Chapter 44

  A Lost Chance

  I will have to admit that most of the battles after the extremely long Tamer section, and after Leah’s battle with Gale all slowly blurred together in one repetitive mix of self-inflicted violence and repetitive healing.

  Half the time I honestly wonder if the opponents charge face first into an oncoming fist, or kick, or if it is just a sign of natural selection at its finest.

  Thump.

  A body drops and I am no longer a prisoner of these stepping stances. This time it was a left step stance, one where I can feel my body’s strength increasing. The fact that I must immediately go from this stance to a sprint that is empowered by my newly acquired Life Reinforced Movements* means my balancing while taking the stance is even more important.

  Blur.

  Head trauma from someone using their face to block an incoming punch that could have easily go to an arm or anywhere else on the body. Or, better still, they could have dodged the attack entirely. It’s not like the right-handed fighter would have led with any other fist. Even their exhale, and subsequent Skill activation, caused the attacker to turn right, meaning if this currently unconscious body had moved an inch to their right at all, this damage could have been greatly mitigated.

  That said, all of this is great practice as I have had a lot of chances to perfect my healing methods for traumatic brain injuries or TBI. Given how big of an issue this was in my past life, the fact that I can cure this type of injury so easily in this life is a godsend. I remember working with world class athletes in my past life who could lift amazing weights, run at exceptional speeds, all be brought down by the fact that after taking a particularly painful hit, their body would no longer respond to their actions at all. Then having to watch as these people who were all at the peak of human conditioning could barely walk or perform daily tasks, really got to me.

  The fact that I can prevent that from happening in this lifetime is truly the best thing possible, and I owe this opportunity all to Madame Bloom. A person who I was inherently distrustful of, but has been nothing but good to me. Even letting me take on a vital class specific Skill that will do little more than make it so I can hopefully avoid danger in the future.

  Even now, I can imagine how my altercation in the woods would go much differently. Knowing that my attacker would have to exhale to attack, and that I could at least move faster meant, I might be able to avoid more damage, along with the ability to heal or remove any damage that managed to land on me. No, next time, things will be different. I might not be able to win, but I will do more than just crumple to the ground and wait to die.

  Had it been any longer, had my memories had time to gloss over the trauma I suffered days ago, I might not have taken this chance so seriously. But now I look for everything. Part of my attacking is knowing not just about myself, but about what I can gain from watching my opponent. What foot do they lead with, how does their body lean, subtle unconscious clues can let me know just as much about my opponent as I know about myself.

  As expected, this opponent has prior lingering issues, torn muscles that healed incorrectly, due to broken bones that fused slightly out of alignment. A cascading effect of poor health standards of this world, which is sad, as this world has magical healers, Certified Magical Healers. Though apparently those healers are often expensive and aside from the leaders of the one-off houses like the Blooms, the certified healers are often bound to royal families elsewhere in the country.

  Fortunately, I have two years to get accustomed to that side of life as I can’t legally be married until eighteen, now that I am foster. This was part of my concern earlier when I saw both Johny, his mother Maddie, and Master all at the DiVoratore estate. I assumed they were all there to form a matrimonial alliance. While I do dislike the idea of my life not being my own, I do realize that life could have been a lot worse had I been forced to stay at the DiVoratore estate.

  Once again the body of the male just rests there, his body is healthy again. Not perfect, but definitely better than when he first got here, and the swelling in his brain has subsided and he should be back to normal. But again, he just lies there unconscious. Seeing him out just like Gale was earlier, I shake my head and then give one extra cycle of mana though my body and out of my outstretched left hand.

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  Burst of glowing green motes.

  Why my left hand? Because I want to be able to do this out of either hand when needed. Just as Mr. Yi forces me to step with my alternate foot, I want to practice directing excess mana out of either hand for when or if the time needs me to do so.

  Once again, the falling green flakes of energy fall onto the body and once again they get absorbed the same way snowflakes do when they melt. From there, I see his body seeming to go through a restart process. Muscles tighten and untighten, legs flex and unflex, and finally rapid eye movement. I pause watching the entire process. Then finally an exhale.

  “Wha? Who?” The fallen fighter exclaims their mind going from a completely unconscious state to a state that is alive and full of panic.

  “Calm down,” I state calmly, grabbing him as he too comes to a full upright sitting position. Again, this is all odd, and I wonder if this need to sit up is due to a perceived extra pressure in the brain, that the body tells to sit up, or if there is more. I will need to watch these observations more and likely make a medical note, but a quick burst of Rejuvenation Healing from my hand on the bare shoulder to the formerly unconscious fighter lets me know that other than extreme fear the fighter is fine.

  Looking at his face, I see that the fear is also coupled with anxiety, and finally recognition.

  “I was knocked out?” The fighter asks.

  I nod.

  “Dang it?” the fighter relies.

  Hearing that, I just cock my head to the side in a questioning gaze.

  “I thought for certain I was in heaven after seeing your angelic eyes beckoning me back to life,” the oily and completely shaven fighter states as he gives me a roguish grin.

  I just shake my head, though I am apparently not the only one who feels they need to react, as the competitor, the one who had mostly remained silent up until now, letting me work cut in.

  “You know that comment was likely old during the time when the angels actually roamed the world, right?” The second fighter, Badger, Rager, something along those lines commented.

  I nodded, getting to my feet and then offered a hand to help the still sitting fighter who gave a terrible pick-up line, even by this world’s standards. But I did appreciate the attempt.

  The fighter for his part just gently holds my hand with him, holding it the way he would a loved one he was about to confess to. Seeing this as yet a second attempt to hit on and possibly embarrass me, I wait until he is up under his own weight and then pull my hand away. Spinning around I turn to face the second fighter, Danger? No, I can remember his name, and it is annoying. It is just right there, like peanut butter on the roof of your mouth, it is just going to stick there, and you are just going to try to poke at it until it either dislodges, or you remember what the stupid ring name was.

  It is with that thought of peanut butter being stuck to the roof of my mouth that I turn and look over the challenger. Who by all means should only have a bruised hand from this altercation, but I do my diligence and check him out anyways, pulsing energy through him, while holding his hand and letting his body tell me what is wrong with him.

  “Oh wow, did you feel that?” He asks suddenly.

  I pause, wondering if he is okay, as there clearly is a spike in his heart rate that is sort of alarming. Facing him, I wait, letting him tell me what he is feeling.

  “I think for the first time in my life I was wrong,” he begins, and with his free left hand, places it over his chest, right over his still rapidly beating heart. “You were right, those eyes are of an angel.”

  Toss.

  Hearing that, I toss his hand, and feel a bit of bile rising in my throat, but fortunately it has been hours since I last ate, and therefore there isn’t too much other than disgust. He is fine, and what damage he did have to his hand was fixed. I also did some minor repair around his heart. He did have the habit of eating greasy foods which were not good for him, but overall he was in good health.

  Walking away, I scoff at the two of them, and head out.

  “Oh, and there goes my heart,” the second fighter Ranger, possibly, called out.

  I just shake my head and head back to my spot between my two protectors and reaching out give them a quick check to make sure they are doing their best. A bit of a flush of the toxins that had been building up in their system and they are fine.

  Nodding my head, I take up my space and stance. This time, my right foot is forward.

  “Let’s hear it for Richard Danger everyone, and his terrible pickup lines,” Sal shouted out.

  BOO!

  The crowd erupted with a chorus of boos, as he was all but perp-walked backstage. He glanced at me, but the moment our eyes met he glanced down at the ground in shame.

  “Our next contestant needs no introduction, but for the first time since their accident, they have decided to also grace us with the presence of their voice.” Sal began.

  Just hearing him, I felt a chill run down my spine, almost as if I knew this moment would be special. Whoever I was not alone, as I could all but feel the rising tension of the crowd coming to life. A crowd that much like me had been almost lulled to sleep with so much ruthless fighting that the idea of changing things up to have an impromptu concert made the night just that much more intriguing.

  “This just in, apparently this is their first time ever performing this new inspirational song, a song written for tonight and tonight alone. Everyone please put your hands together as we invite Death Machine to come down and perform her newest song, A Lost Chance!” Sal’s voice boomed.

  Then as if somehow larger than life and made twice as vibrant by shiny leather, my teacher came strutting down the walkway, her metal foot perfectly keeping balance on the slanted slope. A thing that I could barely manage with two good feet.

  Coming close, Death Machine waved to the fans, then getting close, she whispered four words that would forever change the night for me.

  “This one’s for you,” then like that she got up on stage, where Luna was already present with a microphone on a microphone stand and an unusual violin.

  Badump, badump.

  Seeing her up there, her one blue eye alight with energy, I paused time seemed to slow to a crawl, until she began playing. That’s when the true extent of a Skáld’s power could finally be felt.

  per day, until our reign on the top 50 stops.

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