Chapter Seventy-Three: Who Talks Like That?

  Thistle looked different—more wound up than Jace had ever seen him. His compact frame trembled, his hands gripping the hilt of his sword so tightly it was a wonder the thing didn’t snap in two. It was barely a dagger to anyone else, but in Thistle’s hands, it was a greatsword. His whole body was tense, vibrating with nervous energy that seemed ready to break free any second.

  “Thistle!” Jace’s voice cut through the air, sharp with concern. But the gnome didn’t even twitch. His eyes were locked on the Chimera, laser-focused, like the rest of the world had ceased to exist.

  The Chimera, a twisted nightmare of fur, fangs, and bad intentions, paced in its cage. Blackwood and his assistants loosened the chains, the metallic links clinking ominously as the creature strained against its bindings, eager to be unleashed. It was practically salivating, eyes locked on Thistle as though deciding which part to eat first.

  Jace’s gut churned with unease. Thistle, small and compact, looked so out of place before the massive beast, like a chess piece that had wandered into the wrong game. The Chimera tugged harder, snarling, its glowing eyes fixated on its prey. For a moment, Jace thought Thistle might be frozen—rooted to the spot by pure fear.

  But there was something else there, too. Something Jace couldn’t quite place. A tension, sure, but not just fear. Something darker. Something that was waiting.

  But then, something changed.

  Thistle’s Ruby Shard pulsed on his chest, a blinding red light that spread across his body. He began to grow—muscles expanding, his entire frame enlarging until he stood towering above the other students, larger than even Twig. His skin gleamed, turning from soft flesh to hardened metal, the same metallic sheen as the sword in his hand. Even Thistle seemed surprised, his eyes wide as he flexed his massive arms, the metallic surface reflecting the dim light of the arena.

  The Chimera snarled, unfazed, and lunged. Thistle didn’t dodge. He stood his ground and took the hit, the beast’s claws raking across his steel-like skin with a sickening screech. The impact barely phased him. He absorbed the blow, standing tall, the damage almost negligible against his armored form.

  “That’s enough, Thistle,” Blackwood called from the sidelines. “I think you’ve made your show.”

  But Thistle didn’t back down. If anything, he pressed forward, his massive body radiating a strange, unstoppable energy. He met the Chimera’s next strike head-on, his metallic form taking the brunt of the damage with ease. There was something unsettling in his eyes—a gleeful, almost manic glint. He looked over at Jace, a wild smile stretching across his face.

  Jace felt a knot form in his stomach. Something wasn’t right.

  And then it hit Jace—how had he missed it? One of the assistants holding the Chimera’s chains wasn’t just any student. It was the tall, pale guy who always shadowed Marcus. Jace’s stomach dropped as a terrible thought struck him.

  Something about his posture made Jace’s skin crawl. The assistant wasn’t watching the Chimera—his eyes were locked on Thistle, a twisted smile curling at the edge of his lips. Jace’s gut twisted in warning, and before he could shout, the assistant’s hand slipped free of the chain.

  The Chimera, already straining against its bindings, felt the sudden slack. With a roar that rattled bones and vibrated through the arena, it surged forward, its fury unleashed. Its eyes, blazing with a feral, bloodthirsty rage, locked on Thistle as though the gnome was the only thing in the world.

  The crowd gasped, a collective intake of breath as the Chimera’s chains clattered uselessly to the ground. Its roar tore through the air, wild and unhinged. Jace’s heart pounded, but Thistle didn’t flinch.

  At the last possible second, just when the Chimera was about to crush him, Thistle moved. His Ruby Shard flared, casting an eerie red light as his body swerved with a precision that seemed impossible for his size. He sidestepped the beast’s lunge, his eyes sharper now, focused—almost... gleeful.

  With one powerful swing, his sword crashed down on the chain still coiled around the Chimera’s neck. The impact rang out like a thunderclap. The metal links snapped with a violent crack, exploding in all directions.

  The Chimera, now completely unbound, let loose a bone-chilling roar that seemed to shake the very earth beneath their feet. Jace’s blood ran cold as the creature lunged, no longer restrained, its eyes wild with the frenzy of freedom. The battle was no longer just a test—it had become a nightmare.

  Time seemed to stretch, each second a heartbeat. Thistle’s face changed from pleasure to fear and he stumbled, his legs betraying him as he fell backward. The beast’s mouth, wide and glistening with saliva, neared him with terrifying speed.

  Jace, Dex, Alice, and Ell stood, the other students moving in a frenzy around them, trying to flee. They fought against the current, trying to get to Thistle, to help him.

  Just as the jaws were about to close around Thistle, Blackwood intervened.

  He reached out, and a spear of jagged stone materialized in his hand, sharp and solid as if it had risen from the earth itself.

  With a swift motion, he slammed the spear into the ground. Stone erupted around him, forming a shield, but the Chimera was already too close. The beast roared, its monstrous claws tearing through the air with terrifying speed. Blackwood wasn’t fast enough—its claws raked across his chest, and he staggered back, blood spilling from the deep gashes. His face contorted in pain, but his resolve remained unshaken.

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  As Thistle screamed, trapped in the Chimera’s deadly path, something ignited in Blackwood. His eyes burned with fierce determination. He gripped the spear tighter, thrusting it forward, and its power surged. The stone didn’t just hold—it responded. The ground beneath him trembled as the spear pulsed, the stone around it coming to life, swirling and crashing like an elemental storm, ready to strike back with raw, earth-shattering force.

  Blackwood shot a burst of light into the sky from his spear.

  “Thistle, get back!” Blackwood shouted, his voice raw with effort. The beast lunged, but before it could reach the terrified student, Blackwood held it back, taking another savage bite to his arm. He grunted, teeth clenched against the agony, but his eyes never left the beast.

  A surge of Shard energy crackled from Ell’s hand, quickly followed by bursts from Jace, Dex, and Alice, each bolt of power striking the Chimera square in the face. It snarled, its many eyes narrowing as it locked its gaze on them—like a predator sizing up its next meal. The attacks bounced harmlessly off its now Gold One-toughened hide, doing nothing more than irritating the beast. If anything, it only seemed more enraged, its muscles coiling with renewed fury as it let out a low, rumbling growl.

  “Do not interfere!” Blackwood’s voice was sharp as a whip. With a single gesture, the ground rumbled beneath their feet, yanking the students back a dozen paces, the earth obeying his command.

  The soil surged up, wrapping around him and the Chimera’s lower half, binding them together in a tangle of stone and root. The beast roared in frustration, its bulk straining against the unnatural hold. But even to the students watching, one thing was clear—this creature was way out of their league.

  Professor Tanner Frost materialized in the chaos, a blur of motion that solidified into sharp focus. Without missing a beat, she unleashed a barrage of energy beams, each one crackling with power as they struck the Chimera’s snarling face. The beast staggered, its head jerking back under the force. Just enough—just long enough—for Blackwood to dig in deeper, his power driving the earth to tighten its hold on the monster.

  “About time, Frost,” Blackwood muttered through gritted teeth, his concentration unbroken.

  “Always making a mess, aren’t you?” she quipped, her next beam of energy flaring brighter as it scorched across the Chimera’s hide.

  “Now!” he yelled, and in that instant, his assistants sprang to life, darting forward and chanting incantations, causing the chains to shine a bright white.

  Frost’s hands glowed with a soft, golden light, weaving intricate patterns in the air. The light seemed to ensnare the beast, slowing its movements as if caught in a web. Blackwood’s spear flashed and struck with the force of a tidal wave, driving the beast back step by agonizing step.

  “Secure the bindings!” Blackwood gasped, his voice ragged as his legs buckled beneath him, forcing his equine body to a knee. His other hooves scraped against the floor, the sound harsh in the tense air. The assistants hurried to reinforce the cage, sweat gleaming. Blood streamed from the deep gashes across Blackwood’s flanks, pooling beneath his powerful hindquarters, staining the ground red as his tail flicked weakly in pain.

  Together, they fought with seamless precision. Frost’s magic constricted around the creature, tightening like an icy vice, binding it with unyielding force. With a final, tremendous push, they drove the beast back into its cage. The door slammed shut with a resounding clank, the creature thrashing wildly inside but unable to breach the reinforced barriers.

  The centaur, drained and bloodied, staggered before collapsing heavily onto his side, his massive form trembling from the exertion.

  “Orion, you’re hurt,” Professor Frost said, her voice steady, though a faint tremor betrayed her bloodied hands.

  An assistant rushed forward, panic flashing in his eyes. Frost spread her hands and whispered a word, an invisible energy forming under Blackwood and gingerly lifting him from the ground.

  The shimmering magical platform hovered beside the centaur, sturdy and strong.

  Frost followed close behind, her focus sharp. As she moved, the bed of energy glowed with an amber light, helping to stop the flow of blood, Tanner’s amber magic at work.

  One of the other assistants, a woman in glasses, lingered a moment longer, her face pale but resolute, steady despite the chaos swirling around them.

  She adjusted her frames, glancing at the students—still wide-eyed and frozen. Clearing her throat, she gave a nervous smile. “I think... that’s enough for today. Professor Blackwood will be fine,” she said, though her voice wavered. Her gaze flicked to the still-shuddering cage, as if expecting another attack. “Uh, class dismissed.”

  The students didn’t need to be told twice.

  Blackwood’s parting look, a blend of pain and something darker—suspicion, perhaps—clung to Jace’s thoughts. The other students whispered behind cupped hands, casting furtive glances in Blackwood’s direction as he was taken away.

  Jace couldn’t shake the unease that coiled in his gut. He sped up, closing the gap between him and Thistle, who walked ahead with a group of unfamiliar students—his new friends, Jace guessed.

  “Hey, you okay? Where’ve you been?” Jace’s voice was soft, almost hesitant.

  Thistle glanced over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m fine.” The casual tone was as fake as a plastered-on smile.

  Jace frowned, feeling the tension. “Are you? We haven’t seen you in a while. I’ve been worried.”

  Thistle shrugged, his eyes flashing with something darker. “Oh, that’s rich. Especially coming from you.”

  “Whoa, what did I do?” Jace stopped mid-step, his brow furrowing as he turned to Thistle, who halted beside him.

  Thistle shot him a look, one eyebrow raised. “If you don’t know by now, then you deserve whatever’s coming your way. Just like Professor Blackwood. Guy’s been acting all high and mighty, don’t you think? Kind of feels like he had that claw to the chest coming.”

  Jace reached for Thistle’s shoulder, his concern deepening. But Thistle batted his hand away.

  “Thistle... that wasn’t just an accident, was it?”

  Thistle’s smirk vanished, replaced by an icy mask of indifference, but he said nothing.

  Jace took a step back, unease creeping into his voice. “He was trying to help us, Thistle.”

  “Help us? By risking our lives? Maybe he deserved a little comeuppance.”

  Jace’s eyes narrowed, tension thick in the air. “Who talks like that? Look, I get it, but there’s a line. You crossed it.”

  Thistle snorted, turning away with slow, deliberate steps. “Maybe the line needed crossing.” His voice was cold, final. He walked off, the shadows lengthening around him, leaving Jace standing there, frozen, dread curling tight in his chest.

  “What’s gotten into him?” Jace muttered to himself. He had a feeling he already knew, but admitting it was something else entirely, something he wasn’t ready to face.

  He activated Soul Sense, peering into Thistle as he disappeared into the distance. Nothing unusual—just the sharp burn of anger. But then again, he hadn’t seen the Demon with Sophie either. If something was influencing Thistle, it wasn’t strong enough to manifest yet. Jace could only sense them when they fully took form, and by then, it was almost always too late.

  Later that night, lying in bed, Jace tried to shake off the argument, but it clung to him like a cold, wet cloak. No matter how hard he tried, the unease refused to let go.