Wings | Jachary ff

18

"He almost caught you!" Zach hissed at us through clenched teeth the minute we stepped into the ballroom. "Could you be any more late?"

"Look, Zach." The general let out a sharp exhale and clapped him on the shoulder. "At least he won't die now."

He shrugged it off and went back to glaring at us before a voice rang out across the room, immediately making everyone quiet down.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the time we've all been waiting for: tonight's duel!"

A small smattering of applause rippled through the crowd as people started muttering to each other.

"The contestants tonight will be Dyvan Cook and Jack Avery! Dyvan Cook, please step forward!"

Zach's face noticeably paled, as did the General's. Curious, I followed their gazes to the center of the room where a guy who looked around my age was standing with deep, purple wings, shoulders thrown back and chin raised in such an arrogant way that I couldn't help but want to sock him in the face.

But I couldn't, or else I would electrocute him.

"Jack Avery, please step forward!"

The other people in the crowd immediately turned to whisper at their neighbors as I stepped forward. The guy—Dyvan, apparently, gave me a once-over, his upper lip curled in a look of contempt.

I really, really wanted to electrocute him but the general had warned me against that, so traditional fighting it was.

Suddenly, there was a loud rumble and the center of the floor started descending, forming a kind of pit. Everyone in the ballroom immediately crowded around the edge, throwing curious looks my way.

"Begin!"

He charged at me with no hesitation, a left jab aimed at my face. I barely dodged, sidestepping, as he shifted to face me and threw another punch that connected with my shoulder. Pain blossomed from the area as he backed away, unsheathing a sword that I didn't notice before.

Fuck fuck fuck.

He had a smirk on his face as if he knew how inexperienced I was and swung at me with the sword. My body seemed to move on my own as I heard the blade whistle right next to my ear, a shocked expression flickering in and out of Dyvan's face before he sneered.

"Don't make that face," I said, a small smirk making its way onto my face. "It doesn't look good on you."

"I'll kill you."

He lunged again with the sword but I stepped out of the way, starting to pick up on his pattern of putting all his weight on his front foot whenever he attacked.

"Go on, Dyvan. Don't go easy on me."

He bared his teeth and lunged again, but this time I sidestepped and shifted my weight to my right foot, turning and swinging my leg around in a flying roundhouse kick. The sound of my foot connecting with his ribs echoed throughout the room. He dropped his sword and staggered back, a look of pure shock on his face like he couldn't believe how I'd done that but I blinked and it was gone, replaced by a feral look in his eyes.

"You'll pay for that," he snarled, diving for the sword. I got there first, kicking it away.

One moment I was on the ground, and the next, in the air. Dyvan was gripping me by my collar with no intention of letting go.

Solas, what do I do?

If he drops you, you have no choice but to fly.

I struggled in his grasp but it was too strong as he flew higher and higher until we reached the roof of the ballroom, the spectators pointing and gawking.