Elias
He watched me stand and spoke again with the same annoying calm. "I've only seen you a few days, but I can already tell what kind of person you are." His eyes were still on me like he was making sure I denied it.
I narrowed my eyes and tried to ignore the pounding in my face. "Oh yeah? That's impressive considering we've barely spoken."
Kieran smiled at me, a small, sad sort of thing. "I don't need much. I saw you during the physical pre-exam, and every time you thought you'd done enough, you checked out." He shifted his weight slightly as he continued. "People like you annoy me more than weak people, because you actually have talent and still waste it just because using it properly might inconvenience you."
It got under my skin in a way I didn't really understand. I stared at him and wondered how someone I barely knew had managed to pull something that specific out of a few passing impressions.
My mind pulled back to earlier that day in the Axiom Ward. Gabriel had invited me because he thought I could help. I had refused before he had even finished explaining the place because the only part I heard was that it sounded like extra work.
Then I walked into a room full of trained researchers and fixed a system they had been stuck on for days. After that, I somehow tied the entire device network to my own spiritual energy and made the equipment respond to me without even knowing that was possible.
And what had been my first concern afterwards? Additional hours.
The memory made me twist my stomach for an entirely different reason. I had done something that should have made me wonder how far I could push myself, and instead my first thought had been wondering how much more work it would create.
I looked towards the audience before I could think about it any longer. Gabriel was leaning forward with an expression that looked more concerned than disappointed, and Nadia was watching with the same intensity, one arm still held near her ribs as if seeing me get hit had tensed her up all over again.
Further along the seats was Grim, watching with the same unreadable expression he seemed to have for everything. Amaya sat a few rows away with her turquoise eyes fixed on the platform, and neither looked particularly impressed or interested enough to pretend otherwise.
Then I looked towards the instructor. He was standing near the edge of the floor with his clipboard, writing something down while the fight continued in front of him, and for some reason it made the whole thing feel even more real.
Nobody was going to step in just because I was getting uncomfortable. If I wanted this to stop, I was either going to have to beat Kieran, surrender, or reach whatever point made the instructor decide I couldn't continue.
Something inside of me just snapped. It wasn't confidence or a sudden understanding that I was secretly much stronger than Kieran the entire time. I was still tired and bruised and afraid, but underneath it all, there seemed to be a strange rage bubbling up inside of me that was different than anything else.
Kieran stepped in and drove an uppercut to my chin. It snapped my head upward, but instead of throwing me backwards, I used the momentum to throw my feet underneath me.
The second I landed, Kieran drove another punch at my face. I caught his wrist before it made contact, and the suddenness of it all made his eyes go wide enough to see for a moment. Blood dripped down my nose and across my mouth, and every breath I took was a wad of iron in my mouth. I held a firm grip on his wrist and looked him right in the eye.
"You know what?" I rasped, my voice rough from the amount of punishment he had already given me. "Everything about this is stupid, and you're kind of pathetic."
The look on Kieran's face changed instantly, irritation replacing the cockiness he had been wearing the entire fight. "You get one good read, and suddenly you think you've figured me out?"
"No, I think I've been figuring you out since the first round," I said, shoving forward before driving my forehead into his face. It cracked across my own skull, but Kieran stumbled backward with both of his hands flying toward his nose.
He looked down at the blood on his fingers like he wasn't used to seeing it. For the first time since the match had started, Kieran looked less annoyed than surprised, and something in me just clicked.
Kieran wiped his nose and looked back at me. "You're still losing."
"Yeah, I noticed," I said, raising both of my hands in the air even though my arms felt like they were made of wet concrete. "But I think that's what makes this even worse for you."
He narrowed his eyes and stepped toward me. "How so?"
"Because you've been fighting people who barely knew what to do against you," I said, trying to regulate my breathing while my ribs screamed in protest every time I did. "You hit harder and are more trained and better than most of the people you've fought, but you still have to beat them after you've already won."
Kieran gave me a short laugh and shrugged one of his shoulders. "It's called making sure the job is done."
"No, that's called needing everybody else to know you could've done worse," I said. "It's a weird thing to be proud about."
His face darkened, and he charged at me. The first punch came directly at my face, and I blocked it against my forearm. The second came at my body, and I flexed just enough to take some of it before shifting out of the way for the third.
Kieran tried to follow up with a kick, but this time, I saw the movement before his leg came up. I stepped away from the path of it and drove my fist into his ribs before he could get back in range.
He grunted and tossed another punch, but I caught most of it against my guard and the rest of it clipped across my cheek, sending pain racing down the side of my face.
"You're talking a lot for somebody who's barely standing," Kieran said, driving forward again. "If you're trying to convince yourself that you're stronger than me, you're doing a terrible job."
I'm not talking about physical strength," I said, blocking another strike and forcing myself not to look away from him. "I'm saying the guy who knows when to hold back is stronger than the guy who needs to use everything just because he can."
Kieran scoffed and tossed another punch that I slipped by a few inches. "That doesn't make any sense."
"Yeah, I didn't get it either," I said as I caught his arm again and shoved it off line. "But if you've got something left to give and you can choose when to actually use it, it's strength too."
He tried to knee me in the stomach, but I shifted my hips enough that it only glanced off to the side. I could see the frustration building up in the way he moved now.
Kieran backed away enough to reset. "So now holding back makes you better than me?"
"No, having control does," I said, a tired smile pulling at my mouth despite how much everything hurt. That seemed to get under his skin more than anything.
He attacked again, but instead of treating every strike and movement like it was something I had to get out of the way of, I stopped trying to avoid them. I let some of them bash into my guard, took others on my arms, and I kept my eyes on his shoulders and hips instead. His body was telling me what he was going to do before every single attack.
A dip in his shoulder said the hook was coming, a shift in his hips said the kick was next, and the way his eyes flicked toward my ribs usually told me where he wanted me to follow up.
He was faster and more controlled, but he wasn't unreadable anymore.
Kieran tossed a straight punch, and I parried it just enough to move it past my face. I answered with my own, and this time, my fist caught across his nose.
Blood burst out immediately.
Kieran stumbled back and growled through his teeth. One hand went to his face, and when he withdrew it, the look on his face twisted grotesquely at the blood coating his fingers.
I still could feel blood running down my own face, warm under my nose and along my lips. My nose throbbed with pain every time I breathed, and one side of it seemed stretched out enough that I was sure it was broken.
Neither of us looked particularly clean anymore.
Kieran came back, and with each exchange, they got dirtier. He landed a body shot, and I answered with one to the ribs; he clipped my jaw, and I drove a short punch into his chest, and whenever one of us got a clean opening, the other was already trying to punish it.
The counters started coming faster on both of our parts. Every time Kieran hit me, I got to learn something new, and every time I hit him, I could see the confidence slipping away from his face.
At one point, he tried to toss a hook, but I ducked under it and stepped in close again, punching him across his nose once more. Kieran stumbled back with a sharp sound of pain and glared at me like he was deciding if he was angry or surprised I was still able to do it.
That was when I saw it.