"You are of God, little children, and have overcome them: because greater is he that is in you, than he that is in the world."
1 John 4:4 (KJV)
Following the lady's directions, Tristan entered the building and took a sharp right. The corridor was empty, golden lights illuminating his way. Where is this waiting area the woman spoke of?
"Hey? You a candidate? The waiting area is this way," a jolly voice called out to him.
The voice belonged to a man of small stature, patches of grey scattered across his balding head. The man directed Tristan down another network of empty hallways until they arrived at a door.
"Good luck in there, kid." The man waved as he walked off.
The demon stared after the man. Kid?
"Did you just call me a child?"
But he got no response; the man was already out of earshot.
Tristan walked into the waiting room and felt the stares of multiple people on him—invasive, like their eyes were tearing into his skin, as if they could see what he really was. His instincts warned him of danger.
Did my disguise come undone?
The demon was about to draw out his ichor when the people lost interest and went back to their business. Tristan reached up and felt his head, just to confirm. Strange. Maybe no one had ever stared at him this much before. Or maybe it was simply the number of Seraphites around him—a natural response to being surrounded by his polar opposites.
The waiting room was vast, chairs and tables spread across a floor lit by chandeliers and fluorescent light. Large screens looped the academy's logo along reinforced metal walls. A flight of stairs led up to a glass-walled overlook with a view outside.
Aside from the police station, the place was like every other grand building Tristan had been in: it reeked of vanity. Not like he expected much from a Seraphite-only academy.
Now, to separate the wheat from the chaff. The demon felt it was a good time to find the strongest Seraphites, or at least the ones with useful abilities he could replicate. I wonder if I would be able to devour these insects.
The mechanical whir of the cameras brought him back to reality; all his actions were still under surveillance. Doing something as barbaric as consuming a candidate would not go unnoticed.
He'd been skeptical of their strength walking in — not anymore. There were Seraphites here who could trouble me, and these ants would band together the moment I pushed too far. He could kill a good number before that happened. After that, he'd be done for. Tristan closed his eyes, tuning his senses to the highest. The ichor signatures were like fish in the ocean: each movement they produced caused a disturbance. He had to drown out the traffic and focus on the largest disturbances, the most powerful Seraphites.
"What's this dude up to? He looks like he is in pain. Should we help him?" a soft voice came from beside him.
Tristan's eyes snapped open, his focus shattered. Meddling mortals. These ants can't seem to resist interfering in matters that concern them not.
Two young women with glossy, dark skin were staring at him. They were twins, both sporting the same hairstyle: thick braids flowing down their faces. Their complexions were smooth, almost marble-like, seeming to glow beneath the golden lights, while their hazel eyes watched him with curiosity.
Tristan was perplexed for a second. Could this be some kind of cloning ability?
Upon closer inspection, he realised their ichor signatures were different. One of the twins had pearls woven into her braids. Aside from these differences, they were spitting images of each other.
"Sorry for interrupting you, sir. I'm Stephanie, and this is my sister, Melanie," one of the twins said with a wave.
"What are you? Why do you look the same?" Tristan asked bluntly.
The twin referred to as Melanie chuckled. "You're a funny one, eh? What else do we look like? We're sisters, dipshit."
"Melanie! Be nice. Sorry about that. We are twin sisters. We saw you closing your eyes tightly and assumed you were having a health crisis and needed help," Stephanie explained.
"Not me, though. I thought you were just constipated," Melanie added, earning an elbow jab from her sister.
"Why would I need your assistance? I was trying to locate the strongest Seraphites here," Tristan remarked, his eyes scanning the room.
The two sisters walked to the nearest table, pulling out a chair for Tristan. The demon gave the empty seat a sharp glance.
"Why?"
He wasn't the type to accept favours without knowing why they were given. Nothing is free.
"It's alright, friend. We just want to talk—"
"Friend?" Tristan narrowed his eyes.
"Yes, friend. Now, unless you want to keep standing in the open, closing your eyes like you're taking a shit, my sister wants to speak to you. So sit," Melanie snapped.
Stephanie ran a hand through her braids, pearls dancing across her fingers. What are the odds I ran into a person as difficult as Mel?
The demon didn't take kindly to being ordered around. He gripped the chair until cracks began to appear.
"I'll remember that, Melanie."
He sat down, staring into her eyes.
"I hope you do. But for now, just listen to what my sister has to say. We can settle this later," Melanie replied.
Stephanie nudged her sister.
"You said something about finding the strongest Seraphites. It seems your method requires a lot of focus. Why do that when you can just wait for the entrance exam to start? That way, you can gauge the strength of all the participants while watching the fights."
The demon was about to oppose her suggestion when it dawned on him.
It seems these insects are smarter than I give them credit for.
He didn't have to stick out like a sore thumb just to gauge the strength of the competitors. He could simply wait for the fights and watch them play out. It was a basic but adequate solution.
"I see. Your tactic seems effective. I will employ it." Tristan nodded.
Stephanie beamed, clasping her hands together.
"That's great! I'm glad I could help. I'm sorry, but earlier we didn't get your name."
Tristan recalled the human etiquette he had learned from his encounters with Seraphites.
"My name is Tristan Ashborne."
He stiffly extended his hand for a shake. Without hesitation, Stephanie shook it.
"Delighted to meet you, Tristan. You're one of the few people who qualified for the exam, so you must be strong then," she said.
Tristan smirked to himself. If only they knew.
"A light way of describing it, but yes. I intend on destroying any obstacles in my way. You included."
Melanie was about to give the prideful man a piece of her mind when her sister tugged at her shirt.
"It's good to be ambitious. My sister and I are the first Seraphites in our family's history. Chicago doesn't have many Seraphites, but we do have a lot of Netherites. Where are you from?" she asked.
"New York. I'm from New York," he responded.
Melanie raised an eyebrow.
"You sure you're a New Yorker? You don't sound confident," she chuckled.
Tristan chose to ignore her jest, focusing on the other twin.
"Ah, you're native. We always wanted to move here, but the place kinda scared us. You know, with the Bloodletter stuff that's everywhere on the news."
Despite the fact he had no clue what she was talking about, Tristan nodded his head.
"Well, today's the D-Day. We really hope we can pass the exam, make our ma proud."
The demon didn't understand the concept of competing for the pride of another. Everything he did, he did for himself and his freedom.
"Stephanie," Tristan called out.
"What's up?" she replied.
"In this exam, what happens if you're pitted against your other half? Will you strike her down?"
The young woman chuckled to herself, playfully patting her sister's head.
"Of course not. It's already a miracle we both got past the brutal selection process. If we are put against each other, I'll forfeit the match. As long as one of us gets into The Ascendants, I'm fine with that," she finished.
Once again, the demon was left confused. She puts another before herself. Such a noble soul: revolting.
"What about you, Tristan? What are you gonna do if Stephanie is matched against you?" Melanie cut in.
A sinister smirk crept up the sides of his face.
"Then you better pray to whatever god you believe in. Because I will treat her like anyone else I face: as an obstacle that I will eliminate."
Before she could respond, a loud buzzer went off. The twins left their seats.
"Come on, Tristan. It's starting. Best view's at the top," Stephanie beckoned to him.
Beyond the reinforced doors was the arena, filled with cheers and screams from the audience. Hundreds of seats were occupied by a mix of spectators: members of prestigious factions and families, law enforcement organisations like the CBI, and even some students and teachers. Large screens hung above the stands, displaying footage of the arena and its surroundings.
At the centre of the arena was the fighting space: a large, square, slightly elevated platform. Several feet of open space surrounded the square, with weapon displays positioned around its perimeter. Beyond them stood tall reinforced walls separating the arena from the audience.
The sun was blazing overhead, scorching and illuminating the arena.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the tenth entrance examination of The Ascendants Academy!" the announcer thundered.
The crowd erupted in cheers in response.
"Today's the last day of our entrance examinations for the year. But make no mistake, there's nothing ordinary about today's contestants! These are some of the best young Seraphites in the country, all of them believing they're ready to reach greater heights! Among these 40 Seraphites, only 10 fighters will earn the right to call themselves students of this academy! We assure you, these fights will be nothing short of electrifying! So sit back, buckle up, and prepare yourselves for a show you won't want to miss!"
Once again, the crowd roared.
"Without further delay, here are the contestants!"
He motioned to one of the large screens.
A list of names appeared on the screen, with red lines linking them.
"Get ready, place your bets and make your wagers. The battle will begin shortly!"
Meanwhile, Tristan and the twins stared at one of the huge screens.
"Well, at least we aren't in the same bracket," Melanie said, chewing a piece of gum.
"Now all we need to do is win 2 fights and we are in!" Stephanie squealed.
"If only it was that easy," Melanie murmured.
Tristan's eyes scanned the screen.
Terrence Garcia. Charley Christian. Domenic Juarez. Nick Le.
His gaze continued downward.
Stephanie and Melanie's names.
Then he found his own.
Tristan Ashborne vs. Colton Walter.
Colton Walter, my first obstacle. Prepare to be eliminated.
He knew the victor of his fight had already been decided; he couldn't lose. He just wished the fight was entertaining enough for him before he put an end to it.
Tristan took a spot at the glass wall, his eyes fixed on the arena.
And now it begins.
The announcer welcomed the first two competitors: Terrence Garcia and Charley Christian.
Before entering the square, various ichor-tuned weapons were presented for them to choose from.
Terrence, a dark, curly-haired man, chose a black bo staff. His opponent, Charley Christian, was a mountain of a man who selected a mace.
"Now for our stipulations. Opponents can be defeated by knockout or can be deemed unfit to fight by judges in cases of severe injury."
"As always, we run a relatively safe competition, but this isn't the Boy Scouts.
"Those weapons are very real, so they hurt like hell. Stay on your toes! There's also an adaptive forcefield surrounding the arena that'll protect the audience from your abilities, whether the damage is intentional or not. The A.I. in the arena is also designed to deploy a forcefield whenever it detects a risk of death or a killing blow is about to land."
"That said, intentionally attempting to kill your opponent will get you disqualified. You'll also be disqualified if you attack someone who has clearly forfeited the match or is already out of commission. Accidental lethal attacks won't result in disqualification, but the A.I. will intervene to prevent them from becoming fatal."
"However, should an opponent be disqualified during a match, the remaining contestant may choose to continue the fight at their own risk. If they do, any further injury or death they suffer will be their responsibility."
"Now that that's out of the way..."
The announcer grinned.
"FIGHT!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.
Bang! The sound of a gunshot rang out, signalling the start of the competition.
Ichor surged through Charley's mace, causing the weapon to glow as he immediately charged at Terrence. He pivoted his hips and swung down at the smaller man, threatening to crush him. Terrence rolled out of the way, then planted his hands and launched himself backward, using a handspring to put distance between them while still clutching his bo staff.
The large man charged after him again, this time swinging his weapon in an arc at Terrence's head.
Swish!
Terrence ducked and responded with a thrust of his staff.
Charley's mouth was forced open as the wind left his lungs: Terrence's staff slammed into his midsection, sending him stumbling. He quickly regained his composure, pain searing through his midsection.
This little fucker hits like a truck! Nothing I can't handle though.
Charley pumped more ichor into his weapon. The yellow glow of the mace intensified in response.
"We here to fight or play whack-a-mole? Come on!" the burly man roared.
Terrence didn't react to his callout. He held his bo staff firmly, his hands spread apart as he pointed it slightly forward, assuming a fighting stance.
"Is it just me or is that Terrence dude a sleeper unit? That hit left Charley stunned; why didn't he capitalise?" Melanie asked.
Stephanie grabbed a piece of gum from her sister's purse.
"That's true. He was left open for a couple seconds. I personally wouldn't have let up."
Tristan watched the fight, his face void of excitement.
"Do you hunt a beast while it's camouflaged or when it has revealed itself?" Tristan asked.
Melanie raised an eyebrow.
"The fuck kind of question is that? What does that have to do—"
Stephanie frantically tapped her sister's shoulder.
"He's got a point. This has nothing to do with hunting. We are at a Seraphite event. Yet none of them have shown their innate abilities," Stephanie explained to her perplexed sister.
"So Terrence is waiting for Charley to use his ability before committing to attacks? That's a good strategy, but what if Charley has no innate ability and can only wield ichor and perform basic enhancement?" Melanie continued.
"If that was the case, it would be a surprise he was recruited. From my understanding of this exam, screening and selection are strict and unforgiving. If someone without an innate ability slipped through the cracks, then the academy's standards are lower than I assumed," Tristan answered bluntly.
Warmth spread across Melanie's face as she turned away from Tristan.
Now I look like an idiot.
"Tristan? You're one weird-ass nigga, you know that?" Melanie chuckled.
The demon didn't fully grasp the meaning behind her words, so he ignored them, turning his focus back to the arena.
Terrence's eyes were fixed on his assailant, his focus unwavering.
Charley is clearly a brute. I just need him riled up a bit more.
The brute charged, kicking up dust. At the same time, Terrence attacked as well. Gripping his weapon with both hands, Charley swung his mace like a baseball player, aiming for Terrence's midsection.
No mix-up, no attack variety, no technique. Just pure force. Does he really have an innate ability? Should I just end the fight here?
Terrence slid beneath the mace, the weapon whistling over his head. The momentum of the missed swing carried Charley forward, leaving his legs exposed. Terrence struck both shins, and the brute's balance gave way.
Charley crashed face-first into the dirt. The impact sent dust billowing around him, followed by a collective "ooh" from the crowd.
"Quite the attack, ladies and gentlemen! Will he get back up?" the announcer called.
Terrence got to his feet, his eyes still trained on Charley's body on the ground.
Was that it? Did he give up?
Sweat began to bead across his forehead. Although he wasn't exerting himself physically, constantly enhancing himself required a great deal of concentration. If the fight drew out, he would be forced to reveal his ability before his opponent, putting him at a slight disadvantage.
Charley slowly rose to his feet. Static crackled around him, sending grains of sand skittering across the arena. The air around him distorted as blue electricity began to materialise from nothing, coiling around his body in thick, violent arcs. Each surge illuminated the arena as the lightning gathered around his hands.
"Don't look down on me!" Charley bellowed, slamming his hands into the ground. A violent wave of blue electricity erupted from his palms, tearing across the sand toward Terrence.
Tristan shook his head.
Electrokinesis. In my hands it could be terrifying, but in Charley's, it is a waste.
The demon was slowly losing interest in the match. Neither of these mortals has displayed abilities worth taking.
"It's electricity. Maybe Charley can turn the tide with his ability?" Stephanie pondered.
"That's if Terrence doesn't have an ability to counter. I don't think he spent all this time baiting out Charley's ability if he didn't have a strategy," Melanie said.
Terrence slammed his bo staff into the ground, sending ripples of sand and ichor. The two powers clashed, the lightning slowly cancelling out.
Electricity? Guess there was nothing to worry about after all.
Terrence broke the distance between them. When in range, he leaped into the air, swinging down his staff with all his might. He poured more ichor into the weapon on his descent.
Charley reached for his weapon in an attempt to defend against the assault.
His hands grabbed nothing but sand.
What the...?
His mace had suddenly disappeared.
The large man tried to move, but his feet felt strange.
Fear began to well in his chest: his feet were sinking.
I have to defend!
Charley crossed his hands over his head, reinforcing his arms with ichor and lightning. Blue sparks flew about as Charley poured more energy into his technique.
Charley yanked his leg free, but the sand swallowed it again. His eyes shot upward. Terrence was already descending.
The staff came crashing down. The tip of the staff struck Charley's reinforced arms, a layer of jagged rock encasing it at the moment of impact. The impact produced a resounding bang, startling some of the audience. The force of the blow lifted Charley off his feet, sending his massive frame hurtling backward. Dust and sand billowed into the air.
After a few seconds, the dust cleared, revealing a shocking sight: Charley was completely out of the square, his back against the arena's walls. He was slouched over, his head facing downward. Blood trickled down his nose, staining his previously white outfit.
The man was out cold.
At the centre of the arena was Terrence, still holding his bo staff. Shortly after, a group of people dressed in white entered the arena and carried Charley out on a stretcher.
"We have our first winner! Give it up for Terrence Garcia!" the announcer roared.
The audience was a mix of emotions: an overwhelming number of them cheered and applauded, while a few sulked and mumbled to themselves.
Meanwhile, Stephanie and Melanie had their mouths hanging open in shock.
"That was fucking insane, Mel! Did we just witness someone win without an ability?" Stephanie exclaimed, her hazel eyes shining in excitement.
"Yeah, I did. Seems this exam is gonna be way harder than we expected. What about you, Tristan?" Melanie nudged him lightly.
The demon glanced at her.
"Earth manipulation," he replied.
"What?" the two sisters replied in unison.
"Terrence's ability is earth manipulation. He used it quickly, but not fast enough for me to miss. At some point during their fight, he concealed the brute's weapon beneath the sand. Then, at the climax of the fight, he created quicksand around Charley's legs, holding him in place for his attack to hit. Sly Terrence didn't stop there: at the point of impact, the top of the bo staff was covered in hardened rocks, giving the attack more force," Tristan explained.
The two girls were left in even more awe.
"Man, how did you spot all this in a matter of seconds? You some kind of noble? Or maybe special ops? What faction do you belong to?" Melanie narrowed her eyes at him.
"I grow weary of your questions, Melanie. Leave me be." He waved her off.
Unfortunately, Terrence didn't fit his criteria for strength.
The mortal was sly and resourceful, managing to conceal his ability even while using it. But his ichor was nothing special, and so was his ability.
If the fight drew on longer and Charley was a bit more competent, Terrence would have gotten exhausted. The brute was also at a massive disadvantage; earth users were the natural counters to lightning users, at least at this level. Of course, one could bridge the gap with superior ichor manipulation, creativity, and experience, but these were all qualities Charley lacked.
The announcer called out the next competitors: Domenic Juarez and Nick Le. The fight ended in less than a minute, with Nick Le emerging victorious.
Matches passed in a blur of flashing abilities and roaring spectators. Francine Kirk defeated Alonso Delgado after a brutal exchange, while Trudy Frye narrowly overcame Marilyn Quinn.
The next several matches passed without incident. Tristan watched in silence, searching for strong Seraphites and abilities.
One candidate wielded flames. Another manipulated sound. A third could harden his skin into a material that resembled stone.
All worthless.
After minutes that seemed like years, he finally heard his name announced.
And the happy hour arrives!
"Yo, Tristan. I'm rooting for you," Stephanie said, giving him a thumbs-up.
"I'm not," Melanie chuckled, earning another nudge from her sister.
"Good luck. Come back in one piece."
Tristan let out a sinister laugh, earning him glances from other contestants.
"Save your luck and prayers for Colton Walter. He'll need a miracle to win this fight," he replied coldly, exiting the waiting room.