The morning sun cast vivid oranges and yellows across the sky, the vivid, verdant green of the well kempt campus plant life showing up all the more beautifully. Over a dozen students had piled out of the main building and onto the grass with Ambrose, the Princess and her two lackeys once the duel was accepted. The man who was dressed as though he was staff at the academy also followed along after the slower students, trailing behind. He probably had to watch and report his findings to the Headmaster. Everyone seemed to want to watch the girl haze the new kid, which only made Ambrose more disappointed in the crowd. She didn't comment on any of it, though. Instead finding a clear space on the lawn and preparing herself mentally to fight the princess.
Once she was facing the princess and prepared, Ambrose checked above her head for what information the system could provide her with. What she found gave her pause. “Third Princess Nayeli Gael Forvin von Diestol, Grand Puppeteer Rank S,” hung above the woman's head. That was very interesting to Ambrose, and found herself a bit surprised that two children of the Diestol family were of S Rank quality. Classes were not supposed to be inherent in any genetic fashion, so far as Ambrose knew. Nor had she heard of the King having any mystic S rank seem to guarantee class quality. So to see two S among his children was… impressive. Ambrose supposed he was king for a reason.
“The rules are as follows. We fight until submission or unconsciousness. The school has healers so I have no intention of wasting a genuine combat opportunity. As for limitations, I'll allow use of basic equipment, a signature weapon, and anything given to you by your class because of a skill or an ability such as a familiar or summon. So no enchanted gauntlets or amulets with spells sworn into them. And no scrolls of fancy tomes,” the Princess clarified. The last few parts of her statement made Ambrose frown. Those limitations sounded like they would only be useful for mages that needed materials or some other form of complex, resource based caster. Even with the broadest stretches of her own imagination, Ambrose couldn't figure out how someone could think she was that kind of class knowing her rank and class name.
“Did you… even look at my class and rank?” Ambrose asked, more to relieve her own confusion than to clue the other girl in.
“Why would I? You're some new S or A rank, like all the other rabble,” she said with a smile and a shrug. Your satchel tells me you would normally use items to supplement some kind of weakness. I won't allow for such a thing,” the Princess prattled on, seeming to think she'd figured Ambrose out completely at a glance.
Her spineless elvish friend seemed to have far more sense than she did, and checked Ambrose's information. Her eyes went wide, and her jaw went slack as she confirmed what Ambrose already knew. That she and her friends were in a far deeper mess than they had planned for.
“You still have the right to forfeit, commoner,” the Princess continued, digging her grave further with every word. “You may come here and grovel, kiss my feet and beg my mercy during your term of servitude,” she said, putting one of her unremarkable boots out in front of her as though offering it.
Ambrose became even more certain that the Princess wanted her to be part of some weird fetish thing. Which ruled out losing even more firmly if it had ever been an option. She has no interest in entertaining the whims of perverts with that much money and time on their hands. Wealth allowed certain people enough time and freedom to become much more depraved than the common folk.
The princess seemed ready to gloat and taunt Ambrose more before her spineless friend gently tugged on the sleeve of her blouse, pulling her attention. “What?! Can't you see I'm speaking?!” the Princess preened, yanking her arm away from the girl who flinched at the violent motion.
The elf squeaked out a short sentence that Ambrose could only imagine was a warning to the Princess in an effort to save the girl from herself since she was too soft spoken to be heard by Ambrose's human ears from a distance. Not that she needed to hear it, as the Princess did her the favor of repeating the girl's words a moment later aloud. “An M rank!? That's preposterous! The nearest M rank to us is in Bristol! This common barmai-” the Princess shouted, turning back to Ambrose and obviously checking out the Beastiary’s information for the first time, her words stumbling to a halt.
Ambrose simply smiled. There was some perk to being an M rank. Even if it did get you kidnapped and taken to a learning facility against your will. The look the snooty, plain brunette was giving her now that she'd seen Ambrose's rank was priceless.
Ambrose could almost feel the students in the crowd checking her info before gasping audibly and turning to one another, whispering in hushed tones. Ambrose had no doubt in her mind that by lunch, the entire campus would know of her rank and the results of this duel. Which worked just fine for her.
“So… we still doing this?” She asked, curious to see if the princess would give up after finding out such a shocking fact about her opponent.
The princess still took a moment to come out of her stupor, though when she did she was quick to put on a brave face. “Of course we are. I'm a level 14 S rank. No matter how powerful the legendary M ranks are, no mere inexperienced, day one, level one student will beat me! My power dwarves yours by magnitudes!”
Ambrose shrugged as yet another person assumed that she was level one. Part of her wondered if all of these rich kids had ever even stubbed a toe before entering the academy, much less gotten into any real fights. Ambrose had gained five levels in as many days and was well on her way to meeting half of the progression of someone who had been a part of this high ranking institution's student population for over a year.
“I'm ready when you are, then,” Ambrose said, squaring up to face off with the woman.The princess answered in kind, drawing her blade, which turned out to be a fencing sabre.
The princess initiated with a step, her blade swishing out with lethal intent, meant to pierce the throat. Ambrose shifted while sidestepping out of the way, her cat ears flicking as her senses shifted and intensified. The princess tried to follow her movement with the blade, but as each time before, Ambrose seemed to naturally weave her body around the attacks. She could tell that the princess had excellent dexterity, but the raw grace of the catfolk form was unmatched, and the princess hadn’t had the levels to push her stats past such an unnatural advantage.
“So this is the beastiary?” the girl asked, scowling. “A class that allows you to turn into a strumpet? Hardly seems M rank to me,” the princess taunted, seeking to flay flesh from bone with every tight knitted attack she made. Ambrose winced inwardly, resolving to purchase some extra clothing for the catfolk and Lambda forms so people would stop calling her some form of slutty. Luckily the person doing it this time was someone she could make pay for the insult without causing herself more trouble.
Ambrose's leg snapped out in a sudden, powerful kick, slamming into the Princess’s lead leg and knocking her off balance while sharp, hidden catfolk claws tore into the tender flesh of the woman’s thigh. The princess called out in pain, slashing to protect her leg, but Ambrose had already pulled back and launched another sidekick, which caught the princess in her stomach, sending her tumbling back onto the grass.
Ambrose stalked after the princess, foreseeing an easy victory. “Don’t know why everyone here is so horny for demi–humans, but this ‘strumpet’ fights hard, Princess,” Ambrose chided, moving to strike while the Princess tried to pull herself up.
The only warning Ambrose received that she was under attack was a sudden roar and a surge of orange light. With no time to dodge, Ambrose shifted again. Water surrounded her in a huge orb, magic flowing from her center of power as the mermaid form returned to being with its spells still active. Ambrose pulled the three shields of water back into her main bubble as flames cascaded around her water barrier causing a gout of steam to rise off of her purified space.
Inwardly, Ambrose sighed in relief, noting that she had nearly been fried in the middle of her fight. While she had expected the puppeteer to have a summon or familiar, she had thought such a thing would require actual summoning. Yet when she looked to the sidelines, she saw the sunny blond elf with her hand up, flames still licking off of her well manicured fingers. “That has to be some kind of cheating…” Ambrose mumbled, though her words likely went unheard outside of her bubble. While she could hear the things people said outside of the water, speaking through it seemed to take intent.
The Princess laughed as she pushed herself to her feet, hoping to see Ambrose charred and on the ground. When she caught sight of the mermaid in the bubble, she stared for a long moment, mentally stuck from the change in form. “Wh- what?! How?!” she asked, only for Ambrose to playfully squirt the princess in the face with a thin stream of water. The woman flailed, trying to defend herself and another gout of flames came from the elf, evaporating the stream.
Ambrose half-pouted as the Elf ruined her fun, but moved her bubble away from the princess, putting distance between her and her attackers so that she could better assess the situation. No one in the crowd seemed surprised that the princess had one of her lackeys join the fight. In fact, most of them seemed more surprised that Ambrose was still standing. That meant that something about this situation wasn't actually against the rules the Princess had set for their duel.
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“Confused?” The princess asked, obviously trying to master her own surprise and regain some semblance of control over the battlefield. “Surprised by my power?”
Ambrose certainly was surprised. Though the way that the princess worded her taunting made the mermaid think. ‘My power' huh? That meant that something in her class was allowing her at least enough control of her friends to use them as her familiars. Such a power complicated things immensely, leaving the Princess with almost as many combat options as Ambrose had, but the ability to use each at the same time.
In order to deal with the princess now, she would need to deal with both lackeys while trying to either cut the princess’s control, or knock each of them out to finish the fight. Her thought about both lackeys reminded her that Ambrose hadn’t seen or heard the halfling since the beginning of the battle. Taking that as a hunch, she guided her bubble to the side, only to hear a wet thud on the lawn where she and her dome of water had been a moment before.
Rather than panic, Ambrose scanned her surroundings, keeping mobile in order to keep the pursuing halfling at a distance. Thrills of excitement rolled down her spine as she got a feel for her situation and then began to adjust. “So instead of fighting one coward at a time, your power let’s me take the 3-for-1 special?” Ambrose said, her voice emanating outside of the bubble as though it were some kind of voice horn.
The elf sent blasts of fire to harass Ambrose, but the Merfolk returned the blast with a powerful gout of water, pushing the water and steam at the woman who seemed to silently scream as the flash heated water doused her and her spell. Ambrose took mind of the effect of her counter attack, sending a similar stream after the pursuing Halfling, only for the smaller woman to barrel through, swinging repeatedly with her mighty hammer.
“Say what you want, monster girl! You’re outnumbered, outwitted, and soon you’ll be another servant for me to use!” the Princess cackled, advancing with quick steps, only to receive a dense gout of water to the face that sent her staggering off course.With the perceived opening Ambrose tried to close in on the elf. The blonde dove out of the way of another water stream, moving toward the Princess for defense while the halfling sped into a mighty charge to stop Ambrose from running them both down.
Settling into a more tactical pace, Ambrose considered her options. It was effectively a 3 on one match. She needed to find a way to manage all 3 of them into a bad position, or to do enough damage to one in order to even up the odds a little. The Elf and her little fireshow seemed the most obvious threat to victory as well as the most obvious weak link in the current situation. The gouts of water countered her fire and caused damage when they did. If she got close enough she could overwhelm and dro-... incapacitate her.
Ambrose paused momentarily in her advance to stuff down that deeply ingrained urge in the mermaid psyche to drown the elf and her friends. While it gave the trio a moment to take back their advantage, something told Ambrose on an instinctual level that her drowning one or more of the girls would do something to her that she wasn’t mentally prepared for. It wasn’t about killing them, so much as… how…
She covered her lapse in movement by adding more water to her orb through the mermaid’s ability to summon water. She felt a draw on her increased potency stat as water formed from her magical essence, replenishing and exceeding what she had earlier in way of water to use and move around in. The change in the size of her bubble seemed to distract her opponents from her own hesitation as the Halfling kept herself between Ambrose and the Elf. Ambrose tried to simply blast down the sturdy little halfling, but the woman stood her ground, waiting until Ambrose closed in to swing at her through the blast of water.
Ambrose didn’t know how the halfling could maintain such accuracy while being doused but learned quickly after two more attempts that the halfling refused to be stymied. As she tried the third attempt, the Princess stepped around her cohort and began stabbing at the bubble, trying to pierce Ambrose through the bubble. The attacks were enough to drive the mermaid back.
Ambrose tried to manage down all three girls, but doing so was just too much strain on her budding power. In the end, she was a level six against the concentrated effort of what she imagined was three level 14 attackers. They drove her back, the Halfling preventing any and all advances on the elf. Ambrose was forced to the conclusion that she was going to be completely overwhelmed if nothing changed.
Taking a risk, she sent a heavy gout of water at the elf and the halfling before shifting forms. Shimmering scales became sleek, dry fur and catgirl Ambrose broke into a fast blitz toward the princess. If she could just burst down one of these three. Then the situation would change. Her desperate lunge turned into a pained yelp as she was caught in a huge blast of flames and flung back onto the yard, bouncing twice. Pain roared up her side where burns taunted and plagued her body. Panic nearly set in as Ambrose took a seriously damaging attack for the first time since she’d gained her class.
It was all she could do to resist her urge to panic and flee at first, but when she looked up, the elf was obviously preparing another spell. Ambrose shifted. She needed protection. She needed a shield. Her horns gleamed in the sun, the shield she’d been using since Grimwater appearing on her arm as she pushed her body to her feet. The pain was gone, but somehow, Ambrose could tell that part of her desperately needed healing. There was nothing to be done about that, though, as the Lambda raised her shield and deflected a darting lunge from the princess.
The attackers blade sparked off of the heater over and over as the Lambda and Princess both contested dexterity. Seeing something coming from the side, Ambrose charged the princess with the shield, knocking her back and over in time to bring up a guard against another fire blast. The flames were searing, but the shield held strong and Ambrose’s sturdy body bore the residual damage. The bright flames tried to lap around the edges of her guard and messed with her vision.
She didn’t see the little Halfling come from the side at a full dash, hammer raised and ready behind her. The hit from the hammer didn’t break the shield, but the force of the blow seemed to pass through the defense anyway, knocking Ambrose onto her butt and sending her tumbling as more pain surged through her body. The tide was shifting, and not in her favor. She could taste iron, and the grass of the academy lawn filled her senses as she rolled to a stop. She could hear the other girls coming to finish her, to beat her until she couldn’t fight back.
She still had the mermaid form. It was fresh and might offer an opportunity to escape. Yet even as she considered the option, her mind told her she would just be prolonging her loss. That left her with one option. One possible solution to her issue that, while untested, seemed promising. Boots pounded toward her on the lawn and Ambrose closed her eyes and bet on her class one more time.
Bloodlust blinded her as Ambrose’s body changed it condensed and compacted, all of her seeming to squeeze into an impossibly tight space. Everything around her became bright, vivid and intense. She could tell where the halfling was, the weight and force of her step, how close she was, how her body was positioned, how hard the prey was breathing.
Gripping her cleaver, the huntress lay in wait until the halfling began her downward swing. A grin split the cappi’s face and she swung for the legs as she rolled toward the prey. Her cleaver cut true through meat and bone and cloth. In one movement, one prey was down and the sweet, savory energy of blood and suffering suffused Rose, filling the hunger for vitality she had inside, that longing for healing. The prey was on the ground in pieces and the thought made her salivate so fiercely that thin streams of saliva dripped past the closed corners of her lips. Yet there were two more, two more to taste and sample before the meal could begin.
The huntress rolled to her feet while the plain girl and the tall, skinny, delicious one screamed. The tall one would run faster, most likely, and was dangerous with that pesky magic. She would need to be taken care of first. “BLAST HER!” commanded the plain one who looked much less appealing now that the huntress thought about it. The delicious one raised her hands and sent forth a gout of vicious flames, but the huntress was ready. She rolled away and back to her feet, dashing in a radius of the long eared delicacy before cocking back her arm and letting the cleaver sail while the pretty food was blinding herself with flames.
There was a thunk and then howls of pain as the bone cleaver sank true. The rush of agony made the huntress shiver. It was so good. Delicious blood was painting the grasses. Delicious blood had been spilt down fair, delicate skin. Rose launched herself at the prey. Even her light weight was enough to bowl over the pretty piece of meat, and she landed atop the main course gripping the hilt of her weapon. The prey had caught the blade in her clavicle and one of her arms was now immobile. The huntress would finish her quickly, let her bleed and bleed into the soil until the meat was ready for cooking. Raising her cleaver with one hand, the huntress readied another swing to slice open the throat.
Her keen senses caught the plain prey moving quickly and Rose sighed, rolling casually off of her prize. It was too soon to enjoy the pretty, delectable dish. She needed to deal with her veggies before the good part.
The huntress didn’t need to be sneaky with this one. This one was far weaker than her other companions. She had speed, yes, but she needed the other two to make up for a lack elsewhere… “Compensating,” Ambrose drooled, unable to keep her thoughts to herself.
The princess tried to step in and lay on pressure, but Rose batted the blade aside and made a quick chop with her cleaver, forcing the prey to step back. Yet the huntress was unrelenting, she didn’t stop chopping. Chop, the princess dodged. Chop, the princess stumbled. Chop, the princess fell back. Chop, the plain prey raised it’s fragile weapon to defend itself. Chop, the prey’s weapon snapped and the huntress nearly tasted blood. Chop, a pretty gauntlet got in the way. Chop, the arm crumpled under the force of the chop. Cho-
Rose rolled away from a feeble burst of flame, the bleeding, pretty dinner piece barely able to lift her other arm to cast. The huntress would fix that soon. But the plain prey wasn’t bleeding, yet, wasn’t feeding the huntress yet. Rose stood on cute feet and stalked toward the plain prey. It screamed and scrambled back from her, tears streaming down her face. It was saying something. Holding out its hand and desperately pleading.
The huntress raised her cleaver.
—
For a long moment, the yard was silent, the student body waiting in horror as the bloody little girl in black, tattered rags with a huge, white, bloodstained cleaver stood over the princess who was begging for mercy. No one was ready to intervene after what they’d all seen. Yet someone had to, right? There were two girls bleeding to death on the yard. Every moment that passed was another that those two could die. Yet no one dared approach the bloody little girl. Not even the man in staff attire.
The air seemed to gain ten degrees of warmth when the human form of the freshman girl, Ambrose, replaced the bloody child on the grass, bending down to offer the princess a hand. “Alright. I think I’ve proven my point. Get up and let’s help your friends.”
