Cleaning Up Our Mess

“Don’t give up!” I could hear my mom screaming at me from the stands. “Don’t you dare quit! Keep pushing!”

I dribbled the basketball as fast as I could. This wasn’t what I was good at. I hated every second of it. But I needed to do this for her. If I couldn’t—I’d be in trouble again.

All it took was a single distracted moment, and one of the other players slapped the ball out of my hands. They broke away quickly, sprinting back across the court. The crowd cheered at this as shoes squeaked, and everyone moved.

No! No! No! I panicked, turning instantly and forcing my long, tired legs to carry me in pursuit.

There was no way I could let him score. If I lost the ball and let the other team take a point, I’d—

No, I'll make sure it doesn’t happen. No matter the cost.

Even if it meant I was benched, I wouldn’t allow it. I raced after the player at a full sprint, raising my elbow for an underhanded strike. As the thief dribbled the ball for a layup, an easy point, I jumped. My hand barely missed hitting the ball, but my elbow connected with his face, sending him to the ground with a painful thud.

I landed, looking down at him hatefully as the referee approached, blowing their whistle in disagreement with the play. He had missed. And I had broken his nose.

—ooo—

The next thing I knew, I was choking on a mouthful of peppermint schnapps, watching as a lightning bolt struck down the troll preparing to go pro-wrestler on me from the nearby rooftop.

Jumping to my feet with a start, I dodged the body as it rained against the cobblestone before turning to light. I looked at the heap of corpses around me, beginning to disappear to the infirmary as Rionriv stood where the troll's body had been with an empty potion in her hand.

“Hey, you okay?” She asked, tossing the bottle over the corpses.

No! I thought, fighting back the horrible memory. Fought back the fear of my mother that led me to be a bully and enjoy it. The memories of hurting people because they were playing a game that I had no choice but to be the best at. I wanted to cry at the thought of how many people I had hurt, those memories all locked away behind the dam.

But I couldn't. Not now. Not in the middle of combat.

“Yeah," I replied quickly. "I'm fine. Status?”

“Status?! Fuggin’ bad, Iz!”

Rionriv took a blast of necrotic energy and collapsed. Quickly looking over her shoulder, I watched a snake-headed figure flick its tongue at me before disappearing in a cloud of black energy. I caught the sorceress in my arms and, not bothering to search for a potion, I instead rested my healing hand on her shoulder. The magic flowed through me into her, and my body convulsed gently as though my knees were to give out.

I had used a lot of my magic today, between the training and the detoxification. Because of that, I barely had any left for spells or to deflect strikes. Soon, I would be nothing more than weak Ishara again. But I would need to hang in the combat, even if it was for a few more seconds. Long enough to give my companions the time needed to finish the job.

The sorceress gasped back to consciousness, shaking her head as she looked around with a furious gaze.

“Godsdamned cultist." Rionriv hissed, pushing herself up from my embrace. "I can’t pinpoint it. It keeps bouncing in and out of corporeal form.”

“It’s using a shift spell?” I asked, scanning the courtyard in the direction the caster had fired.

That was when I heard a piercing scream. Aesandoral’s scream. It curdled my blood, immediately drawing my attention in the opposite direction. 

I turned to see her standing atop the monster that had knocked me out. A dozen arrows stuck from the beast’s head as she continued to fire down at the crack in its armour until it swayed and collapsed under its own weight. Her body was covered in blood, gore dripping from her face as something caught her attention. A single ear twitched before her entire body shifted with unnatural speed.

Facing her target in an instant, arrows from her bow cut through the air with deadly accuracy. They connected with both knees of the remaining gargoyle, taking it down to the ground.

“Oh god, no! No!” Calix begged as Aesandoral raced over toward him. “Don’t do it!”

“You deserve this, you fuggin' bully!”

“Screw you,” His tone changed as he flipped to swipe at her core. "Knife-eared bi—"

But he wouldn't finish his slur as the fight was already over. Aesandoral dodged back, and with a flash of red energy at the tip of her arrow, an explosion rocked the earthen bully's form. Stone fragments scattered across the road, blending in with the rest of the carnage before flashing with light and disappearing.

A pair of sinister bolts of energy cut across the battlefield towards the raging archer. But Aesandoral had sensed it and, gracefully backflipping out of the way, she locked her gaze on the threat like a feral animal.

I followed it, seeing the cloud of negative energy where the caster had disappeared from.

“Sixty feet!” I shouted out over the courtyard. “The caster will be within sixty feet of their last location.”

Two blasts hit the building behind me, barely missing my shoulder. Instinctively ducking down lower with Rionriv, I covered her head and scanned the area around us. The caster was closer now, focusing its attention on the center of the cobble courtyard where we all stood—except Sharzin, who was still well hidden.

I remembered writing the spell being used into the story and giving it both an upside and a downside. The upside was that you escaped the worst of combat most of the time. But the downside? If you didn’t end your target quickly, it became predictable by mid-combat.

“Every other monster down?” I asked Rionriv.

“Think so. I got four, you two, Zin two, Aes three.”

Two more blasts were fired from the shadows, giving me just enough time to respond. With a breath, I channelled what magic I had left into my forearm. A small, radiant buckler glowing with divine energy formed, and with it I swung outwards. Striking at the necrotic blasts, I deflected them towards a nearby building, scattering wood and glass over the battlefield.

“Next shot—” I shouted out to the triop. “Get into position facing the direction of the last blast. Hold your fire until you see the purple glint of the spell wearing off.”

The shots came once more, and we moved into our positions. The triop were getting into a hiding spot, ready to attack. Or at least I hoped. Meanwhile, I rushed toward the location of the last attack.

Stopping in the center of the street, I readied myself, scanning the area for the coming threat. It would appear any moment, and when it did, I would—

A palm pressed to the back of my head.

“Time to die, problem child.” A serpentine creature hissed as I felt a cold energy pooling at the back of my skull.

But before it could release, the magic dissipated as blood splashed over my body. The creature's scaled form crumbled to the ground behind me, revealing a trio of arrows and a singular scorch mark scarring its back. Within seconds of the strike, its body began to disintegrate into light, signalling the end of the fight.

Following that, I collapsed to my knees, releasing an exhausted sigh. I glanced over the mid-campus battlefield, which was soaked with blood and scattered with rubble, a killing field of our own making in the late afternoon light. And while the bodies were gone, pulled the infirmary and stabilized before permanent death, I couldn't shake the dream or the feeling that my own bullying had brought this about. I caught a breath in my throat, stifling a sob as I saw the triop approaching.

An exhausted-looking Rionriv and Aesandoral stepped up to me, holding at their wounds as they drank down potions. Both appeared to have crashed from their bloodlust and were examining the battlefield much like I was.

“We did this to ourselves, huh?” Rionriv asked, inspecting the bodies.

“We may have gone a bit far with training,” Aesandoral added, looking at the café and then me. “And, maybe, we should try a new café.”

“Yeah, maybe.” I huffed, pushing myself up. “Maybe we take a break on—”

“Whooo!”

That was when a still-drunk Sharzin appeared from a shadow, tripping over her own boots. Extending my reach to catch her, she tumbled into my arms, giggling and pointing towards the battlefield.

“Iz! I killed some rats and mosquitoes when you weren’t looking. Whoo! Combat experience! Let’s. Keep. Going! Huuurrrrgggg—”

Sharzin then vomited onto my chest before passing out against me.