After dinner the group went to the classroom for the ranking. A few students were already seated; the three of them took a place together as the rest of the year filtered in, eager and nervous. Sergeant Smith walked in with a clipboard—everyone's name and a rank beside it.
He read slowly through the list. Some students cried; others grinned. "Elena—rank two. Billy—rank one. Scarlett—rank one." Elena and Max were the only two with rank twos in the group.
"You can progress your rank by challenging someone of the same rank or higher," Sergeant Smith announced. "Train, practise, and you can try again at the start of next month—there'll be another test. You may start the challenges now!"
At that, the room dissolved into movement. Groups formed and eyes shifted across the benches. A husky boy—tall,chubby and twice Elena's size—pushed his way to the front. He jutted his chin toward her. "I challenge you. I'll take you, little girl" he grunted, then pushed past and headed outside. "After I'll deal with your friends," he muttered over his shoulder.
Elena looked to Billy. He caught her hands and met her eyes. "Did you see the size of that fat Bastard?" she whispered, furious. Billy squeezed her fingers. "Remember: the bigger they are, the harder they fall. You'll run rings around him. You've just got to believe in yourself." Scarlett chimed in with a grin, "He's right. You've got this."
They headed outside to the field where the fights were to take place. Elena's palms were damp and sweat trickled down her temple as she pushed the double doors open and stepped into the Gloomy evening. There, in the centre of the field, stood the boy nicknamed Bob the Blob.
She glanced back to find her teacher coming through the doors as well. Taking steadying breaths, Elena moved into a fighting stance opposite Bob and waited.
When Sergeant Smith arrived to referee, both students readied themselves. Bob was the first to move—not particularly fast, but heavy and determined. He charged like a tumbling boulder; Elena sidestepped his body slam just in time. The impact made the ground rumble and threw dust into the air.
A hazy figure formed through the settling dust, panting from effort. Bob rose and charged again, this time opening his mouth and spitting a bright green globule of corrosive liquid straight at Elena. She scrambled aside; the glob hit the turf and sizzled, the grass and mud bubbling as if with acid.
Bob was already on her—leaping, closing in. Elena tried to dive clear but her foot caught on the fat of his belly as it hit the ground with a cracking crunch. She screamed.
Sergeant Smith lunged forward, but he wasn't close enough. Bob with spit hung in the air, halfway to Elena's face, frozen in that horrifying instant.
Billy felt a pressure in his chest; the air around him seemed to thicken and slow. Then, with everything gone silent, he realised time had stopped—everyone was frozen mid-motion: the sergeant half-running, the spit suspended like a grotesque jewel.
Billy dashed forward. He didn't know how long he could hold the effect, but he sprinted toward them anyway. He hurled himself over Elena just as the green glob started to move and hit his shoulder. The heat seared through uniform and flesh. He screamed once and then his body went limp on top of her; the smell of burning flesh filled Elena's nostrils. A smash came from the side—Sergeant Smith had summoned his ability, hurling a wedge of mud that smashed into Bob's chest and sent him tumbling, bouncing to a stop.
Smith dropped to his knees and hauled Billy free, then cradled him as if the boy might break. Elena stared, dizzy, then the world tilted and she passed out.
They carried the three of them to the infirmary. Max was already lying there, one of many beds filled with the wounded. Scarlett sat between Billy and Elena, waiting. It was Scarlett who saw Elena first open her eyes.
"Hey," Elena mumbled.
Scarlett's face brightened with relief. "You're awake! How are you?"
Elena blinked, taking in the white ceiling and the worried faces. Scarlett explained what the healers had done: Elena's leg wasn't badly damaged—a broken bone mostly—and the healers had set it; she'd need to rest it for a day.
Then Scarlett told Elena what had happened to Billy. Standing one second at her side, Billy had somehow managed to throw himself over her as the spit hit—no one knew how. The green glob had struck Billy's shoulder and eaten through his uniform and flesh; the healers had done their best, but they hadn't been able to reattach the arm.
Billy woke sometime later to the sound of quiet voices. He opened one eye and, finding himself alone, glanced down and saw the empty place where his arm had been. Panic welled up and he quickly shut his eyes, pretending to sleep.
Elena climbed awkwardly into her trainers as Scarlett urged her to not move. "Come on, you should be resting. The same as Billy."
Just then Sergeant Smith entered, not alone. A woman followed him—dark-haired, composed, and smiling when she saw Elena. Elena's mouth fell open. "Mum?"
Kerry rushed forward, gathering Elena into her arms. "I came with news, then they told me you were in the infirmary, so I rushed here." Her voice trembled. "Are you alright, baby?"
Elena stared at her mother, then blurted, "Mum—what's the news? If it's about Dad, I already know he's missing."
Kerry's face crumpled. "They've changed it. They've reclassified him. He's KIA—killed in action. There's no body, but there's no sign of him. I'm so sorry, Baby girl." Tears spilled down her cheeks as she pulled Elena close. The reality hit with a strange, numbing weight—a new finality coming from her mother's lips.
"Mum, you should get back to the boys," Elena said after a long breath. "I'll be ok." Kerry nodded and squeezed her hand. "I love you," she said, and left.
Sergeant Smith stayed a moment. "You should rest, at least a few days. Let your leg heal." Then he, too, left.
Scarlett tilted her head. "Are you okay?" she asked softly.
Elena stood and pushed the infirmary door open. "You coming?" she asked, already striding away.
Scarlett hurried after her. Billy—alone now—let loose the sob he'd been holding and pressed his shoulder where the arm used to be. The pain wasn't only physical; it was a raw, hollow grief.
"Where are we going?" Scarlett asked breathlessly, catching up.
"To train," Elena said. Her jaw was set. "So this doesn't happen again."
They picked up the pace, each of them carrying the day's losses and small victories like stones in their pockets, and walked into the cold darkness of the night.