Adam's long hair lashed against his face, wind howling in his ears. On the other side of the training grounds, he saw Grimhilde haul her whip back with enough strength to tear ore from the belly of a mountain barehanded. Her other hand touched her left cheek as a grin broadened across her face.
Sadistic, delighted, slightly disappointed, not by his performance. After all, few mages—let alone students—could make her use her full might. No, he knew she wanted more. More clashes, more wounds to deliver, and more time to shatter his confidence as if it were a crystal vase.
But she wasn't too disappointed. He could see it in her eyes—the promise of pain worse than the gash at his hip. It was searing, so painful that it numbed his senses. That was why he didn't feel her whip coil around it. And now, the students' twisted grimaces, the college buildings, even Grimhilde's face, blurred in his vision.
He was jerked, his body at her whip's command. Wind roared in his ears as she spun him like a rag doll, hip raining blood on the cracked ground, over the abyssal chasm she had dug in a single strike, and onto the pristine uniforms of the observing students. He gritted his teeth. The impact would follow, either from her second whip or from the ground.
In that brief moment, his mind raced with unused possibilities. He didn't consider Qi, of course. Instead, he focused on mana. Spells could get him out, but... it had been physical confrontation all along. If he began to use spells, Grimhilde would, too. And on that field, he had no chances—not yet. Using weapons would be just as bad, if not worse. She would see it as the ultimate challenge, the last straw that would break the last shred of restraint keeping her from killing him. More than that, he had imbued the somber crystal of his Chronoscar with Qi and mana equally. There was no way out.
He would have to endure.
As soon as he braced himself for unavoidable pain, the ground zoomed in his vision.
CRASH
The collision knocked the air out of him. Shoulder blades groaned, and spine let out a crunching sound. If the beaten earth were slabs, or if Grimhilde had put in slightly more strength, it would have cracked. Still, his world narrowed to a symphony of pain. Ribs twanged like loose bowstrings before their own movements shattered them. His back felt even worse. Fibers crushed, muscles wept for much-needed oxygen his lungs failed to provide.
He snapped his jaw open, gasping for air with a strangled sound. It caught in his throat as if an invisible barrier prevented it from reaching his lungs. Before he could even recover, the firm ground faded beneath him.
In the blink of an eye, he was hurled through the air, suffocating, hurting all over. Through the torment assaulting him, he understood. It was just the beginning.
"Hahaha! Wail, cry, and scream like a pig for me!" Grimhilde's voice tolled louder than the college bells, laden with poisoned sweetness. "Why don't you strike back anymore? Why don't you speak up to me again? More! Defy me more. Believe yourself better than what you are. Then," she yanked her whip down for the second time, "whither, like the greenhouse plant watered in the safety of your noble house."
As pain blinded Adam, whispers erupted across the watching students. The boy who had been flayed earlier averted his eyes from the horrible spectacle.
The students of the House of Exorcism watched with bated breath, knuckles white on their dark robes. Adam's suffering wouldn't have mattered in any other circumstance, not when he would lose them points again. But Grimhilde... Grimhilde had made them suffer too.
The ground shook twice more before Sarah's voice cracked behind her twitching fingers. "She will kill him!" Without thinking, she stretched her palm out, mana erupting into a dark fog. "Sworn brother, defender of Brineheart beyond the grave, I call for your help."
The fog condensed into a skeleton, Dark-boned and brittle, a thing of cobwebs and old vows. It stumbled on its feet, a weak spectral flame flickering in its hollow eyes. It was weak, but enough.
"Bring Teacher Marcellus Noct Virein. Hurry!" she urged, waving her hand.
The skeleton tilted its head, then shambled toward a crypt-like building hidden behind the maze of gardens. Grimhilde's voice began to grow frustrated.
Adam needed help. Now.
"Scream. Scream!" Her smirk had already faded, giving way to a twisted grimace. "Save yourself from more pain. Let me hear you suffer."
He closed his eyes as his once sky-blue hair, now muddy and coated in blood, fluttered upward. The ground approached his back again, but he couldn't feel the wind against his skin anymore. The students' whispers, now horrified screams, didn't reach his ears either. Not even Grimhilde's could.
To think he had counted on the college's safe environment, thought that even if Grimhilde was a sadistic madwoman, another teacher would have interfered before things went out of control.
A split second before his back kissed the ground, and his spine finally exploded, his vision turned dark. He believed that life had left him before something soft embraced his abused body. Warm fog as dark as night chased the cold of death from his limbs. A bright vial shattered inside, shimmering green liquid that would have disgusted him at any other time, sipping into his pores.
Slowly, sensations returned to him as he wondered what had happened. Did Grimhilde finally remember that she was a teacher?
"Did you finally lose it, Grimhilde?" He heard an admonishing voice that sounded old and raspy.
"I know what I'm doing!" Grimhilde snorted back.
"You definitely do—if you want to kill her, that is!" the man replied, voice growing deeper. "I have my own class to teach, matters that need to be done within five minutes and even more that had to be done an hour ago. I have no time to clear your mess. Tone down your training, or have a long conversation with the rector. I'm sure he would gladly listen as to why you've been brutalising a student who's not even registered in your class."
"He provoked me!" Her eyes darted to Quintella. She raised her whip, lips pursed. It was her fault. "All because of that girl!"
"Enough!" Through the dark mist, Adam saw the man pull him and Quintella. A hand, more bones than flesh, met his shoulder. "Continue your class, while I teach them the rules. Sarah!" He waved a finger at the dark-haired girl. "Follow us since you've called for me."
Before the man left, Grimhilde's voice tore through the training grounds. "It won't end this easily. For your disobedience, for talking and striking back at a teacher, I deduct a thousand points from the House of Exorcism."
She glared at Adam, who simply flipped her a trembling middle finger.
"Two thousand!"
His comrades instantly went from empathetic to deathly pale. They gave him murderous glares until he vanished inside Teacher Marcellus Noct Virein's crypt-like classroom.
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AN: A longer chapter. :D