My Dragon System

CHAPTER 008

The fourth day of the Crown Games belonged to the duels.

It was the oldest tradition at Ridgemont, an event that dated back to the school's founding. Each House sent its three best fighters into the arena, and a bracket decided who advanced. 

The arena itself was a circular pit of packed earth ringed with steel barriers, surrounded by stands holding two thousand screaming students.

Ashford went into the day in second place overall, one point behind Sterling and three ahead of Blackwood. A strong showing in the duels could push them into first.

"Here's the situation," Coach Whitaker said, pacing in front of the huddle. "Our three duelists are Sophie, Jason, and Rachel. Turner, you are the alternate. If anyone is injured, you take their place."

"Great," Caleb said weakly. "Nothing makes me happier than hoping for my teammates to get hurt."

"I did not say hoping. I said being ready." 

"Right. Ready."

The first round began at noon. Sophie Grant faced a boy from Hawthorne, and her shield system flared so bright that his attacks bounced harmlessly away. 

She won in under a minute, standing tall in the arena with her arms crossed and a calm expression on her face.

Jason Bell lost his match to a Blackwood girl whose shadows tied his wind in knots. Rachel Kim won hers with a swirl of silk that left her opponent hopelessly tangled. 

The crowd cheered. Ashford advanced. The second round was harder.

Sterling's team came out swinging. Vanessa Hart, with her rank B Lightning System, fried Jason Bell's wind and sent him tumbling out of the ring. 

Tyler Brooks, fists wrapped in iron, pounded Rachel into submission in under thirty seconds. By the time the dust settled, Ashford's team was down two fighters.

"We need a replacement," Coach Whitaker said grimly. "Sophie is fine, but the duel bracket is tied at one win each. The final match is Sophie against Brandon Cole."

"She will lose," Marcus whispered. "She might not."

"Brandon is rank A. Sophie is rank B. It is mathematically impossible."

"Mathematically impossible is not the same as impossible," Caleb muttered.

Sophie stepped into the arena with her shoulders squared. Across from her, Brandon Cole grinned, flame rolling off his shoulders in great golden waves. The crowd screamed. The referee raised his arm.

"Begin!"

Brandon's fire hit Sophie's shield like a hammer. She held, barely, glowing plates of light spinning around her body. 

Brandon laughed and unleashed a wave of white fire that swallowed the arena. Sophie's shield cracked. Then it broke.

She went down hard.

The crowd groaned. A medic ran onto the field.

Up in the stands, Marcus had gone pale, his eyes glowing faint blue as he tried to read Brandon's stats.

 Static roared across his vision like a broken television. He pulled off his glasses and rubbed his face.

"Something is wrong with him," Marcus said. "His output is climbing every second. Nobody gains that much power in a few days. It is not natural."

"He is rank A," Danny said weakly.

"He is rank A plus something else," Marcus said. "I just do not know what."

Caleb heard every word. He thought of the cracked orb, the hum of the Ember Core, the thin gold flicker Marcus had seen in his own stats. 

Something strange was moving through Ridgemont like a current under ice, and he suddenly had the feeling it was heading straight for him. 

Sophie lay on the ground, groaning, her uniform scorched at the edges. Coach Whitaker was already moving, his face grim.

"She is out," the referee announced. "Sterling advances. Ashford, you may substitute for the next round if you have a fighter available."

Silence.

Coach Whitaker looked at the team. Danny Okafor was injured. Jason Bell was unconscious. Rachel was nursing a bruised rib. His eyes fell on Caleb.

"Turner," he said quietly. "Can you fight?" Caleb's heart pounded. Marcus gripped his arm.

"You do not have to," Marcus whispered. "You are an F rank. He will murder you." "I know," Caleb whispered.

[Quest Received: The Challenger's Pride. Defeat a Sterling fighter without revealing your true power.]

"Of course," Caleb muttered. "Because that is so easy."

[Dragons enjoy a challenge.]

"I am not a dragon. I am a hatchling."

[Hatchlings who win become dragons.]

Caleb looked at Coach Whitaker. Slowly, he nodded. "I will fight."

The crowd erupted in laughter as he walked into the arena. Someone in the Sterling section shouted, "Look, the janitor is here!" Another voice screamed, "Somebody get the mop!" 

Brandon Cole stood across from him with his arms crossed, grinning like a wolf.

But the grin faltered when he saw who stood in front of him. "Oh," he said slowly. "It's Tyler's match."

Tyler Brooks stepped into the arena, cracking his iron knuckles. "Turner," he said with a smile. "I have been waiting for this."

"Great. Me too."

"I am going to break every bone in your body." 

"Please do it gently. I have a math test tomorrow." The referee raised his arm.

"Begin!"

Tyler charged. His Iron Fist System turned both hands into hammers of gray metal. He swung a punch at Caleb's face, and Caleb ducked just in time, feeling the wind rush past his ear. 

A second punch caught his shoulder, and he staggered back, Scale Skin flaring beneath his jersey.

[Do not use too much power. Tyler is a rank C. You can beat him with technique.]

"Technique," Caleb gasped. "Sure."

Tyler swung again. Caleb weaved aside, using Ember Sense to read the heat of his muscles, to see which arm would swing before it moved. 

He slipped under the next punch. And the next. And the next. Tyler's face grew red with frustration.

"Stand still, you rat!"

"Where is the fun in that?"

Tyler roared and lunged. Caleb darted aside, and Tyler's momentum carried him straight into the steel barrier. The iron fist rang against the wall like a bell. Caleb stepped behind him and tapped his shoulder.

"Tagged."

The crowd gasped.

Tyler spun, furious. Caleb ducked low and swept his leg beneath Tyler's knees. The big boy tumbled backward, slamming into the dirt with a crash that shook the stands. Caleb planted one knee on his chest and tapped his forehead.

"Tagged again. I think that is the match."

The referee blinked. "Winner... Caleb Turner. Ashford." Silence. Then the stands exploded.

Caleb stood up, breathing hard, shocked at what he had done. Across the arena, Brandon Cole was not laughing anymore. His face was pale, his eyes narrow. For the first time, he looked like he was seeing Caleb clearly.

[Quest Complete: The Challenger's Pride.]

[Reward: Dragon Heart plus 6. Skill upgrade: Scale Skin (Rank D).] [Hatchling Progress: 69 percent.]

Marcus nearly tackled him at the barrier. Rachel was laughing. Coach Whitaker clapped him on the

shoulder with a heavy hand.

"Not bad, Turner," he said gruffly. "Not bad at all."

Caleb smiled shakily. But across the arena, Brandon Cole was staring at him with cold, thoughtful eyes. He raised one finger and pointed it directly at Caleb's chest.

Then he drew it slowly across his throat.

[Warning: Brandon Cole has identified you as a threat.]

Caleb swallowed hard. "I know," he whispered. "I know."