“Well, if it’s just for fun, go ahead. No judgment there,” she says, too casually. “But if you plan to wed? That’s a whole different story. Why waste a bond when you could be procreating the future together?” Her words are flat, rehearsed. Something heard a thousand times and now repeated by muscle memory. But underneath it, there’s bitterness, subtle yet real. It stops me cold. Nalaka rarely shows emotion, but this? It slips through a crack in the armour she’s been holding.
I can’t help but scoff, feeling a little fed up with this narrowed view. “That’s pure bullshit,” I fold my arms on my chest. “There are other ways to procreate, you know. And with whatever that magic’s called, Kvirr? I’m sure someone could work a miracle or two. And hell, there are plenty of kids out there who need homes.” I shake my head. “Life’s too damn short to live it miserably, clinging to some outdated idea of what should be.”
Her expression doesn’t budge, but I see something flicker in her eyes. Maybe she’s heard that too, before, but it hadn’t sunk in yet.
“Life’s not that short when you’re an elf,” Nalaka says softly, her tone thick with something unspoken. “We live for centuries, Avilyna... Centuries to watch things fade, to see people pass. Sometimes it feels like the world moves in slow motion.” She pauses, her gaze distant. “And there aren’t as many orphans anymore. The Bloodmoon War took care of that.”
I shake my head. “A day, fifty days, a hundred years. It’s all the same,” I say, my voice steady, cutting through the heaviness. “Your life is still yours. Still worth living. And there are people out there who need a family.”
Life’s too fleeting to waste, no matter how long it lasts. It’s meant to be lived, fully—freely.
The atmosphere in the room shifts like a current, drawing my attention back to the fight. Kai moves as lightning; his strikes are a blur of controlled power. A quick combination, and then a perfectly timed kick that takes Liam’s legs right out from under him. He crashes to the mat with a heavy thud, the sound of it deafening, almost satisfying.
The crowd responds, but it’s not a roar. It’s more of a hushed murmur, the kind of respect you give when someone’s just proven they’re untouchable. Kai stands tall, unimpressed, offering his hand out to Liam as if it’s nothing more than a polite gesture. But his opponent slaps it away, his face twisted into a sneer as he shoves himself up from the mat, his voice low.
“This isn’t over, Brackwell.” Fury simmers beneath every word. Liam might have the size, but Kai? He stands eye to eye with him. It’s not just the height, though. It’s something else; the air around Kai shifts when he’s like this. You don’t just see him, you feel him, in the air, imposing. And right now, everyone does. The lycan in him, pulsing, his wolf tattoo taking the same glow as his eyes.
“I’m looking forward to it, Zenik,” Kai’s tone is laced with that trademark arrogance. “How’s your cousin’s hand, by the way? Still twitching, or just decorative now?”
Liam snaps; he throws a punch, all fury and no aim, but Kai was practically begging for him to act. He dodges without breaking a sweat, then clocks him square in the jaw. One clean hit, and Liam hits the mat like a collapsed wall.
Brackwell doesn’t even glance down. He straightens, rolls his shoulder as if the whole thing bored him, then lifts his head and locks eyes with me. The smile he gives me is pure trouble, and then, he winks.
Winks.
Without a word, Kai turns and strolls off to join Wyll, all swagger, as if knocking a guy out cold was just his warm-up act. And I just stand here, mildly flustered and incredibly annoyed that he got under my skin, again.
Nalaka leadsme over to another duel, tells me to watch and actually pay attention to the maneuvers this time.
So I do.
The two in the ring move with fluidity. Dodging brutal counterattacks, all wrapped in some deadly ballet of power. There’s a kind of elegance to it, sure, but it’s the brutal kind. The kind that’ll break your nose and somehow make you feel like it’s your fault.
I try to keep up, mentally cataloging their movements, imagining how I’d handle myself in the ring with that kind of attack. But here’s the truth: yes, my dad taught me how to fight, and yes, I know how to land a punch. But I spent yearssparring with the same partner. I didn’t learn to adapt; I learned to predict. Memorize my dad’s habits, his tells. Got good at exploiting them. But now, I am slower at spotting the patterns.
These students?
They don’t wait to memorize your next move. They react, they adjust, they evolve, fast. And because the universe loves me, Kazuki Sato decides to pair me with none other than fucking Heather, of course.
By the time our turn rolls around, the only good news is that I’ve managed to get my breathing under control. Which means I won’t immediately pass out, small victories. I kinda regret my pasta, though; oh, god, I’m gonna be sick.
The duel starts fast. I’m barely in position before she’s throwing combos. Her movements are sharp, clean and infuriatingly perfect. We trade strikes, punches, and blocks, doing everything I can to not lose ground. I channel every ounce of frustration into my hits, trying to break through her perfect little warrior-girl façade.
But Heather?
She doesn't break. She absorbs my hits and throws them back harder. Calm, deadly, like this is just another afternoon for her. The room quiets, attention shifting toward us as the intensity ramps up. She throws punches after punches as I block and parry. I can feel eyes on us, watching, judging. Probably placing bets. My breathing is ragged, my limbs are screaming, but I don’t stop.
I won’t stop.
I’m still standing, which is more than I can say for my pride. But Heather… she just keeps coming. And then I see it, her eyes flash, sharp and not human.
Fuck.
She’s using her goddamn lycan’s abilities. And that’s when I falter, just for a second. But it’s enough. Heather lands a heavyblow that sends me flat on my back, the wind knocked clean out of me. I hit the mat, fuming. Less from the pain and more from the sheer cheating of it all. Quickly pushing myself up, I get into position for another round.
“That’s enough! See you all tomorrow.” Sensei Sato’s voice cuts through the tension, shutting it all down like a kill switch. Heather strolls past with that smug look, tossing over her shoulder in a sing-song voice.
“Liar.”
