As Marvel walked to the centre of the arena, he reminded himself of all the reasons why fleeing was not an option.
There was the fact that his classmates already hated the fact that he'd somehow attained Novice class without making the sacrifices they had made. If he went from undeserving to cowardly, they could make his life very difficult.
Also, Marvel doubted Caspian would be allowed to kill him. However, Caspian would undoubtedly relish the opportunity to inflict a world of pain on Marvel. Something he spent an unbelievable amount of his free time doing already, only there would be a crowd watching this time.
Lastly, Marvel had made a stand with his words, and he wasn't about to take them back. Years of swallowing his anger and frustration had only earned him a painful, horrifying death twice over. He meant every word he said. If the consequence was getting pummelled by Caspian Griffith, then so be it.
Caspian faced Marvel, grinning wickedly. Marvel felt a fierce desire to punch his teeth out.
In the back of his mind, he heard the shadows pleading for him to let him help them, to destroy Caspian so completely that even his family would cease to exist.
No, he told them, shaking his head to silence them.
The rest of the class filled the seats of the arena, leaning eagerly forward as they waited for the oncoming bloodbath. Marvel glanced at the crowd of fifty or sixty students jeering at him and felt a pang of loneliness.
No Pidge. No Flynn, no Adia. If they had survived, they would have cheered him on, at least.
If they had survived, he probably wouldn't even be in this situation.
Apprentice Echo leaped from the stands and landed on her feet between him and Caspian.
"Alright, boys, you know the rules," she said. "Weakest gets the first strike, strongest the next, and then it's a free-for-all. First man on his back loses. Caspian—" she shot him a warning glance— "you are not allowed to kill or seriously maim him, seeing as he is, after all, just a maverick."
Caspian looked displeased but nodded.
To Marvel, she said, "There's still time to back out, maverick. No need to get yourself killed over infantile dreams."
Oh, fuck you, Marvel thought bitterly. In response, he faced Caspian, raising his fists and positioning his feet for cycling.
"Good," Echo grinned wickedly. "Everything's settled. The floor's open to you, Marvel. If you can throw a punch without exhausting yourself to death."
With that, she dissolved into thin air, leaving Marvel alone with Caspian.
"You know," Caspian said, settling into cycling position, "if you wanted your arse kicked, you could have just waited until after class."
Marvel said nothing as they began to circle each other. Inside, his mind screamed at him about how much of a bad idea this was and how he was going to die if he didn't find a way to get out of it. Most of his focus was on not showing the knee-buckling fear on his face.
Shit, shit, shit played like a litany in his mind.
"You think you can beat me now because you somehow tricked your way into this class?" Caspian continued. "You think you're hot shit now, Marverick?"
Think, Marvel told himself. How do I get out of this without looking like a total loser? Do I honestly care more about not looking like a loser than staying alive?
"I hope you don't have to stay in the Healing Section too long," Caspian went on, ever enamoured with his own voice. "I have boots that need polishing."
"Killian's sakes," Echo snapped impatiently, though with a hint of mockery. "Marvel Satis, make a fucking move or back out. We haven't got all day."
Marvel grit his teeth. I should just back out. What the hell am I doing?
But no. For once, he didn't want to be pathetic, not after everything he'd endured in the past few days. There was no chance in any hell that he was going to let anyone witness him using Fusion magic. But without it, he wasn't going to win. Not unless he… cheated.
Caspian had a magical advantage over Marvel. But only a magical advantage. Despite his size and strength, Marvel had actual combat training from his time with the Academy Guard. There were things he could do much better than Caspian.
The idea settled over Marvel. He moved quickly, darting through the opening Caspian's circling stance gave him and driving a precise fist into the man's jaw with all his strength.
It was the greatest moment of Marvel's life. Truly, he couldn't imagine feeling anything greater than the satisfaction of watching the idiot Caspian Griffith crumple to the ground, knocked out cold.
The ludus was silent for a long, stunned moment. Then came a nearly deafening roar of outraged gasps, disbelieving shouts, and amused whoops, with murmurs of what Marvel hoped was respect.
A hush fell over the room as Apprentice Echo held a hand up to silence the class.
She didn't look shocked as she walked to the centre of the arena. Standing over Caspian's prone form, she frowned at Marvel.
"You do understand that the point of a Mage's Duel is to use your magic," she said.
"I thought the point of a Mage's Duel was to win," Marvel said, perhaps a bit too smugly.
"You call this winning?" She gestured at Caspian's still form.
"First man on his back loses," Marvel said, adding "Honoured One" to temper his cockiness.
A slow smile curved her lips, though it didn't reach her eyes. Marvel liked to think he detected a glimmer of respect. "Clever, but unfortunately, that isn't how this works."
Marvel raised his eyebrows. "No?"
She hummed. "In a proper Mage's Duel, the magic doesn't release the mages from their contract to fight unless they use magic to defeat the other—"
"But this wasn't a proper duel," Marvel protested. "We're not bound—"
He found he couldn't speak, his lips moving wordlessly. Fury boiled within him as he saw the Apprentice's crossed fingers. Just another powerful mage showing him his place. Typical.
Echo gave him a thin-lipped smile. "I'm still talking." Her tone had a hint of amusement at his scathing glare. "Since you cheated and did not satisfy the terms of the Mage's Duel, you'll have to do it again. Using magic this time."
Marvel huffed. This was such bullshit. What was he supposed to do, disobey his teacher?
Maybe he should be more concerned about finding out his magic was dark and corrupt, but now he was finding it mattered less to him than it should have. If the power would help him surpass her someday, he didn't care how evil it was.
One day, I'll wipe that stupid smug smile off her stupid, smug face.
"Since I'm feeling merciful," she said, using the tip of her boot to poke at Caspian's still unconscious form, "I'll give you a week to prepare. And then you will fight Caspian Griffith. How about that?"
He gave her a pointed look, reminding her that she'd taken his voice so he couldn't exactly agree. Despite this, she waited expectantly for a response.
Bitch.
Aware of the eyes of his classmates watching with rapt delight, Marvel decided to give a showy, mocking bow to show he fully accepted her challenge. Perhaps she could have killed him with a thought, but it was worth it for her embarrassed pink cheeks and the tittering amusement of his classmates.
"Get back to cycling!" Echo snapped at them, sweeping back to her seat in a swish of white silk.
Marvel received a few intrigued glances from the Novices as they passed him by to obey her instructions. He felt himself relax a bit as he realised they were probably more curious about him than hostile now. He could only hope not to disappoint them.
Nobody moved to help Caspian. He must be as much an arsehole to the rest of the class as he was to Marvel.
As the adrenaline left his body, Marvel realised three things.
One, he would be in serious trouble when Caspian Griffith eventually woke up and sought revenge.
Two, Marvel had unwisely made an enemy out of his teacher and was probably in for a hellish time for the next month.
Three, he had a week to figure out either how to get rid of his current athar and harvest his own or learn how to use the shadows without getting caught and executed. Or murdering everyone.
And four, Marvel realised as spots darkened his vision and his knees buckled, I really need to lie down before I—
He hit the floor before he could finish the thought.