Chapter 9: The Child of Element

In this world, children did not inherit everything from their parents. Some were born with a gift from heaven.

Laxius had discovered his by punching another boy across the yard.

A gust of wind followed his fist. The boy landed against the wall, and the children watching let out a collective gasp.

The orange-haired boy laughed.

"Ha! That was nothing! Next!"

"You're so goddamn amazing, Laxius!"

"NOOO! Laxius, no more!"

One boy tried to escape. The others shoved him forward instead.

Another punch. Another gust. Another unwilling challenger tumbling toward the wall.

Laxius sighed.

"Man, you guys are no fun. This village is so boring!"

Twenty years ago, at the age of ten, he had been the strongest child in the village — able to hold his own against some adults and hunt medium-sized animals alone.

Rigators were a different matter.

One glimpse of those horns and teeth was enough to send him sprinting in the opposite direction.

"NO, NO, NO! TOO SCARY!"

Five years later, he could defeat them. By twenty, he was helping repel attacks that might otherwise have overwhelmed the village.

Eventually, even that stopped feeling like enough.

When he decided to leave, a crowd gathered to see him off. Jamal, his long beard not yet entirely white, stood at the front as Laxius slung a leather bag over his shoulder.

"We'll miss you, Laxius! Our champion!"

"Come back sometimes, bro!"

"Don't cry because you'll miss us!"

Laxius glanced back, raised his middle finger, and walked away to the sound of laughter.

The forest swallowed him into the dawn.

Two hours later, he was crying.

"Fuck! That was so stupid!" He dragged a hand across his face. "Why did I have to act cool!? This is terrifying! I hate being alone! SAVE ME, MOM!"

Something rustled in the shadows.

"EEEEKKK!"

He ran, throwing wind punches over his shoulder. Branches shook. Several pursuing creatures went tumbling into the undergrowth.

Laxius looked back.

"A-all right! Maybe I am strong!"

Little by little, he began turning to face them.

One creature. Then several.

He fought, traveled, and spent his nights beside poorly built campfires, alone beneath the trees.

By the time he stumbled across another village, he was battered, filthy, and barely standing.

"I'm... a coward. Help..."

He collapsed at the entrance. Grey-skinned figures gathered around him, and everything went dark.

When he woke, he smelled smoke.

Wooden bars stood inches from his face. Ropes bound his wrists and ankles. Beyond the cage, grey-skinned figures approached with broad hands, black eyes, and smiles he did not like at all.

Behind them, a large cooking pot steamed over a fire.

His breath caught.

"Sha... SHABUSKINS!?"

"Heh heh heh heh..."

They turned back to tend the fire.

They aren't people. They only pretend to be. And I've walked straight into their kitchen!

Laxius strained against the ropes. They snapped.

He punched forward. Wind burst through the wooden cage, scattering bars and sending the nearest Shabuskins sprawling.

The others seized clubs and crude knives.

"Die, dumbass!"

He spun. A small whirlwind swept through the charging creatures. Then he jumped, driving a wind-charged spinning kick into the next group.

By the time the last one fell, he was panting hard.

Someone clapped behind him.

Laxius whipped around.

A woman about his age sat in another cage, her long red ponytail resting over one shoulder. Dressed in black leather, she watched him with an approving smile.

"Not bad, wind boy!"

"I'm..."

He paused. Straightened. Flexed.

"I'm twenty-five. And handsome. You can be my concubine after I save you."

"Ha. You're funny."

The dryness in her voice passed him by completely.

He broke open her cage and knelt to undo her bindings. The ropes were loose — much looser than his had been.

"You couldn't get out of these?"

"Yeah..." Her smile gave him nothing. "I'm pretty weak."

"Hmm."

They stood together.

"What's your name? Want to travel with me?"

"Shouldn't a strong warrior introduce himself first?"

"I'm Laxius! I'm strong, so let me protect you, lady!"

"Hmm..."

She studied him, then lifted her chin.

"Nuetta." A smile touched the corner of her mouth. "I'll be in your care, Laxius."

The memory blurred.

A red ponytail stirred in the wind. He was looking up at her through unfocused eyes, her back already turned.

"And here I thought you were strong. You just keep relying on your gift."

"HAHHHH!"

Laxius's fist tore through the air, shockwaves flew toward Nuriar. Her first dodges had been narrow. Now she moved the moment his fist drove forward, slipping between attacks and steadily closing the distance.

He backed toward the wooden bow, keeping himself between her and the weapon.

I won't underestimate anyone again. Every fight could be my last!

Still attacking with one hand, he crouched and reached for the bow with the other.

Get rid of the problem before it becomes a problem!

On the platform above, Torus wheezed with laughter.

"Is he going to break it? HAHA!" He glanced at Myra. "You should have told them!"

"Did you?" she asked without looking at him.

"Nah."

Laxius snatched up the bow. Wind coiled around his palm as he squeezed.

Nothing happened.

He squeezed harder.

Isn't this just wood!? Why is it so sturdy — HUH!?

Nuriar was behind him, one hand already reaching.

He swung his free fist at her. She pulled her head out of the way, jumped, and landed astride his shoulders.

Then she started punching.

Her blows carried nothing like the force of his wind attacks. Unfortunately, there were rather a lot of them, and all of them were landing on his head.

"AAAAAAAA!"

He clung to the bow with one hand and flailed at her with the other. Nuriar leaned left, then right, avoiding his fist without interrupting her own work.

The crowd gasped.

Jonard folded his arms, looking thoroughly pleased. Beside him, Nuriar's mother watched with a startled smile.

Across the arena, Jamal turned toward his brother with wide, irritated eyes.

Jonard's smile only grew.

"So that's what you meant!" Torus chuckled. "A monkey fight! HAH!"

"Yes," Myra said. "Very pathetic indeed."

"OW! GET OFF, YOU STUPID BITCH!"

Laxius threw another desperate punch upward.

The resulting gust caught him in his own face.

He staggered. His grip loosened.

Nuriar jumped from his shoulders, caught the bow with both hands, and pulled it free before she landed.

"Finally!"

She turned back just as his fist came around.

The blow caught her in the side and sent her tumbling away.

"Oof!"

She caught herself on her hands and feet. Another gust swept low. She scrambled clear, narrowly avoiding it, and looked up at Laxius.

He glared back, his face sore and his patience gone.

"Even with that bow, a few blunt arrows won't help you!"

"But those little punches hurt, didn't they?" Nuriar stuck out her tongue. "And here I thought you could do more than punch wind."

"I..."

I was so nervous I forgot my other moves!

He cleared his throat.

"I'm just getting started!"

"Liar."

Nuriar stared at him. A few nearby fighters glanced over with much the same expression before returning to their own battles.

Foomy thrust his spear at Gurupa, who sprang aside and answered with a kick. Foomy raised the shaft to block, then jabbed again.

Gurupa barely seemed to tire. Every time he tried to close in, however, the spear was there to meet him.

Then Hashband charged in from the other side.

Foomy dodged and shouted, "Aren't you ashamed of teaming up on a thirteen-year-old!?"

"No!" both men answered.

"What kind of adults are you!?"

He thrust at Gurupa again. Gurupa jumped past the spear and kicked him back across the dirt.

"Smart ones."

Hashband glanced toward the other fighters. Nuriar stood closer to him than Laxius did. Farther across, the seventh participant was edging into position, watching for a chance to strike.

Nuriar scanned the arena.

Two arrows lay near a distant corner.

She looked back at Laxius. Wind now gathered around his legs as well as his fists.

A bow shouldn't make her that much more dangerous. But I'm not giving her everything she wants. I don't know how she really fights.

A memory flickered through his mind.

Nuetta punched. He blocked.

Then she darted aside, pulled a sword from the ground, and brought him down before he could recover.

He remembered the disappointment in her eyes.

"And I thought you were supposed to be my savior."

Not again. I won't let her reach her full potential!

Nuriar pressed an arm against her aching side and took a slow breath.

"Boss..." She tried to keep her voice steady. "I'm about to Nuriar all over the place. Hang tight, 'kay?"

The little crow answered quietly from his hiding place between her breasts.

"I believe in you."

She nodded, briefly checking that he was secure, then fixed her eyes on Laxius.

He raised his arms. Wind curled around his legs.

Nuriar ran.

Straight toward the arrows, away from him.

Laxius gave chase, punching and kicking blasts of air after her. She ducked one, twisted past another, and kept moving.

"Don't let her get the arro — ARGH!"

A wooden cube struck him squarely in the back.

He spun toward the man holding several more. Another cube was already flying.

"WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU ATTACKING ME!? WE'RE FROM THE SAME NORTH VILLAGE!"

The man drew back his arm.

"MY NAME IS SIMP! I'M NURIAR'S SIMP!"

Laxius stared in disbelief.

Several villagers covered their faces.

Nuriar kept running.

Laxius shook himself, dodged another cube, and resumed the chase. Gusts tore past her as she tracked the fighters in her path.

Foomy lunged into her way, spear aimed squarely at her chest.

"Hehe! Bet you didn't expect — YOUCH!"

She sidestepped, swept his feet out from under him, and drove her knee straight up between his legs as he went down. She ran on without a pause.

Foomy lay in the dirt, curled around himself.

"...Worth it..." he wheezed at no one in particular.

The arrows were close now.

Hashband blocked the path. Beside him, Gurupa launched himself forward with a kick.

"Sorry, babe. We win!"

Nuriar raised her bow. His foot passed between the stave and string; she turned with his momentum, trapping his leg long enough to tip him off balance — then stepped in and drove her knee up between his thighs before he could recover.

Gurupa hit the ground with a sound that made several men in the crowd cross their legs.

"Nah, I'll win."

Curse youuuu...! Gurupa wheezed into the dirt.

Hashband braced himself.

She's going to destroy my balls next!

His body might be iron-hard, but he had no intention of testing it against the arena floor — or anything else she might think to do on the way down. He lowered his stance and reached down, ready to catch her if she tried to slip past his legs.

"Not falling for that! HAHHH!"

Nuriar jumped over his head.

She landed beside the arrows, snatched them up, and sent the first into the back of his crotch, directly behind his sack of things within.

"Oof!"

He buckled, catching himself just as the blunt arrow dropped. Nuriar darted in, recovered it, and moved before he could turn.

Another shot. Another awkward stumble in agony.

Hashband tried to kick her, but she kept circling, retrieving her arrows and giving him no time to regain his footing. His iron body does not apply to his crotch.

After a flurry of shots, he toppled into the dirt.

This time, he stayed there.

Torus stared, his grin gone.

Beside him, Myra's eyes narrowed with unmistakable satisfaction.

"The third participant can no longer fight. He is out!"

In the stands, Jonard let out a small, startled sound. Then he straightened and tried to recover his proud expression.

"I... suppose I'm glad you remembered what I told you about finding a weak spot, my daughter..."