"I challenge you," Jack said abruptly. His expression had lost all trace of its usual blissful ignorant joviality.
"Sorry?"
"You got Wild Magic powers, right?”
“Yeah, sort of,” Peter shrugged.
“Good. We'll use the Arena,” Jack said, pointing to an obelisk that had appeared while Peter was out of the base. “Choose any weapon you want.”
“Look, man, I’m kinda busy right now,” Peter sighed. “Take on someone else.”
“You don’t get it,” Jack sneered, leaning forward to whisper in Peter’s ear. “It’s either that, or I beat you to a pulp just here, in front of her. How do you like that?”
“Well, for one, she’s out, and for two, sorry to break it to you, but you can’t beat me anymore,” Peter said deadpanned.
“Then what do you have to lose by proving yourself in the ring, sucker?” Jack sneered.
Very well. Let's kick his ass and move on. "Only one round, OK?" Peter said.
"I won’t need more than one round, wimp," Jack turned on his heels and led the way to the obelisk. Imitating Jack, Peter put his hand on it. A projection akin to a screen appeared: Select destination: a) Dartmouth College b) Arena.
“Arena,” Peter said, but nothing happened.
“You have to touch the screen, duh!” Jack snorted.
Select your activity: a) Watching or b) Training.
After Training was selected, more options appeared. Jack waved his hand dismissively, allowing Peter to choose. The final settings resulted in the selection of a friendly spar of one round of three minutes of non-lethal hand-to-hand combat with no magic used.
Yeah, but I won’t.
The teleportation went smoothly, better than anything that Peter had experienced so far. No blinding light, no dizziness. They just appeared in a boxing ring inside a stadium, a hundred feet wide and sixty feet long, with an architecture mixing Art Nouveau with Roman antiquity. A few students were chomping on popcorn in the stalls. Even sparing had spectators, apparently.
There were two pairs of boxing gloves in the corners, and seeing Jack putting them on, Peter followed his example.
"We have a new unofficial match in the Arena between Jack Browers, Body Cultivator rank three, and Peter Hillden, Wild Magic user. Both are students of Dartmouth Cultivator College. One round of unarmed combat," a qi-message resounded. “The spectators applauded and leaned forward, eager to watch the spar.
Peter threw his backpack aside and rotated his shoulders, intending to win fast and decisively. Nevertheless, he activated his Physical Restraint ability and hit together his gloves, a sign he was ready.
"Start," the qi-voice said.
Jack was on Peter in no time, throwing a flurry of fists and kicks. Without Warping, it was harder to parry or avoid them all. One fist hit his stomach. It hurt, but it also showed Peter that underestimating Jack was not smart.
Keeping his guard up, Peter soaked or moved around most hits by footwork. The Dexterity Perk was throwing Jack off balance. Noticing an opening, Peter threw a jab in Jack's jaw. The young cultivator was thrown ten feet back, landing on his back. For a second, Peter hoped it was over, but Jack jumped to his feet, shaking his head. He was dazed but not out.
Yelling insults, Jack threw himself at Peter, his right arm twisted back for a haymaker. Instincts and hate had overwhelmed his mind. Peter could see in his head what he had to do. Dodge and make Jack trip, sending him to the floor and grabbing him in a chokehold to end the match.
Instead, he let himself fall backward, soaking a fraction of the punch with his chin. Combining that energy with a push on his feet, he arched backward in a long flight, pretending to be knocked out unconscious when he made contact with the mattress.
Maintaining cover… And testing if he’s just a child throwing a tantrum.
He was curious if the jock would profit and rush to kick him whilst down, in which case he was determined to give Jack the beating of his life. Jack didn’t. He retreated into his corner, arms crossed. When the qi-voice of an invisible arbiter or AI finished the countdown, Peter pretended to regain consciousness and stood up.
"The match concludes with Jack Browers's victory."
Soon after they took off their gloves and Peter picked up his backpack, they were returned to the camp.
"I hope you're satisfied," Peter said. “Grow up, man.”
"No, I’m not satisfied. You’re a douche," Jack said, his eyes less fiery but still frowning. “I’m not telling Regina because I don’t want her to hurt. I’ll give you the second chance I never had. But if you mess it up again, I’ll…” Jack grabbed Peter’s coat, pulled him closer, then shook his head. “I don’t know what I’ll do… But it’ll be bad. Don’t make me do it. I don’t consider you my friend anymore.”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
"What?" Peter blurted, shoving Jack away. Nothing Jack had just said made sense, but he concentrated on what made the least sense of all. "We were never friends. You bullied me all the time, making me vomit with your Cultivator aura."
"C'mon!" Jack snorted, letting go of Peter’s lapel. "I protected you, taking you under my wing. And for the record, I made everyone puke. It was just harmless fun… Regina puked too, once."
"Fun?" Peter retorted, putting his balled fists on his hips. "Maybe we have different standards, Young Master Jack, but where I come from, one doesn't make his friends puke."
"Whatever. I get it now. You're a stuck-up snob. Just don’t hurt Regina. It stays a secret!” Jack iterated, poking his index in Peter’s chest.
“What stays a secret, idiot?” Peter hissed, slapping Jack’s hand away.
“That you slept with Melinda, moron,” Jack replied both in words and gesture, slapping the hand Peter had slapped his with. “Naomi told me she saw you exiting her mansion.”
The two young men leaned forward, facing each other, their foreheads almost touching. Peter was furious. On Jack, first, but also on Naomi, for spreading false gossip. After briefly looking around to ensure no one was watching, he grabbed Jack by the arm, Warped up in the sky, and then a long way Eastward. They landed on a meadow hidden in a forest.
"Whoa! What are you doing?" Jack screamed.
Peter started to count on his fingers. “First, I never slept with Melinda. Ask Ari and Regina; they know. She tried to get me in her bed, but I refused. Not like some jerk here present.”
“Hey, it’s not fair!” Jack blurted. “She put a spell on me or something.”
“More likely, she just beckoned, and you went for it. Second,” Peter emphasized the word, “this happened before I and Regina got together. Unlike what some jerk here present did. And third—”
“If you call me jerk a third time, I’ll give you a piece of my mind,” Jack yelled, shoving his fist near Peter’s eyes.”
“—I was spying for the resistance and found out that—”
“Hah! You, resistance? You care only for yourself.”
"Not anymore," Peter said, summoning his helmet and gun from the storage. "Remember me?” he continued in the low, rough voice he had used back in the forest.
“You’re him!” Jack stepped back, tripping on a root, falling on his buttocks, and trying to push himself away. “The poacher… Please, don’t kill me!”
“You sure? You looked pretty much set to die when we met.”
“I swear, I’ll never tell anyone!” Jack flailed his arms.
“Calm down, idiot!” Peter dismissed the items. “I just wanted to make a point. Everything I told you was true. I’m Resistance, and I never slept with Melinda.”
“OK, I believe you,” Jack nodded hurriedly. “Please, don’t kill me.”
“Let’s have a coffee,” Peter said. “I know the perfect place.”
“Thanks, but I’m good if you just take me back—whoaa!” Jack screamed as Peter teleported them up in the sky, then to Laketown, landing in William’s garden. It had high walls and was a perfect place to enter the town discreetly.
"Is that… a werewolf?" Jack gasped. William could be seen through the French doors, massaging the shoulders of a lionfolk. Both had their back turned to them.
"A friend, he's harmless unless you eat his geese… I’ll introduce you later. Follow me.” There was a back door to the garden. It was closed with a chain, but Peter broke it and dragged the stupefied jock on the streets, stopping at the inn, where some people still had a late breakfast.
“Sit,” Peter gestured toward an empty table.
"Are they friendly?" Jack asked, staring at the cat and lionfolks.
"Like all normal people, some are friendly, some not… Thanks," Peter said to the waitress, who was just bringing a mug of filter coffee, milk, and some pastries because the breakfast had one option. “Now, I’ll tell you my story.”
"I'm listening," Jack said, munching on a croissant. Being surrounded by a more normal environment had lowered his guard and relaxed him instantly. Which reinforced Peter’s impression of Jack’s infantility. Geez! I never thought about it, but he could be younger than Regina…
That explains a lot.
“Still listening,” Jack said, taking a second pastry.
“My powers awakened the day I saved Regina. The fight made something snap in me.”
“Dude! You advanced so fast… Travel skills take like years to—”
“I was lucky and found a… let’s say, a special training manual. Never mind that. We have problems.”
“Wait! Why did you tell me to ask Regina for forgiveness back in the forest?” Jack abruptly stopped eating, a few crumbs falling out of his mouth on the tablecloth.
“I saw how much you loved her… and feared being with me would put her in danger. A day or so before, I had to shoot an assassin sent after our Resistance cell.”
“That was nice of you,” Jack said, the corners of his mouth turning downward, his eyes filling with tears.
“I had no choice; he was going to kill us… Oh, the other thing… Yeah…”
“I’m sorry I doubted you, Petey. You’re a true friend.”
We’re not friends! I hate you, stole from the money you gave me, and bought you bad beers, hoping to send you to the shitter! A long sigh escaped Peter’s lips instead of the thoughts he intended to word. “In the end, I and Regina truly fell in love, and nothing mattered anymore. Why did Naomi tell you about me and Melinda?”
“Dunno,” Jack diverted his eyes.
“Do you want me to Warp you a mile up and let you fall repeatedly to repay you for the twenty times you made me barf?” Peter said in the coldest tone he could.
“No way it was twen— OK, OK! I’ll tell you!” Jack blurted when Peter sketched a move to grab his hand. “It was just small talk. I told her how much better you are for Regina, and she snorted and said: Petey’s by no means better than you. He slept with Melinda. She begged me not to tell you, but—”
“And since when have you and Naomi been chatting so much together?” Peter asked, clenching his teeth.
“We’re… d-d-dating,” Jack confessed. “She’s a good friend… and a good listener… things just happened.”
“Honestly, she’s a good match for you,” Peter said. “Cute and clever.”
“Thanks.”
I was thinking she’s balancing your idiocy, but… “Look, Jack… Now that you know about my secret identity…”
“I won’t tell a soul,” Jack promised, looking around toward the exit. “Please don’t shoot me!”
“I have to tell you the big secret,” Peter lowered his voice, leaning over the table. “Cultivators are bad. Even the nicest ones, like Melinda, use you. Did you know the club was hers?”
“No!” Jack gasped, his eyes bulging under the surprise. “Really?”
“Yeah. That drug was a qi-pill to make your breakthrough faster. And the dance was meant to train you physically. Make you think you have a good time while doing cardio.”
“No!” Jack repeated the same word, slapping himself. “That’s evil!”
“This is nothing. Some factions make students kill other students.”
“How do you know that?” Jack frowned.
“Hacked a computer. Doesn’t matter, what m—”
“We have to do something!”
“OK. Are you willing to help and keep your mouth shut?”
“Of course!” Jack banged his fist on the table.
“I apologize,” Peter said aloud as a diversion because the other patrons looked at them. “Keep calm, man; we don’t want to attract attention.”
“I’m in,” Jack nodded. “From this moment on, you’re no longer my sidekick. I’m your sidekick. Consider me Resistance. What’s the plan? How do we stop them?”
Peter shivered. Jack’s widened eyes, looking at him like a pup eager to please his master, hurt his soul. He still considered Jack a stupid jock. No… He’s a kid who got drunk by power… It’s not his fault. What should I do with him? Hm… He and Ari could take turns watching over Melinda… hopefully with both being able to keep it in their pants. Robe… whatever.
A ping resounded in Peter’s ears before he had time to word his thoughts.
“So?” Jack asked.
“Err… We do some scouting and talk more later.”