Chapter 96: The List (16)
One moment Lucien was weightless, hurtling through that endless, starless void, the static screaming in his ears as the entity flung him upward like a toy.
He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for impact that never seemed to come.
And then.
A blink.
That was all it took.
A single blink.
The darkness dissolved in an instant, and when Lucien’s eyelids lifted, the world slammed back into him like a hammer.
He sucked in a breath as if he had been underwater for hours, the taste of dust and sweat thick on his tongue.
His body jerked from the phantom lurch of falling, but instead of the void, he was staring at the flooring, dimly lit by the glow of the dueling arena’s wards.
Weight pressed against him.
Real and unbearably heavy.
His shoulder burned with familiar pain, white-hot and raw, and a low groan vibrated against his chest.
He blinked again, once, twice, trying to reconcile what he saw with where he had just been.
Phillip.
Still leaning into him.
Still unconscious, still breathing, the boy’s weight dragging Lucien down.
Lucien’s throat tightened.
That was real.
The ache in his battered muscles was real.
The dull throb of his bruises, the sting of exhaustion, the weight of another human being pressed against him, all of it was real.
No void.
No laughter.
No endless static.
‘It’s like nothing happened… ‘
The confirmation came not from his mind, but his nerves.
The pain made it undeniable.
His chest rose and fell with shallow, shaky breaths as he clutched Phillip tighter, trying to steady himself.
The judge was stepping forward, hands raised to separate the two duelists, but before he could reach them, chaos broke out.
It began with shouting in the stands, sharp and angry, words Lucien couldn’t catch over the pounding in his ears.
The duel had struck raw nerves among the students, a fire stoked by pride and wagers.
Betting disputes crackled into accusations, and accusations snapped into threats.
In moments, the dignified air of the duel shattered into a mess of snarls and fists.
The gallery erupted in movement as two groups of students surged at each other, their voices cracking with fury.
Hot blood boiled over like oil on flame.
“Enough!”
The judge’s voice cut through, strained and urgent.
He moved to intervene, but the quarrel had already spiraled into a full-blown brawl.
He and several others waded in, shouting commands, arms outstretched to pull students apart.
The arena trembled with the roar of chaos, grunts, curses, the dull thud of fists striking flesh.
The audience’s uproar swallowed all attention.
The duelists, half-standing, were forgotten in the storm.
Lucien’s knees threatened to buckle under the weight on his shoulder.
Every breath he took rattled his lungs, and his vision blurred with exhaustion.
He shifted Phillip higher against him, teeth gritting to squeeze out the final bit of strength he could muster.
Step by step, he began to guide him toward the edge of the arena.
His good arm hooked tightly under Phillip’s, dragging him forward with stubborn determination.
His muscles screamed, each step like wading through tar.
“Come on,” Lucien muttered under his breath.
“Just a little further… don’t collapse on me now.”
But his body betrayed him.
His legs faltered, trembling violently, the floor tilting beneath him as dizziness clawed at the edges of his sight.
Phillip’s weight threatened to topple them both.
Then suddenly, the burden lightened.
Lucien blinked, startled.
The weight pressing into him wasn’t quite as crushing anymore.
He turned his head, and his eyes widened.
She was there.
The girl who had been with Phillip.
Her face was pale and streaked with tears, the tracks on her cheeks catching the light, but her eyes, red-rimmed and sharp, burned with a cold fire.
She had slipped under Phillip’s other arm, supporting him with a strength born of sheer will.
Her voice cut through the din, low and icy.
“You can let go now.”
The words hit harder than the duel had.
Lucien froze, blinking through the haze of pain and fatigue, trying to process the sudden venom in her tone.
There was no gratitude, no relief, not even acknowledgment.
Just a dismissal.
Her gaze didn’t linger on him.
It stayed fixed on Phillip, softening only for the boy sagging between them.
Her grip was firm, her posture steady, her tears already drying into brittle resolve.
Lucien’s chest tightened.
His jaw worked silently, but no words came.
For a moment he just stared, caught between exhaustion and confusion, as though still trying to confirm which world he was in, the void’s cruel illusions, or this harsh, dismissive reality.
The bruises on his body told him the answer.
He swallowed hard, breath shaky, and adjusted his grip one last time before loosening it.
His arm slipped free from Phillip’s side, leaving the boy entirely in her care.
His shoulder throbbed from the sudden absence of weight, but the ache in his chest cut deeper.
Her hostility said everything.
And just like that, Lucien found himself standing there, watching as the girl carried Phillip forward without sparing him another glance.
***
Lucien’s legs trembled as he turned away, every step pulling him further from Phillip and the girl.
His shoulder throbbed with a steady, merciless rhythm, and the dull ache grew sharper with every shallow breath.
All he wanted in that moment was to collapse somewhere, anywhere, and let his body surrender to exhaustion.
But just as he staggered forward, a sharp yelp cut through the din of the brawl behind him.
He froze.
His head turned instinctively, sluggish but precise, like a puppet forced to glance back at its strings.
The girl.
She was struggling under Phillip’s weight, her knees buckling, her posture crooked and strained as she tried to hold him upright on her own.
Her face was taut with effort, every tear-streaked feature clenched in stubborn defiance.
But her body betrayed her; she stumbled two steps, nearly collapsing with Phillip dragging her down.
Lucien stopped.
He stood there for a long, heavy moment, caught in the vise of his own thoughts.
‘She was clear, wasn’t she? “You can let go now.”, Hostile as hell.’
His jaw clenched. So why should I go back? Why should I lift another damn finger?
The memory of her voice lingered in his ears, cutting sharper than any blade.
And yet… his eyes couldn’t tear away from the sight of her trembling arms, her body visibly faltering under Phillip’s dead weight.
She looked like a child trying to carry a sack of rocks.
Lucien exhaled through his nose, the sound more of a growl than a sigh.
‘Pathetic…’
But not her, no, the situation.
The absurdity of it all.
She couldn’t carry him, not like that.
Hell, he barely could.
There was no chance she’d make it to the benches, much less the infirmary.
His shoulder screamed at him not to.
His ribs pleaded with him not to.
His legs shook in warning, promising collapse if he asked too much more of them.
And still, Lucien turned around.
Every step back toward them was like defiance against his own body, but he pushed through it, one after another, until he was by her side again.
Without a word, he ducked under Phillip’s other arm, slipping back into place as though he’d never let go.
His hand gripped Phillip’s waist, steadying the boy as his body slumped between them.
The girl jerked her head toward him, startled, her eyes flashing with equal parts relief and indignation.
“I- w-we don’t need your help,” she stammered, her voice laced with hesitance that undercut her protest.
Lucien barked a dry laugh, the sound rough from fatigue.
Too tired to polish his words.
“Really? Then what was that little yelp just now- a battle cry?”
He adjusted Phillip’s weight with a grunt, biting back the pain that flared in his shoulder.
Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she said nothing.
Lucien added, “I can’t carry him alone either. So let’s just… call it even.”
He shifted Phillip again, nearly buckling before regaining his balance.
“Besides, I don’t even know which way the infirmary is. You lead, I’ll grunt and sweat. Deal?”
She glared at him, cheeks flushing, not entirely from tears this time.
“You’re the reason he’s like this!”
She snapped, her voice trembling with anger that didn’t quite mask the wobble of her knees.
“You’re the reason he can’t even stand!”
Lucien’s tired smile twisted into a grimace.
“Yeah, that’s… kind of how duels work. Shocking, right?”
His tone was dry, but his eyes were serious as he looked at her.
“Now, we can stand here, yelling at each other with Phillip hanging off our shoulders like a rag doll, or we can get him to the infirmary first and then argue until our throats give out. Your choice.”
Her mouth opened, ready to fire back, but no words came.
The logic, plain as stone, smothered her rebuttal.
She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, her glare burning holes into him, but she didn’t argue again.
Lucien sighed under his breath.
“That’s what I thought.”
So they moved, step by step, dragging Phillip between them.
Behind them, the gymnasium was chaos incarnate, the shouting, the crashing of bodies, the judge’s strained voice trying to impose order on madness.
But ahead of them, their world shrank down to three battered figures: one unconscious, one tearful and furious, one battered and exhausted.
And for now, despite their mutual hostility, Lucien and the girl cooperated.
Begrudgingly.
Painfully.
But it was enough to keep Phillip moving forward.
