The need to know was voracious. The same need that had compelled him to make that foolish bet with Jova. An all-consuming desire to know about himself. The self that had earned his titles.
The Scorio that had been Red Listed.
They strode down the hallway, down staircases, and across other corridors in silence, until at last, their group stepped into a large training chamber, complete with a sparring circle and two rows of raised seating.
Kuragin moved into the center of the ring first, his manner easy, his smile subtle but infuriatingly confident.
“Bold of you to challenge me like this,” he said. “Me, who passed undefeated through the tournament, whereas you lost in the—what—tenth round? I don’t even remember.”
“I’m looking forward to my education,” said Scorio, stepping up onto the white surface of the circle. “Don’t hold back now.” And he summoned his Heart and began sweeping Coal mana into his reservoir.
“I never do.”
“What are the terms?” demanded Leonis loudly. “This isn’t to be an all-out brawl. First to three clear hits?”
“No,” said Kuragin, never taking his gaze from Scorio. “The first to submit or fall out of the ring loses. Nice and simple.”
“Scorio,” hissed Lianshi. “Quit this madness. We’re running the Gauntlet tomorrow.”
“Agreed on all counts,” said Famissa, standing beside her, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “Not to mention that you’d probably both be expelled for this unsanctioned fight if anyone found out.”
“Nobody will find out,” said Kuragin softly. “Right, Scorio?”
“Right,” said Scorio, heart pounding, pounding in his chest. Kuragin stood before him, but he was more than his physical self; he was a portal to the past, a means to decode the cipher of his history. All he had to do was force the man to submit. Still, he swept Coal mana into his immense reservoir, dumping sweep after sweep into his Heart’s core.
“Then let’s begin this farce,” said Kuragin, rolling his head about his neck. “Since Fam’s watching, I’ll not brutalize you too badly. She’s squeamish about these things.”
Scorio lowered himself into a combat crouch. Kuragin wouldn’t know that Scorio had made Emberling; he’d not used his powers in any public training session, had told nobody outside his intimate circle. Even Praximar hadn’t figured it out.
No wonder the other Great Soul thought him mad.
A deep breath, and Kuragin began to shift. He quickly assumed his monstrous form, shoulders broadening, his neck shortening, his splitting mouth open to become a fanged maw. His eyes became burning yellow pits, his musculature exaggerated to the point of deformity.
Just as before his hands turned into cruel, powerful claws, massive and serrated, while a thick carapace covered his back, the shell a mottled crimson and black, sweeping over his head to form a horned helm, down his back, across the fronts of his thighs and shins and along his shoulders, the sides of his biceps, and forearms.
Finally, his huge tail dropped into view, the same ridged club that Kuragin had used to batter Chen She into oblivion.
“Ready,” rasped Kuragin, his amusement obvious, his eyes burning with sadistic anticipation. “Do your worst, little Cinder.”
Scorio had been drawing Coal mana into his reservoir this whole time, and only now was he beginning to feel close to full. But he didn’t ignite. Instead, he began to circle out wide, causing Kuragin to pivot patiently. How did you even get close to such a fiend? His size belied his speed; despite his mass and heavy shielding, Kuragin had kept pace with Chen She, his reactions startling, his killer instinct unwavering.
This would have been a death match for Scorio as a Cinder. Even with his hidden Emberling power, it was still fraught with peril.
“Come on now,” growled Kuragin, swiping his clubbed tail from side to side. “Don’t make me chase you. There are ladies watching.”
“Damn your eyes, Kuragin,” said Lianshi coldly.
“All right.” Scorio took a deep breath. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
This elicited a deep, reverberating chuckle from Kuragin’s barrel chest just as Scorio threw himself forward.
The benefit of stalking Kuragin these past few weeks was that he’d seen him spar several times against other Emberlings. Kuragin always met a charge head-on, seeking to blast past his foe and bring his tail to bear if his claws failed to end the fight right away.
Which was what he did now. The moment Scorio ran at him, Kuragin ceased to chuckle and bellowed his challenge, breaking into a charge as he came right at him.
It was madness and death to meet him head-on; the logical, intelligent thing to do was throw himself aside at the last moment, which was exactly what Kuragin was waiting for.
So instead, Scorio shouted his defiance right back and met Kuragin head-on.
He had the pleasure of seeing the burning yellow eyes narrow in confusion, saw a flicker flash of hesitation as Kuragin pulled back on his attack. It was one thing to mess around in private and hold a violent duel, quite another for an Emberling to accidentally kill a Cinder.
Still, Kuragin’s idea of holding back was enough to shatter bone.
The end of the fight right there.
But that’s exactly when Scorio ignited his Heart. With a great whoomph, it blazed forth with ghostly black fire, and Scorio tore his technique up from his core, caused his body to change in the blink of an eye. Black scales erupted over his arms and shoulders just as he raised his forearm to block Kuragin’s sideswipe cold.
The blow, even restrained, was tremendous. But though Kuragin’s huge claws cracked and tore at the black scales, they failed to penetrate. Instead, they buffeted Scorio nearly off his feet. Both Great Souls turned, Kuragin’s eyes widening in shock, but it was already too late.
Scorio blocked the slash with his left as he punched his burning white claws of his right into Kuragin’s unprotected gut.
No time to celebrate. Scorio tore his claws free, ducked under Kuragin’s other swipe, and leaped back out of danger.
All of it had happened in a second or less. A furious collision, a flurry of blows, then both warriors stood staring at each other.
Kuragin’s vast shoulders were heaving. His stomach was a mass of deep, cauterized wounds that showed viscera and seams of fat.
“You… bastard,” gasped the monstrous man, fighting for his breath as if he’d just finished sprinting their morning race. “You’re… an Emberling.”
Scorio didn’t even allow himself a response. He kept his focus trained on the huge man’s hips, his shoulders.
The massive maw writhed back into a silent snarl, Kuragin’s outrage and fury near curdling the air. With great effort he straightened, pulling at the burned seams that lacerated his core. “Doesn’t matter if you cheat. I’ll crush you regardless.”
“Cheating, is it?” asked Leonis from the sideline. “You were fine fighting him as a Cinder, but now that it’s an even fight you’re complaining?”
Kuragin took a deep breath and hopped forward, an awkward, sideways shuffle that was completely counter-intuitive if you forgot about his tail. But Scorio had seen him use this exact maneuver twice; he crouched lower, ready, and when Kuragin leaped at him, windmilling his claws up and around, he wasn’t fooled.
It was the tail that was coming for him, and sure enough, even as he swayed away from the descending claws, the huge, clubbed head whipped out, faster than it should have been able to move, coming down and across to shatter arms, cave in his chest, and collapse his hips.
There was no blocking it. The radius of its swing was too wide to be neatly dodged. So instead Scorio roared and punched it square, curling his claws down and away so that his heavily scaled knuckles impacted the club right as it came screaming down toward his head.
The pain was shattering. It felt like he’d punched a live bolt of lightning. White light flashed up through his arm, numbing it entirely, and his hand felt liquid and wrong.