Chapter 68

Kuragin was hard to track down. Sponsored by House Kraken, he seemed to spend every waking minute outside of class inside its exclusive wing, behind the huge, gilded doors emblazoned with twin tentacular horrors. Not that Scorio had time to spend haunting the hallway outside the suite; every moment he wasn’t forced to sit in a class or spar or train, he was in one of the meditation chambers, cavernous rooms whose bleak emptiness contrasted with the powerful mana that suffused them.

But no matter how he put the memory of his Emberling trial from his mind, he couldn’t forget Kuragin’s role in it. The need to know what had happened thereafter, his brother’s fate, the outcome of the incipient revolt, tugged at him. Had the Great Soul sought him out in the dining hall so many weeks ago due to their shared past? Like a cut inside his cheek or a loose tooth, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Stop worrying about the past. And so he took to stalking Kuragin like a patient predator running down its prey.

Except this prey stood at almost seven feet in height and was feared and loathed by most of the cohort. As little as Scorio saw of the tournament winner, he learned plenty; how he was unnecessarily brutal in sparring practice, regardless of how skilled his opponent was. How he’d put another Great Soul into the infirmary over a perceived slight delivered in the mess quarters, which would have resulted in punitive action had it not been for Kraken’s intervention.

“He won’t talk to you,” Leonis groused the evening before their Gauntlet run as Scorio paced back and forth across their common room. “Kuragin has more in common with a lizard than a man. If he senses you want something, he’ll deprive you of it just for the pleasure of making you squirm. Especially after what happened between you.”

“Then maybe I’ll make him talk,” said Scorio.

“You’ll make him talk. Kuragin. Who nearly tore Chen She in half? You and what army?”

Scorio felt a flicker flash of annoyance and raised his fist. It took him far longer than he liked, but eventually, he ignited his Heart and summoned his power. Black scales coiled about his forearm and turned his hand into a gauntlet. His claws distended and began to glow in the dim light.

“Yes, yes, very impressive,” said Leonis. “But Kuragin’s a monster. And he’s been an Emberling for months now. If it comes down to it, he’ll ignite before you do and tear you apart.”

Lianshi, who’d been reading one of her journals in the cushioned corner, finally set down her book. “We’re a day from the Gauntlet run. Everything depends on tomorrow. Why are you so determined to imperil our chances by seeking out trouble?”

“I’m not seeking out trouble,” snapped Scorio, allowing his hand to revert to its human form. “I need to know about my past. About my… my brother.”

Lianshi’s gaze was unforgiving. “Whatever it is you hope to learn, it happened nearly a millennia ago. Another day won’t matter.”

Scorio grimaced and turned away. “You say it doesn’t matter, but I need to know. I need to know who I am, Lianshi. How I became The Abhorred. How that original life led to my becoming a Red Lister here in hell. If I wait till after the Gauntlet run, who knows when I’ll have access to Kuragin like this again?”

“Some access,” said Leonis, voice lazy, sardonic.

Scorio ignored him. “The vision I had… it felt like it happened yesterday. The very thought…” He grimaced. “I need to know. I need to know more about myself. I can’t risk his getting away.”

“Your brother, hey?” Leonis leaned back in his chair. “Nothing gets under our skin, it seems, like family.”

Lianshi’s expression softened. “Your trial involved family, too, Leonis?”

The big man sighed. “It did. Not an easy memory, or even a good one. But a defining one. A choice I had to make.”

“Same here,” said Scorio, coming to a stop, hands on his hips. “But I feel good about the decision I made. I think. I need to know what happened next to be certain.”

“Mine was compelled by necessity.” Leonis’s voice became heavy, and he trained his gaze on his hands where they worked a quill back and forth. “Not a good choice, but the only one I could make.”

Scorio studied his companion’s troubled expression and then gave a sharp shake of his head. “Well, I’ve a question. I didn’t really feel like I had a choice, either. I mean, I technically did, but there was no way I was going to let my brother…” He trailed off, suddenly uncertain. Lianshi and Leonis were watching him intently. “Let my brother hang. So I intervened. Kuragin was the one conducting the hanging.”

“Damn,” said Leonis softly. “Why was your brother being executed?”

Scorio felt his innards turn shaky, the power of those old emotions rising again. He moved to the wall and sat on a cushion. “He’d tried to create change. Entered local politics, defied the king. I only caught snatches of it. But he was arrested for his attempts. He was being made an example of. I was in the crowd. My choice was to hold back, let him die a martyr, and lead a much more powerful movement that would rally around his death, or save him and possibly imperil the movement itself.”

“You saved him,” said Leonis without hesitation.

“Of course.”

“Mine…” The big man sighed and leaned back in his chair, causing the wood to creak. “I was at a massive coliseum. Tens of thousands of people in the stands, the nobility and royal family gathered under purple awnings. My uncle was on the sands below. He wore a copy of my father’s armor. The armor of the king. I’d just learned that my father had died on campaign. I was to inherit the throne, but my uncle defied me. Called me weak, called me soft, and began the ceremony before the people of our capital city to anoint himself in my place.”

Neither Scorio nor Lianshi spoke. Leonis’s gaze had turned inward.

“My councilors urged me to allow the spectacle to take place, told me that it was a hollow gesture with no legal standing. That we would have him arrested when he left the coliseum and tried for treason. And I could tell they were correct. But I also knew that I’d lose the respect of the people. I had to decide in that moment what to do: wait and crush him later, or challenge him there and then. My mother…”

Leonis’s voice trailed off, and he frowned. He thought for a moment, then continued briskly.

“So I descended to the sands and challenged him to trial by combat, which was what he’d hoped for.”

“His plan was to trick you into a fight?” Lianshi’s tone was skeptical. “I’d like to see the man who’d think that was a good idea.”

Leonis’s smile was wistful, sad. “I was only twelve.”

Lianshi blanched and jerked back as if struck.

“He was my favorite uncle. But he faced me across the sands and did his level best to kill me before our family, our friends, our people. I slew him, and Nezzar appeared to me, marking me the true king.”

“Damn,” whispered Scorio. “That feels similar to my trial. A question of heart and loyalty over… I don’t quite know how to put it.”

“Calculation,” said Lianshi softly. “Rationality, perhaps. Logic.”

Scorio nodded slowly. “And we both ended up with a close-quarters power. My claws, your Nezzar.”

“What of you, Lianshi?” asked Leonis. “You don’t have to share if you want. But did your trial fit the same mold?”

“It did,” she said and lowered her gaze suddenly to her fingers, which were pulling golden threads from one of the cushions.

“And your ability is also close-quarters,” said Scorio. “True invulnerability. A physical power. So if we’d picked otherwise? Gone with the more… calculated option?”

“Those who make that choice develop ranged powers,” said Lianshi softly. “Such as Hera’s turrets, or Feng’s cone of slowness. Seems to be rarer, though.”

“Ravenna’s ability to hurl rocks,” said Scorio, and a frisson of excitement washed over him. “Which would mean she picked the rational, calculating option in her trial. Which reveals something of her nature.”

“Massamach’s cratering attack,” added Leonis. “Which is strange. Given his size and power, I always felt like he was a more emotional guy, but no. When his moment came, he chose the rational option.”

“Fascinating,” said Scorio, leaning forward. “But why is this kept such a big secret? Why can’t we tell the Cinders?”

“Why?” Lianshi’s smile was lopsided. “Because knowledge as to the nature of the test skews the results. You might decide ahead of time that you want to attack from a distance, and then that will influence your decision in the moment. Resulting in a power that’s not true to your nature.”

“But what would be wrong with that?” asked Scorio. “We’d just have a different means to attack.”

“Think about it,” said Lianshi, tone clinical. “Say you’re temperamentally suited to closing in with the enemy and lashing out with your claws. But your power is the ability to—oh, I don’t know—hurl spheres of light at them from a hundred yards away.”

“Fine, right,” said Scorio with a frown. “But then why is it a trial? If we’re just suited to make one clear choice, then why not simply call it… something like a rite of passage?”

“Because we don’t always make the same choice,” said Lianshi, and inhaled deeply. “Sometimes we make the other choice.”

Scorio narrowed his eyes. “That doesn’t make sense. I’d never leave my brother to hang.”

“Perhaps not. But I’ve discovered sections of my journals that were written with a mana technique that I can only read now with my Emberling senses. And it discusses this. Most times I’ve made a certain decision like I did this time. But perhaps one out of every three times I make the other choice, as hard as it is for me to believe.”

Scorio could only shake his head in denial.

“It depends on the life we live leading up to the trial,” she continued. “It’s a lot more formative than we think. Which is why the Academy tries to standardize everything, so that they can predict how we’ll come out. What powers we’ll manifest. But at times the Academy has lost control of the situation. Tragedies have occurred before we make Emberling, accidents that mark us. Warp us. Make us prefer the other approach. I don’t know. I can barely explain it to myself. But it’s clear, written here in my own hand.” And she stared down at the open pages. “We make different choices at times, and that changes the whole course of our lives.”

Scorio stared at her and saw his brother fall through the trapdoor. He tried to imagine a Scorio who would just stand there and watch him die.

“I can believe it,” said Leonis. “When I chose to descend to the sands and kill my uncle, I felt outraged, yes, but also a sense of… I don’t know how to put it. I thought of you both, which felt… very strange in the moment. But thinking of you both made me want to stand up to my uncle, to defy him, his betrayal. I’m not saying I’d have let him go through with the ceremony if I’d not met you both, but…” He shrugged uneasily.

Scorio rubbed at his jaw. “I see. It’s just… strange. To think we’re that variable, or influenced by our surroundings.”

Lianshi watched him, lips pursed, looking somehow helpless.

“What was your trial?” asked Leonis quietly.

She glanced down at her journal, then closed it and set it aside. Brought her knees up to her chin, curled her ebon hair behind an ear, and then wrapped her arms about her shins. “I was…”

She paused, as if running out of determination, then tried again.

“I was a member of a religious organization. A death cult, I think. I was an orphan. Raised in those cold stone halls. We were trained, molded, from a very young age. Shaped to be… I’m not sure, exactly. Embodiments of our god’s virtues and ideals, which revolved around… something like derealization. Ceasing to think of ourselves as individuals, and more like vessels for his… fury. His blessings. We were to exercise his judgments on those who transgressed. And I… well. This night, the one from the trial. A sister of mine—a fellow acolyte, I suppose—came to me with a confession. She had fallen in love with me.”

Lianshi smiled, a twisted, broken expression. “And she wanted me to decide what she should do. We were close, she and I—had entered the church together at the same time, the same age. She trusted me. If I decided she should tell our Mother Superior, she would do so. But if not, she confessed that she was going to try and run away. And wanted me to run away with her.”

Lianshi curled a lock of hair behind her ear once more, the gesture nervous. “But she could also have been testing me on behalf of the church. We were often faced with such tricks. To see how we would act in private, when we thought we were unobserved. If it were such, and I chose to flee, the punishment would be… severe.”

Scorio couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t imagine the world she described. Could only listen, eyes wide.

“My trial was to decide her fate,” said Lianshi softly. “And at the same time, my own. I was a lowly acolyte like her. Turning her in would have elevated me to a position of privilege, granting me rights and lenience’s I could use to escape if I so wished in a year’s time. Running away with her would have been worse than foolish. Any of our older sisters could have hunted us down with ease.”

“What did you decide?” asked Leonis after a long pause.

“This time?” Lianshi’s smile was bleak. “To run away with her. I, too, thought of you both. The idea of betraying her was impossible, no matter how impossible our dream was.”

Scorio nodded slowly. “A heart-led decision.”

Leonis was watching Lianshi carefully, and when she met his gaze and immediately looked away, he frowned. “What is it? You’re not telling us something.”

“She doesn’t have to,” said Scorio immediately. “That’s her past. She can tell us as much or as little as she wants.”

“I think she wants to tell us though,” said Leonis. “Lianshi?”

“I…” She gazed down at her hands again. Took a deep breath, held it, then let it out a whoosh. “The sister that came to me is here, at the Academy. Juniper.”

Scorio felt his breath catch. “Juniper? Have you spoken to her? Does she have the same memories?”

“I haven’t,” said Lianshi quietly. “I haven’t dared. I’m not sure I want to know what she remembers. What I did in her version.”

“Huh,” said Scorio, leaning his head back against the wall. “But it’s like you said. This happened over a millennia ago.”

“And isn’t the fact that she’s here proof that you helped her get away?” asked Leonis.

“No,” said Lianshi. “My turning her in could have set her on a different path that led to her becoming important enough to be recruited in the demon war.”

“But she’s smiled at you,” said Scorio. “Seems friendly.”

Lianshi shrugged one shoulder uncomfortably. “But in my journals, I’ve read of the times I betrayed her. It’s in me. I have the capacity for that cold calculation. Who’s to say I didn’t the first time, given how I was raised, without friends and companions like you both?”

Scorio and Leonis sat quietly for a while.

“It’s your choice, of course,” said Scorio at last. “But I want to face Kuragin nonetheless. I want to know what he remembers. For better or worse.”

“I can understand that. And perhaps… in time, I’ll speak to Juniper.” Lianshi ran her fingers over the cover of her journal. “But for now, I want to stay on this fresh path I’m on, with you both, with Naomi. I was so excited to read these journals at first, but it’s becoming more and more daunting to do so. To read of the decisions I made, the mistakes, to learn of regrets, to see myself become someone I can’t even recognize. I’m thinking of putting them all away for a while and perhaps coming back to them, later.”

“I can see that,” said Leonis gravely. “When I learned that I’d been reincarnated over a hundred and twenty times, I felt almost a sense of fatalism. As in, what could I really do differently this time around? But I’ve found the best remedy to that is to simply not think about it at all, and focus on the moment, on being myself, on being true to what I feel and experience and care about now.”

“Fair enough,” said Scorio. “But I can’t let go of my past. I’m going to find Kuragin.”

Both of his friends stared at him.

“What, now?” asked Lianshi.

“Sure. He can’t sleep in the Kraken wing. I’m going to go knock on his door.”

“That’s a terrible idea,” said Leonis.

To which Scorio could only crack a grin. “Since when has that ever stopped me?”

They followed him, of course, as he strode out of the Aureate Hall and over to Kuragin’s area, Resplendent Hall. Scorio had been down its length only once, seeking to catch Kuragin two days before, but had been foiled by the slam of the Great Soul’s front door.

Not this time.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped up to the huge bronze portal, recessed like his own, and slammed his fist on it several times.

“Terrible idea,” whispered Leonis, glancing nervously both ways. “We’re past hours, tomorrow’s the run. We’ll be accused of interfering with Kuragin’s chances.”

“Just a friendly talk,” said Scorio. And pounded on the door again.

Which yanked open, and then there he was, towering over Scorio, the figure of his latest obsession, his elusive target, a man he’d sought so earnestly that seeing him now, right before him, was almost startling.

Kuragin’s snarl was near bestial. “What do you want, Scorio?”

Scorio stared up at the larger man. “We need to talk.”

“Wrong. You need to talk. I don’t. Now get out of here before I lose my patience.”

And Kuragin went to close the door.

Scorio stuck his boot in the way and stopped it from shutting altogether.

“Scorio,” hissed Lianshi.

“We need to talk,” said Scorio again. “And I think you know why.”

Kuragin’s dark eyes narrowed. “Put your foot in the way again and I’ll crush it.”

“You can try. Or you can just answer a few questions. This can be over in a moment.”

Kuragin seemed to consider, raising his chin and moving ever so subtly forward, crowding Scorio back. Or trying to. Scorio didn’t move.

“I owe you nothing and have even less of a desire to help you.”

Scorio met his stare full-on. “Just some questions, Kuragin. There’s got to be a way to convince you. Something you want.”

“What’s going on?” A voice from deeper in the room, and then one of Kuragin’s roommates stepped into partial view: Famissa, the woman with long black hair and tanned skin who’d worked with Scorio during his first week back at the Academy. “Scorio?”

“None of your business, Fam,” growled Kuragin.

“Fine,” said Scorio, “I’ll talk your language. Let’s duel for it.”

Lianshi groaned.

“Duel?” Kuragin seemed to be considering the idea. “And my prize?”

“What do you want?”

The larger man considered. “Win or lose, you refuse any healing beyond your own body’s abilities before tomorrow’s run.”

“Kuragin,” protested Famissa. “That’s obscene.”

“And a terrible idea,” said Leonis, stepping in beside Scorio to match Kuragin’s bulk with his own. “One, I’m guessing, that doesn’t apply to you?”

“Course not,” said Kuragin, baring his teeth in an expression that could barely be called a smile. “I’m not the one disturbing Scorio’s precious rest.”

“Then I think we’re done here,” said Leonis, turning away. “Let’s go, Scorio.”

“Run along, little boy,” said Kuragin. “You’ll never learn what happened to your brother.”

His words were like a slap. Scorio felt his cheeks burn, and closed his fists tightly enough to cause his knuckles to crack. His whole body tensed as a familiar fiery feeling swept through his veins, causing his muscles to quiver with barely restrained fury.

“Terms accepted,” he heard himself say.

“By the ten hells and every fiend who ever fornicated,” groaned Leonis. “Scorio!”

“Then let’s go,” said Kuragin, pushing forward, forcing Scorio back, who barely deigned to give way. “Fam, come as a witness.”

“This is asinine and cruel,” said Famissa, grabbing an overrobe from a door side hook even as she followed.

“Agreed,” said Lianshi. “Scorio, you are the greatest fool that ever walked in hell.”

Scorio ignored their words. One truth resonated in his mind, the only truth that mattered: Kuragin knew about his brother. Unprompted, he’d mentioned him, which meant his own trial had revealed something of their shared past.

A past that was a dark shroud, an abscess, a void. A life torn away from him by the process of reincarnation, and which his trial had shone but the briefest amount of light on.

The need to know was voracious. The same need that had compelled him to make that foolish bet with Jova. An all-consuming desire to know about himself. The self that had earned his titles.

The Scorio that had been Red Listed.

They strode down the hallway, down staircases, and across other corridors in silence, until at last, their group stepped into a large training chamber, complete with a sparring circle and two rows of raised seating.

Kuragin moved into the center of the ring first, his manner easy, his smile subtle but infuriatingly confident.

“Bold of you to challenge me like this,” he said. “Me, who passed undefeated through the tournament, whereas you lost in the—what—tenth round? I don’t even remember.”

“I’m looking forward to my education,” said Scorio, stepping up onto the white surface of the circle. “Don’t hold back now.” And he summoned his Heart and began sweeping Coal mana into his reservoir.

“I never do.”

“What are the terms?” demanded Leonis loudly. “This isn’t to be an all-out brawl. First to three clear hits?”

“No,” said Kuragin, never taking his gaze from Scorio. “The first to submit or fall out of the ring loses. Nice and simple.”

“Scorio,” hissed Lianshi. “Quit this madness. We’re running the Gauntlet tomorrow.”

“Agreed on all counts,” said Famissa, standing beside her, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “Not to mention that you’d probably both be expelled for this unsanctioned fight if anyone found out.”

“Nobody will find out,” said Kuragin softly. “Right, Scorio?”

“Right,” said Scorio, heart pounding, pounding in his chest. Kuragin stood before him, but he was more than his physical self; he was a portal to the past, a means to decode the cipher of his history. All he had to do was force the man to submit. Still, he swept Coal mana into his immense reservoir, dumping sweep after sweep into his Heart’s core.

“Then let’s begin this farce,” said Kuragin, rolling his head about his neck. “Since Fam’s watching, I’ll not brutalize you too badly. She’s squeamish about these things.”

Scorio lowered himself into a combat crouch. Kuragin wouldn’t know that Scorio had made Emberling; he’d not used his powers in any public training session, had told nobody outside his intimate circle. Even Praximar hadn’t figured it out.

No wonder the other Great Soul thought him mad.

A deep breath, and Kuragin began to shift. He quickly assumed his monstrous form, shoulders broadening, his neck shortening, his splitting mouth open to become a fanged maw. His eyes became burning yellow pits, his musculature exaggerated to the point of deformity.

Just as before his hands turned into cruel, powerful claws, massive and serrated, while a thick carapace covered his back, the shell a mottled crimson and black, sweeping over his head to form a horned helm, down his back, across the fronts of his thighs and shins and along his shoulders, the sides of his biceps, and forearms.

Finally, his huge tail dropped into view, the same ridged club that Kuragin had used to batter Chen She into oblivion.

“Ready,” rasped Kuragin, his amusement obvious, his eyes burning with sadistic anticipation. “Do your worst, little Cinder.”

Scorio had been drawing Coal mana into his reservoir this whole time, and only now was he beginning to feel close to full. But he didn’t ignite. Instead, he began to circle out wide, causing Kuragin to pivot patiently. How did you even get close to such a fiend? His size belied his speed; despite his mass and heavy shielding, Kuragin had kept pace with Chen She, his reactions startling, his killer instinct unwavering.

This would have been a death match for Scorio as a Cinder. Even with his hidden Emberling power, it was still fraught with peril.

“Come on now,” growled Kuragin, swiping his clubbed tail from side to side. “Don’t make me chase you. There are ladies watching.”

“Damn your eyes, Kuragin,” said Lianshi coldly.

“All right.” Scorio took a deep breath. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

This elicited a deep, reverberating chuckle from Kuragin’s barrel chest just as Scorio threw himself forward.

The benefit of stalking Kuragin these past few weeks was that he’d seen him spar several times against other Emberlings. Kuragin always met a charge head-on, seeking to blast past his foe and bring his tail to bear if his claws failed to end the fight right away.

Which was what he did now. The moment Scorio ran at him, Kuragin ceased to chuckle and bellowed his challenge, breaking into a charge as he came right at him.

It was madness and death to meet him head-on; the logical, intelligent thing to do was throw himself aside at the last moment, which was exactly what Kuragin was waiting for.

So instead, Scorio shouted his defiance right back and met Kuragin head-on.

He had the pleasure of seeing the burning yellow eyes narrow in confusion, saw a flicker flash of hesitation as Kuragin pulled back on his attack. It was one thing to mess around in private and hold a violent duel, quite another for an Emberling to accidentally kill a Cinder.

Still, Kuragin’s idea of holding back was enough to shatter bone.

The end of the fight right there.

But that’s exactly when Scorio ignited his Heart. With a great whoomph, it blazed forth with ghostly black fire, and Scorio tore his technique up from his core, caused his body to change in the blink of an eye. Black scales erupted over his arms and shoulders just as he raised his forearm to block Kuragin’s sideswipe cold.

The blow, even restrained, was tremendous. But though Kuragin’s huge claws cracked and tore at the black scales, they failed to penetrate. Instead, they buffeted Scorio nearly off his feet. Both Great Souls turned, Kuragin’s eyes widening in shock, but it was already too late.

Scorio blocked the slash with his left as he punched his burning white claws of his right into Kuragin’s unprotected gut.

No time to celebrate. Scorio tore his claws free, ducked under Kuragin’s other swipe, and leaped back out of danger.

All of it had happened in a second or less. A furious collision, a flurry of blows, then both warriors stood staring at each other.

Kuragin’s vast shoulders were heaving. His stomach was a mass of deep, cauterized wounds that showed viscera and seams of fat.

“You… bastard,” gasped the monstrous man, fighting for his breath as if he’d just finished sprinting their morning race. “You’re… an Emberling.”

Scorio didn’t even allow himself a response. He kept his focus trained on the huge man’s hips, his shoulders.

The massive maw writhed back into a silent snarl, Kuragin’s outrage and fury near curdling the air. With great effort he straightened, pulling at the burned seams that lacerated his core. “Doesn’t matter if you cheat. I’ll crush you regardless.”

“Cheating, is it?” asked Leonis from the sideline. “You were fine fighting him as a Cinder, but now that it’s an even fight you’re complaining?”

Kuragin took a deep breath and hopped forward, an awkward, sideways shuffle that was completely counter-intuitive if you forgot about his tail. But Scorio had seen him use this exact maneuver twice; he crouched lower, ready, and when Kuragin leaped at him, windmilling his claws up and around, he wasn’t fooled.

It was the tail that was coming for him, and sure enough, even as he swayed away from the descending claws, the huge, clubbed head whipped out, faster than it should have been able to move, coming down and across to shatter arms, cave in his chest, and collapse his hips.

There was no blocking it. The radius of its swing was too wide to be neatly dodged. So instead Scorio roared and punched it square, curling his claws down and away so that his heavily scaled knuckles impacted the club right as it came screaming down toward his head.

The pain was shattering. It felt like he’d punched a live bolt of lightning. White light flashed up through his arm, numbing it entirely, and his hand felt liquid and wrong.

But if the pain was shattering, the clubbed tail actually shattered; huge chunks of bone or chitin or whatever flew in every direction. Kuragin overbalanced, staggered in alarm, then turned away reflexively so that Scorio’s follow-up attack scored deep, smoking cuts down the length of his heavy carapace.

But now, Kuragin was on the back foot. Scorio cradled his numb arm to his chest and came after him, his left tearing chunks from the monster’s carapace, shredding the huge shell, driving him back as he flailed his tail about uselessly and kept his claws raised before his face.

Again and again, Kuragin sought to regain the initiative, but Scorio was upon him like a vengeful storm. Again and again, he slashed and raked his burning claws across the other student, forcing him to keep his guard up and retreat blindly—right up to when he tripped and fell off the edge of the ring to crash the ground below.

“Victory to Scorio,” said Leonis, voice blank with awe. “By the ten hells, he did it.”