Part 1
At last, the end of classes.
Four hours of non-stop experimentation: two in physics-chemistry, two in SVT.
I was overwhelmed. And again, the teacher had talked about "readjusting the schedule" to add "active research" sessions. These classes are interesting, so it passes.
Strangely enough, Kameron wasn't there.
Not a word, not a message, nothing. This morning, he'd said he'd come.
But then... he was that kind of person: unpredictable.
I dragged my feet a little to the dormitories, just to change and get my sports gear.
Naël was already there, sitting on his bed, headphones in and staring into space.
I guess he'd finished early.
- You look exhausted," he said as I entered.
- Four hours of slow torture," I replied, dropping onto my bed.
Persival joined us a few minutes later. As impeccable as ever, even at the end of the day.
The four of us had gotten into the habit of going to training together.
Except that today, Kameron was missing.
I changed quickly.
My outfit was simple: a long-sleeved black technical T-shirt, with those handy thumbholes. I slipped it over a thin tank top.
A pair of loose-fitting sports pants completed the ensemble. We train barefoot, so I had my dress shoes on.
Persival was wearing something similar, but in midnight blue. His top, obviously cut for performance, retained the elegant cut that literally and figuratively stuck to his skin.
As for Naël, he hadn't changed. He preferred to do it in the changing room. It was one of the rituals he'd adopted at Champs-Fort. Arriving early was also part of it. We tended to delay him.
I gathered up my belongings; towel, water bottle, bandages... and stowed them carefully in my bag.
My bracelet was still well hidden under my sleeve.
- Okay, I'm ready. We're good to go.
- Aren't we going to wait for Kameron?" asked Persival, adjusting his sleeves with his thumbs firmly planted in the openings provided.
Nael turned to me, slightly surprised.
- Yeah... but did you tell him about the thing?
I'd forgotten to ask if they knew anything about Kameron's absence.
I guess not.
- He wasn't there this afternoon, I said. He never misses MMA class, so he'll probably be here tonight.
- Okay. We'll talk to him later, then.
Part 2
On the way to the gym, we had to make a detour: Persival had forgotten his mouthguard in his locker in the Dt-3G building, the right options building.
We waited while he went to get it, looking hurried but always impeccable. It made us late, but nobody blamed him.
As we approached the club building, we could already hear the muffled banging echoing through the walls.
Strikes on bags, sparring exchanges, the deep voice of the coach correcting postures, offering encouragement and the occasional sharp jab.
Naël headed straight for the changing rooms to get changed in a hurry.
Me and Persival were already ready, so we entered the room.
The familiar smell jumped out at us: sweat, worn leather, and that whiff of heat that always hangs in the air when things get serious.
The dark red tatami floor, marked with battle lines, absorbed the sound of footsteps.
In the first half of the room, massive punching bags hung from the metal beams, swaying gently. Some were marked with fist or foot marks.
The back of the room was occupied by a sparring area framed by a large MMA cage. No ring here.
The coach, a bald colossus with a steely gaze, circulated among the students with natural authority.
He reminded me of the good old coach from Champs-Fort, only less talkative and more dangerous.
A fight immediately caught my attention.
Kameron.
There he was.
Standing, concentrated, torso slightly forward, in his classic posture, a bit like adapted wrestling.
His opponent: a mountain.
Vaek Morau.
Almost two meters tall. The build of a concrete block.
And despite his perfect posture, Kameron looked tiny against him.
It was David against Goliath.
Except this time, Goliath dominated.
Vaek was not a Konfrant student. He was one of the so-called "outsiders"; members allowed to participate in the club, but from outside.
He'd been there from day one. And from day one, he'd made everyone uncomfortable.
We'd tried to approach him, to include him, at first.
But the guy was strangely hostile.
He hardly spoke at all, or only in grunts. He gave cold, contemptuous glances, as if judging everyone's weakness at a glance.
He warmed up alone, never took a bow, and had already injured two students in sparrings that were supposed to be light. He was the kind of person who didn't consider human "inferiors".
Since then, nobody wanted to fight him.
Except Kameron.
The fight was tense.
Vaek advanced like a bulldozer, setting his stances with icy precision.
Kameron circled around him, mobile and concentrated. He chained together rapid low kicks and shoulder feints, trying to break the distance.
But nothing shook him.
Vaek took it without flinching. It was as if he was absorbing the blows.
Then, at last, he unleashed a blow. Without warning.
Slow, but charged with monstrous force.
His strikes lacked precision, but their magnitude was enough to hit, even when you saw them coming.
One step. A pivot.
His right arm made a brutal arc, with the sound of a slap in the wind, closer to a sweep than a true hook. It sounded like a wolf's fang.
But it was too late.
Kameron realized that even if he stepped back, he'd still get hit head-on.
So he charged straight at Vaek.
He dodged the blow that passed right by him, then used his specialty: wrestling.
He grabbed the colossus' legs and brought him to the ground.
Kameron had done years of grappling. And now he was taking Vaek back to his territory: the ground game.
- He's fighting a living wall. There's no way he's going to take him down..." breathed Persival beside me.
I activated my foresight.
A reflex I hadn't had in a long time.
I could see Kameron's perfect grip: left hand on Vaek's right hip, right hand behind his right knee.
Kameron was just waiting for an attacking pivot to use his opponent's weight against him.
- It's not over yet," I said to Persival, without taking my eyes off the fight.
Three seconds later, the colossus collapsed.
Kameron remained focused, but he now looked too confident.
Far too confident.
Vaek was smiling.
A discreet, contained grin.
There was no hatred in his eyes.
No desire for victory.
Just a strange thirst. Like a predator that has just discovered a rare prey.
Kameron went straight to mounted guard. He pelted him with blows.
Seeing that it wasn't enough, he began to rub the edge of his forearm violently across Vaek's face, looking for an opening to finish him off.
But nothing would get through.
Vaek's guard was perfect.
And then I saw him in advance.
Vaek was preparing a move.
A subtle shift. Then a sudden thrust of the hip.
Kameron flew backwards.
I took a step forward, ready to intervene.
But Coach Sillac raised his hand impassively.
- Kameron has to understand that he's not invincible on the ground. This defeat... will make him progress.
But just as Kameron was in the air, Vaek didn't wait and struck with his loaded blow.
A hard, heavy blow. A boom slammed into the room, startling the coach.
I didn't wait. I ran towards them.
Persival followed me. Coach Sillac too.
Kameron had blocked in time, but he was stunned, shaken.
He was panting on the ground.
But Vaek wasn't done yet.
He pounced on him and locked in an ankle lock.
The most feared hold, even among professionals.
Even in JJB, it's forbidden up to a certain belt. This kind of submission can shatter a career.
We tried to push him away, but Vaek was unshakeable. It was like trying to push a several-ton boulder
His veins were swollen, his arms tense. His eyes... empty.
He wasn't listening to anything: not the screams, not the coach.
He was somewhere else.
So I did.
I put the palm of my hand under his hip. I applied pressure.
And I released the aether, in a form I hadn't used in a long time: an electric field around my hand, concentrated. I saw a small golden-black glow, and heard a slight crackling sound...
And then, without warning, an image struck me.
Anyathel.
Her inert figure. The blood. The silent pool in which she bathed, the metallic smell, the warmth of this memory that would not die. The world seemed to flicker, the present tinged with a past red, and for a split second, I thought I felt that same blood running up my hands, sticking to my wrists, invading me all over again.
I blinked. I forced myself to breathe normally.
No. Not now.
I quickly pulled myself together, and the equivalent of two Taser shots were released. Maybe more.
Vaek shivered, his shoulder twitched, his muscles stiffened. He didn't cry out, but his eyes... flickered.
Like a beast struck without understanding.
And then he let go.
Kameron rolled onto his side, screaming in pain, free at last.
I threw myself on top of him, followed by Persival and the coach.
- Kameron! Look at me! Look at me! Move your toes. Can you still feel your foot?
He nodded, to say no.
His breath was short.
His fingers trembled. But he was conscious.
- He... he fucking...
I gritted my teeth.
Nael, who had seen the scene from afar, came running in with the treatment kit, his face closed, worried.
Vaek was already on his feet.
He watched Kameron suffer with a blank stare.
His little smile had disappeared.
It was as if he'd lost interest.
- You're coming with me. You're coming with me. Now!
Sillac's voice cracked like a military order.
But Vaek didn't move.
He looked at me, as if he'd sensed what I'd done.
His eyes, earthy green, vibrated slightly.
I didn't understand.
I froze.
Then he smiled. A thin, restrained smile.
He mumbled something. Then he lost the smile. I didn't understand.
Before leaving, he took one last look at Persival.
Then he turned on his heel and walked away, calmly, in the direction the coach had indicated.
Bonus - Character sheet: Vaek Morau
Full name: Vaek Morau
Age: 19 years
Status: External member of Konfrant High School MMA club
Physical description:
Height: 1m98
Hair: Black very short, shaved on the sides millitary ways
Eyes: Earthy green,
Distinctive features: Far too imposing for his age.
Personal life & ties:
Origin unknown. Does not attend Konfrant High School. Comes from outside.
Personal history:
Some external club members claim to have spotted him with an influential Konfrant gang, calling him *Section 11*.