Kip licked his lips. “Yes, sir.”
And Kip was up next. He looked at the lineup. Some good luck, anyway, right? A tiny bit. He could skip over Barrel and Balder and take on Yugerten at fifteenth place. If anything, Yugerten should have been nineteenth or twentieth. Kip had a good chance, right? Sure.
Taking his challenge token, Kip brought it to Yugerten and set it on the rail in front of the boy, who didn’t look surprised at all.
Kip took his time getting out to the circle, trying to catch his breath. He saw Teia scowling, thinking.
“We got a lot of fights today, Breaker. Get a move on,” Trainer Fisk said.
Yugerten was tall but gangly and awkward, a monochrome blue. The boys took their spots, weighing each other. Then the lights went out-and back on, blue and green.
Kip drafted green as quickly as he could, and Yugerten seemed content to stand back and draft, too. But when Kip shot out a green ball, Yugerten dodged and straightened a moment later, having drafted a pair of t-batons. Kip had never fought with those weapons, but it was clear Yugerten had. With the handles in hand, he swung the batons in a quick circle and brought them to rest along his forearms.
Then the boy came at Kip fast, in order not to give him time to draft anything else.
Kip kicked at his leg, but Yugerten blocked, cracking a t-baton across Kip’s shin, hobbling him. He stepped and punched for Kip’s stomach. The other end of the baton extended beyond his fist, and it stabbed Kip’s stomach hard.
Heaving forward, Kip deflected the follow-up punch and it only grazed his jaw rather than tearing his head off, and Yugerten lost one of the t-batons.
He let it go and punched Kip again. Kip tried to keep his balance and failed; he fell and Yugerten was on top of him in a moment, sitting on his chest, using his remaining baton to choke him.
Kip got one hand in front of his neck, but Yugerten was using both of his hands and all his weight to press down. Kip kept hoping the blue would shatter. Blue wasn’t supposed to be good for this, but it didn’t. He punched with his free hand, caught a shoulder. Punched, glanced off Yugerten’s forehead. Punched, weaker.
The world was turning dark, stars blooming in Kip’s vision. He couldn’t breathe. He was staring into the spotlight He flooded blue luxin around the entirety of Yugerten’s t-baton. He found the seals on the baton and opened them. The baton dissolved suddenly in a small cloud of chalk and resin.
Without the thing he’d been putting all of his weight on, Yugerten pitched forward, straight into Kip’s forehead, and instantly went limp.
Kip rolled the boy off of him and stood.
When Yugerten was revived, there was applause. He’d just been knocked out, but he’d be fine. Kip walked over and grabbed the boy’s challenge token. Still bronze, fifteenth place. This one depicted a man with crossed swords sheathed behind his back, unlimbering both.
Aram was at fourteenth, and was one of the best boys in the class. Tala, a yellow/green bichrome named after the hero of the False Prism’s War, was at thirteen. She wasn’t the greatest fighter, but she was an excellent drafter. Kip hoped she made it in.
That meant Kip had to go for number twelve, Erato, one of Aram’s friends. Erato was actually the worst fighter out of Aram’s friends, quick but unimaginative, so it was strange that she was the highest-ranked.
Kip paled, looked at the places again. If he and Teia had ranked everyone in the class correctly in their conversations, this was all wrong.
“You going to stand there all day, or are you going to challenge someone?” Aram asked. “Please pick me.”
Fighting Aram was suicide, even if Kip did want to wipe that smirk off the boy’s face. No. Kip wasn’t seeing it. He needed a new perspective. The light in between the fights was full-spectrum-and so was Kip, right? He tightened his eyes and drafted superviolet. Superviolet was supposed to be alien, aloof, apart-and arrogant.
Oh shit. Kip forgot that the first time you draft a color, it exerts a lot more control over you. He walked up to Erato and slapped his challenge token down. “Trade you my bronze for your gold,” he said.
Erato laughed at him.
“Colors?” Trainer Fisk asked.
“Green and yellow,” Erato said.
“None,” Kip said.
“What’d you say?” the trainer asked.
“I don’t need any colors to throw out this trash.”
“Ooh-hoo!” Erato said, her eyes gleaming.
“You get a bonus if you’re the one who knocks me out?” Kip asked.
Her face went blank, stricken, for half a moment. Then she said, “What are you talking about?”
“Do you have any idea how much smarter I am than you?” Kip asked.
All emotions but hatred drained out of her face. “I’m going to enjoy this, Breaker.”
They took their places in the middle of the large circle. It was twenty paces across. Stepping out for more than five seconds would result in disqualification. Neither of them had spectacles. They would get pure light from the great colored crystals above the huge underground chamber.
Trainer Fisk examined each of them in turn to make sure they hadn’t already drafted, being more careful now that they were in the fights that mattered. “Eyes, palms.” Satisfied, he stepped back and gestured that the crystals above be covered. He put their fingers on the hellstone, but didn’t press hard enough-as he hadn’t before.
Taking a deep breath, Kip rolled his shoulders, shook his head, loosening up. He took his spot across from her in the darkness.
“And… go!” Trainer Fisk shouted.
The shutters over the crystals dropped open.
Kip charged. He didn’t try to draft the green or the yellow light streaming over him. Instead, he threw one hand forward and shot out the superviolet luxin he’d already drafted, poking Erato in both eyes.
She staggered backward, crying out, holding her eyes, plans blown.
Then Kip, sprinting, jumped straight at her, spearing her stomach with his head. She went down hard, air whooshing out of her lungs.
Landing on top of her, Kip scrambled to his feet and picked up the prostrate girl by the waist of her trousers and her collar, ran her to the edge of the circle, and heaved her out of it.
Kip heard gasps in the crowd, and a few claps. Trainer Fisk counted out the five as Erato struggled to get to her feet and failed, then called it. “Breaker wins! Take Erato to the infirmary. Breaker, you have one minute until your next fight.” He came closer and lowered his voice. “So you can use superviolet now?”
“A little, sir.”
“You know you’re not supposed to pack luxin.”
“Someone taught me to use every advantage and surprise I have.” That someone, of course, was looking at him.
“You got it past me, but it won’t happen again, Breaker. Smart not to declare your polychromacy, but you won’t always get lucky and have opponents use your colors. Hope you’ve got other tricks.”
“Always, sir,” Kip said. Inside, he thought, Me, too. He shook out the last of the superviolet. The arrogance there hadn’t cost him-but it should have. No colors? How stupid was he?
Trainer Fisk said, “Also, never do that spearing thing again. You’ll break your damn neck.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Breaker, come here,” Cruxer shouted. He stood at the edge of the circle.
Kip came over.
“You’re not safe yet, you know that, right?”
“I know. I’ve got to win one more.”
“You have a plan?” Cruxer asked.
“Might not be a good one,” Kip said. “I…” He trailed off. He looked again at the placement. He was number twelve now. He had to finish the day at fourteen or better to stay in, but after he fought, everyone below him got to fight next. So if he won one more fight, he was safe, but if he lost this fight, the next fighter would be Balder. From his spot at eighteenth, he would challenge sixteenth, Yugerten, rather than take on his friend Aram at fifteenth. Yugerten had already failed out, so no problem there. Then Balder would take on Tala at fourteen. She was a great drafter, but she wasn’t that fast, not yet. He’d take her out easily, clearing the path.