Claymore Fanfiction Discussion

[Yosei]

I LOL'ed at your question, because it seems in every AU universe I write there is a Galatea x Cynthia pairing and they always end up getting found out. But the Cynthia of this boxing universe seems a lot less uptight than the Cynthia I wrote about last time.

Uuum. Raki x Clarice. Hm. Well, it's not going to be too bad on Raki's side (seeing as he's cheapened pretty much every relationship he's had with his horrible EQ), but on Clarice's side, I am hoping you will pursue her relationship with the Dragon hunk more, although as I said, I hope she will not forget about Raphaela too easily...


P.S. There is this wonderful game called Bladestorm which dramatizes the Hundred Years' War between England and France. Yup, they have elephants, Roman chariots, magic, explosives, Mongols, Samurai, and the most powerful sword in that game is a Japanese sword called Muramasa. -_- Basically what I am saying is that THIS CALLS FOR A WET, STEAMY, JEANNE D'ARC x GALATEA FANFIC.*

Oh, the possibilities between a Claymore nun and a girl of Orleans who claims to have divine inspiration...

*Smooths back clothes* But of course I will finish this fanfic first. Or if anyone wants to take this idea on board, PM me just so I know.

*And maybe a Raphaela x Edward, the Black Prince...

[Fenrir_valindri]

Glad you guys liked the chapter, don't forget to drop a review off though.

[hell88]

Originally Posted by Yosei

I LOL'ed at your question, because it seems in every AU universe I write there is a Galatea x Cynthia pairing and they always end up getting found out. But the Cynthia of this boxing universe seems a lot less uptight than the Cynthia I wrote about last time.

Uuum. Raki x Clarice. Hm. Well, it's not going to be too bad on Raki's side (seeing as he's cheapened pretty much every relationship he's had with his horrible EQ), but on Clarice's side, I am hoping you will pursue her relationship with the Dragon hunk more, although as I said, I hope she will not forget about Raphaela too easily...


P.S. There is this wonderful game called Bladestorm which dramatizes the Hundred Years' War between England and France. Yup, they have elephants, Roman chariots, magic, explosives, Mongols, Samurai, and the most powerful sword in that game is a Japanese sword called Muramasa. -_- Basically what I am saying is that THIS CALLS FOR A WET, STEAMY, JEANNE D'ARC x GALATEA FANFIC.*

Oh, the possibilities between a Claymore nun and a girl of Orleans who claims to have divine inspiration...

*Smooths back clothes* But of course I will finish this fanfic first. Or if anyone wants to take this idea on board, PM me just so I know.

*And maybe a Raphaela x Edward, the Black Prince...

Cynthia does seem to want more, if you know what I mean? Something just came across my mind though, what happened to Tabitha and Yuma? Aren't they supposed to be in the Rabona boxing academy as well? They were supposed to join around the same time Clare did(like it said in they're bio's) but you haven't written anything about them at all, did you change your mind about having them?

LOL yeah well Raki and Clarice was just a thought back before I started this fic, I thought it would be fun, but then I thought about how I've already got Raki in enough trouble. I would have a harder time explaining everything if he ended up with Clarice as well. Don't worry Clarice won't forget about Raphaela, I won't say anything, because I don't want to give away any spoilers.

Hmmm a crossover between Claymore and Bladestorm, I don't know. I'll just say good luck with that one.

[shelter]

Originally Posted by hell88

Well I was actually thinking of Raki x Clarice too but that might be pushing it a little don't you think?

Hmmm...you're bent on pairing Raki up with every warrior in your fic? Anyway, like Yosei said, I kind of thought that Clarice was already 'reserved' by Raphaela.

Also, I just realised (after re-reading a bit of Renegade Warrior) that most of the people Raki gets paired up with either have a smutty one-night stand, or end up getting pissed off with him for doing the former

Not trying to press an idea, but maybe your pairings can be a little permanent? Its quite a tough thing to do because some writers favour certain pairings over others (like Yosei's Cynthia/ Galatea & to some extent my Miria/ Tabitha). But maybe you could think about letting poor Raki settle down with someone..

[hell88]

Originally Posted by shelter

Hmmm...you're bent on pairing Raki up with every warrior in your fic? Anyway, like Yosei said, I kind of thought that Clarice was already 'reserved' by Raphaela.

Also, I just realised (after re-reading a bit of Renegade Warrior) that most of the people Raki gets paired up with either have a smutty one-night stand, or end up getting pissed off with him for doing the former

Not trying to press an idea, but maybe your pairings can be a little permanent? Its quite a tough thing to do because some writers favour certain pairings over others (like Yosei's Cynthia/ Galatea & to some extent my Miria/ Tabitha). But maybe you could think about letting poor Raki settle down with someone..

Well lets see, Raphaela isn't really around anymore. That leaves Clarice as single, well for now anyway.

About Raki and his one-night stands, with so many women around like the ghosts that have been lonely for who knows how long, why wouldn't they hit on Raki a little bit, and he would get a night with some of them. Don't worry Raki will start having it easy soon enough.

[shelter]

Originally Posted by hell88

About Raki and his one-night stands, with so many women around like the ghosts that have been lonely for who knows how long, why wouldn't they hit on Raki a little bit, and he would get a night with some of them. Don't worry Raki will start having it easy soon enough.

Haha...well yes But somehow I've been reading about Raki harem fics & Raki one-night stands ever since I started reading Claymore fanfiction. Since most Claymore fans are roughly divided into Raki-haters & Raki-sympathizers, I was hoping someone, somebody, could do something less predictable. Raki getting hit on by every one of the ghosts seems a bit too expected...

Where are the Raki-supporters? NobodyMan, do you want to try writing one?

[Yosei]

@ Hell: since it'll be a while before I can do a historical/fantasy fic, I'm looking for someone to CONTRACT a Hundred Years' War crossover involving Joan of Arc x Galatea! Maybe someone will take me up on that sometime. Dunno, we will see.

And about the profiles: If you read Cynthia's bio it says she was a former boxer from Sutafu Academy, but in the actual story she was a former prostitute who Galatea fell in love with and decided to train her in boxing so she wouldn't have to degrade herself to make a living. So the short answer is... well, Tabitha and Yuma's time isn't right yet, I realized that a while ago. So they will still come, but hopefully the discontinuities between some bios and the story doesn't disappoint too much.

@ shelter, would it matter if some writers favoured one pair over another? I mean, maybe Hell could still write of a stable relationship that grows and matures, even if it overlaps somewhat with someone else's.

Anyway, while we're discussing all these deep fanfic writing techniques, here is a new chapter:

Spoiler for space:

Chapter 8: Champion Carnival! Deneve vs. Undine

Bordeaux Coliseum was alight with furour today.

Clare, Jeane and Helen watched the imminent bout from seatings several feet above the pit, hemmed in by sweaty, balding, poorly dressed gamblers and pouting maidens who hung off the arms of their clients. They were not simply from the slums of Rabona – they were from the upper classes, the aristocracy, decadent nobles who squandered their riches on prostitutes and bloodsport betting. Clare wrinkled her nose in disgust, although deep down, she knew they, especially the maidens, were capable of more. Teresa had taught her that. And the Academy had taught her that.

There was a long path to travel. Even this… profession… required bloodlust and desperation in the hearts of both men and women. It needed women willing to give up their lives and men willing to give up their gold. It was, at its heart, a profession that wounded more than it healed.

But those who healed… could soar.

In the arena above the pit, Galatea rubbed her head, her hangover not completely cured. The mind-blowing lovemaking Cynthia had subjected her to the night before did not entirely help – although she was certainly pleased at her student’s oral prowess. But as far as she was concerned, it hadn’t been worth it – to suffer from a throbbing forehead on the first day of the Champion Carnival was something she thought would seriously compromise her chances of thinking clearly.

There was something else that she did not expect, and that was the… unbelievably tiny size of the opposition. “Undine of the Twin Sledgehammers? More like Undine of the Twin Noodles,” muttered the coach, staring at the stick-thin lady who stood across from Deneve inside the combat pit. Her arms were like twigs and dangled out of the white boxer’s shirt she wore, and her legs were only slightly thicker as they peered out from her shorts. Frail, lightly built, and sickly, the blonde glared wordlessly at Deneve even as Rimuto gave the command to box. Deneve held up her fists, and advanced. What secret is she hiding up her sleeve? wondered Galatea.

“Destroy her, Deneve!” cried Helen, her fist raised. “There’s no way you can lose to that weakling!”

Undine did not move. She simply continued to glare at Galatea’s student as the other offered a fist to touch. “You’re a curious one,” commented Deneve. “Are you really a boxer?”

Undine’s frown gradually replaced itself with a smirk. Her thin, wispy hand brushed at Deneve’s. “Trust me. I’ve been working out. Hard.”

“It sure doesn’t look like it,” said Deneve, as she suddenly dashed forward, her left striking Undine’s soft, fragile face. “Don’t expect me to go easy on you.”

Undine grunted at the unexpected attack. But to Deneve’s surprise, Undine’s nose did not break. Deneve jabbed again, and Undine staggered back, her feet lifted off the ground by Deneve’s strong arm. “Come on, fight. I don’t want to cripple you for nothing.”

“Since you want to see proof so badly, let me show you,” growled the frail woman.

Deneve smirked. “Suits me,” she whispered, throwing a right cross at her chin. It would be a good idea to end this quickly. She would aim for a quick knockout –

With one hand, Undine caught Deneve’s fist, a smack ringing through the pit. Deneve could not help her eyes widening in astonishment. Her reflexes alone were amazing. But what was more disturbing was...

Her considerable strength. Almost unbelievable, for such a small woman.

Why… why is her hand so steady? Why didn’t she block, or evade? How can she afford to…

“What are you doing, Deneve?!” cried Galatea. Finish her quickly!”

Deneve struggled to pull her fist away from Undine’s grip. Her arm began to feel uncomfortable. The frail woman’s hold was growing alarmingly stronger by the moment, and Deneve sensed something was wrong. Why can she hold on to me like this? This doesn’t make sense!

Undine let out a soft moan, and slowly, her thin, bony arms began to expand.

Wait. Expand?

Deneve stared upwards at her face. Was she dreaming? Although Undine’s scowl did not change, her body… mass… was changing.

This is impossible.

She was… growing?

As the Rabona boxers stared in horror and the crowd murmured in awe, her breasts slowly morphed into a bodybuilder’s pectorals, her biceps grew to a size that dwarfed Deneve’s thigh. A sickening wriggling sound came from Undine’s body as muscles re-adjusted themselves around her enlarging bones. Her legs thickened into veritable logs, and her thin neck disappeared under a squirming mass of defined, monstrous meat. Her clothes, previously oversized, were now on the verge of bursting at the seams.

In panic, Deneve struck at Undine with her free left fist. Undine simply caught it with her other hand, and began to apply pressure. Adrenaline shooting through her veins, Deneve gritted her teeth, the bones inside her hands creaking. Such power!

Her transformation complete, Undine towered over Deneve by at least two feet, and her muscular, titanic body made the pit seem tiny. She was at least a Middleweight – no, she would easily qualify as a Heavyweight. Except that due to her… shapeshifting trick… she must have been given permission to compete in the Featherweight circuit.

Galatea swore aloud. “What is this?” she roared, turning to Rimuto. “Are you playing me for a fool?! This is a scam, you cheater! Call off this bout at once!”

“This is Undine of the Twin Sledgehammers,” shrugged Rimuto. “This has always been her style.”

“I won’t have my boxer swindled!” bellowed Galatea, her face alight with betrayal… and fear for Deneve. “I demand that you cancel this match.”

“Too late,” said Rimuto, as Undine released Deneve roughly, and pushed her away.

“Now, let’s go,” growled the mutated woman. Deneve could only stare in shocked awe. Her legs, previously bent and relaxed, were now rooted to the ground, and as rigid as tree stumps.

“Oh, my God,” whispered Jeane.

“Deneve!” yelled Helen in panic.

“Strike first!” cried Clare. “Don’t let her attack – ”

Deneve could not help swallowing as Undine charged. She let out a feeble “oof” as Undine’s fist, the size of her head, crushed into her nose with the force of a swung morning star mace. Blood spurted from her nostrils and she slammed painfully to the side of the pit wall. Undine instantly cornered her, welting her back and forth, her wild haymakers impossibly fast. Through the gore and tears, Deneve could just make out the blurring image of the raging warrior falling up and down.

No. It was she who was being hurled left to right and back again, like the sandbags she hit back home. The muscular brawler no longer even held her hands up in a guard, her angry punches sending Deneve’s limp body flying like a rag doll. It was a miracle her legs hadn’t given way.

Deneve had always been proud of her orthodox boxing. She was no Flashcutter like Clare. She had no fancy trump cards like Helen’s Ironhorse. She was simply a boxer who had refined her technique to the point of near-indestructibility and ambidexterity. Her strong legs and always served her well, enabling her to take punishment for minutes on end before finishing the match with a well-placed right jab.

But this… this was… impossible.

How could a Featherweight possibly topple a Heavyweight brawler? How could she possibly stand up to this hailstorm of strength?

“Get away, Deneve, get away!” yelled Helen. “Do you want to die?!”

Clare shook her head, dazed. “This… this is worse than cheating. This is forcing a Featherweight to fight a Heavyweight…”

“Call off this match, Rimuto!” shrieked Galatea, her voice rising in pitch. “I demand it!”

“Once you’ve signed a contract, you must see it through. You know this better than most,” replied Rimuto coldly. “If you will not support or advise your boxer, at the very least, remain silent until she falls.”

Galatea stomped her foot in frustration. She turned to the pit, where Deneve was tottering in. “Deneve! Get away from the wall and Undine’s arms! Don’t let her play her game anymore!”

I don’t intend to. But my legs… they feel like they’re about to drop off. Deneve felt herself crumpling to the ground, her face a mangled mess of blood. Damn it, stupid legs. Move!

Undine swung another punch her way, this time from the left.

MOVE!

Deneve’s knees twitched, and she burst forward, slipping past Undine’s haymaker and ducking below her armpit. Before Undine could turn, Deneve had pinned her into the corner. “You think that’ll put me off?” growled the much larger woman. “If you think you can hem me in – ”

Deneve moved forward, and Undine reflexively put her arms up. But no attack came. Puzzled, Undine lowered her hands –

And felt a powerful jab in her face, cracking the ridge of her nose. She grunted in shock. How could it have reached her so quickly? And why…

Why did it hurt so badly?

“Yes!” cried Galatea.

Deneve had switched into her southpaw stance! She now stood with her right side facing Undine, and her right hand was now her springboard for jabbing. Deneve promptly lashed out with a frontal punch, and Undine growled at the suddenly augmented strength of the jab. But this was something she could handle. She launched her right fist at her –

Deneve’s counterpunch, a beautifully timed left hand, collided with Undine’s lips.

“Why is Undine struggling now?” asked Clare, staring down at Deneve, who had regained her pace but was still fighting desperately. “Her strength hasn’t changed. If anything, she’s still reeling from Undine’s earlier barrage.”

“Her southpaw stance has disorientated Undine considerably, in lieu of a boxer’s predictable orthodox position,” muttered Jeane. “Undine must not be used to dealing with right jabs or left power punches. Good. This means Deneve has the benefit of superior coordination.”

You’re a good student, thought Galatea, her nerves settling ever so slightly as Deneve calmly weaved through another one of Undine’s frustrated attacks. Ambidexterity is a skill most boxers have not the time to learn. But if they can achieve this highest art of striking, they can weather almost any situation in the pit.

But Undine was not simply a brute. “I’m sorry for underestimating you,” admitted the towering woman. Her eyes narrowed. “But this is as far as you go!” And she lunged, bringing up her right arm. Deneve covered her face –

Crack. Deneve groaned in shocked agony as she felt two of her ribs snap in half. The pain to her side was excruciating. What… what happened?

She looked down, and she got her answer. Undine had counterattacked with a powerful punch to her exposed left ribcage, stepping forward with her foot to cover the needed ground. Although she was now also in a southpaw stance, she had managed to break through Deneve’s guard. “No!” cried Helen. “Damn it, she’s got everything figured out…”

Deneve gritted her teeth through bleeding lips and gums. “That was… an excellent strategy,” she grunted. “But you made one mistake, tough sister.”

Undine growled, pulling her fist back again. “I won’t need to know.”

“Yes. You won’t need to know,” agreed Deneve, as she swung a wild left hook into Undine’s open liver. She dug her knuckles in, twisting her hand angrily, her hand feeling the organ curling in pain. Undine gasped, her hands dropping momentarily.

Snap.

Deneve’s opportunistic uppercut sent the larger woman reeling up, a trail of blood leaving her mouth. I can’t attack her body too often. She’s just too strong. I’ll have to…

Deneve struck again, her bleeding knuckles ripping into Undine’s face. I’ll have to attack her head. Attack, attack, attack until she falls from the pain!

And she did so, pummelling Undine’s ugly mug to a pulp. She could not even be deterred by another liver blow that landed against her ribcage again, cracking another two. Don’t worry about the shards of bone inside. Don’t worry about the stabbing pain my organs feel. Just WIN, goddammit!

She gritted her teeth through the agony of her innards, ignoring her bruised intestines, her contracting liver.

There was more at stake here than her life.

It all paid off when her final, desperate hook finally felled Undine, hurling her gargantuan body to the pit floor.

This was a staggering comeback. A miracle, if anything.

Undine groaned, her fingers trailing in the air. This… this… cannot be…

All I wanted to do... was to show her how much stronger I have become...

A mighty boom shook the arena as she landed, and the roar from the crowd was equally deafening.

Aside from his usual exaggerated showmanship, Rimuto looked genuinely impressed. He threw his arms up. “Deneve is our winner! She has defeated Undine of the Twin Sledgehammers!!”

“YES!” laughed Helen, her fists shooting up into the air. “Yes!!” Jeane and Clare could only stare in shock as the men and women around them descended into a cacophony of insanity, screaming and bellowing their support for Deneve. The throngs broke into a chant, booing the fallen Undine and cheering on the Rabona victor.

As for Deneve herself, she had sunk to the ground, clutching at her ribs. She looked like she was about to faint. She collapsed, face landing painfully against the floor.

Helen’s face fell. “Damn liver blows must have gotten to her ribs.”

Galatea shot Rimuto a hateful look before leaping into the pit, scooping Deneve up. “Very well done,” she whispered. “You have made me proud. Do not speak. I will take you to the sick bay now.”

She looked back at Undine’s twitching body, and her eyes widened.

Something extraordinary was happening.

Her body was slowly but surely shrinking, back to the small, weak, almost childlike form they had witnessed her in before the match. It seemed a painful process, even to the point of being self-torture. Gradually, her muscles receded, easing away into her body, and as suddenly as her body had mutated into a monster’s, it had returned to the state of a fragile young maiden.

The tears that were streaming down her bloody face made her look rather beautiful, in fact.

Deneve shook her head. What could possibly have driven her to inflict such a dangerous technique on herself?

“Undine…”

*

Bordeaux Sick Bay


Galatea stared down at Deneve, pressing a pack of cold ice to her eye. She had suffered a broken nose, two fractured hands, and four crushed left ribs. Bandages had been applied liberally around her stomach. Her sternum had almost caved in, and it was almost certain that she would require crutches later. “You stupid idiot,” whispered the coach.

Silence.

“You are out of the Champion Carnival circuit, you know that? With your shattered ribs, there’s no way they will heal in a month’s time. The deadline to challenge Irene will already have passed us by.”

And they were so close…

“My sincere apologies,” replied Deneve finally, her voice steady despite her ruined abdomen. “I have failed the first phase of your tournament strategy, coach. I am sorry for that.”

“Now you cannot have the honour of fighting Irene. You defeated Undine; you deserve to challenge Irene. And yet…”

Helen made her way into the room, shaking her head. “My, my. Our plan is already in trouble, is it?” She smiled at Deneve. “Looks like I’ll have to clean up after your mess.”

Deneve smirked, hiding her unhappiness. “I’ll be there to pick up your parts once Miria’s through with you.”

Galatea’s eyes flashed in outraged indignation. “That despicable demon, Rimuto. I will make him pay for deceiving my boxers. For deceiving our Academy like this.”

“Enough,” said Deneve wearily, silencing her teacher. “I understand,” she continued, her voice tired. “I do not wish to bring dishonour upon Undine. We both deserve another fighting chance, yet we will not have it. It is a pity, but there is nothing else we can do. We can only wait for the Champion Carnival next year…”

“You and Undine no longer hold positions in the Carnival, but that does not stop you two from rebuilding your rankings,” offered Galatea. “But I will ensure that you fully recover before you participate in another bout, no matter how long it takes.”

Deneve raised her hand above her face, staring absently at it.

“Then, I am happy.”

“For I fought a mighty opponent this day. That is honour enough.”

*

Pieta Academy. Nightfall


The young woman was still working at the sandbag.

Hilda gathered the bandages that lay strewn about the floor. “Come now, Miria,” she invited for the third time. “You have trained enough, have you not? Let us close up and go eat dinner.”

The boxer with long, spiky hair clutched at the swinging bag, panting loudly. “I have a match tomorrow, coach,” she whispered, barely able to raise her voice. “I’ll lock up the gym for you.”

“No!” insisted Hilda, shaking her head. “You are coming with me to dinner, now. You are exhausted.” She neared Miria and took her by the shoulder. “That is final.”

Not bothering to change into a more presentable set of garments, Miria reluctantly followed her out.

*

Hog’s Breath Inn


“You do realize that the Phantom Mirage requires a clear, focused mind to execute flawlessly?” asked Hilda, as Miria gnawed absently at a piece of chicken. “And currently, you are not in a condition to do that.”

Miria glanced up, silent.

“As I have warned many times, your specialty in counterpunching is perhaps the most difficult style of boxing to master. Very few fighters can overcome the meticulous invulnerability of a counterpuncher – if that fighter is able to pour her mind and body into the vessel of boxing as a complete harmony. At your current level of mental distraction, your style can truly damage your chances of winning. Counters do not help you if they do not succeed.” Hilda sighed. “Tomorrow you must go to Bordeaux to fight the boxer Helen. As always, of course, I will pray for your safe return. But bear in mind, that your chances of victory are only as strong as your inner fortitude. That is the gift – and curse – of your techniques.

“But since you have chosen this path as the most efficient and effective means to defeating your enemies, then so be it.” Hilda grinned reluctantly.

“Tell me of your triumph when you return home tomorrow.”

Miria returned her smile. “Look forward to my good news.”

Hope the fight was decent, hope the chapter overall was exciting.

[hell88]

@Yosei: Great chapter, the suspence, the action, it went together perfectly. Poor Deneve though, I liked her comeback, but now she is out of action. I really thought Galatea would have done more, but by the sounds of things she will. Oh well lets see what Helen can do with Miria. Should be a good fight.

Yes it was exciting.

[KillerYomaFromSpace]

@Yosei: awesome chapter, I felt sorry for Deneve, can't wait for the next one, I'll be praying for Miria's victory

[hell88]

Okay finished my next chapter, have to warn everyone though. I'm rating it "M" for mature, so be ready.

Spoiler for double edged chapter 5:

Double Edged
Chapter: 5 Pain

Clare, Raki, and Jean easily slipped by some gaurds, the gaurds looked tired from being up all night and didn't even notice the three hooded figures walk by them.

"Just stay with one of us Raki and we'll find her." Clare said making sure Raki would stay near one of the two women at all times.

"Okay." Raki said trying to keep quiet.

Right then someone grabbed onto Jean's left arm. Without thinking she pulled out her sword and cut off the persons head.

"Uh oh..." Jean said realizing that they were just noticed because of that.

"Get to that building over they're! Thats the one Miria is in!" Clare yelled pointing to where Miria was.

"So much for our plan." Raki said as Clare and Jean ended up staying back so no one could attack him.

Raki had to draw his sword anyway because of more gaurds around the castle like building, he had to fight as well.

Miria tried to get up, she couldn't. Her hands were tied behind her back, and her legs were spread open, her ankles were tied to two posts. She was in a cell, it was dark but she could see, she looked at herself, her lower regions exposed and her top was torn exposing her breasts. Someone walked to her cell, Miria let out a moan, she couldn't say anything because some rope was tied around her mouth and back of her head.

"Hey are you ready to go again?" A man said, he looked very much more like a dragon though. "Try to resist like last time and I will get the whip out."

Miria moaned again, they had been beating her and raping her. She didn't know where her sword was, she felt helpless. "No, not again." She thought.

"Hey!" Another mans voice yelled getting the one mans attention. "We need help we have intruders!"

"Oh come on.... Hey wait there is so many people out their they won't notice me missing" The one man said opening the cell gate to get into Miria's cell. Then the man grabbed onto a large sword, her sword. "I bet you were looking for this right?"

Miria's eyes widened as he held it close to her torso.

"Yes..." He said cutting her stomach open all the way to her chest, and up to below her neck.

Miria's eyes teared up. She let out some painful sounds, she wanted to kill this man but was helpless. Then it stopped and when she looked at him he was on top of her raping her. He grabbed her breasts and played with them, she looked away while moaning in pain, humiliation, and at his sick twisted pleasure.

"Hey I wonder why you keep healing?" He said as the other man that wanted him to help out with the intruders watched.

"Hey can you speed this up a little bit!" The other man yelled.

"Oh come on she's all wet can't you see? She likes it!" The man raping her yelled.

Raki ran into the first gate, the largest of this castle that he had slautered many inhuman dragons just now. He looked back at Jean and Clare, they were fighting together so wonderfully. Raki watched as they blocked attacks coming in on each other and when they would kill the attacker. "They'll be fine." He thought. Raki ran into the castle and was confronted by a man wearing a long jacket.

"Those women out their fighting will soon end up like the one in the chambers right now. Fun for the men." He laughed.

Raki stopped and heard a voice of a woman screaming, well it sounded like she was trying to scream. "Miria." He said in a silent voice.

"Oh is that her name? Good now I'll know what to yell out when I'm inside of her!" He yelled before Raki chopped his head off and ran to the sound of her direction.

Outside of the castle Clare and Jean were easily taking down the men in armor that were trying to kill them. The battle shifted however once a man walked out wearing robes.

"Stop fighting them!" He yelled.

Clare and Jean looked at him walk towards them as the others backed away.

"You two look just like the other one." The man said.

"Who are you?!" Clare yelled.

"You don't know my name? I am Vritra sorsera of the east." Vritra said.

Jean looked at the man. Clare this is the guy Dracul was telling us a while ago."

"Yeah I remember Dracul and Irene talking about this guy." Clare said.

"Dracul!" Vritra yelled. "Where is is he?! Tell me or die from the power of Leviathan!" He yelled as a monsterous snake came out of the ground behind him.

"Fuck!" Clare yelled. "Lets go Jean we know what to do!"

Clare and Jean ran seperate from each other and flanked the giant snake from both sides. The snake could move quickly even crushing some of its own kind. Still though Clare and Jean could run faster than it could see. They jumped up when the snake came down to bite them and they stabbed its eyes. It hissed in pain, not for long though as Jean and Clare chopped its head off.

"What?! How could two little women like you beat him!" Vritra yelled pulling two blades out of his sleaves. "I guess I'll have to fight you then."

* * *

"Now wasn't that fun?" The man said getting off of Miria.

"Is it finally my turn?" The other man said waiting for what felt like forever.

Miria looked to the left and closed her eyes when the dragon man got on top of her. With the sound of metal slicing through bone though, nothing else happened.

"What does he have my sword? Is he going to cut me again?" Miria thought.

"Miria..." A familiar voice said.

Miria opened her eyes and saw Raki standing infront of her. She looked at the two men that had raped her, they're heads were on the ground and they're bodies had fallen over. Miria cried, Raki took the rope off her mouth.

"Raki... " Miria said crying.

"I'm sorry Miria." Raki said freeing her from the ropes that held her down and defenceless.

Raki held her close to him, she put her head on his shoulder as he picked her up, she was holding herself, to humiliated of what happened. Raki wrapped her up in his cape and put her sword on his back along with his sword.

Back outside Vritra was attacking Jean and Clare, he didn't like having to fight like this, when ever someone would come over to help him they would be killed by either Jean or Clare.

"Fuck!" Vritra yelled once Clare smashed one of his blades with her sword.

Raki ran out of the casle holding Miria." Come on lets go!" He yelled.

Jean used her drillsword on Vritra, it failed because he jumped back, but it played to the two ghosts advantage as they were able to escape with Raki once he went back.

* * *

In the north everyone sat around a small fire at night, wondering what they had just seen. That dragon that had attacked everyone seemed to be attacking both sides, and where was Clarice?

"Mabye that dragon is a rebel and didn't know which side the good one was?" Yuma asked.

"No." Raven said. "I know who that was. He's the worst, he only shows up in times of chaos, he doesn't have a side. He just likes to fight."

Dracul leaned against a tree. "Mabye we should go south as quick as we can?"

"We will, everyone needs rest. Some of us will take turns watching everything just incase as the rest of us sleep. I'll be the first to stay awake." Irene said.

Dracul moved to Irene. "You don't mind if I stay up with you?"

Irene snapped at Dracul. "I know what your thinking and your not getting any!"

Meanwhile, Irene had sent Tabitha and Cynthia to find Clarice. After walking for about half an hour they saw smoke coming out of a cave. Cynthia and Tabitha walked to it and saw who was inside. Who else but Clarice under her overcoat while cuddled up to Tyrath.

Tabitha's eyes widened. "Oh boy..."

Cynthia smiled. "Damn thats hot!" She yeld waking them up.

"Huh? Whats goin on?" Tyrath asked.

Clarice opened her eyes. "Uuuh Tabitha, Cynthia what are you two doing here?"

"Looking for you." Tabitha said. "We were worried that something happened to you."

"But it looks like your new hunk of a boyfriend is taking care of you just fine." Cynthia added.

Clarice blushed when Tyrath put an arm around her.

"Me and Clarice got pretty close in just a day, its like almost looking at my opposite." Tyrath said.

"Damn I guess I'm not going to get any of him then!" Cynthia thought.

The four of them walked to the camp and everyone was introduced to Tyrath. Helen tried to hit on him but he wouldn't let her.

"Sorry but I already have someone now." Tyrath said.

"Hey I'm available." Dracul said.

Helen looked at him, then she smiled. "Good I'm just itching to go."

* * *

Miria felt powerless, she was a very strong warrior but after what had just happened she felt useless. They were hiding in a cave, Jean and Clare were out gaurding the place, Raki stayed inside with Miria. She was curled up into a ball, Raki was holding her.

"Your safe now." Raki said.

Miria pushed her face into his chest, he could feel her tears going through his shirt. The wounds on her body had healed, she grabbed his right arm and sqeezed it.

"Raki..." Miria said in a sad voice.

Raki lifted her head up. "Miria I didn't mean to hurt you but what were you thinking leaving like that?" She cried some more. "Miria I still want you, I made mistakes and I didn't realized how good I had it."

Miria put a hand on his mouth. "You saved me." She said in a quiet voice.

"I won't hurt you again, and I won't let anything like what happened today happen to you again either." Raki said kissing her forehead.

Miria put her arms around him and held him tight. "I love you." She whispered.

They stayed in that position until they both fell asleep.

Jean and Clare walked into the cave after and saw them like that.

"Are you going to be angry Clare?" Jean asked.

"If this is what he really wants, then I'll let him have it." Clare said.

Jean smiled. "Well in that case, just to let you know even though you already know. I prefer women over guys, I want you."

Clare smiled back at her. "Want to go out into that forest and comeback later?"

* * *

The next morning.

Raki sat up holding Miria, she was sleeping on his legs. Clare and Jean walked in smiling, obviously they had a good night.

"Did you have fun? I know you did, I thought I heard you two both groaning." Raki said.

Jean blushed, but Clare had other things to say. "We need to find the others."

"Do you think they are okay?" Raki asked.

"Hopefully they are, but we need to know for sure." Clare said.

"Are you sure they would be in the north still? They could have won they're battle and are headed back this way." Raki said wondering if it was a good idea to go and look for them.

Miria was awake through this conversation, she just pretended to be asleep. "No." She said in a groggy voice.

"What Miria your awake?" Raki thought.

"What do you mean no?" Clare asked.

"They would be heading to the west of this continent for the second battle." Miria said. "We should meet them their."

"Then thats where we should go next." Jean said all of the sudden. "Can we leave after I eat? Its been a long time since I last ate anything.

Jean left the cave they were in, Clare turned around to fallow her, she hadn't eaten anything in a while either but turned back around. "Miria, I'm leaving Raki with you. Don't let him get into any trouble."

After she left Miria slowly got up to her knees, Raki could tell something about her was different. Then again he couldn't blame her after what had happened to her. He put his arms around her, and in a few seconds she did the same. She brushed her right side of her face against his, he could feel her silky hair against him.

"Here lets go get cleaned up." He said raising her off the ground, and he took her to the nearest source of water.

* * *

Farther up north and traveling to the south west, Irene led her team to they're next destination.

"Where are we going now?" Galatea asked.

"We are going west to take out the second most powerful army in the empire." Irene said.

"What with this little group?" Raven said. We don't stand a chance, and if we even do destroy them somehow, how are we going to be able to beat the main stronghold in the east?"

"I'm thinking up a plan as we get their. Our battle tatics will have to be stealth." Irene said not wanting to stop walking.

* * *

In the west.

A young woman was walking around with no clothes on, she had traveled far on her own and was in search of someone.

A few men walked up to her. "Hey good looking girls like you shouldn't be walking around naked, why don't you come with us?" He had something on his mind.

The three men took her into a small house, where they tried to have they're way with her.

"Now why don't you tell us your name?" One man said.

"Priscilla." The young girl said now realizing what these three guys wanted.

"Thats a nice name, I bet we'll be saying it a lot." The other man said laughing.

They grabbed onto her and her eyes turned amber, her teath turned into fangs, her strength was unbelievable. She ripped out the innards of one and ate them in one bite. The other men screamed in fear like little girls, they're screams were heard all over the town, as Priscilla slowly ate them alive.

----------------------------
To be continued....

[Yosei]

Yup, thanks for the warning Hell. Very bloody indeed and "dark" imagery. An interesting development now that Miria seems to have attached herself very tightly to Raki, and now Clare seems to have given up on Jean and turned lezzo (not that she didn't do it like that already though). Keeping these two couples together will make for a strong story with a sweet ending. Keep up the hard work!

[shelter]

Originally Posted by Yosei

...would it matter if some writers favoured one pair over another? I mean, maybe Hell could still write of a stable relationship that grows and matures, even if it overlaps somewhat with someone else's.

@Yosei: On the contrary I think it's good that we all seem to promoting different pairings & different interpretations of similar ones. It makes sure all these fics that we're writing are not stuck to 1 common idea/ template.

Speaking of which, your Chapter 8 was quite good. Undine's secret technique, and the very bloody conclusion to Deneve's comeback made this chapter for me. At some point the switch between the fight & Galatea/ Clare/ Jean/ Helen cheering Deneve on or scolding the referee took the power from the fight. Also your portrayal of the 'crowd' is getting a bit repetitive: there's always a description of rowdy, immoral spectators in each chapter. Will it be possible to leave it out, or even change its character?

Interesting switch to Miria in the last bit. I'm waiting to see how it links to Chapter 9.

[Yosei]

Fair enough, I think I'm feeling obliged to "put in" the crowd in every chapter, just so people know someone's watching them. I should stop being so anal about the details.

[shelter]

Originally Posted by Yosei

Fair enough, I think I'm feeling obliged to "put in" the crowd in every chapter, just so people know someone's watching them. I should stop being so anal about the details.

Putting in the crowd was an expected thing in the opening chapters. But a bunch of spectators watching a boxing match need not always be "lowlifes", right?

Rhetorical question...No need to answer that

@Hell:
The image of Miria on the rack is a bit - disturbing. Somehow in Yosei's story when Cynthia was getting tortured it did not feel so bad...it was just pitiful. I think not a lot of us are accustomed to seeing a powerful character helpless.

[hell88]

@Yosei: I don't think I will break up these two couples in my story, they just seem right for some reason. The others might get jealous though.

@shelter: Well thats why I put that warning there. Actually there was a lot more to that, which makes her seem very helpless, but I took that all out because it started to feel like I was going to far. So I tried to keep it as minimal as I could.

[Tempest35]

I have mixed feelings about that particular chapter, none of the least have to do with Miria's plight. They very idea......BWHAAAAAAA~ *awakens*

[hell88]

I guess I should have gave an extra warning for all the Miria worshippers. *runs away fast so Tempest35 won't eat his guts*

[KillerYomaFromSpace]

Originally Posted by hell88

I guess I should have gave an extra warning for all the Miria worshippers. *runs away fast so Tempest35 won't eat his guts*

Im gonna have nightmares for the rest of my life, I should stop ignoring all the warnings ><

[hell88]

Originally Posted by KillerYomaFromSpace

Im gonna have nightmares for the rest of my life, I should stop ignoring all the warnings ><

Now you know.

[Yosei]

Whee, Chapter 9 up. Please bear in mind defeated boxers don't die or simply drop out (except for beaten novices like at the beginning of the story), they always return some way or another, although they have to work up the tournament rankings again.

Spoiler for space:

Chapter 9: Champion Carnival! Helen vs. Miria

Dawn


A grim mood had descended on the three women outside Rabona Academy. Despite the singing sparrows up on top of the building, and the bright sun shining upon dew-dappled grass, there was still an incomprehensible air of apprehension... and dissatisfaction.

“Are you ready?” asked Galatea, closing the door to the gym. “We must be at the Coliseum at least an hour before Helen’s bout. She’s already begun to ride. We will catch up with her along the way.”

Clare and Jeane took up their bags and nodded. “Is Deneve alright?” asked Clare slowly.

Galatea hesitated. “I… believe that the shock of being unable to compete will settle on her sooner than later. And I’m not sure how she will take it. She’s never been higher-ranked than now, and she’s never gotten so close to challenging Irene. But now…” the blonde beauty shook her head. “Deneve is proud. She will not admit that she is dissatisfied with her… lost chance. But I will not push the truth out of her. Come, let us away. We have a fellow boxer to support.”

They made their way to the horses in silence.

*

Helen smirked as she stared down her opponent across the pit. She was slightly shorter than Helen, although her long hair tied behind her back gave her the impression of a rather serious, respected warrior.

But of course. This is Phantom Miria, thought Helen, recalling Galatea’s advice. Don’t underestimate her.

Rimuto waved his hand downwards, demanding for the match to begin.

Miria raised her fist, offering to touch.

Helen responded in kind, their knuckles lightly brushing. She winked. “So, the feared counterpuncher of the pits, ‘ey? Don’t think I’ll go down with just one smack.”

Miria remained expressionless. “Perhaps you should eat my fist and remain standing first, before you say such stupid things.”

Annoyed, Helen moved to initiate the match. “I’ll break your face, Phantom,” she snapped, throwing a fast punch to test the distance between herself and the woman she sought to topple. Miria simply leaped back, her feet blindingly light, comfortable, like soft but firm springs. She eyed Helen calmly, her feet pattering lightly on the dusty ground, gathering pace, preparing to enter into her rhythm. Helen stood her ground, their eyes meeting momentarily, before she charged again, attempting to break through Miria’s defence.

Above the pit, Galatea stared at Helen’s rival. The possibility of a counterpunch nagged at the back of her mind, and she wasn’t sure how many Helen could take. Only the gods knew what kind of damage Miria’s lightning speed and reflexes could inflict. “Don’t hesitate, Helen!” she shouted. “Giving her space will only let her build up her timing. Do not let her think about counterattacking. Make her think about the pain!”

Helen obeyed, charging and attempting to pin down Miria with several quick blows. Miria weaved through them, her cold silver eyes completely undisturbed as Helen’s arm brushed past her hair, her ears, her cheeks. She was utterly composed, silently slipping in and out of Helen’s guard as the latter pushed forward, her face growing more and more aggravated. “Damn it,” she roared. “Damn it!”

“Helen, regain your composure!” cried Galatea. “Calm yourself!”

An admirable boxer, overall, thought Miria, as she weaved through another wild arm. Her physical ability and her determination are both praiseworthy. But it seems she has little patience in controlling the pit. She ducked under Helen’s cross, and sneaked in a quick blow to her liver. Helen’s eyes widened, first in shocked pain. Then her eyes narrowed in rage, and she resumed her assault, her fists barely slowing. Miria persisted with her strategy, coolly ducking under Helen’s furious swings. As I thought, she really is impatient. She musn’t be skilled in exploiting the spacial advantage of the pit floor. Her footwork doesn’t cover much ground. It’s only a matter of time. I will wait for an opportunity…

And here it comes. Helen attempted a powerful but unbalanced cross, her swing too wide. Miria glanced at her exposed shoulder and suddenly moved, her left hand slipping beside Helen’s right and striking her in the chin even as Helen leaned forward to augment her punch’s power. The momentum of Miria’s streamlined body and the power of her arm, coupled with Helen’s own clumsy velocity, meant that Miria’s punch was far more effective than any simple strike. Her left jab cut into Helen’s jaw, and a loud crack could be heard across Bordeaux Coliseum. Galatea swore, and Clare gasped. So this was Miria’s special technique – a meticulously planned, patiently hidden counterpunch, simply waiting for her opponent to walk into. Helen staggered away, clutching at her mouth. Miria moved forward, jabbing at her twice, before attacking with a stronger punch from her right hand. Helen moved to meet her cross with a faster, defensive jab –

Miria’s left hook crushed the side of Helen’s face, sending her flying to the side. “Wha – what – ” cried Helen, coughing blood. It had come so suddenly. Was this her plan? To lure me in with a feigned cross?

Miria had pulled back her right hand at the last minute, twisting to the right with her waist and landing a full-powered left against Helen’s right cheek. The tomboy reeled, her eyes momentarily clouding over.

“No!” cried Galatea, and she heard Clare and Jeane cry Helen’s name from the stadium seats. Had she been put to sleep?

This was not over yet. Miria’s uppercut came surging up, heading directly for Helen’s bruised jaw.

You think that’s enough to knock me out? Don’t look down on me!!

Helen’s eyes snapped open, glaring at Miria’s fist. Her body slipped to the left, narrowly avoiding the ripping blow.

But now, Miria’s left rib was exposed.

She predicted Miria’s finishing blow! thought Clare, her heart pounding in her ears. Could it be –

Triumphant, Helen swung a right hook –

Miria’s fist came shooting down, in a chopping motion, smashing into Helen’s exposed head. Helen’s back bent and creaked, and she staggered forward in astonishment, eating another mighty hook again. She… she predicted my prediction?! Incapacitated, barely able to stand, Helen coughed blood as Miria’s renewed attack began to intensify, burying her alive in a maelstrom of skin and bone. Does this woman have no opening… at all?

Miria continued to rain down blow after blow on Helen’s tottering form. It was a good chance to finish her quickly, before she recovered. That was the finesse, the beauty of counterpunching. The instant turnaround, the rapid demoralization, the chess-like foil against any attack that could be thrown at her. It was this that had propelled Miria so far, and it was about to propel her further.

Groaning, Helen shifted to the side, her left ribs once again exposed. Her arms sagged, and they slowly lowered, leaving her weary, bloody face open…

Miria pounced at her chance. She lunged, raising her right hand to finish her adversary. This battle is mine.

Through swollen lips and gums, Helen suddenly grinned.

“Idiot. You fell for it.”

Miria reflexively glanced at Helen’s face as it suddenly contorted in concentration, and from the side below her abdomen, a curving, circular fist hurtled towards her. It suddenly twisted, aiming not for her abdomen, but for her head. Miria’s eyes widened, but her arm was already extended, and she could not protect her open face. Impossible! How could her arm be moving at this angle, from her waist? A human could not physically bend like so!

Helen roared. “Pucker up!” she howled, and her Ironhorse Smash connected with Miria’s chin, hurling her upwards into the air. Miria gasped, her entire body flung back and careening across the pit. She skidded along the ground as she landed, panting, blood flowing from a cut lip and a pulped mouth. She groaned, a molar rolling painfully out amidst bleeding gums. She unconsciously cried out in shock, rage, frustration.

Such… such raw power… What just happened?!

Helen lowered her fist. “That’s what you get for being so cocky, Phantom.”

“Helen!” breathed Jeane.

Clare shook her head in astonishment, while Galatea simply nodded. “Good.” Helen had revealed her flagship punch to her opponent, the Ironhorse. It was a unique talent Galatea had noticed in Helen within several months of accepting her into the Academy. Helen’s body possessed an advantage of flexibility, and it enabled her to do things in the pit a convention boxer would not dare to do – such as dropping one’s hands, or leaving vulnerable parts of the body exposed.

But it was precisely those seemingly vulnerable stances that would allow Helen’s Ironhorse to break through an opponent’s orthodox, rigid defence. Miria might be a pioneer in the offensive arts, but her defensive strategy typical, was as bland, as any other everyday fighter.

“Very well done, Helen,” affirmed Galatea to herself, unconsciously cupping her chin with her thumb and finger.

As for Helen herself, she charged, riding the momentum of her desperate counterattack. Miria’s silver eyes were now alight with fury, yet the shock to her chin and to her nervous system had overcome her, to the point that she could only stand still as she clutched at her head. Helen smirked. One strong punch from me, and she’s reduced to this blubbering mess. She’s weaker than me, I know it. I can hang on and win. She pulled back her fist again. “I’ll pound you another one until you break!” she roared.

I’ll finish her with a second Ironhorse!

In desperation, Miria raised her arms to block. But it did not help – Helen’s curved strike was so strong, that it broke through her guard, forcing apart her tightly clenched forearms and connecting through to her face, landing neatly on her nose. Miria screamed and toppled, her small body sprawling across the floor. Galatea’s eyes widened in hope, and Helen panted, unable to suppress a shout of victory.

As expected of Rabona Academy, her boxers had once again turned their disadvantage into a thrilling dominance.

Clare could not help grinning. Helen might have been reckless, but she was undeniably good.

Gore still dripping from her mouth, Helen closed her black eye blissfully, savouring the crisp, hot sweaty hair. She turned to wave at her audience, smiling –

“Helen!” screamed Galatea. “It’s not over yet!”

“Huh?” said Helen blankly, turning her head.

Her eyes widened in disbelief.

The crowds uttered murmurs of awe and incredulity as the felled woman in the pit began struggle back up. Her matted face left the ground, blood pouring from her nostrils. Slowly, painfully, but surely, she had propped herself on one knee, her arm scrabbling wildly at the floor. She moaned, but it only seemed to galvanize, to strengthen her resolve. Miria forced her disobedient body up, shaking violently, her eyes aflame with a burning determination.

Helen’s jaw dropped. She had never fought a woman, who, once felled, could struggle up again.

Had any of them fought a woman with such… fortitude?

Rimuto was speechless. Galatea could not find words to describe the… phenomenon. Clare and Jeane stared down, similarly dumbstruck, at Miria, who had now stood up, and was back in a fighting stance, fists weakly raised.

“I… I don’t want to lose…” she murmured quietly, shaking unsteadily.

Helen stared at the struggling woman in astonishment. What could possibly be driving her to such desperation?

“You’re good, sister,” she muttered, unable to suppress a savage smile. She lunged, roaring. “Let’s finish this.”

Snarling, Miria bent her legs, bracing herself for Helen’s final charge. Helen attacked, her teeth bared in fury. Miria’s punch shot out from her lowered position, at a straight trajectory. The fists of the two mighty warriors met –

Miria’s counterpunch connected first. It was faster than any punch Galatea had ever borne witness to – a product of refined practice that not even Cynthia had mastered – and a technique that required immense, active mental concentration in the midst of physical trauma.

It was her trump card.

The Phantom Mirage.

Helen felt a molar fly from her mouth, but she pressed on, her final Ironhorse colliding with Miria’s soft skin and flesh, her knuckles digging deep into Miria’s stomach, the woman’s liver churning at the impact.

Neither could withstand each other’s power much longer. After several tortured moments, the two fighters broke off, doubling over and groaning. They staggered, then fell to the ground, their lithe bodies covered in dust and sweat. Miria twitched, and then lay still, her eyes clouding over. Helen had landed face-down, her arms splayed apart. She did not get back up.

Silence impregnated the entire Coliseum.

A… double knockout…

Rimuto found his voice at last, unable to tear his eyes away from the pit. “The… the match is over! They have both lost! Neither fighter shall qualify to challenge the Champion!”

Miria had hoped to return home to Hilda, to share with her the joy of victory.

Helen had expected to challenge Irene by the end of the week, to do her part for Galatea’s strategy.

But there was to be no victor this day.

With a twofold defeat, both contestants were to be disqualified.

Rimuto waved at the wardens at the arena entrance, signalling for them to whisk Miria and Helen away to the medic’s wing.

A dejected, subdued aura permeated the Coliseum. How could this be? It had been a most spectacular bout! Who could have predicted that their final, desperate attacks would connect against each other? It was a horrible twist of fate. It was such a waste.

Neither woman deserved this…

But it was Galatea who felt her shoulder sag in true disappointment. She closed her eyes, unable to meet Clare and Jeane’s helpless gazes.

First Deneve, now Helen. One incapacitated, and one disqualified.

Now, she only had two boxers left who had the potential to challenge the current Champion.

This was not how she hoped things would play out.

*

Miria and Helen lay on separate makeshift beds, their chests rising rapidly and uncomfortably. They had both been hurt badly, neither of them could talk just yet. Such was the damage they had inflicted against each other to their heads.

Galatea stood by Helen’s bedside, flanked by Clare and Jean. Even her sarcastic smile had disappeared now. “This is not good,” she muttered. “Two of our boxers, out of the Carnival. Both heavily injured and unable to fight for more than two months. And we still have several bouts to complete before we can even approach Irene…”

Clare looked sadly down at Helen, whose eyes were closed. Her feeble breathing was truly worrying. “Helen will be heartbroken when she awakes and learns of her disqualification.” Her hand found Helen’s bandaged fingers, clasping it lightly. “I never thought that the rules demanded both fighters concede their victories, should neither defeat the other.”

“I understand that they must maintain these strict rules in the name of fairness,” murmured Jeane, shaking her head. “But even so, to have seen these two fight so valiantly, so courageously… only to have their dreams for this year’s Carnival stolen from them through no fault of their own…”

Galatea’s countenance was grim. “We can’t argue against the judge. His decision is absolute. We have no choice but to make do with what we have now. Although I only have you two, I have faith. Noelle… and Sophia. They hail from Sutafu Academy, and have a direct relationship to Irene. Defeating them will open the path to the Champion herself. But first, Clare, you must defeat Flora, and Jeane, you must work your way up to Noelle by defeating the two lesser fighters on your contract.”

“Of course. Leave it to us,” declared Jeane, raising her hand to her left breast.

“Good.” Galatea looked at them sharply. “Deneve and Helen are out of commission, and Cynthia is hard at work for her Championship match. Please, your part will be of crucial importance. I am counting on you to qualify for challenging Flash-Strike Irene.”

The two women nodded, their eyes clear, sharp, and courageous.

For the sake of their beloved Academy, they could not lose.

For the sake of Teresa… I cannot lose.

*

Sutafu Academy


Although Rabona Academy had been rising rapidly in fame due to the exploits of Clare, Cynthia, Helen and Deneve, the ancient school of Sutafu had still retained its position as the most prestigious bare-knuckle boxing institution. It was a mighty complex up in the forest of the mountains, built of stone and marble, constructed far more expensively than Galatea’s comparatively makeshift wood and bricks. It was intentionally secluded, unlike many of the other Academies that had been founded within cities, for the intents and purposes of removing all distractions from their students.

There were three main reasons for Sutafu Academy’s eminence. The first was that the legendary one-time World Champion, Teresa, trained here as a novice, attaining the foundation that would catapult her into the annals of boxing myth. The second reason was that Priscilla, the young girl who was the first boxer to ever defeat Teresa and usurp the World Championship, also had perfected her techniques here, rising to the summit on the shoulders of Sutafu’s resources and teachers.

Finally, Sutafu was home to the current Continental Featherweight Champion, a veteran who had never suffered defeat save at the hands of Teresa.

Clad in her boxing outfit, Sophia made her way to the large garden outside the Academy, unwrapping her hands of the soaked bandages that protected her knuckles against the sandbag. She was a gentle-eyed and soft-spoken woman, although her competititon with her rival, Noelle, often saw her lose all motivation to maintain the difficult art of femininity. She walked beyond the old pillars that held up the patterned roof of the complex, where a woman reclined on a comfortable chaise longue, sipping a warm cup of tea while observing the setting sun that dipped below the hedges surrounding the park.

Sophia stopped and opened her mouth to speak. “Mistress Irene.”

The woman on the chair turned, setting the teacup aside. Unlike Sophia, she had donned an elegant black dress, her tall stature accentuated by the ebony of the garments. Her slanted eyes glimmered, and she stroked back her platinum hair, just brushing her sharp ears. “What news have you for me?”

“Two fighters have been disqualified in their most recent match. From the Continent, there remains only two boxers who have the right to challenge you. And they are both from Rabona Academy.”

“I see.” The pale, ghostly woman nodded slowly. “Two potential challengers, hm? I have a strange intuition that I may have met them before.”

Rabona Academy. Backwater dredge, thought Sophia to herself. “Of course, they will not climb their way up so easily. As we are of Sutafu Academy, Noelle and I will remain the semi-finalists, as it is every year. Should one of them defeat us, you will be faced with the prospect of fighting her. That is how it has always been, has it not?”

The master boxer called Irene paused, looking up at the afternoon sky. “Good. We will discover soon enough just how powerful they are. You may go.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

As Sophia turned on her heel and made her way out of the lush garden, Irene slowly gave a small, secretive smile.

“Rabona Academy, is it?”

There was no point in getting excited yet. The two still had several bouts to go. Nevertheless, she could not deny the warm sensation at her left breast.

This year was looking to be a good one.

It would be an honour to face one of you in the pit.

Enjoy.