Wednesday [09/04/2019]

Drake’s declaration put everyone around the schoolyard to silence. Bronson eventually broke it with roaring laughter. The laugh proved infectious, and other students began joining in.

Drake’s expression remained unchanged through it all.

“A’ight… that was funny,” Bronson said, wiping a tear from his eye. “But for real, how ‘bout we wrap this up. There was supposed to be a truce today. You two are new, and I’m in a good mood. Just call it ‘your bad‘ and bow out silently, and I’ll let this slide… for today, at least.

“What’s this truce gotta do with us?” Drake asked. “We’re Warriors. You’re Warriors. We’re supposed to fight. All that dumb politicking you and the other Lords just seems like a waste of time. It’s the reason this school still’s without got a Guardian after so long. Now, are you gonna throw the first punch or am I?”

Bronson gave a sigh. “Oh. You one of those ain’t you? Just so you know, man, we get a few of your type every year. Yea, you’re stronger than most of ‘em; can’t front on that, but that won’t change how this gonna end.”

The face Drake put on had both his friends worried. Whenever he donned a look like that, recklessness was soon to follow.

“…And just what type of guy am I?” the freshman pressed.

“You already know. You’re the type of guy who---“

Before Bronson could finish, Drake threw a punch square in his face that made the air ring out. It shocked everyone, CJ and Skylar included.

And yet.

“…thinks he’s already at the top of the food chain,” Bronson finished.

The punch had been completely ineffectual. His nose hadn’t even been pushed in. The Lord then put a hand on Drake’s face and, with a simple push, launched him half the length of the schoolyard and into several other students like a bowling ball into pins.

“Drake!” Skylar exclaimed.

CJ cast a burning glare at Bronson. “You bitch!”

“Don’t try it. Best walk away while you can,” Bronson warned.

CJ disregarded the warning and kicked himself off the ground. His chi manifested from his leg as a furious essence as he spun in the air. It condensed around his leg, making it as heavy and hard as metal alloy as he brought it down. This was a Martial Technique beyond what a freshman should have known. This was the Iron Axe Heel Technique.

When CJ chopped it down against Bronson’s thick neck, the ground beneath the Lord's feet cratered in. Bronson himself, however, barely buckled. CJ realized his technique’s ineffectualness all too late. His opponent reached back – much faster than the freshman expected from him – and snatched him by his hardened leg. He then hoisted him upside down like a prize fish he had just pried from a hook.

“Hope that wasn't 'sposed to be an Iron Axe Heel, 'cause I barely felt a thing through my Iron Body Technique,” the Lord taunted.

CJ attempted to attack Bronson while being hung upside down like a fish, throwing a flurry of blows. Each proved just as ineffective as the last. He even kneed Bronson square in his eye, but this didn’t cause it to swell or even redden.

“If this is the best you guys’re bringing to Heartland, you might wanna head on back to your old junior high. Cause this…” Bronson began as he started clenching tighter at CJ’s ankle. “…just ain’t gon’ cut it!”

Initially, CJ’s technique was able to resist, but Bronson’s raw power proved too much. He tightened his grip until the metalized skin tissue was overpowered, crushing the bone that remained unchanged underneath.

CJ wailed when his ankle was snapped like a twig. It was drowned out by the crowd, cheering like they were at a Roman gladiator match. CJ’s friend did not join in with the noise. Skylar was even aiming to attack Bronson from behind but stopped when Lord abruptly cast CJ aside like a ragdoll. She then moved to catch him before he could land.

“Don’t worry. He’ll be good again after a couple days,” Bronson said. “But he’s done with the fancy kicks for the rest of the week.”

“Bronson, you bastard!” Drake howled, his chi raging about him in the form of his essence.

A second wind coming over him, he shrugged off the other Warriors trying to pin him down.

“That’s it! I’m done playin’ around!”

Everyone paused, awe-stricken looks sitting across each of their faces. Even Bronson looked surprised. The freshman initially assumed it was him who had them so stunned. But when he suddenly sensed a chi so striking that it made him completely tense up, he realized this was not the case.

“Can’t remember the last time Heartland had new-meat this hungry for clout,” they said from behind him.

The hairs on the back of the freshman’s neck began to stand up in bewilderment. He hadn’t noticed the stranger until they were close enough to breathe down his neck. That shouldn’t have been possible. The only people who had ever been able to get behind Drake so easily without him sensing them had only been teachers. Drake briefly pondered if this new person was as much, but when he glanced back at them, the fist that greeted his cheek and sent him barreling across the grass once more told him plainly that this was no teacher.

It was a student. A strong one. At least as strong as the one who had just crushed CJ’s ankle. But unlike Bronson, his height and build were only slightly above average. It was everything else about him including his wild hair and the large scar that stretched diagonally across his face. But most intimidating of all was the look in his eyes. They were like that of an animal’s – a predator which had locked its gaze onto its prey. Just standing in front of the student provoked a slight tremble in Drake’s hand.

“Is this really the guy, Deontay? He doesn’t look like much?” the student asked.

A familiar – and unwanted – face appeared from within the crowd. It was the Warrior Drake had met on Labor Day night, and he looked far too excited to see Drake suffering as he was.

“Aw yeah. He’s the dude from before,” Deontay said. “Can’t believe he enrolled in this school and started even more shit. You might need to give him the business, Hunt.”

Drake’s eyes widened. He realized then why the student before him was so strong. He was one of the Three Lords of Heartland – Derrick "the Wild” Hunt. Good sense would have told him to think carefully before engaging such an opponent, but if the freshman had much sense to begin with he would have never raised this type of ruckus on the first day of school at all.

“Looks like I bagged two Lords for one price,” Drake said, ignoring the tremble in his hands. “I was plannin’ on taking all of you down before the end of the week anyway.”

Hunt had yet to bare his essence, but Drake could still feel the pressure of his chi from a few feet away. It caused a bead of sweat to run down the freshman’s brow. Hunt noticed this and grinned.

“You’re not getting’ shaky are ya, freshman?”

“Shaky? Over what? Some dude who has to take cheap shots to win a fight?”

“That punch wasn’t meant to knock you out. It was for discipline. Y’know, like a father spanking his brat after they get out of hand. Obviously, your real old man didn’t teach you any respect, so I’ll have to do his job for ‘em.”

Anger flashed across Drake’s eyes. The incensed freshman rushed at the predator-eyed Warrior and pitched a punch fast enough to make the air whistle. The air was all the punch hit, however. Hunt had somehow vanished before it could land. Before Drake could even register the whiff, a fist struck his cheek in the exact same place as before. Drake was caught off guard, but he didn’t buckle. He swung back in the direction the blow had come.

He whiffed again, and a third blow was delivered to the back of his head. This one sent him barreling forward several feet. He quickly scrambled to his feet just in time to see another punch coming. Going off reflex alone, he dodged it. His instincts proved his undoing when Hunt's punch was revealed to be a feint. The Lord then caught Drake with a swing so bullish it made the grass at their feet flutter when it landed.

The freshman’s sight went dizzy for a moment. When it resettled, he assumed his head was still rattled because he was seeing Hunt move from one space to another seemingly in an instant. It looked like he was teleporting, but Drake knew better than to think that. The answer was far simpler and far more impressive.

“What’s the problem, freshman? Can’t keep up my foot techniques?” Hunt taunted while shifting to a new place each time Drake blinked. “I’m trying to take things easy on you; pulling back my punches and all that. After all…” Hunt disappeared and then reappeared just inches from Drake’s face. “…just for discipline.”

The trembling came again, and it was worse than before. The students watching, Deontay especially, were too caught up in the euphoria of the fight to pay attention to such a detail. Even CJ couldn’t notice right away, but Skylar could. Leaving CJ’s side, she attempted to rush over to Drake’s. She stopped when she was caught by the hair.

“Ay, hold up, girl. Where you think goin’?” Bronson said while snatching her. “You don’t think you’re gon’ interfere, do you?

She tried throwing Bronson the same as she had the girl from earlier, but she couldn’t get him to budge.

“Tryin’ to throw me? Sorry, but that ain’t gonna work. Version of Iron Body I use makes me way too heavy for a rookie like you to swing me around like that. Now, how ‘bout you just sit…” Bronson whirled Skylar by her hair and slammed her back-first into the ground. “…down for a minute. I’m trying to enjoy the show. It’s pretty rare I get to watch Hunt fight.”

Skylar twitched, her pain temporarily paralyzing her. CJ, also immobile because of his broken ankle, looked on morosely. There was nothing he could do to help Skylar. And there was even less he could do to save Drake.

His friend looked more anxious than CJ had ever seen him. He breathed awkwardly, sweated profusely, and the trembling never seemed to stop. But most concerning of all was how he fought. He pitched the sloppiest punches and most half-hearted kicks CJ had ever seen from him. Hunt fended them off with ease and often countered with several of his own. CJ had never seen Drake in such a one-sided battle before. It was obvious to him why. It was obvious to Hunt why. It was obvious to everyone but Drake why.

He was afraid; deadly afraid. His opponent had obviously struck his fighting spirit deep. But still, Drake would never admit to such a thing. He repeatedly told himself while he threw his feeble strikes: there’s nothing to be afraid of. There’s no need to back down. He’s strong, but so are you. You can take this guy. You can win. You can win.

He could win.

“That kid’s done for,” Keith said, sipping his coffee from his homeroom class’s broken window.

The teacher had witnessed many of Hunt’s bouts before, and he knew exactly what was coming next. In fact, it happened right on cue. Just as Drake wound back to throw another punch, he stopped. Confused, he struggled to complete the motion, but his body refused to carry out his will. He tried in vain to make even his toes twitch, but that part of his body too wouldn’t listen to him.

W-why can’t I move…?! his thoughts scrambled.

Hunt gave a knowing smirk while strolling up to him. “Took long enough for it to start taking effect. I’ll admit, you’re made of some decent stuff to resist Black Wolf’s Gaze for that long. But everyone I fight gives into the fear eventually.”

“F-f-fuck y-you…!” Drake stammered. “I-I’m n-not---“

“C’mon, new-meat. No point acting tough anymore. Black Wolf’s Gaze isn’t like most essence-based Cultivation Techniques. Most of its power doesn’t stem from the user’s chi. Nah, its power goes up in proportion to the target’s anxiousness and fear. There’s only one way you’d end up like this, and that’s if you’re pissin’ yourself scared…”

The realization hard Drake harder than any blow Hunt had delivered thus far. Worst yet was the raucous noise that came from the other students. They were mocking him. They were laughing at him. And still, the worse had yet to come.

“You know we’re not done with discipline yet, right?” Hunt chillingly asked, cracking his knuckles.

Struggling to even grit his teeth, Drake stood helpless as the first strike came across his face. Hunt held back purposely. He didn’t want Drake to down in a few hits. The freshman was to be his punching bag for the next few minutes. His ‘discipline’ would last until the first bell rang. Drake’s friends; too hurt to help, looked on helplessly as the Lord relentlessly pummeled their friend. Drake’s cheeks went swollen and red, his lip was busted several times over, he bled from the mouth and nose, and everything above his waist ached from being barraged by an onslaught of blows. Even his consciousness was gradually leaving him. Eventually, the only thing he was able to make out was the sound of the other students still calling for blood.

The final thing Drake made out before shutting his eyes was Hunt’s blurry visage prepping for another swing. He was confused when it never came. What came instead was a familiar voice.

“Pretty sure you won. Can’t you just call it a day now?”

Drake opened his eyes. Even with his sight mostly gone, he could still tell that the look on Hunt’s face – on everyone’s face – was that of pure shock. Nobody knew who he was, or why he thought what he was doing was a sane move, but the sight of a student – the only one of them that wore Heartland’s school uniform – holding back Hunt’s arm left them all scratching their heads.

“…Do you know who I am?” Hunt asked.

“No. I doubt it would change much. Now, can you cut all this out? I think we can call this your win.”

The Lord snatched his hand from the student’s grasp and then took him up by the collar.

“You just put hands on the Wild Hunt, one of the Three Lords of Heartland. Around here, that’s means a fight.”

“So… are we fighting right now?”

Hunt put his face even closer. Despite his glasses barely being inches away from the Lord, the student showed no meekness, nor did he show aggression. He wasn’t distressed or angry. He just looked back into Hunt’s hungry eyes with a cool expression.

Eventually, something came over Hunt and he struck the student to the ground. Miraculously his glasses remained uncracked.

“Little bitch…!” he snapped. “…Whatever. I’m done here.”

Hunting stomped away from two. He threw the student who was wiping blood from his lip on the ground a fleeting and acrimonious look. Drake, however, wasn’t given so much a fleeting glance. He received just as little attention from the other students who headed on to the school building as well, including Bronson. What he did receive sucker punches from all of the Warriors he and CJ had beaten earlier. They also made sure to kick CJ while he was still down, save for Deontay who only struck Drake alone, laying a poignant punch into the freshman’s gut.

He walked away with a smirk as Drake sank to his knees. Hunt’s Cultivation Technique apparently had worn off. He might have fallen facefirst to the earth had the bespectacled student not caught him.

“You alright, man?” he asked.

Drake didn’t respond. His eyes lingered on the ground. His physical injuries meant nothing. It was his pride that truly scarred. All around, he could hear the shuffling feet of students, now bored by the anti-climactic ending, heading off to their homerooms.

“Hey, can you hear--?”

Drake jolted to his feet and took the student by his collar.

“You think this is fuckin’ funny?!”

“Huh? What I do this time?”

“I don’t need your backup, asshole! I don’t want help from some guy that can’t even throw a punch! You think you’re tough now just ‘cause you got in Hunt’s face?”

“Drake! Cut it out!” CJ exclaimed.

He was being helped to his feet by Skylar, who was quite banged up herself. She could, at least, walk unaided. Something more than CJ could say. Drake settled himself after seeing his friends’ conditions. He released the bespectacled student and headed toward the school gate.

“Where are you going now?” Skylar asked.

“Home. I’ll see you and CJ tomorrow.”

Skylar almost called out to him, but she just shook her head and let him go.

“Sorry about that. Drake’s never been that great at holding L’s,” CJ said.

“Nah, it’s fine. Sorta stuff he said doesn’t really get to me.”

“Right. But, hey...”

“Hmm? What’s up?”

“It’s just… Drake wasn’t completely wrong, y’know. If you aren’t gonna swing back, you probably should stay out of another Warrior’s face. Next time you play hero, you’ll only be making things worse if you aren’t prepared to fight yourself.”

The student blinked.

“H-hey, look. CJ’s not trying to put you down or anything,” Skylar hastily added. “You stopped Drake from being put out of commission for the next few days, but…”

“No, I get it. You guys aren’t wrong,” he replied. “I guess I’m still adjusting to this new environment.”

“Yea, well. Thanks for the help, man,” CJ said as he and Skylar left for the infirmary.

Eventually, only he was left standing alone in the schoolyard ruminating over what she said, even staring down at his fist for a few moments. Eventually, looked up at where his homeroom classroom was. Keith had been watching him. The teacher poured the rest of his coffee from the classroom’s broken window before retreating from it.

Pushing up his glasses, Isaac started to head back to his class. He was the last one to arrive in attendance.