Eight Years Ago:

  Jeff hadn’t been expecting to get cold-cocked.

  He blinked back tears as he lay on the ground, head ringing. The whole side of his head stung, and his vision was blurry—and not just from the tears. Whoever’d gotten a hold of him, they’d really gotten a hold of him.

  He rolled over onto his back and blinked one more time, then focused in on his attacker. Wiry, but not skinny. Eight inches shorter than his five-foot-ten. Black hair. Jeff couldn’t see the boy’s face. He was talking to Ian. Ian had been screwing with Jeff since he’d gotten here from Carlsbad.

  The gravel crunched as he pushed himself up onto his feet. Then he threw himself right at the boy.

  Ever since second grade, Mom had told him that his size meant he’d get in trouble for things other kids wouldn’t. He was big and tall, and just moving around could knock his classmates down. He’d listened. When the other kids played soccer on the field, he always went for goalie. That way, he wouldn’t run anyone over chasing the ball. When someone picked on him, he ignored them. It’d be easier than hurting them.

  But his dad…his dad had told him that just because he was bigger and stronger, that didn’t mean he had to take crap from anyone.

  His tackle drove the boy into the ground. Gravel ripped into Jeff’s arm, and his opponent yelled in pain. That was usually enough. Jeff rolled off the boy, ready to let it end there.

  Instead, he caught a shoe to the face.

  Blood. It tasted like metal, and he spat. The boy struggled to his feet and dropped into a boxing stance.

  “Really?” Jeff asked. Then he looked into the boy’s eyes. His blazing, furious eyes. There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation or fear in them. They were the eyes of a maniac, and for a second, Jeff thought about backing down. But his dad had told him not to take crap, and this kid had just sucker-punched him! He couldn’t let that slide!

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Kade.”

  “Jeff.” He dropped into a similar stance, and the two started trading punches as their classmates swarmed to watch. After all, there wasn’t a middle-schooler in the world who didn’t love watching a good fight.

  Present Day:

  There wasn’t a person in Phoenix who didn’t want to watch a good fight.

  And, after two days of avoiding any conversation about our match, Jeff and I stood on opposite sides of the sparring room in the Fallen Delvers portal, waiting for the doors to open and our fight to begin. I pulled up my status for one last look-over.

  User: Kade Noelstra

  Reforged Core, B-Rank

  Stamina: 460/460, Mana: 575/590

  Skills:

  1. Stormsteel Core (B-08, Unique, Merged, God-Touched)

  2. Thunderbolt Forms (B-09, Altered, Merged)

  3. Mistwalk Forms (B-08, Altered, Merged)

  4. Cyclone Forms (B-07 to B-08, Altered, Merged)

  5. Stormlight Bond (B-03 to B-05, Altered, Merged)

  6. Shadowstorm Battery (C-02 to C-05, Altered, Merged, Dual)

  7. Stormbreak (C-01 to C-02, Unique)

  Path: Stormsteel Path

  Aura: Negative Space

  Laws: First Law of the Stormcore, Law of the Shadowed Storm, First Law of Darkened Lightning, Third Law of the Sirocco, Second Law of the Stormlight, Second Law of the Unbroken Storm

  My breaths came in steady. The portal had already started shifting even as we walked in together, forming into a dark hallway lit by moonlight that poured down from a few tiny, barred windows high above. An Oubliette world—but not like the one Carter Richards had lost to Ophelia St. Vrain in three days ago. This one felt darker, with an aura of despair that fought against my Negative Space aura even as I walked down the hall.

  It didn’t matter. I was ready.

  The only question was whether Jeff was.

  The door opened, and I stepped inside.

  It was a round, brick-lined room, built like the inside of a jar. The door sealed behind me, seamless with the wall; I reached back to touch it, and even the crack had vanished. A single chain hung from the ceiling, leading up to a hole just big enough for Jeff to squeeze through. And, beyond that hole, a dark shape the size of a head stared down at us.

  There’d only be one way out of this cell, and there wouldn’t be enough space to avoid Jeff’s ideal scenario. I’d have to get in his face and fight him at point-blank range.

  “Here we go,” I said. Then I moved.

  My speed Scripts launched me forward. Stormsong—my estoc-length, B-Rank lightning rapier—lunged into a perfect one-handed thrust. Thunderbolt Forms. Every ounce of power I could muster while keeping ready for Jeff’s counteratta—

  Split-Second Shield erupted across the room. My sword hit it and stopped dead, the impact jarring my shoulder. I pulled back. Jeff’s actual shield slammed into the space my face had just been in, and I took another step back and to the left. The room was too small for a retreat, so I circled. Another lunge. This time, the big tank’s armor took it. No real damage. That was fine—the blow counted, and a single Lightning Charge appeared around Stormsong’s tip.

  I had a weapon now. The Stormsteel Core’s modification of my build back at E-Rank was starting to pay off in this fight.

  Jeff saw it. We’d sparred enough for him to know what it meant; he pressed his attack, shield and short-sword beating a rhythm against my defense. I had to shift into Mistwalk Forms, dropping my off-hand behind my back and focusing on defense. Parry the sword. Duck the shield. Avoid the—

  …Taunt.

  I launched into an aggressive series of attacks without meaning to. My body knew what to do, and it maximized every blow, but even so, a burning cut ripped across my arm, then another just below the Stormsteel breastplate protecting my chest. Retaliate was paying off for Jeff. His face was a mask of fury, and as soon as I could, I used Flashstep to dodge one of his attacks and appear right behind him.

  Cyclone Forms. Leverage my advantages. Build Charges. I fired a raw, un-buffed Lightning Crash into Jeff. The six huge bolts of electricity ripped across him, and in the moment before he recovered, I threw a single Lightning Chain into him, then pulled myself toward him on the crackling line of lightning. Two Wind Charges, two Rainfall Charges. No Lightning Charges.

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  I just needed an opening. Jeff always left an opening on his right side after a downward thrust. His shield drifted to the left every time.

  I shifted stances back to Thunderbolt—the two-handed grip this time. The moment he drifted, I used Rain-Slicked Blade. The lightning rapier punched through Jeff’s armor like it was tissue paper, right down to the burning hole it left in its wake. Blood poured out from the wound, then stopped as the lightning cauterized it.

  One thing I’d realized was that the fifty-percent damage reduction wasn’t behaving correctly in the sparring room. Whether it was the portal’s influence or not, the damage was still happening. It just didn’t stop people like it should have.

  I used Rain-Slicked Blade a second time. This time, Split-Second Shield took the blow instead of Jeff’s stomach.

  Two Lightning Charges.

  Good enough.

  Jeff recognized it, too. We’d sparred enough that there wouldn’t be surprises. His shield came up, and his sword slid across the top of it as he ducked into a fully defensive stance. Without Rainfall Charges, I couldn’t punch through his defense, and if he didn’t offer a chance to dodge or parry his attacks, I couldn’t earn those Charges.

  “Smart,” I said.

  Jeff snorted. “I’ve done this a dozen times in practice. It’s nothing new.”

  I could have played around it. Cyclone Forms was ready—and with two Lightning Charges, I could have set up a combo that’d force him to use Split-Second Shield again. His build didn’t have the Mana to keep using it, and mine did. The fight was already over.

  Instead, I used both of my Lightning Charges on Thunderblade. Then I went on the offensive—just like Jeff wanted.

  Stormsong lashed out fast enough to split the air. The sonic boom followed, and a dent appeared on Jeff’s shield. Then another, and a third. The blows rained down, lightning arcing through the air as I drove him back. He sidestepped, then kept retreating. I kept the pressure up, ignoring his taunt skill—ignoring Retaliate. If I couldn’t break through, I’d overwhelm him.

  Blood poured down my face from a shallow cut over my eyebrow. I resisted the urge to touch it. Instead, I kept driving in, trying to get a hit in. Lightning erupted from my sword. It danced across Jeff’s defenses, arcing from shield to short-sword to armor in a beautiful dance. The battle trance washed over me. I was giving everything to this assault.

  But Jeff saw through it.

  “Stop!” Jeff yelled as lightning surged all around his shield.

  I stepped back. Stormsong hung in the air between us, its tip just out of lunging range. My chest rose and fell like a bellows as I sucked in air. “Stop what?”

  “Stop holding back, dammit!”

  Eight Years Ago:

  “Dang,” Jeff said, “You don’t hold back.”

  “Should I have?” Kade shot back.

  They sat on a pair of orange plastic chairs. Burnt orange, the kind that’d probably sat outside the principal’s office—or one like it, before the Blitz—for thirty years. Countless kids’ asses had sat where Kade sat. A lot of them were his own. Kade’s head felt like it was about to split in two. The massive kid he’d tried to keep off of Ian was strong. And he was tough. He’d had fights like this before. There were a lot of playground bullies, and not all of them went down to a single punch.

  “I mean, I’d have appreciated some warning.”

  Kade stared at his opponent. He’d given the big guy as good as he’d gotten. A split lip. A bruised cheekbone—that was from Kade’s first swing. One black eye. “Why bother? You weren’t looking for a fair fight.”

  “He started it!” Jeff’s hands both went up in protest, and he winced. “I wasn’t even going to hit him—I just wanted him to leave me alone.”

  “Bullshit,” Kade said. His eyes narrowed, and the band-aid across his brow pulled painfully on the hairs under it. That’d suck to take off later.

  “No, it’s true. Look, I’ve been the biggest and strongest for a long time. It’s harder than it looks. When I was younger, I couldn’t play soccer unless I was goalie, and I had to really think about what I was doing with my arms and legs.” Jeff launched into a speech about how he wasn’t an aggressive, violent person. Kade listened. There wasn’t anything else to do, after all. They were stuck outside the principal’s office.

  “Anyway, Ian figured out pretty quickly that I was an easy mark, and Mom said to just ignore bullies, so I was. I was just trying to get back to my class when—“

  “I hit you.”

  “Yep. That one’s gonna leave a mark for sure.”

  Kade looked at Jeff’s face. Was he lying? No. But that left a single question. “Why’d you go after me, then? Why not just stay down, or try to leave?”

  “Because Dad told me not to take any crap.”

  Kade closed his eyes. Then he nodded slowly and stood up. He walked over to the big guy’s seat and stuck out a hand. “Kade Noelstra.”

  “I know. You introduced yourself earlier.” Jeff stared at the hand.

  “Yeah, but we were fighting then.”

  “So we’re friends?” Jeff stood up and took Kade’s hand. It was ridiculous how much bigger his palm was; it felt like being wrapped up by an oven mitt.

  “Sure.”

  “Fine. Jeff Carlson.” Jeff shook, and Kade sat back down. After a few minutes, Jeff cleared his throat. “Just promise me something, Kade. Next time we fight, hold back, alright?”

  Present Day:

  Kade froze for a moment, and part of Jeff regretted calling him out like that.

  He didn’t want what was coming.

  He’d only been on the receiving end of one-hundred-percent Kade twice. The first time had been on the playground, and the second had been when his best friend was E-Rank, in a trap portal, when it was the only option. Both times had hurt.

  He wanted to win. But so far, he hadn’t seen anything from Kade that made him think he’d deserve a victory if he got it.

  The maniac was so far beyond him that Jeff knew, without a doubt, that Kade was holding back. Sure, the attacks had dented his armor, and his Stamina was slowly draining away as he numbed his gut wound. But Kade was better than this!

  Jeff was better than this, too. The only difference between the two of them was their ranks. Kade just had more than he did.

  This was the test Jeff had wanted. Proof that, when the tyranny of ranks was removed, he and his best friend were on even footing.

  He wanted this. More than that, he needed this.

  Kade’s eyes shifted. The lightning stopped crackling around him, and a shadowy figure appeared for a split second all around the spellblade.

  And as Kade’s aura pushed out for the first time in the entire fight, Jeff realized he’d made a mistake. That maybe he didn’t need this after all.

  Too late. Negative Space rushed out to touch Jeff. The tiny tendrils of electricity didn’t even tickle through his armor, but Jeff knew what was coming next. Kade’s eyes went cold and distant. The battle trance. He’d focused on the win, and nothing else mattered to him now. He was a maniac.

  Jeff’s shield went up. He braced himself for lightning.

  Instead, his Mana started draining. A negative zone formed around him—not the aura, but the tell-tale negative space of Stormbreak.

  He braced himself. His Mana hit zero. A moment later, lightning filled the tiny Oubliette they’d been trapped in. It didn’t have the space to form a flower-petal of electricity, so instead, it folded in on itself like a Mobius Strip from hell.

  It burned. Every ounce of Jeff’s body felt like it was on fire. He gritted his teeth as lightning poured across his muscles and filled the spaces in between his cells. It was like being ripped apart by giant hooks. The second-worst pain he’d felt.

  The second-worst. That was the thing that got him through it. Knowing that he’d failed his friends in Carlsbad—that was the worst. This was nothing compared to that. If he could survive that, he could survive this.

  And survive he did. When the pulsing, folded lightning stopped, he was still standing. Smoke poured from his armor, but he was upright.

  He rushed Kade, shield up and sword ready for a thrust.

  The lightning sword lashed out and parried his blow.

  And as it did, Jeff saw Kade’s face one more time.

  It wasn’t full of rage. It wasn’t a mask of fury. And the battle trance didn’t cover it anymore.

  He tried to get his shield up to block the riposte. It was close. He almost had it. But the lightning sword got in under his guard. It ripped across his leg, and muscle and armor parted as one.

  And as Jeff crumpled, three thoughts went through his head.

  First, Kade had finally stopped holding back. He’d done everything in his power to win, and Jeff had come within inches of pulling it off anyway. He could fight at Kade’s level if it weren’t for the maniac’s rank.

  Second, Jeff had never had a chance of winning.

  It was unbelievable, but both of those things were true at the same time. Jeff could fight with Kade. He could go blow-for-blow with his best friend. But when Kade’s instincts took over, there wasn’t anyone in the world who could stand up to him. Jeff had come within inches, but those inches might as well have been a mile. Kade was a monster. A maniac. He lived for battle—Jeff only did it for himself and for his friends.

  And finally, as the lightning sword sank through his armor and pinned him to the Oubliette portal’s floor, one last thought: He felt sorry for Deborah Callahan if they met in the final round, because Kade wouldn’t hold back then—not even for a second.

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