Chapter 101 (1/2)

Decklan sat with his arms folded, tapping his toes on the ground. Tera looked at him anxiously.

“Don’t you want to go see?” She asked.

Decklan shrugged. “The battles he has against the lower squads will be over quickly. What would be the point?”

They had been informed earlier today, as had all of the individuals who were part of a squad, that The Ghosthound would be sparring against every squad, in turn, from lowest ranked to highest, and giving them pointers. The average squad member was incredibly nervous, but excited. After all, it wasn’t often that the Ghosthound interacted with most of Donnyton’s population, even the Classers.

“Well yes….” Tera said uncertainly, “But-”

They were both distracted by the hurrying form of Ptolemy, who was followed by two individuals carrying a large cooler.

“What’s the hurry?” Decklan asked, yawning.

Ptolemy made an uncertain face. “... I’m not sure. Apparently they needed more mana potions down at the quarry for The Ghosthound’s trials.”

Chuckling, Decklan asked. “...he ran out of mana already? He’s certainly bringing out the big guns.”

“No… its…” Ptolemy hesitated. “It’s apparently for the healers.”

Then the trio was past them, hurrying North towards the quarry. Tera and Decklan exchanged a glance. Even though their appointment wasn’t until much later, Decklan sighed and began to follow, heading towards the trials area.

When they arrived, they found Paolo and Kayle, standing next to each other, uncharacteristically silent. Decklan and Tera pushed through the surrounding crowd, moving to stand next to them, with a good view of the trial ground.

The entire area was silent. The Ghosthound stood alone, holding a long pole of wood, surrounded by a dozen or so moaning bodies. Methodically, the Ghosthound began pointing with the pole and commenting.

“Too timid, when you see an opening, take it. You, you have too much fear of pain. Either get used to it, or quit the squads. You, do you really think you can consider yourself a leader when you freeze up in the face of the unexpected?”

The Ghosthound shook his head. “Also, why is there not a single one among you that has started to train Mana Bolt? Are you incapable of handling an opponent at range? Even throwing knives would be better than just waiting for me to walk up to you.”

Several healers were moving among the knocked down squad members, healing their injuries. They were helped off the arena, to an area where a small number of grim faced men and women waited, the previous victims of the Ghosthound. In an imperious way, the Ghosthound banged his pole against the ground twice.

“The 25th Squad of Donnyton has fallen. Who dares step forward to fill the gap?”

After a few seconds of silence, a voice answered. “We, the 24th Squad of Donnyton, dare.”

It was almost ritualistic, Decklan thought, fascinated as he watched the next squad walk out onto the arena, with serious faces. They whispered to each other, arranging themselves on the ground, forming into a square. 11 individuals, 10 members and the squad leader, drew their weapons and stared at the Ghosthound, waiting.

He did not keep them waiting long.

To Decklan’s surprise, he simply dropped the pole, and started walking towards the squad, just strolling forward. Next to him, Paolo and Kayle narrowed their eyes.

“This is…?” Tera asked wonderingly.

“This is… the Ghosthound that moves to crush resistance. He has been cycling through 4 modes, rather randomly. Overwhelming strength, crushing the opposition with the pole. Unstoppable magic, simply blowing his opponents away. Impossible speed, moving like a ghost… and this, the final method…” Paolo spoke slowly.

Kayle finished his thought. “...this is a lesson in futility.”

Unlike the previous squad, the 24th squad shot several mana bols at the Ghosthound, and the squad leader threw several hatchets towards the approaching form. He did not dodge. He simply allowed the projectiles to hit him, unphased. His speed remained constant.

The squad leader barked a sharp order, and two individuals with long spears moved forward, prodding at the Ghosthound. With a slow, casual movement, the Ghosthound grabbed the shaft of one of the spears, yanked, pulling its wielder close, and punched the man directly in the face. The crack of bone was audible, and the man collapsed immediately, senseless.