Crush’s lips were pursed. She arched a blonde brow. “You can go all out,” she said. “Don’t hold back.”
Laughter and hoots came from the other Manticores.
Heart still burning brightly, Scorio moved back in. Time to attack weak spots then. He couldn’t let her stillness lull him into a sense of security, so he kept his guard up, focusing on her shoulders and hips, and when he was close enough he feinted at her face and lashed out to crack his shin across her knee.
She swayed back a fraction of an inch and lifted her leg so that his blow smacked across her calf. He didn’t relent. Elbow to the head which she blocked by placing her bicep against her temple, hand to her shoulder, cushioning the blow, opposite elbow against her guard, foot stomp that missed, ducked, wove to the left, roundhouse kick right across her huge thigh to cause the muscle to snarl up.
That blow landed, a solid thawp that should have dropped her cold. Instead, she merely raised her eyebrow again, inured to pain.
Fuck.
He was doing everything right.
She just completely outclassed him.
“All right.” She punched one fist into the other palm. “My turn.”
She strode right up to him, no subtlety, and then blurred. A quick jab that slid past his guard and clocked him on the point of his chin. His head snapped back, eyes filled with tears, pain lanced up his jaw.
Scorio kept his fists up, but it was no use. He couldn’t see her blows coming. Another couple of light jabs that rang his bell, and then a halfhearted uppercut to the gut that made him nearly puke out his lunch.
Scorio staggered, gagged, and lunged forward desperately with a snap kick aimed in her general direction. She slapped it aside then slapped him with an open palm upside the head, the blow hitting him like the swinging boom from The Sloop.
Scorio spun and crashed against one of the tables, pushed himself upright, and blinked away motes of golden light.
Crush stopped. “What the hell?”
“Let’s make this a little more interesting,” said Leonis. He rose, stepped on his bench, climbed atop the table then hopped down to stand beside Scorio. “You’re a gorgeous woman. This is probably the best way to flirt with you.”
Crush blinked. “Flirt?”
Leonis grinned. “There are other ways, but usually they come next. Come at me, Lady Crush. Let the Golden King show his worth.”
“You know, maybe not.” Crush released what little fighting tension she’d adopted. “What’s wrong with you, Scorio? Those love taps almost knocked you down.”
Scorio wiped his wrist over his lips. It came away smeared with blood. “Love taps?”
Daemon interjected. “He’s completely ruined his base, is what happened.” Everyone turned to the Dread Blaze. “It’s unfortunate, and not even really his fault. Too much Coal, Ydrielle says. His body’s been tempered with the worst mana available.”
“Coal?” Crush frowned. “That’s what they’re feeding the classes these days?”
“No.” Scorio fought down his shame. “I was kicked out early. Had to survive in the ruins. Didn’t have much choice as to what kind of mana I got to use.”
“That’s a damn shame.” Crush shrugged and turned away. “A Tomb Spark who’s been tempered in Coal. What a waste.”
Wild helplessness swept over Scorio. “I had no choice. And I’ll fix it. Whatever it takes.”
“It can be fixed,” allowed Davelos, tone morose. “But it’s going to take you forever to reach Flame Vault. If you rush it you’ll lock in your weak tempering and never be the equal of your peers.”
“I’ll just have to work twice as hard.”
“It’s not a question of effort or willpower,” said Davelos, gaze heavy. “Think of your body as a sponge. One that absorbs mana very, very slowly. You’ve saturated it with Coal, and Coal’s the worst. It’s going to take months if not years to seep out of you. Then you’ll have to resaturate in high-quality mana.”
Naomi spoke up, voice sharp. “Of which there’s plenty in the Chasm.”
Daemon nodded. “Exactly. We’ll have to work the Coal out of him, then drop him to, I don’t know, Iron probably, maybe Bronze if his Heart can handle it. But again. It’s a question of time. Manticore’s not going to be here forever.”
“You said work the Coal out of me.” Scorio didn’t care that everyone was staring, learning his business. “What do you mean?”
Dameon’s smile turned pitiless. “There’s another way to get mana out of a sponge. Or a wet rag. You wring it. It involves pushing your body to the maximum every single day while surrounded by Copper and Iron, but not Igniting. You want to force your muscles to do all the work.”
“Then that’s what I’ll do.”
“I know.” Daemon’s smile turned pensive. “That’s what I was planning to put you through. Fair warning, Scorio. If you don’t puke at least a couple of times each day, you’re not trying.”
“I’ll do what it takes.”
“As will I,” said Naomi. She glanced nervously around the room and hunched her shoulders. “I spent too long in the ruins as well. I need to retemper.”
“There you go. Company.” Dameon stood up. “But enough with lunch, fun as it’s been. It’s time to show you where the real action takes place.”
“We going down?” asked Jova.
“Going down to Chasm town,” agreed Dameon amiably. “Clear your stuff away, and follow me.”
Jadon spoke up. He’d remained seated by the fireplace the whole time. “Want me to come with, boss?”
“Only if you want,” said Dameon. “You’re on your free shift after all.”
“Why not.” Jadon hopped up neatly to his feet. “I’m starting to feel almost paternalistic.”
The Manticores resumed eating, several of them making fun of Sam in the process. Scorio moved up alongside Leonis as they filed out.
“Thanks for getting my back.”
Leonis inclined his head. “Of course. Also, that Crush is magnificent.” Scorio glanced up at Leonis, who feigned surprise. “What? I appreciate a powerful woman. Life as a Manticore trainee just got exciting.”
“It’s your funeral,” laughed Scorio ruefully.
Lianshi had been listening in. “Can I give you some advice?”
Leonis didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely not.”
“Wait till you hit Tomb Spark. As an Emberling? She’d shatter your pelvis.”
Leonis made a wounded expression and flinched. “You’re disgusting.”
“Just a concerned friend. Oh!” Lianshi clapped her hands. “So many good ways to flirt with her though!”
Leonis groaned.
“You could offer to show her Nezzar in private.” Lianshi laced her fingers under her chin. “You could describe how long and hard it is—”
“Leaving,” said Leonis, picking up the pace and striding outside.
Lianshi beamed. “I completely revise my opinion. I think he’s going to do great.”
“With you in his corner?” Scorio chuckled. “I don’t think he has a choice.”
They stepped outside. Dameon was already by the wheel crane. The platform had risen while they were inside; it turned out to be a cage of hammered iron, a brutal, reinforced construct that looked fit to stave off all manner of fiends.
Jadon brought up the rear of their little group. “Yes, the cage is necessary. There are all kinds of fiends down there. Some fly in flocks and enter feeding frenzies. Not a problem for the Dread Blazes, but even we Flame Vaults have to be careful.”
“Lovely,” said Juniper.
“All aboard,” called Dameon, and opened the gate so they could cram inside. “Don’t worry,” he said as he bolted the gate closed. “The elevator’s pretty sturdy. It should be able to take all our weight.”
“Should?” asked Naomi dourly.
Dameon grinned and nodded to Valt who released a brake handle. The cage jolted, dropped several inches all at once, then began to descend smoothly.
Everything went dark. The shaft’s sides scrolled up, worn and eroded by time and friction. Nobody spoke. Occasionally the elevator rubbed against a wall, causing a dry grating sound.