard again. What was going to happen to Zael? He only turned eighteen not that long ago, and this… this wasn’t the plan either. Zael’s voice was loud and clear, uninterrupted by everything else happening.

“Life's got a present for me, for you, for everybody really, if they just try hard enough to find it. And you know what? If I'm not crazy, if I haven't been listenin to Kristen's sentimental ass too much, then I'm up for the challenge. I'm gonna find it.

What kind of boot-lickin asshole would kill his own friends at some Proctor's say-so? Don't get me wrong, I'll kill anyone who comes at me, especially if it's a real piece of work like Bull. I don't got everythin figured out just yet—all those pieces of the puzzle, right—but I damn well know somethin firm now. They wanted to turn me, turn you, turn all of us into weapons. So it's the ultimate rebellion to be a decent human being. If they ever try to make me do somethin I know isn't right, I'm just gonna say, 'I ain't that man.'"​

She could smell burning flesh, and when she looked up, she gasped. He wasn’t that man, this wasn’t Bull, it was Sieglilly, someone that Zael had spoken fondly of. The proctors did this. They made Zael kill for them. Again.

“Are you crying?” Someone questioned. Everleigh was brought out from her thoughts, realizing that her cheeks were wet and tears were dropping down her chin as if it was raining. Everleigh shook her head, there was no way she was crying, how could she when nothing was physically hurting her? She felt the pump of her heart, that pressure against her chest. There was an ache she had never felt before.

She saw the ice pierce through Zael’s armor. She watched her sun, the one person able to make flowers grow in the deepest, darkest depths of her mind, drop his sword.

“They called it ‘serving a Zael on the rocks.’”​

They had plans. To go back to Arnim, to see little Miklan and tell him that they graduated. And they were going to do their time in the guard. Together.

She watched Zael take a step. Still moving forward. That was why she liked him so much, wasn’t it? Why she liked Liliana so much, too. Because they were like her: unable to be still. So Everleigh stopped thinking, and instead she moved.

With eyes glowing gold, her tears lifted from her eyes, streaming above her into glaucous orbs. The slight perspiration from her skin due to Zael’s and Henk’s own magical forms of heat rose as well, and dropping and sliding down to Zael’s sword, Everleigh did what she had done countless of times: drawing forth her own blood so she could watch others bleed.

Quicker than one could blink, a red mist saturated the air just like the feat she had performed with Liliana— and between Everleigh’s toxikinesis and the quick college magic chant to have the air around them go in a frenzy and spread her toxins faster, the purple initiate was going to pull out everything she had, just like in that underground cult with Alistair.

Even if it meant this was the end.

“That’s one way to start a ruckus.” Everleigh shouted as she went to move under Zael’s arm, supporting his weight, thankful that she hadn’t faltered on her physical training a single day. Those glaucous orbs above her head moved away from Everleigh to merge into the blood of the deceased around this fighting ring, and before everyone’s eyes, the crimson of the deceased initiates turned clear and a iridescent purple, making the form of a very large snake, just like in Vel Tenebria.

“You’re not finished yet, you’re— we’re just getting started.” Everleigh didn’t know why she was screaming, she never did such a thing, but right now she was. The red mist continuing to spread, but surprisingly, just like back at Arnim, she was able to make sure that it would be harmless to those she wanted alive.

Her intent was for the proctors to suffer. And anyone who would dare touch Zael, dare touch Liliana, Everleigh would make sure to give them a fate worse than death.

And right on cue, Proctor Sedaris dropped to the ground, clutching and then clawing at her throat, like those soldiers her and Edric had murdered on the beaches of Aina O Ka La. The viscous snake floating back to circle around Everleigh and Zael, the air sizzling around it. As Everleigh’s eyes continued to glow gold, it was evident that this “snake” wasn’t just made up of poison, but her unique acid instead.

Henk Zael Castomir

 

[Charon]

Oh, how quickly things were spiraling out of control. Splendid. Simply splendid! Jaxan was trying to kill Liliana, some poor, dumb girl had just been immolated by...oh, what was his name, Zeal? Whatever it was, he was putting on a magnificent show. Charon could see the anguish on his face as the proctors began to lay into him, as the sting of betrayal took him. In fact, many of the students now seemed intent on fighting proctors, and vice versa.

A fiendish grin rippled across Charon's face. There wasn't much point in the shackle on his wrist any longer, was there? Now Charon would drink in the pain all around him, and start partaking as well. Proctor, initiate, none of that mattered anymore. Everyone here would suffer, and he'd get to revel in more agony than ever before in his otherwise meaningless existence.

Charon simply reached down and popped the cuff off. It had never been locked; the proctors assumed he'd behave, since he'd put it on in the first place, willingly.

The cuff hit the ground in a plume of dust, and every single person present would instantly feel the uncomfortable, grating tingle of Charon's sensory static. The boy let out a long, satisfied sigh. The proctor that had stood beside him, monitoring him in the loosest of terms, moved to react.

"What do you think you're--"

Was the only thing she got out before the psychic agony began to wrack her body, all of the focus of Charon's power channeled into her old form. Ordinarily, Charon would have drawn out the suffering, but he knew she was liable to be a barrier to him furthering his own fun. No sooner had her body started to curl in on itself from the pain did Charon bury a karambit into her neck and pull it along her trachea. Down she went, choking on her own blood.

"Well!" Charon shouted between manic laughter to anyone and everyone, though his gaze caught the pretty, blue eyes of Davi, and his tongue ran along the outer edge of his fanged upper teeth. "Who wants to 'graduate' first? Don't make me pick!"