The First Game, The First Night (2)

Walking out of the room and down the halls, Cyrus stopped for a moment when he detected one more person approaching his area. Turning around, he saw the 4th ranked Caliban turn the corner. In his hand was a basket full of directives, around 20 or so.

Seeing this Cyrus felt somewhat baffled before saying probingly,

"Wow, they really thought you were an easy target huh. The benefits of acting low key while in a top position?"

Caliban looked at Cyrus, then at the 11 directives tied with the belt.

"It was not intentional" said Caliban lightly before glancing behind him for a moment before pulling out a blank document and a pen. Writing on it for a moment, he threw it to Cyrus in quick fashion.

Easily catching it, Cyrus read it for quite awhile while biting one of his fingers in annoyance then throwing it on the floor in front of Caliban.

"Not interested. We are both from the wasteland, we know what comes next let us not beat around the bush" stated Cyrus while pulling his spare sword from his storage.

Caliban nodded lightly while also pulling out his own weapon, or rather weapons. An array of knives, daggers and needles folded on a belt was his weapon of choice, which he tied around his waist as if it were a normal belt.

Surprised at the…direct nature of his opponent Cyrus moved his sword into On Point, having his sword at his waist pointing towards the enemy, and stepped forward to thrust.

Caliban reacted by unleashing a short torrent of flying knives towards his opponent, displaying an uncanny dexterity that rivaled Cyrus'. Forced to defend, as the knives were arrayed in a fashion that he could not dodge without overextending himself, Cyrus pivoted to the left and blocked the knife in front of him.

Once more he tried to advance on his enemy but each time he was stopped in his tracks by various flying knives, long daggers, and even some odd needle like projectile weapons.

"How many does he have on his person?" thought Cyrus in passing as he deflected another group of projectiles.

In between waves of incoming fire Cyrus inspected one of the long and thin needle that had been deflected earlier, noticing that it was covered in some kind of liquid at one end.

"Poison" said Cyrus aloud, sounding surprised.

He then put on a determined look, as if he had a plan of action, and made for a thrust once more. Except this time it was merely a bluff as when Caliban started unleashing the next torrent of projectiles Cyrus instead reached into one of his hidden pockets and threw a small sealed bottle at Caliban. The bottle collided with one of the knives that was thrown by him, causing it to rupture and release its contents in the surrounding area.

What followed was not a splash of acid, or a mist of ghastly poison, or the loud sound of an explosion but merely a small popping sound like one taking off the lid of a jar. After the sound came the light, a bright flash caused by the concoction Cyrus had thrown which blinded any who were not prepared for it, such as his untimely opponent.

Leaping forward once more with his full power, he smashed into Caliban with his entire weight sending him flying down the hall and hurtling towards the wall. Blinded and now completely swept off his feet, Caliban had no choice but to allow himself be smashed into the wall at full force. His back hit the wall, his body arched forward as the wall hit him as much as he had hit the wall causing an immense shock that knocked him out on impact. Sliding down the wall from where he hit it, he slumped down on the floor with his head looking down…completely unconscious.

Cyrus looked at his victory with a smirk, before one of his legs gave out from under him. Looking down at it he saw a needle stuck in his flank.

"Damn, he stuck me with a coated needle as I rammed into him" cursed Cyrus aloud as he pulled the needle out of him.

Laughter resounded from the two ends of the hall adjacent to where Caliban was knocked out, revealing the remaining students that had not yet been taken out by Caliban and Cyrus. 10 silhouettes stood to the left and right, coming out of a Mors spell that must have been the work of 10 a piece in order to conceal themselves.

"So what if they have a high rank? They are only so so, falling for such a simple tactic" said one of the students.

"All we had to do was wait for you two to fight then clean up the leftovers, hah. Who are the useless ones now?" derided another, spitting on the ground as he did.

They all drew weapons or began to cast spells, not taking the wounded Cyrus as lightly as their words did. It was a harrowing situation indeed, one against twenty with no escape.

Cyrus looked at the students who were carefully stalking towards him, their attention fully on him, without so much a change in his expression.

"Oh, what a situation I am in. How… how stupid are they???" thought Cyrus, who unlike his calm outward demeanor was actually completely baffled for once.

One by one the twenty students fell in quick succession, not even able to utter a cry as their entire body's were paralyzed. Standing behind them was none other than Caliban, who had felled all of them with his paralysis needles with utter ease.

"I cant believe that charade worked… they did not notice that I stabbed myself with the needle, or that you threw yourself…and they did not even check your body? How is the 'Empires Strength' so useless?" wondered Cyrus aloud as he collected ten of the directives from the fallen.

"This is the reality of the younger generations of this region. The older fought long and hard to carve out a peaceful land, while the youth enjoyed a life free of battle… free of a fight for survival. They are weak" replied Caliban plainly, as he took his share.

Cyrus thought for a moment, trying to find the weird feeling of disconnect he had with the current situation.

"That is it… I see now. Thinking back to of all the people I have interacted with, they were either elites of the previous generation or the few exceptional ones of the current. My views were biased in one direction, further led in the wrong direction with me only knowing how powerful the Empire is from my research. What an oversight."

Clicking his tongue in derision, he walked back to where he had thrown the contract and read it once more

"Official Legally Binding Agreement,

The two signatories of this contract shall agree to each award the other with [ten directives] of Glacies Academy that award 100 Fidem each, either from their own stockpile or from the hands of others.

Signed Cyrus

Signed Caliban"

"Contracts are just that, pieces of paper easily destroyed. But…with the power of the Judicars being far more than I had previously thought…it seems these are more binding than one would think otherwise" thought Cyrus as he looked upon the contract.

Most notably, Caliban's name was written in pen while Cyrus' name was written in blood. Shaking his head once more at how such a trick worked, Cyrus healed the cut on his thumb that he had made earlier to write his name on the contract while copying down another one for his own use. He handed it to Caliban, who promptly signed it and handed it back, before walking away.

"We are wolves among sheep, if you wish you can allow me the first spot and I will not interfere with you taking the second spot. Or.…" said Caliban as he turned his head back towards Cyrus, a cold rage clearly building within, "fight me if you must but know I will crush you without mercy: staying true to the ways of our homeland."

Inspecting the contract to make sure there was nothing off about it, Cyrus merely ignored the words before quickly storing the contract and taking out his old clothes he was wearing before he switched to the mages robe.

He cut them into long pieces of fabric and used them to tie and somewhat hide the massive stack of 21 directives he was now in possession of before beelining it towards down the hall to where the housing was located.

"What Caliban said may be true, but even a wolf can be killed if enough sheep stampede" thought Cyrus as he ran as fast as he could.