My sleep was dreamless, and I didn’t know how long I stayed in total darkness. I only awoke to Rena’s voice calling out to me over and over again.
The first thing I saw was a very concerned Rena and Arthuria, watching me wordlessly. Arthuria’s red locks drooped to the side of her face as she stared at me. Turning my head, I found Bernie who was busy playing with a piece of paper which suffered from a series of folds.
“It’s Wednesday, Takanashi. Took you a day to wake up. The nurse had to amputate the leg,” Bernie told me. “Then she said that if you desperately wanted to recover it, you’ll have to get done in.”
“Not gonna happen,” I said, looking at my left foot.
As expected, it wasn’t normal anymore. It had been replaced by a prosthetic. I wondered what kind of mechanism it took for a robotic foot to act as if it’s an actual part of the body. Theorizing wasn’t an easy task on my part. There’s one thing I’m very sure about, though: walking on it would take a lot of practice.
Squall appeared from behind Rena and sat on the side of the bed, ignoring the creeks of protest from the bed’s feet.
“Looks like you’re good to go,” Squall said. “It’s a brand new day and it’s Twelve Fifteen. You’re late for the training course.”
“It's a must that he attends the training course,” Ryan told Squall as he waltzed into the clinic. “Representatives of Section 6 and 12 are up next—“ He glanced at me “—You wouldn’t want to miss a good fight.”
I stared at my leg as a question escaped my lips. “Who are representing us today?”
Bernie finished folding a paper crane before she answered the question. “Jeck and Ivy.”
***
We navigated through more unchartered hallways. My right hand draped over Rena’s right shoulder as she helped me walk straight. Squall rambled on and on about the fights that I had missed, though I couldn’t hear a single word he said due to the fact that most of my attention was on my left foot.
“The training course is held in a place called ‘Arena of Demise’,” Bernie said, taking up the area beside me. “It is located at the heart of the school. We wouldn’t miss it.”
“Are we close?” I asked her.
“Could you be more specific? Bernie asked me.
“Are we close… to the Arena?” I said rather firmly.
Bernie opened her mouth to speak but Squall beat her to it. “When we turn right, we’ll see a huge door. That’s the Arena of Demise,” He informed me with a grin.
We eventually reached a fork. The hall ahead was windowless and eerie. The one to the left was well-lit and it extended towards a staircase which lead to the ground floor. The one to the right was wide but ill-lit and cold. It led to two huge, rectangular, wooden doors with a dragon just barely visible on their faces.
The sounds of students cheering could be heard from beyond the door. I gulped. The bloodshed in there must be incredible. Students might be dying in the most unlawful way. Just hearing the simultaneous cheers was more than enough to give me a feeling of uneasiness. It was telling me getting killed in the arena was the most painful and traumatizing thing that could ever happen to me but for some reason, I didn't feel scared. I only felt really nervous...
The door creaked open slowly, as if to gather the suspense I was experiencing. Light protruded from the growing space as the door pulled inwards.
The cheering and screaming grew even louder as we paced into the arena. I couldn't help but stare in plain earnest.
The arena had the structure of a super bowl. The stage was practically a metal football field which was shaped into an oblong with three squares drawn inside it. Surrounding it were thousands of seats for the students. Twelve staircases sank into it, appearing like entrances to hell. Hovering over the stage, Four giant screens hung parallel to each other to provide a better view of what was happening. Cameras stood on each corner of the arena. Some were even suspended in mid-air to capture aerial views of the fights.
The students had grouped themselves to their respective sections, and Section 12 was located on the nearest left of the entrance.
We took a seat next to C who had blood all over his clothes. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he focused on the giant screen which was faced our section in a viewable angle.
“Where’s my suitcase?” I asked him.
“It’s in your quarter,” C retorted without even looking at me. I decided to follow his gaze.
Onstage, A camera was directed towards Ivy, giving her more emphasis on the screen. Her expression was blank, as if she had shut away all of her sanity so that she could stay conscious during her battle. Her eyesight was enhanced by a pair of pink-framed glasses. She wielded a composite bow, but she could only hold the mid-section considering that rest of it were stainless steel blades which were bent so that the bow formed the shape of a boomerang. Hanging loose on her waist was a quiver filled with arrows.
The camera automatically began to circle around her. On-screen, she looked like a newly-made character from a random, role-playing game. A red box appeared below her. On it, her name and section was written in bold white letters: Ivy Randall, 12th Section.
Her opponent appeared on screen next. Her skin was noticeably darker due to the lighting, but the darkness wasn’t able to conceal the pimples on her face. She looked thinner on camera. Her hair was long and disheveled. Blood coated her clothes.
Her weapon was a normal-looking spear. As the camera began to move around her, I made sure to pay attention to the red box which would pop out at any moment. Her name was foreign and familiar-sounding at the same time: Sarah Greenwich, 1st Section.
A bell resonated throughout the arena like a ceaseless voice which would forever signal an epitaph of doom. The fight began in not more than a second later.
Ivy began shooting arrows at her opponent in a definite speed. She was slower than I had hoped. Her arrows kept missing and her opponent, Sarah, bounced out of the way just as she made her target clear.
Ivy gritted her teeth in irritation and began running so that her opponent won’t be able to get close to her. Luckily, she had more stamina compared to Sarah who seemed to have difficulties in carrying her bulky body around.
Ivy began to shoot once more, and her aim was even better. Sarah was hit straight on the left shoulder. She doubled over, crashing on the ground with a heavy thud. She closed her eyes and tried to remove the arrow but Ivy caught her by surprise and began attacking her restlessly.
Arrows were aimed towards Sarah’s head, neck, torso and chest. She didn’t even have time to react. In the next minute, she was lying on the ground, choking for air and mercy. Her body coiled like a million shattered pieces bringing themselves together in agony as blood pooled below her.
Ivy moved towards Sarah and raised her bow. Without hesitation, she brought it down and beheaded her opponent. Section 1 and 12 were silent but the others continued to cheer for their representatives like optimists in the midst of chaos.
Blood oozed out of the now-headless body as Ivy walked towards the middle of the stage. She faced Section 12 and raised her hands in a victory pose. She smiled triumphantly as she waved at her allies. Her fight was short, but it was more than enough to bring hope to our faces.
Section 1 groaned in disappointment next to us. I smiled in delight.
“Melee versus Range,” I said. “Isn’t that a bit unfair?”
“If you’re a pro, you’ll win despite the disadvantages you have,” C told me.
Ivy’s name flashed on the screen with a picture of her – hands suspended in midair with glee.
She started walking towards her Section. Her clothes seemed unstained as she prodded up the stairs to finally be able to rest. She stopped on the row of seats in front of me and stared at Jeck, who was the only person occupying the row. He was up next.
The middle section of the stage sank down, taking Sarah’s body with it. A new and cleaner layer replaced it just before it disappeared completely.
Ivy gave Jeck a high five as he stood up. He half-heartedly let Ivy take his place before moving towards the center of the stage.
As Jeck went down, Annabel ascended the stairs and took a seat next to Ivy. She sighed in annoyance and started talking in a hushed voice. I huddled a bit closer to eavesdrop on their conversation.
“He’s surely gonna loose again,” she said to Ivy.
“No… He won’t,” Ivy said. “Willia—Decimo enhanced his weapon yesterday. He told me that Tommy had taught him how to use it. He had been practicing all night. He also said it looked really cool.”
The names they stated were unfamiliar… Maybe Section 12 students who failed to introduce themselves on my first day in Doomsday.
“Oh really? Maybe I can use it later,” Annabel started. “To behead the one who’s got guts to listen in on our discussion!”
I jerked back in shock as she glanced at me with a meek smile. “If you wanted to hear the conversation, you could just say so. Eavesdropping is rude.”
“Sorry…” I told her.
“I’ll rip your eardrums out the next time you do it!” Annabel shouted, her squeaky voice booming loud enough to attract the opposite sections.
Ivy grabbed Annabel by the hair and started running her finger across Annabel’s jaw -- something a master would do to tame a cat --to silence her. Once she had calmed down, her attention was automatically drawn to what was appearing on-screen.
The camera focused on Jeck who was now holding a huge axe with intricate designs embossed on its sides. Its blade was painted a lush green and it had golden rims which glowed against the fluorescent light.
Jeck positioned himself on the very center of the stage. His back was against his opponent’s – a thin, dark-skinned, raven-haired lad, with a sword in tow.
I imagined Jeck’s fight to be short, considering the fact that he was holding a weapon fit for a mercenary. His only drawback was that the axe is obviously not lightweight, and he didn’t appear to be a physically fit guy.
They walked away from each other, stopping only when they reached the edge of their share of the stage. Jeck turned around to face his opponent just as his opponent did the same. Their gestures stated that they were cautious, fearful that they might attack each other before the bell would even ring.
They faced each other and a countdown began on-screen. It was ten seconds to a highly painful death. I wondered how frustrating it must be for Jeck, who was on the upper hand, to wait for ten seconds to finish off someone who was very interested in killing him as well.
After the countdown, Jeck’s opponent appeared on the screen. His name was written in capital letters, along with other significant details of himself: Keith Kingston, Top Student # 2, 3rd Section.
“Section 3,” I muttered. “Aren’t they…?”
“They’re the best section, so far,” C told me. “But they’re not technically the most arrogant. Sometimes you’ll have to know them before judging them. They’re nice and approachable… when they’re not out to kill you, in the least.”
“I see…”
Jeck appeared on screen and there was an astounding lack of pimples on his face. The camera loved him. A lot.
The bell rang again, and Jeck’s response was immediate. He hauled his axe beside him. It’s blade sent sparks crawling across the floor of the stage as he ran.
Keith was poised in a fighting stance. He seemed like he was anticipating Jeck’s every move. Perhaps he was, since he easily ran out of the way before Jeck could even get to him. He spun around Jeck in an imperfect circle before targeting him on the side of his stomach.
Jeck used his axe to block the attack before countering it with an uppercut to his opponent’s chin. His measures were effective and in the next second, he was holding his axe effortlessly in a stance that was both threatening and serious. He swung his weapon towards his opponent in a waning motion, but his opponent was swift.
Keith was smirking now. He ran and ran in circles. Jeck followed him in with his axe in tow.
“He’s going to tire Jeck out,” I whispered to no one in particular.
“He does that every time,” C informed me. “It’s what makes him a terrifying enemy. I’d love to kill him even if he’s from Section 3. He’s as prideful as he’s a cheater.”
I gazed down at the stage and noticed that Jeck had slowed down dramatically. Back on-screen, his face was all covered in sweat despite the fact that the place was conditioned almost to the point of freezing.
I gritted my teeth and crossed my fingers.
Jeck was gonna loose. There was no doubt about that.
His opponent spun around a circle again and Jeck, whose wits were dimmed by his weariness, followed his every move. He didn’t know that the guy’s goal was to make him as dizzy as hell. Then when he strikes the match, he could easily stab Jeck with his sword.
Jeck was persistent though. He stopped running but his head kept following Keith as the guy spun around faster and faster. He stared at Keith, his body frozen in time. He was standing with unmatched concentration.
Keith suddenly ran towards him with an unbeatable speed and tried to strike him down with his sword but Jeck was also fast. He blocked the attack easily and swung the axe to his left so that Keith could also be blown away by the impact.
Keith moved backwards to dodge the attack then he started running again. This time, Jeck ran with him. They chased each other around the stage, but Keith was faster and much more sly. He run a shorter lap and tried to strike Jeck down once more. Fortunately, Jeck had jolted to a stop just in time to counter the attack.
Jeck used the edge of his axe to jab Keith in the guts. The speed of his confrontation sent Keith flying across the stage. The guy landed and skied on his back for about five feet before stopping at the edge of the stage. He lied motionlessly for a moment and Jeck saw his chance. He ran towards Keith and raised his axe.
Seeing Jeck’s shadow hover above him, Keith rolled to his side to avoid the fatal impact of the axe. His smart move caused Jeck’s axe to miss. It also gave him more time to recover from the blow he received earlier.
Keith used his legs to kick at Jeck’s foot so that he’d lose his balance and fall down. Unwary of this, Jeck fell straight into Keith’s trap and doubled over. His blade followed him, flattened by gravity.
Keith, still weak and sweaty, stood up with his sword in tow and loomed over Jeck. He used his two hands to raise the sword so that once it pierced through Jeck, it would be painful and quick.
Jeck definitely wasn’t in the mood for dying. He tugged at Keith’s trousers with all the strength he had in him. Then he pulled, causing Keith to fall back to the ground again.
Jeck rolled away and picked up his axe before running from Keith. The camera followed him, making him look like a predator who was too scared to go straight for the kill. He halted when he was meters away from his opponent.
The camera moved back to Keith who was still lying on the ground with his face contorted in a way which meant he was experiencing a lot of pain. His breathing was labored and there was a thick layer of sweat on his clothes. However, he was determined to win, so he got up slowly and brushed himself off. He was angry.
He ran towards Jeck, even if his feet were barely able to carry him. He hadn’t even made it halfway across the stage when Jeck removed the head of his axe and swung it towards Keith. It zoomed across the stage like an unstoppable Frisbee.
Keith was obviously unprepared for the attack as he had stopped on his heels and stared at the object which was flying straight at him. Before long, his upper body had dislodged itself from his torso. His insides spilled out. His legs, due to the sudden lack of psychomotor, gave way. His organs scattered around his pitiful corpse. Blood enveloped a huge part of the stage.
Jeck even found the time to hack out Keith’s heart. Then he stepped on the bloody remains before slamming the heart back down on the ground.
“Piece of shit!” He beamed, kicking at Keith’s dismembered torso.
His image popped unto the screen as he went to pick up the blood-painted head of his axe which had gone all the way to the edge of the stage. His face still lacked satisfaction.
As he huddled towards section 12, he found time to kick Keith’s remains out of the way. He wasn’t expecting someone to object to his animalistic actions.
A girl from an undeterminable section shrieked in utmost irritation and annoyance. I looked around just as everyone else did the same. All the sections fell silent. Then I noticed that Section 2’s stares were directed towards a girl from Section 3 who was making a quick descent toward the stage. She had chestnut hair, pale skin and she was very furious.
“Maroon!” She screamed. Her vowels were prolonged and her voice was very raspy. “I’ll kill you!”
She ran towards Jeck. Her hands were outstretched towards him, ready to grab him at any moment. Before anyone knew it, she was choking him. Her fury was unrivaled.
“Adeline!” Bernie shouted from down below. “Adeline stop! Don’t do that! You’re gonna get disqualified!”
The rest of the sections were silent, and even the other representatives had paused their battle just to watch what was going to happen next.
Two students from section 3 tried to stop her, but she shrugged them off and gripped Jeck’s neck even tighter. She was not interested in letting go. She was bent on ill-acclaimed vengeance.
Jeck was struggling to breathe. His face had turned purple in consequence of having no oxygen to breath in. He clawed at Adeline’s hands in hopes of making her let go of him, but she was too clouded with the obsession to kill him that even a call of her name or a pinch on the skin of her wrist wouldn’t bring her back to reality. He choked and coughed slightly.
“Adeline!” Bernie called out desperately. “Keith’s not dead!”
“You… made… him… suffer!” Adeline yelled, shaking Jeck back and forth. His pupils had rolled back into his eyelids as he began to lose consciousness.
“Adeline! Please!” Bernie begged. The rest of section 3 begged with her. The two who had tried to stop her earlier were already on their knees.
Two others came to pacify her. One girl held her by the shoulder, while the boy attempted to pry her hands off Jeck’s neck. It was still useless. She gave each of them a good slap before grabbing Jeck’s neck once again.
The guy was already unconscious. Maybe even worse – He was already dead.
The lights of the arena turned red all of a sudden and the four students who had tried to snap Adeline out of her ruthless fury ran back to their respective section.
Adeline was suddenly clueless of what was happening. Sirens blared and we watched in horror as Adeline’s wrists were bent ever so slowly by an invisible force. Soon afterwards, her feet followed. Every bone that snapped apart came with a petrifying scream from her.
She fell to the ground, her body still twisting and turning. Her spine protruded out of her back as her already-shattered legs folded inwards.
Her blood had mixed with Keith’s as the invisible force continued to fold her. Her head was the last to become a part of the massive cube which was once her body.
Then, as if on cue, a fire lit up from within the cube before it exploded to a million pieces. It was pure barbarism and inhumanity, yet, amidst all the brutality, the cheering had to continue.
I stared at the scene. Speechless. Unable to say a word.
The middle part of the stage of the arena lowered, along with Jeck’s lifeless body. Then just like earlier, it was replaced by a new flooring.
C suddenly stood up with his mouth agape. His eyes were fixed unto the screen. I followed suit and ended up wearing the same reaction.
Names of students from section 3 were flashed unto the screen, but I paid almost no heed to them. What got me the most was that on the lower panel, along with C’s and Jay’s full name, was my name in huge, bold-red letters that were impossible to miss.
“Shit…” I muttered.
C tugged at my sleeves. “Let’s go.”
“Dude, I’m in no condition to fight,” I told him.
“They don’t care. All they give a crap about is that section 12 won twice in a row. Let’s go,” he retorted with a stronger pull.
“Wait a minute,” I said, reaching out for my the left pocket of my trousers. Surprisingly, the pistol was still there. C forcefully pulled me probably because I was wasting time staring at the gun out of bewilderment. Annabel handed C’s scythe over to him before we huddled down the steps.
“Good luck out there,” Ivy wished us.
Descending the steps took a few long seconds. My head was encompassed by a number of unsorted thoughts and questions. My emotions were all bundled up. I didn’t know what to feel other than inexplicable shock.
Jay joined us, holding a scimitar with a very long chain attached to
its handle. Then we stepped into the spotlight together.
On stage, the screams of the surrounding students seemed louder and more omnipresent. I tried to block them by thinking about how I’m gonna make it out.
I looked at Jay and C, who clearly had something on their mind as they chattered away blankly. I wondered what they had been talking about and I pushed away the desire to eavesdrop on their conversation, partially because of Annabel’s recent threat.
I gazed at my feet and noticed that I was standing perfectly well despite the prosthetic. I calmed down. Maybe I could walk or run better too.
C and Jay walked towards me. The friendly air in them was gone.
“Apparently, Section 3 chose us to be their opponents because of what happened to Adeline. They’re madder than ever,” Jay explained before looking straight at me. “Since you’re not in a really good shape yet, I and C will handle most of the fight.”
“I’ll help in any way I can,” I said. “I don’t want to stand around looking like a coward.”
“Every person on-stage right now is a coward,” C said. “It’s up to them to decide whether or not they would summon the courage to battle it out.“
“Thanks,” I told him, not knowing what to say. I had to admit that the advice was a bit useless but I was gratified for it.. I became more motivated.
I inhaled and exhaled before looking back on section 12. My eyes found Rena and Squall. They both gave me a thumbs up.
C suddenly pulled me along towards the center stage. I looked ahead and saw that our opponents were burly and conniving. The one in the middle was a fat, black American who wielded a sword. His cheeks shook as he stepped towards us. To his left was a red-haired girl with a belt whirled around her waist. It was designed with holders for grenades and a gun. I gulped. To the right, wielding a spear, was a pale-skinned guy with slanted eyes that hinted he was an Asian.
We turned around so that we faced away from our opponents. C had his back pressed against the sword-wielder. Behind me, breathing heavily was the red-headed girl.
“Freshman?” I asked her.
“Yeah,” she confirmed. “Died once already. During the first exam, the be specific. Please go easy on me.”
“This must be tough for you,” I said.
“Yeah… It’s my first time getting into a fight which could literally kill me,” She told me. “Congratulations on winning first place in the first exam, Takanashi.”
I was a bit surprised that she already knew my surname. Maybe Squall and Ryan were talking about me while I was asleep in the clinic.
“Thanks,” I said. “May the best man win.”
“Yes,” she agreed.
I wanted the conversation to go on but C and Jay had started walking away, and I had to follow them to avoid looking like a harmless idiot.
The three of us stopped on the edge of our side of the stage before doing a perfect 180 degree turn. I stared at our opponents. They were shaky, but they kept a firm and strong aura around them.
Vengeance. That’s what they wanted. Perhaps, more than anything in the world right now.
“For some reason, I feel scared,” Jay said in a hushed voice.
“We all are,” C told her. "But right now, our fear is an illusion caused by these fags. Remember, we're not afraid to die."
Then the bell rang, chiming away weakly like a funeral song. I gulped before C and Jay ran ahead.
Jay began spinning the blade of her scimitar before throwing it up
into the air. It went back down, strengthened by gravity. Then she hauled it up
before it hit the floor and used it to hit the fat guy on the side.
His body wobbled as the head of the scimitar made close contact with his skin, but the impact wasn’t strong enough to damage him.
C was farther off, fighting against the red-headed girl. Her left hand was busy trying to tug off one of the grenades around her belt. Her right hand was already holding the gun. Her legs were shaking as she aimed for C and fired with her hand flying upwards, unable to bear the speed of the bullet.
C had ran out of the bullet’s range in the right moment. I took the time to watch it as it flew towards the arm of an unwary girl from section 4. Then out of reflex, I ducked. The head of a spear zoomed above my head and caught the bits of the hair at the topmost part of my head. I could see the flecks shining against the light as they fell.
I started half-running, half-limping from the spear-wielder before he started landing more attacks.
“Running away now are you?” The boy said with a thick Chinese accent. “You can’t run from me.”
I aimed my pistol at him, but someone shot it out of my hand before I could even pull the trigger.
“Sorry,” the red-head said.
In a few moments, the head of Jay’s scimitar flew past my shoulders and its chains whirled around the spear which was dangerously close to my face. The Chinese guy looked at the chains that had stopped his weapon from being driven into my head. Jay pulled at the chains harder, leaving the spear useless on the ground now that it was left without a wielder.
The Chinese guy gritted his teeth in frustration. He clenched his wrists before running towards me, his hands wrapping around my neck in a death grip. My hands wrapped around his wrists in an attempt to pry his fingers away from my neck.
My eyes widened and my head spun as my brain begged for oxygen.
The guy was sitting on my torso, making it impossible to breath. I shook my head before one of my fists moved by itself and drove a good punch to the guy’s stomach. It wasn’t strong, but it was enough to make the guy pull back.
I used the chance to push him off of me and then I gave him a punch to the cheek. It was my turn to pin him to the ground, giving him ceaseless punches.
I raised my hand to deliver another punch, but I ended up pulling it back due to the sudden burst of a bullet. Nothing hit me, but when I glanced back, I realized that C had been shot. His shoulder was had started to bleed.
I was brought back to reality when the Chinese guy gave me an uppercut to my chin. I was so distracted by the scene that I had forgotten all about my opponent. Fortunately, his punch wasn’t strong and I had regained my pace after a second or two. I started giving him more punches again, not caring if he was moaning for mercy.
“Stop,” he mumbled.
I stood up and stomped my good foot on his stomach. His chest flayed up and he started crying. “Please stop.”
It dawned on me that I was losing mercy on my opponent. His head was heavily bleeding and a streak of the red liquid had even streamed the side of his chin.
“I’m sorry,” I said, stepping on his stomach again.
His reaction came out as a muffled scream.
I did the same thing again and again and again before delivering a kick to the side of his chest. His body went rigid but it was very obvious that he was still alive. I could tell by his weak, labored breathing.
Knowing that he wouldn’t be able to move, I went to pick up the pistol which was sitting on the edge of the stage. It was at an arm’s length when sword-wielder blocked my path with his big, burly body. He swung his sword at me and I quickly avoided it by falling on my knees. I made a quick round-about by crawling past him before I got to the pistol.
I glanced back just in time to see Jay whirl the chains of her scimitar around the sword-wielder’s head to pull him away from me. Forcefully jerking the guy from one place to another was irrevocably a difficult task. Jay must be very strong despite having the physique of a nutrition-lacking girl.
Now that the sword-wielder’s attention was back on Jay, I quickly picked up the damaged pistol and made a quick observation. Its head was completely shot off, but that didn’t mean it was useless. I stood up using the strength I had in me and crawled back to the Chinese guy whose eyes had opened due to sheer recovery. He may not be able to stand up but I still had to be hasty about things.
I positioned the head of the pistol on the area where his heart was beating in an unsteady rhythm. I placed my left hand on the pistol so that it stood on his chest, then I pressed my hand downwards, driving the head of the said weapon into his body.
He groaned and coughed up blood. Then his breathing began to slow down like a clock which needed to stop ticking.
I felt guilty, but the guilt was replaced by anger when the sound of an unexpected gunshot echoed through the air.
C brought his hand up to the hole in his chest. He lost grip of his scythe and crashed to the ground. His killer –the red-head – laughed at him manically. So far, she was the only one who looked unaffected by the course. She didn’t look tired and her clothes were the only ones which weren’t covered in sweat. Her fit of laughter was annoyingly incessant.
On the other hand, Jay was still standing, using her scimitar to attack the sword-wielder. Tainting her willful expression were treacherous tears which painted her cheeks. Being near her might frustrate her even more.
I hastily went towards C’s body and picked up his scythe. The red-headed girl was still busy laughing her face off. Her back was turned against me, so she didn’t even have time to react when I pulled at her hair and positioned the blade of the scythe against her neck.
“You’re a coward, Takanashi,” She spat at me. “You’re a good-for-nothing, spineless, stupid coward.”
I heard the sword-wielder scream out in pain somewhere behind me and I glanced back around to see Jay burying the head of her scimitar into the guy’s forehead. I brought my attention back to the red-head.
“Idiotic, imbecilic, moronic,” she continued. “You’re an unwilling, selfish, rude, ambitious bastard.”
“Maybe that’s what I am. You’re a good judge,” I whispered into her ear. “But do you know what you are?”
She chuckled heartlessly, as if her brain had completely lost its ability to control her words. “Bastard. Bastard. Bastard,” she sang in a low, teasing tone.
I gripped her by the air and whispered more closely. “You’re dead.”
I pushed her neck forward with all the strength I needed. It turns out, beheading someone isn’t as easy as I had thought it would be. It was like cutting off a pig’s head with a butcher knife – an act I had no experience with. Blood spewed out of her neck as the blade plunged deeper into her skin. Deeper and deeper it went, and I didn’t want to stop until she was done for.
Her scream came out in short gargles.
The blade only made it halfway across her neck, but her body was already out of life. I fell to my knees as her weight crashed unto me.
I pushed her off of me and watched her roll unto the ground.
Jay approached me cautiously. “You still on killing spree mode?” she asked me.
“Nope. I’m done,” I told her.
“Congratulations. That’s two in a row. It’s the first time something like this has happened in a training course,” she said. “And you did it with a bad leg.”
Section 12 cheered for us before all of them descended the stairs to congratulate me and Jay. I noticed that Annabel wasn’t around to intimidate me. There was something in me that detected her presence. I wasn’t used to seeing the rest of Section 12 without her.
“Where’s Annabel?” I asked all of a sudden. Even for me, it was hard to believe that I had uttered such a thing.
Ivy tapped my shoulder and answered the question. “She got done in.”
