Shadow Slave | School Days

Fighting slippery opponents who didn't conform to a singular style was something Nephis had been unprepared for. Supreme flexibility made grappling useless and comparable speed reduced her options for striking. In a situation like this one would expect the usually calm and composed Nephis to experience a variety of emotions.

Fear, nervousness, apprehension.

With the roar of the crowd echoing through her ears, Nephis felt an odd feeling of ecstasy as she faced off with an equal combatant who had not gained her supreme hatred like Morgan had. Running her hands across her face, Nephis allowed a small smile to settle across her features as Samara offered her a smile.

"Let me guess, Mongrel is secretly Lost from Light, and you can't afford to lose in front of your boyfriend so now you're going to get magically stronger?" Samara asked mockingly, Nephis almost coughed at how close to the truth Samara was before smiling.

"Winning or losing in front of your partner doesn't matter much to us. And for your information, I'll be kicking the shit out of you for my own pleasure, not his." Nephis responded as she surged forward. Once more, Samara stood relaxed, her body loose, head slightly tilted as though she wasn't watching.

Yet not a single movement Nephis made remained out of her vision.

Once more, Nephis threw a sharp jab toward Samara, the other woman waited for the fist to approach before leaning backward at the last possible second, her head tilting back enough to avoid the punch allowing it to only graze her nose before folding her body to the side.

A knee appeared from Nephis blind spot, targeting her ribs once more. It was a move Samara used to throw off her opponents rhythm and shock them into making mistakes ordinarily they would never do. And the press of the audience only further amplified to the nervousness as she smirked slightly, assured her attack would land.

But then, Nephis caught it.

Her grip tightened around Samara's thigh as she twisted her hips rapidly, throwing her opponent off-balance before Samara had the opportunity to shake her off. Reacting instantly, Samara used the momentum to flip backward and twist midair, her foot lashing out like a whip at an impossible angle.

Samara's foot crashed against Nephis shoulder once more, sending the woman staggering backward. Or at least that was what Samara thought as Nephis blitzed toward her, wrapping an arm around Samara's waist and slamming her into the ground.

Leaping away from Samara's body, she watched the other woman try to recover, interrupting her as she tried to raise herself to her feet by slamming her knee into Samara's chest. The impact sent her rolling backward, but it wasn't uncontrolled.

Samara had rolled with the blow, using it as momentum as she placed her hands on the floor, pushing her feet upward as she snapped her knee against Nephis jaw and sent her flying backward. Wiping her bloody lips, Samara watched Nephis shake her head lightly at the impact before preparing herself for another engagement.

In the booths, Sunny smirked at Orion as he pointed down at Nephis enthusiastically. "That's my girl! Formless fighters are so boring and easy to read once you get the hang of it, it's only a matter of time before Neph wins this." Orion raised an eyebrow as his eyes narrowed at Samara.

"Still, Samara is winning every engagement by a hair. Unless your princess lands some major damage and fast, she's going to be too gassed out to land any critical blows." Shrugging Sunny simply turned his attention back onto Nephis, his trust in her ability to win supreme and unshaking.

Samara appeared in front of Nephis like a phantom, launching a brutal spinning kick at her chest. Nephis leaned backward, twisting her body to it's extremes as she sent a sweeping kick towards Samara's ankles. Jumping over the blow, Samara flipped over Nephis and landed behind her.

"Showing me your back? You're calling me flat aren't you!?" Samara called with mock anger as Nephis spun to meet her. But Samara was already moving. A barrage of attacks came from every angle—punches, elbows, knees, and kicks from directions Nephis didn't even imagine possible as she narrowly deflected each attack.

A knee sank into Nephis ribs. An elbow clipped her temple. A palm strike knocked her back. Gritting her teeth, Nephis forced herself to push forward, absorbing the next strike and countering. Grabbing Samara by the shoulder, she roughly slammed her onto the ground sending blood flying out of the other woman's mouth.

Before Samara could reach her feet, Nephis grabbed her by the shoulder only for her opponent to do something entirely unnatural. Samara dislocated her shoulder, slipping free from Nephis's grip and snapping her foot upward, catching Nephis on the chin.

Being thrown backward, Nephis somersaulted and landed far away from Samara, wiping the blood that trickled down her lip as she assessed the battle so far. 'She's not human, what human dislocates their shoulder to escape? Sunny would just brute force it but maybe that isn't beyond him but that's still fucking insane!'

Thinking back on the battle so far, Nephis mind ran through multiple possibilities and predictions as her eyes widened with shock. 'I'm a second too slow when reacting because I'm not used to her fighting style so why not predict it before she moves. No, beyond prediction, why not guide her to my own rhythm!?'

The arena was silent, none of them daring to interrupt the mental assessment the two fighters were doing with one another as they eagerly awaited for the next onslaught. Although they had expected this new 'Changing Star' to be impressive merely from her relationship with Mongrel, fighting on par with the highest woman ranked was utterly ludicrous.

Suddenly, the shout of a child pierced through the silence, marking a metaphorical starting point into their next bout. "Fight!" Immediately, the crowd erupted into cheers as Nephis and Samara blitzed toward each other, disappearing from view as they clashed evenly in the middle.

A trifecta of attacks flew towards Nephis's face, a sweeping kick towards her ribs, a jab aimed at her forehead and a knee to her stomach. The gap in time between each attack was so miniscule it appeared like she threw three different attacks at once, yet Nephis dodged them by a hair.

Twisting her body, Nephis chin was snapped upwards by a palm strike. Blood poured from her lips as she continued forward without slowing down for even a moment. She saw the slight twitch in Samara's fingers indicating she was about to throw a jab, grabbing her forearm mid movement, Nephis swept her legs before landing a blow onto Samara's forehead.

As the other woman remained upside down midair, Nephis spun, slamming her foot into Samara's defence as she was sent flying backward. It felt like Nephis had hit water, yet she felt the slightest amount of solidity, and the pained grimace on Samara's face showed that her attacks were hitting home.

Winnable.

Achievable.

No time for thoughts, only violence.

Nephis could see it clearly now, the way Samara's muscles tensed before a strike, the subtle adjustments in her posture as she prepared to relax her muscles. Relaxing your muscles meant leaving your bones exposed without as much defence, so she would habitually put her strongest bones first in preparation.

An opening. A weakness.

Samara attacked again, three rapid strikes in blindingly quick succession. A high kick. A spinning backfist. A sudden feint slipping into a driving knee. Nephis weaved past all three with increased accuracy as she wrapped her hands around Samara's head. She felt Samara soften as she prepared for a throw only for Nephis to drive her knee into the other woman's chest with malicious efficiency.

Blood sprayed from Samara's mouth, stunning her slightly as Nephis surged forward. Samara barely dodged a jab as she found herself moving ever closer towards the colosseum walls. She was losing ground with incredible speed. Swinging a knee into her stomach, Nephis watched as Samara twisted to escape with a slight smirk.

'How... predictable.' Her elbow came down on Samara's shoulder as she felt the other woman's bones groan under the force. Samara was sent flying downward, her head suddenly coming in line with Nephis knee as it drove itself into her face. But Samara wasn't a champion for nothing.

Blood streaking down her face, she let loose a bloody grin as the force of the knee sent her flying upward. Grabbing Nephis by the head, she hammered her fist into her head without hesitation, giving Nephis no room for escape. But Changing Star didn't want to escape.

She wanted to win.

In kind, Nephis slammed her fist into Samara's jaw. Blood sprayed around them as the two traded blows, moving their fists so quickly they turned to a blur as a shower of blood surrounded the two women. They were at a stalemate; it was a matter of who would last longer.

Then, Nephis fell to her knees.

The crowd cheered Samara's name, awaiting for her to give the finishing blow as the other woman remained stone still on her feet. Samara was unconscious. In fact, she had been since the initial knee strike, only moving her body through murderous will and resolve to win force a draw with her last bit of strength.

Nephis staggered backward, raising herself to her feet as she raised her hand in the air. 'If this was a contest of endurance, you would have won.' Nephis mused to herself. Chants erupted throughout the arena, shaking the floor beneath her as Nephis suddenly found herself in the air.

Sunny had lifted her off her feet. Screaming triumphantly as she smiled down at his elated expression. "You did it Neph! You won! That was fucking amazing!" Sunny roared; his eyes widened as he smiled at Nephis proudly. She dug her hands into his shoulders for support as she suddenly realised a vital piece of information she had missed in her euphoria.

In his haste to go celebrate with Nephis, Sunny had forgotten his mask.

...

Pale blue lights cascaded upon a throne as a man sat, staring with his empty blue eyes down at thousands of men with a small smile on his face. By his side was a set of metal claws, perfectly tailored for killing all those he came into contact with as he raised himself to his feet.

Asterion stared down at his men, they weren't only regular soldiers, warriors genetically enhanced for his own purposes. His motives remained unclear and mysterious even to his closest allies, yet his strength enforced a loyalty that none were able to replicate.

Clearing his throat, Asterion's indifferent gaze returned as he cleared his throat. "Soon, it will be time to make our move. The other great families are too small minded, limiting their goals to only the underworld out of fear of resistance. They lack the resolve to persevere! But worry not, the time of freedom shall come. All we need is to wait for our biggest threat to fall on it's own."

"The time to hunt Lost from light is drawing near."