Magic Madness™️

Chapter Nine: Focus

Word Count: 1,860
Trigger/Content warning: mention of blood, injuries

"Very good, Alejandro," Joan nodded curtly, brushing himself off, "You make a very good fighter. Your reflexes are going to be extremely useful."
"Thanks," replied Alex, only slightly out of breath as he took his blindfold off.

+50 EXP

"Your turn, Elijah. Are you ready?" Joan asked. He had begun to train them at the same time, giving one a break to catch their breath and practice whatever it was they needed to practice while the other actually trained.
"I guess," Elijah mumbled, trying to remember the 'battle stance' that Joan had taught him.
"Everyone has an offensive power, Elijah. You just have to access it," Joan reminded encouragingly, getting into his fighting stance. Elijah nodded, inhaling deeply.
"On my count. Three...two...one," Joan said, and then there was silence as Elijah tried to figure out who would throw the first punch. Then Joan motioned for Eli to come closer, and Eli threw a punch to his nose. Joan reacted quickly, grabbing Elijah's arm before it could make contact with his face and spinning Elijah around. In less than two seconds, Joan had maneuvered himself to be behind Elijah, strapping his arms around Elijah's chest, trapping any further movement on Eli's behalf. Elijah struggled, arms trapped between his chest and Joan's arms, his hands gripping Joan's wrists, trying to push him off. It didn't work. He gripped harder. Joan's arms continued to squeeze. It was hurting his chest. He couldn't breathe. He flickered in and out of visibility.
He tapped Joan's wrist five times in quick succession, and he was let go: five taps was the signal for surrender. Needless to say, Joan was disappointed.
"Elijah," Joan sighed, "I need you to try harder. You should already have some control over your offensive power, but you don't even know what it is yet."
"I'm trying my best, okay?" Elijah wheezed, one hand over his chest as if that would help him breathe better.
"I know you think you're trying your best, but you'd be amazed at what you can actually accomplish, if you just dig deeper. I need you to try harder," Joan told Elijah; he had meant for it to be encouraging, but it didn't quite sound that way.

Joan got no response. He rolled his eyes.
"Don't do this, Elijah. This is not what your powers are for," Joan warned (though it was less of a warning and more...tired).
Elijah didn't respond. Now invisible, he could walk away, if he didn't make a sound.
"I know your full name, since it's logged in your game console information," Joan threatened. Elijah said nothing. He turned on his heel and started walking toward the creek bridge.
"Elijah," Joan said lowly, "Get back here. And if you're still here, stop being invisible. Right now."
Elijah continued to walk. He splashed some of the (currently calm) creek water as loudly as he could before he kept going.
"Elijah Maxwell Matthews. Get back here right now," Joan said sharply, through gritted teeth.
"You're not my dad," Elijah replied, once he was sure he was out of earshot. He wandered down the side of the creek, stepping on stones, crossing the tiny bridge, and mumbling to himself the whole way. At one point, he picked up a rather large stick and dragged it on the ground beside him, as he walked. He walked for a good three minutes, before he heard something snap loudly, behind him. Despite being invisible, Elijah froze in his spot. He waited a moment until he thought whatever was behind him was gone before turning around to check.
A wolf, one that looked rather similar to the last one, stood there, body lowered, ready to pounce, sharp teeth on full display.
'Another wolf?' Elijah thought, 'How lazy can a game designer get?'
The wolf growled again, and Elijah's brain kick-started into motion. The wolf was getting riled up. He suddenly remembered being taught in elementary school that looking a wolf in the eyes meant 'I want to challenge you, so come fight me' and that he had been looking the wolf in the eyes for several seconds, now.
He turned around and started to run, dropping his stick (which was probably a dumb move on his behalf; he could have used that stick as a makeshift weapon).
He never turned back around to see if he was still being followed. He just ran for a short while before spotting a high tree and beginning to climb it. He was grateful to have seen it: it was a perfect climbing tree. It was one of those trees with perfectly spaced out branches and little notches in the trunk of it that seemed like they were made to be footholes. It seemed to make way for Elijah as he got to the higher, more brittle branches. Once he felt he was high enough, he sat on the sturdiest branch he could find and looked down. The wolf was there, but it looked somewhat confused.