Woe is who crosses paths with the den of wolves. Fangs will be borne. Hungry are they for prey, be it for sustenance or bloodlust. Suffering is mandatory. Pain is to come. To walk into their sightline is to seal your fate. Mercy is a fantasy. Salvation might as well be fiction. They leave no survivors. No spare soul to relay the tragedy. There is only the aftermath of the carnage.

The path to face your doom can only be taken with acceptance to your absolute damnation. Fight as you may, though it is none the wiser for you to utter your prayers instead, and hope your demise on fate’s cruel theatre is instantaneous.

But I wasn't raised to be a wise man.

Mank threw his arm over his neck, warming up his shoulders, "You've played Dodgeball before?"

"No," I crouched down to my feet, rolling up the cuffs of my pants to my knees, "But it can't be that hard. It's just dodging balls, right?"

"Slightly more complicated than that, princess," Yorke simpered from my other side as he reached down for his ankles.

Reinforcing my initial impression of the school hall, the teacher ordered us, students, to build the court out of masking tape. I was roped in with the preparation too, tasked with taping the outline of the playing field. I had next to no clue on what a Dodgeball court looks like, or if we’re even building a Dodgeball court in the first place. My only frame of reference was my amateur attempts at mirroring what the others were doing and the shouts I'd receive whenever I made a mistake, which I got on an embarrassing regular.

Yorke rushed forth and took over when I made one mistake too many, snatching the masking tape from my hand.

I watched as the angel did my job, "Do you even know what Dodgeball is?"

I shrugged, "It's in the name, isn't it?"

Yorke just shook his head and turned away, "Hey Mank!"

The orc, who was busy making final adjustments on the far side of the court, drew his cue-ball head up toward our direction. He made a short sprint towards us, his humongous size looming ever larger the nearer he got.

"Yes?"

"Ponytail here needs a rundown on Dodgeball rules," the angel tossed the masking tape towards Mank and ran away, letting the orc take his place.

"Alright," Mank pulled open a strip of tape, "So here are the basics. It’s quite simple, really.

"There are two sides in a court. One for each team. There are six players in each team, with one serving in the backcourt. I'll explain the backcourt later. The main court is around two-thirds the size of a futsal field, and it’s split equally in two ways between the teams. Now for the backcourt. There are two for each main court. It wraps halfway around the back of the main court. So, as I said, there are six players in each team. Five players would stand on one side of the main court while the sixth player would stand in the backcourt opposite of their team's main court, facing each other. The same applies to the opposition. Basically, the opposing five players on one half of the main court will be sandwiched between your team's five players on the other half of the main court and your sixth player on the backcourt, and vice versa. Now, here's how you play. I'll lay out some ground rules: if you're in the main court, you can't pass the ball to your other teammates in the main court. You can only pass it to your teammate in the backcourt through the opposing team's main court. Same thing with the backcourt as well. You can't keep passing the ball either; pass five times and you'll switch possessions. You'll want to coordinate with your teammate from both courts to hit the opposition whilst passing. Now, if someone in the main court gets hit, they get sent to the backcourt. If someone in the backcourt gets hit, nothing happens. If someone from the backcourt hits the opposition in the main court, they get "revived" back into the main court. The first team to run out of players in the main court loses. Also, you don't necessarily lose if you get hit. You can try to catch the ball while it's getting passed, and the possession will automatically switch to your team. As long as the ball is in your hands and doesn't touch the ground, you'll be safe. It’s fine to miss the ball during passing, just make sure it doesn’t roll out of the court, or possession switches.

“Is that clear?”

I was lost by the second sentence, “All clear.”

“Great,” by the time I snapped out of my stupor, Mank was already done, “Like I said, simple, right?”

“Sure,” it was not, “Simple, yeah.”

Despite that, I wasn’t worried. As long as I do as I’m told and not get hit, I figured I’ll be fine.

A loud whistle sounded off from the side, catching my attention. The students all huddled around the source of the sound where the teacher stood. I straddled along the edges of the crowd. The teacher gave instructions, but I wasn’t able to hear comprehensible sentences. All I could catch were the words ‘against’, ‘girls’, 'teams', and the phrase ‘usual rules’. I wasn't sure what to make of those.

Then the huddle broke away, and Mank and Yorke came out of it with horrified faces.

"…had us taping our funerals," the angel muttered under his breath as he strutted right past me.

I caught up to Mank as he approached me with an empty stare in his eyes, "How bad is it?"

"The teacher just pitted the boys against the girls," the orc's voice sounded breathless as if life had been sucked out of his throat, "Oh, no."

Admittedly, I was downplaying the situation for relief's sake, "It's not so bad. Just lob the throw; that won't hurt the ladies."

"You don't understand," Mank shot a terrified glare, "Our team's up against the canines."

"What," the orc's tone was starting to sound absurd to me "You're just playing against Lude and her lack-"

"Don't say her name!" Mank shushed me up in a frenzy, grabbing me by the shoulders "She might hear you…"

It started to feel ridiculous, "Okay, okay, I’ll stop saying the witch’s name. You have a great match out there; good luck, best wishes and all that, alright?”

“Actually,” Mank gulped, his giant hands still over my shoulders, “I have a favour to ask of you.”

I shrugged, “Sure, why not?”

The orc blew out a premature, “This is going to be hard to put into words but… wait, yes?”

I brushed the orc’s hands off my shoulders, “Yes.”

Mank needed a second to catch up, “Y-You sure about this?”

“What else am I supposed to do after hearing you hype her up like that,” I threw my hands forth, “You asked anyway.”

The orc seemed to have some pressure left in his chest, but he eventually found the mettle to repress it, “I owe you.”

I smirked, “You better.”

Within my team, I stood out as uninitiated, inexperienced, and out of my element, especially when I stepped into the court underdressed or rather, overdressed. The sleeves of my school shirt and pants were rolled up to both my armpits and my thighs respectively so it wouldn’t snag if I threw aggressive movements. As a result, I looked like some mascara and a red, honking nose away from a clown.

Though no one around me was laughing. Amusement was a far objective in my team’s list of priorities as opposed to absolute, solemn focus and preparation. The resulting atmosphere hanging over my side of the court felt so thick and heavy that I could sense the weight of the air pressing down on my back and shoulders.

It was a far cry from the canine beastkins occupying the other side of the court. They, on the other hand, had smiles, enthusiastic words of encouragement for one another, and an aura surrounding their pack that resembled more like a fun time in a playground than a funeral attendance.

Looking back on my miserable side, my teammates included Mank, Yorke, and another short, pale-skinned human with a beige-scaled reptilian demihuman, both of whom I didn’t recognize; they were probably from the other class. My dejection didn’t stem from their physical ineptitude, though I wouldn’t testify for three within the four in my team with either honesty or confidence. Regardless of my bottom line, it wouldn’t hurt to have spirits elevated above sea level, at least. They looked as if they’ve been through war and back, and I was the one with the relevant history here.

“Alright,” Mank cried out, “Gather up, gather up.”

We joined in for a huddle, keeping our heads down low as the orc whispered to the team, “Okay, I know at this point, we’d be flipping two coins, then one; but not this time. I’m sure you all can see the new member we have here and it’s by my decision to assume that it’s fair that we relegate him to the backcourt-”

“You’re gonna send Guy to the backcourt? No way,” Yorke sounded near exasperated, “I got my ass handed on the frontlines for a solid month. I’m not gonna get killed again.”

“Yeah, that’s unfair, yo,” the reptilian demihuman leaning beside me was quick to voice his piece of mind, “We had like, a fair system. Just flip three coins this time or something, man.”

The short human standing opposite of me wasn’t even listening, “We’re gonna die, we’re so gonna die…”

“I know the arrangement we had," Mank tried to reason to the others, "But it’s overkill to put Guy in front on his first day-"

"I'm alright with that," I shot my stance through, "Get a first-hand experience on what's to come."

"See, the man himself said it," Yorke jumped with my side of the fence eager to turn it into a bandwagon, "Give him his freedom of choice, come on."

"No," Mank was firm in his call as he turned to me, "Listen to me, Guy. These canines, they're ruthless. I'm not saying you're incapable, but at least watch before you face them. Please."

Oddly enough, those who were loud with their opposition moments ago fell deathly silent.

I shrugged, "Alright, we'll go with that."

"Great," Mank broke from the huddle, "Good luck everyone. We'll survive this."

As encouraging as the orc's words were, no one seemed to be, to any degree, inspired.

The teacher called in for each respective team's leader to the centre of the court. Mank took command while the opposite team sent out who else but Lewd. Or Lëwd. Mank mentioned there to be two dots above some alphabet in her name. I couldn't be bothered to remember.

Under the teacher's arm was a rubber ball about the size of Mank's head. Printed across in patterns of waves were the colours blue and yellow, making for a striking design, even from afar. From what I could see, the teacher was about to determine for possession when Lëwd came and without warning, snatched the ball away. What surprised me more was the fact that none, not even the teacher, bat an eye. Everyone just stared at the canine beastkin for a second, did what could only be described as a collective metaphorical shrug and dispersed.

So that was how Lëwd's team got possession.

"Okay," Mank sighed out of a peculiar combination of frustration and relief as he walked back to us, "That makes things easier for us. Guy, to the backcourt."

I froze up, "Uhh…"

Mank raised an eyebrow, "You know where the backcourt's at, right?"

Just as the orc asked, Lëwd's team sent out their representative to the backcourt. She strolled down the side of the main court and stood over a section outside where a small space was taped just around our side of the main court, surrounding us from behind and both sides.

"Yeah," I took off, "I know where it is."

As the court mirrored itself across the middle, all I had to do was stand opposite Lëwd's representative. As I noticed, the backcourt was short of space but made up for it with mobility. I could move from behind the main court to the side, but I couldn't make the journey wherever I wanted. I had to coast along the U-shaped field I was given to move. I wasn't the fastest person I know, but I could break a decent sprint if I had to, though it'll cost me many breathless minutes after. Yet again, that is what a sport is for.

The teacher blew the whistle, and I got into position. I stood at the back of Lëwd's team, watching a collection of canine tails wagging and drooping and flailing towards my direction. The ringleader herself had the ball primed in her palm, ready to be lobbed at any moment. Unsure of what stance to take, I struck with the universal crouch over the knees. Just in case, I took reference from my fellow boys on the main court. They too were doing different variations of the crouch down the knees, telling me I'm, at the very least, doing something right.

Though their expressions didn't seem to hold much conviction in their stature.

A crowd formed around the court, eager to watch the game proceed. They held faces of anticipation, though none seemed excited in the slightest. Their gazes resembled exhausted children in a classroom, waiting for the clock on the wall to strike for recess, though with none of the elation. If I were to make a risky bet, I’d say they seemed sympathetic towards our team.

I shook the notion off my head and focused on the game instead.

All my attention was diverted into the ball on Lëwd’s hand.

Deep, sharp breaths, I took, waiting for the round to begin.

The teacher blew the whistle.

I tensed my legs, raised my arms, and watched in abject horror as Lëwd killed the short, pale-skinned human right before my eyes.

Without hesitation, as soon as the game began, she spun on her toes and locked her arm into a vicious, downward spin, throwing the ball into a scorching blaze of a one-way trajectory that blasted the human right in his face. A loud, hollow blast exploded from his direction at a painful volume. The ball rocked the human's head back at a neck-snapping angle before his body followed suit, dropping onto the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

For a breathless second, I turned stone cold. Of all the places to see death again, I didn't expect it to happen in a school sport. It twisted my expression to that of mortal shock. What disturbed me further was that I was the only one holding such a face. The rest of my team showed melancholic regret as if they were watching the aftermath of some regular, fatal inevitability.

Lëwd, on the other hand, had not one morsel of remorse in herself. The ball hit the human so hard that it rebounded from his face with a reversal, flying at a near-perfect arc back into the beastkin’s court. It bounced exactly twice before dropping right into Lëwd’s open hands. She didn’t even budge from her spot, her expression unchanged. Armed again, she struck the same stance she pulled before, waiting for the teacher’s whistle once more as if she hadn’t committed murder just moments prior.

The short human’s body remained there still, laying like a discarded sack of potatoes, deserted and unattended. None of my other teammates moved as if their feet had grown roots through their shoes and latched onto the ground. Each of them was looking at specific directions, none of which was towards the short human on the ground.

Perhaps it was Sergeant's teachings that were well ingrained into me. Every able man was a valuable resource worth keeping, as the lesson was hammered at such a constant that I was moaning the words in my sleep. Whether it was because of the former or for my conscience, I broke into a sprint towards the short human. I broke across Lëwd’s team in the main court, eliciting some gasps of surprise from the other beastkins as I sped past them.

Somehow, the impact had flipped the short human’s body up from his feet and thrown his head back so far that he landed face-first onto the concrete ground. With his head against the floor, there was no telling if he was in pain or knocked out cold. Grabbing him by his shoulders, I flipped him around and planted my hand on his chest. It was softer than I imagined. I kept my palm firm for a second. The short human’s chest rose by a fraction for an inch and fell back down to its usual shape. A sigh of relief escaped my mouth.

“Hey, hey, calm down,” I reassured the short human as I kneeled over him, “You’ll be fine.”

“No, no,” he was speaking in short, panting breaths obscuring his true voice, “I’m dying. Lumps all over my arms. Can’t feel my face.”

I gripped against the short human’s cheeks and arms. Apart from some minor bruises and scratches from the fall, there were no other discernible injuries I could feel. The most I could sense was his skin hardening from the trauma. Otherwise, he was okay, or at least as far as he could be.

I started lifting the human from his rigid back, “It’s just the shock. You’re alri-”

The short human shot a strong arm from beneath my legs where I couldn’t see and latched a tight grasp around my ankles, “No, no, you don’t understand; I can’t keep going.”

“Trust me on this,” I tried to pull the short human upwards, “You can stand-”

“Dude,” the reptilian demihuman, who stood beside, nudged me on my foot as he interrupted with a whisper, “Just listen to him, man…”

I ignored him, “Just plant your feet down, you’ll get-”

“Listen to me,” it became the short human’s turn to cut me off as he cried as loud as he dared between his gritted teeth, “I’m not okay. I can’t walk. I can’t feel anything. I can’t play against… against them anymore. Got it?”

I held the short human in my arms for a second. I could feel his grasp around my ankles tightening with every passing moment. How intense a glare he shot at me from below, the colour of his pupils diluted with panic and terror. Numb and shaking were his legs, though be as their skin was merely scratched.

For final assurance, I turned my head towards the teacher who, without a word or a moment's hesitation, gave me a thumbs up for the go-ahead, as if this was just the norm.

“Okay,” I switched my grip and hoisted the short human by his armpits.

“The wall behind you,” the short human kept his body limp as I dragged him out of the court, “Drop me there.”

The crowd watched in complete silence and disregard as I pulled the short human’s body to the side of the school building. Only a handful cared, or dared, to even glance our way. I could gather from their strained faces that their disinterest wasn’t voluntary. I spotted a few furtive glimpses being made towards the court. More specifically, towards Lëwd’s side of the court.

The ball still in her hand, the canine beastkin held an unpleasant expression on her face that toyed with the borders of satisfaction and sadism as she stared in our direction. Just behind her were her pack, snickering with their tails wagging as if they were celebrating for a fortune.

“Thanks,” the short human panted as I sat him against the concrete wall,

I kept my eyes on the beastkins, “Welcome.”

“Don’t bother,” the short human rolled over to the side, hiding his face from view, “It’s not worth it.”

“Yeah?”

The short human let out a light cough, “Are you even listening?”

“Yeah,” I wasn’t paying attention; I had my eyes laser-focused onto the beastkins, “Hey, what’s her name again? The head, chief, whatever?”

“What, Lüd?”

I turned back to the short human, “Lëwd?”

“No,” he corrected me, “L. Ü. D. Lüd. Two dots-”

“-on the ü. L. Ü. D,” I repeated, “Got-”

A shrill voice pierced from behind amongst the canine beastkins, “Is he dying or what? Let him croak, quit wasting time!”

I managed to hold my temper from exploding as I turned around to respond, “A minute.”

The short human grabbed me by my shoulder, pushing himself against the wall as he pulled close to my ear, “Throw the game. It’s for your favour.”

I caught sight of Lüd once again, “You say it like I’m trying something.”

“I can see it. That look you got,” the short human paused for a second, “It’s like you’re gonna kill them.”

The initial excitement on her face had subsided, receding to her regular air of revulsion towards me, “She wouldn’t die from a little pushing, right?”

“Forget it,” the short human let go of me, crashing back against the wall again, “You can’t beat her. No one’s ever.”

I stared at Lüd for a moment longer, locking eyes with the canine beastkin. In that brief split second of mutual recognition, Lëwd’s eyes darted to my direction. A splitting grin unfurled itself from her snout beneath her sharp, brown pupils. The latter dilated like a wicked child gifted a new toy to spoil.

I breathed in, “Is that right?”