< ... Blood Potency Enhanced ... >
'What? ... Why?'
Two thoughts clashed in Elyas's head at once:
Why the hell did he do something so stupid and rash?
'He... he badmouthed Pops when he had no right to. I had to, right?
And why did his Blood Potency go up from a mere punch?
'What the hell is going on?!'
And so as he stood there, transfixed, staring wide-eyed at the floor, he was just as surprised as the rest of them.
One of the Twins rushed to the Blonde Guy.
"Collin!"
He crouched near him, concerned, but Collin didn't seem hurt.
No... he wasn't hurt at all.
In fact, when he cocked his head to Elyas, his face was twisted in malicious glee, half bent over the table.
Cenric was on his feet, motionlessly gaping at Elyas.
Clara, meanwhile, was near the door, looking down in resignation.
"I thought you were a Coherent?" Collin said, straightening.
Elyas took a few rapid breaths, gulped, then shrugged.
"I am."
"You are?" Collin laughed. "That punch... Then you're not even an Imitator yet?!"
'Huh? Wait... I'm supposed to be already?! Damn that outdated sapien!'
"Uh... Not yet."
Collin tilted his head at him, ran a smooth hand across his lustrous white cheek, and laughed even more.
"How bold!" He proclaimed, raising his arms praisingly. "The night before the induction, and you sucker punched me? The night! Before! The Induction! And you gave me the most beautiful gift!"
Cenric gulped and sagged back in his seat, eyes still fixed on Elyas in disbelief.
Elyas, meanwhile, finally felt a mildly sore pain in his fist.
He inspected it, and Goddamit!
It was blue and bloody.
His knuckles were shattered.
But the adrenaline was dulling it all for now, so all he did was curse himself repeatedly whilst trying to maintain the most impassive expression possible.
But curse him, it was hard!
Collin, still laughing as if he just learned the most embarrassing secret of all, sauntered closer.
"You know, I'm starting to think you just got off the boat yesterday with how clueless you are. Do you even know what you just did? No, no, you don't have to answer. I know you don't. I doubt anyone in our year hasn't been an Imitator for at least a year now, and here you are right before the First Year Tournament, a..." He eyed him up and down again, mouth twisting even more, "a pitiful coward."
He stopped a few feet away, staring Elyas down, and said darkly:
"So what if I called your father a dolt? You sucker punch me because I hurt your mushy little feelings?"
Oh, how dare he?
How dare he taunt him so?!
Even though he knew how much it angered him, how much it provoked him, he repeated it so carelessly.
So goddamn merrily!
Elyas clenched his shattered fist even more, pain wheezing at him, but frustration tearing him apart even more.
Because now he understood.
He couldn't do a bloody damn thing about it.
Elyas swallowed back his rabid instincts and muttered with all the composure he could muster, "Yes."
Collin's smile dropped, and his eyes narrowed menacingly at him.
He took one big step and tilted down to stare Elyas in the eyes, scorning him.
"There are proper ways to handle these things, you know that? I'm assuming you read the prospectus. You find your dignity affronted, you declare a duel in the school's amphitheatre, before the judges, and before the students."
He raised his hand and patted Elyas's cheek mockingly.
"Tradition, Rat, tradition."
Elyas almost exploded then.
His hand quivered at his side, yearning for another swing.
His blood seethed with indignation, and his thoughts, his thoughts were an urging refrain:
'Don't do it, Elyas. Don't do it.'
'Don't do it, Elyas. Don't do it.'
'Don't do it, Elyas. Don't do it.'
Then, after peering into his eyes for a little too long, Collin stepped back and clapped his hands once, proclaiming to the whole silent and apprehensive cafe:
"But! As you all may have witnessed, I have been physically affronted by another student, and thus it is my right, as per Rosendale's Charter, that I retaliate free of consequences."
He turned to Clara and grinned sardonically.
"I ask that none interfere, but I trust that we all know the rules. Do we not, senior Sinnerway?"
Clara remained as she was, cold and solemn. She looked up at him and narrowed her eyes contemptuously... but said nothing.
As if disrupted by a sudden thought, Collin went quiet and briefly rapped his finger on the table contemplatively. Then, as if to consider his options, he nicked his hand on an embellished hidden claw protruding from his belt...
And bled.
Then, something that made Elyas hold his breath and blink repeatedly in disbelief happened right before his eyes.
He saw it for the first time.
He saw the summoning of an Anchor.
The blood swelling in Collin's hand began to swirl and protrude into thin air, denying its liquid nature, and coalescing to assume the shape of a Longsword.
A disturbing and abhorrent sight.
The stench of iron emitting from the dense crimson blade made his skin crawl and his face grimace.
Then, from the tip of the blade, the blood slowly began to fade into the colour of steel seamlessly, and a reflective silver surface replaced it all until even the hilt assumed its traditional fashion.
The stench disappeared.
And it was a magnificent blade.
'What in the bloodydamn gallows is going on here?!'
Cenric, Clara, and the Twins weren't even budging, but Elyas was most definitely expressive.
He blinked hard and opened his eyes once more, lest they were deceiving him.
"Say, southerner, I know you wouldn't have a weapon on you, so I will be as kind as to lend you one. Or... we can duel in the primitive, improper ways that you prefer."
Elyas didn't say anything, or really, he couldn't. He was still too stunned by what he had just seen, but after a few seconds, he scratched his neck and said indignantly.
"You provoke me, then claim you can beat the hell out of me because I reacted? No, not even that. You're physically much stronger than I, and you want to brawl regardless, isn't that an affront to your own dignity?"
Collin laughed.
"Oh, you cheeky rat, you really think that'd work. I must admit I would have much rather battered Cenric over there since I am still a bit vexed about his insolence, but... I can settle with you for now. And don't worry, I won't even use my Coherency."
Elyas understood then and there that there truly was no way out of the plight he had mired himself in.
Collin was determined and incredibly furious despite hiding it under that sardonic facade of his.
He was itching for it.
'I've never handled a sword before. No, I never did. The Anarchists loved their firearms, so swords were pointless, weren't they, Elyas?'
Elyas's heart was already racing, but now it galloped against his chest in a Goddamn frenzy.
He knew after his shattered knuckles that his chances were slim-
No.
Close to nothing.
He had no doubt Collin was a posh snob with heaps of money spent on his training and conditioning, because although the Celestial Realm was mysterious, one thing was certain: it was goddamn hell.
His decision was made.
Elyas set his right foot back, raised his slightly trembling hands to a fighting position, and huffed anxiously.
'Well, shit. Sorry, Pops, no sucking up here.'
Collin smirked, rested his Longsword on the table, and dismissed it. But this time, there was no morbid transformation; it simply faded out of existence, as if it were a mirage.
"Very well, dirty hands it is," Collin said, squaring in a more refined and elegant fighting position.
Clara took a deep, anxious breath.
Cenric grabbed his hair; he was beyond his wits
The Twins laughed and whispered amongst themselves.
Elyas and Collin faced each other, tentatively still, in precarious silence.
The blissfully ignorant music in the background was more present now, incongruent to the heavy atmosphere.
Elyas watched his foe's shoulders and legs, and his foe did the same.
None of them moved, both standing on the precipice of everything.
Then-
One of the Twins nudged a cup.
It rolled and-
Crash!
Elyas's heart dropped; he clenched his jaw and let his body dash into heat, fists and blood.