James glared at me with wrath.
"You. Me. Spar. NOW!"
I stared at him—blank. Bored. Already mad.
Now I had a reason to hit something. Tilting my head, I smirked.
"Sure. I'll beat your ass again, James."
He scowled as we walked to an empty patch of the field. Bodhi gave me a nod on his way to his own match—I gave one back, barely.
Soon, forty students spread out across the field in pairs. I stood across from James.
His lip curled into a sneer.
"You'll pay for breaking my nose, Nameless."
I said nothing.
The memory still gripped me.
Richard's cane.
My head caving in.
That laugh.
That fucking laugh.
I wasn't looking at James. I was looking through him. Almost felt sorry for what I was about to do.
Almost.
Percival's voice thundered across the training field.
"Get ready. 3… 2… 1… BEGIN!"
Group A erupted with the sound of fists and feet slamming into flesh. Chaos. Grit. Bloodlust. I didn't move.
I just watched James.
"Gonna break your nose," he growled. "And your arms."
Still, I said nothing.
"DON'T FUCKING IGNORE ME, NAMELESS!"
He lunged.
Fast enough to make the air whistle.
Not bad.
But still—
Too slow.
Leon's faster.
His left foot slammed down. He wound up, torso twisting as he coiled for a massive right hook—like a spring unspooling.
Textbook form.
I tilted my head. His punch sliced air. The wind hissed past me, tugging at my hair.
James kissed his teeth at the fact I dodged.
"Lucky."
His other arm coiled behind his back for another hook— this time at my liver. As soon as he let a deep breath out, I kicked myself backwards making him slice air again.
Time to relieve some stress.
As James got back into his stance, I launched myself at him with my shin closing in on his side. His eyes widened in surprise yet he steadied himself and lowered his right arm to try and block my shin.
He grit his teeth, closing his eyes tightly to brace for the impact.
Nothing.
"Huh?!"
James' eyes widened when the kick didn't land.
"It was a feint you idiot." I mumble.
Then my thigh snapped upwards.
A sharp curve. Low to high. Like a scythe carving a question mark. My shin slammed into the side of his head with a sickening crack.
BAM!
He staggered. His eyes— faintly glossy. The world went white for a single moment. A bead of phlegm ejected from his parted lips.
He stood right back up.
Legs shaky.
"Still standing?" I muttered.
Lucky me.
Before he could recover, I put up my guard as I closed in. James' eyes widened in panic.
"Wait—!"
Before he could finish my fist snapped his head to the side with a Crunch.
"Did you think this shit was sweet?"
With both hands, I grabbed a fistful of his hair. Ripping it through the air towards my knee.
"You wanted this fight!" I spat with a faint smirk.
CRACK!
His nose shattered once again. The broken splinters of bone scraped against my knee. His blood soiled my joggers.
"Ooh sorry about that, I think you need to go back to your plastic surgeon." I commented.
I was having too much fun with this.
James roared in fury as he pushed up my knee.
His body moved on instinct, driven by pride or desperation. He surged forward, arms wide, and caught me in a bear hug.
Tight.
Too tight.
He lifted me an inch off the ground, trying to crush my ribs, wring the air from my lungs.
I didn't panic.
Didn't squirm.
Instead, I opened my mouth—
—and sank my teeth into the thick muscle between his neck and shoulder.
Hard.
CHOMP!
James screamed in agony— his blood curdling scream halting the other sparring groups.
Their gazes slowly fell on us in horror.
My jaw clamped harder. His skin split. Blood poured, hot and salty and awful. Tasted like rust.
And shit.
Worse than shit.
He thrashed, howling. Then with one wild jerk, he threw me off. I hit the ground, rolled, landed on my feet.
Stood up.
Calm.
Blood ran down my chin, smeared across my lips and cheek like war paint.
"Y-you bit me…!"
James stammered as he put pressure on the gaping wound I left.
"Yeah. I did."
"Ptoo!" I spit the tiny chunk of his flesh from my mouth— hitting the ground pitifully.
Someone gagged behind me.
Good.
"Oh, you tasted like shit by the way."
"YOU FUCKING PSYCHO!"
He roared as he charged towards me like a raging bull.
Stupid.
I raised my knee just enough.
BANG!
CRACK!
Blinded by rage, he didn't even see the knee.
Before he knew it the world went black.
His body crumpled like a puppet with their strings cut off, as blood leaked from the small crack on his forehead.
His nose caved in— his eyes hollow.
Tears flowing unconsciously from the agony.
Incoherently mumbling for mercy.
"Huh… Disappointing." I mumbled quietly as I looked down on him.
Both literally and figuratively.
I glanced around.
I wanted to see the other fights around me.
Oh. They're looking at me.
Everyone stared, wide-eyed. Like they'd just seen something crawl out of a grave. Percival just stared—expression unreadable.
[Papa you were so cool!]
Thanks.
[Oh Mama just called you a barbarian right now.]
Of course that bitch did.
[That's rude Papa!]
My bad.
Percival then cleared his throat before walking up to me.
"Good job. Go rest as the others complete their match-ups."
I glanced at him and gave a flat nod.
"You have… a unique style of combat, Kerrigan."
"It does the job." I said without looking back.
Percival faintly smirks as he faces the rest of the students.
"What are you waiting for? FIGHT!" He roared.
As I walked to a patch of grass a distance away from the sparring, I wiped James' blood off with my sleeve as I sat.
Filling my lungs with the cool air— I noticed two medical workers teleport near James' crumpled body. They robotically rolled him onto a stretcher before blipping out of sight once again.
I always forget how advanced technology is.
I sat in the grass, watching the other matches. Quiet. Detached. Alone. Disgust crawled up my spine. Their horrified stares burning into me.
Why does everyone see me like that?
It's not like I wanted to bite him.
It just seemed like the sensible thing to do.
Yet…
Why do I always have to be the Monster?
The anomaly.
The villain.
I just want to be…
Me.
I just want to be…
Free.
WHY CAN'T I JUST BE FREE?!
Yet I'm seen as a fucking slave to a societal order.
I can't even avenge my mother, my childhood, my suffering without getting this fucking license at this stupid fucking academy.
Where everyone hates me just because I'm Leon Horton's disciple.
What did I do wrong?
The only thing I can think of is being born in this fucked up world.
Simulation or real life…
It doesn't matter.
I fucking hate this world.
[Papa, stop. You're doing it again.]
Corvus. Don't interrupt when you know nothing.
[Papa I do know, I can see your memories.]
[Papa I know you feel sad.]
[But if you keep saying that… it won't get better,]
[You have Uncle Bodhi. And Mama. They're your friends.]
Okay and?!
What do they know about me?
NOTHING!
I'm just some fucking street rat they pity.
I'm worth nothing to them.
[Papa. Stop.]
[Mama thinks you're amazing.]
What?!
Why the fuck would Andrea think I'm amazing?!
[Because you don't care about anything.]
What…
[Mama hates being well-known, she hates being in the spotlight, she hates being Regent.]
[She has to care even if she doesn't want to.]
[Yet when she sees you not giving a damn.]
[She's inspired.]
[So Papa. Stop degrading yourself.]
[You saved me, and inspired Mama.]
She said that?
[Yeah.]
…fine
[Mama just finished her match. She demolished her opponent by the way. I'll be there soon.]
[Whilst getting head rubs from Mama.]
[Hehe!]
I quietly chuckled. It was comical how much Corvus liked Andrea's head rubs. For a brief but long enough moment I imagined how her head rubs would feel. A blush crept through and I pinched myself on the cheek as I mumbled.
"Never again," I muttered, cheeks burning. "I'm never thinking of her hands again."
"Never again what?" A soft voice spoke from behind.
I stiffened as I recognised that voice.
Why now…
Why her…
Why is Andrea here?!
"Uhh… nothing. Don't worry about it." I stammer, refusing to look behind me.
"Okay then." An impassive reply came from her.
Before I knew it she had already planted herself beside me and leant her head on my shoulder.
Ahh I forgot…
We're a pretend couple.
I think.
…fuck.
Gently tugging on my sleeve.
"Nice match you had. You really sunk your teeth into that one there."
I shot her a mock glare.
"Shut up."
"Or what? Are you going to bite me?"
"..."
I was left speechless. I didn't know how to respond.
She smirked— tilting her head up to look at me.
"That's what I thought."
I hated how much that smirk softened the noise in my head. I quietly grumbled as that damn infuriating smirk remained on her face.
Momentarily her eyes glanced at the scar visible on my neck. I didn't notice this— her smirk grew wider.
She shifted, fingers grazing the hem of my compression shirt.
I tensed up.
"A-Andrea—?"
Before I could say another word, she leaned in. The gentle warmth of her breath grazed my neck. Soft. Warm. Too close to that scar. The scar which marred my neck for the world to see.
The cause of my insecurity.
My breath hitched.
Then her soft lips pressed against it.
Slow.
Gentle.
Deliberate.
Nip!
A soft yet firm graze of teeth followed. Sharp enough to set my nerve fibres alight.
What— is she—?!
Pop… she pulled away, leaving the echo of her teeth behind.
A faint pop rang out as her head retreated back onto my shoulder.
Glancing at me with crescent-moon eyes— accompanied by a small yet devious smile.
"There." she stated, her voice low and amused. "Now it's prettier."
My hand shot up in an instant to my neck. A gentle heat began to bloom.
"W-what the fuck was that?!"
Tilting her head innocently.
"A hickey."
"No shit sherlock!" I hissed.
"Good." Her eyes gleamed with mischief. "Because I'm the one that bites in this relationship."
My internal systems completely shut down. Speech? Gone. Motor function? Questionable. Self-respect? Flatlined.
I stared at her, mouth half-open, thoughts sparking and dying in real time.
She winked. "Consider it karmic payback for biting someone else mid-match, Kerrigan.'"
"I—" My voice cracked. "I did that in combat!"
She just shrugged, leaning her head back on my shoulder like nothing happened at all.
Meanwhile, I was undergoing a full nuclear meltdown under my skin. My brain blue-screened. There were no coherent thoughts left.
Just static and heat and the rapidly growing suspicion that I might never recover from this moment.
I blinked. My hands twitched at my sides. A sound that might've been a word died halfway up my throat.
"And," she added, brushing her fingers gently over the mark, "You shouldn't hide it. It's part of you. Don't act like you're ashamed of it."
I looked away, ears burning.
Then she murmured, "Besides… I like it."
SYSTEM ERROR
A catastrophic system failure occurred in my brain.
As smoke billowed from my ears and my brain struggled to reboot, I barely registered the sound of approaching footsteps—three sets.
Didn't care.
I just sat there, staring into my lap, skin still tingling with the echo of Andrea's bite. A warmth I couldn't process.
Until Andrea stiffened beside me.
A twitch. A hitch of breath. The grip on my sleeve tightened. She sensed it before I did.
Something was wrong.
I looked up.
Three figures stood ahead, framed by the glow of the late afternoon sun—yet none of them felt warm. They didn't belong at this moment. Their presence gutted it. At the center stood her.
Liliana.
Expressionless. Composed. Cold in a way that only those who were hurt would make. No smirk. No sneer. Just silence and frozen eyes that cut through me like glass. Her gaze didn't waver.
Didn't blink.
Didn't forgive.
My throat tightened, but I forced the words out, flat and unbothered.
"What do you want, Liliana?"
She didn't speak.
She didn't need to.
Because in that silence—
I already knew:
She wasn't here for closure.
She was here for war.