2 The White-Haired Girl

Tarik falls through the threshold of the door, without a thought Amy stoops down and lifts him to his feet.

'Careful there', Amy says playfully. 'If you're going to be in my crew, you'll have to find a way to be less clumsy', she laughs.

'Thank you', Tarik replies meekly as he dusts himself off. Through the doors lay the colosseum grounds, a large expanse paved with golden sand circumference by towering stone walls divided only by heavy double doors identical to the ones we had just triumphed over. Inside, people stand in trios with more bursting through some of the doors that had remained closed just prior. I didn't count the number of applicants in the amphitheatre but without a doubt, there are fewer than had surrounded me before the first test.

'I'm kinda jealous', Tarik blurts out as he turns his head in my direction. 'You were just thinking there were fewer people, right?' he continues. 'Still quite a few of us, but nowhere near as many as there were outside. I'm jealous of them, the ones who didn't make it that is. They might be disappointed, but they won't have to face whatever they've got planned for us.' Amy turns to him.

'You've got nothing to be jealous of,' Amy chimes. 'With me on your side, the three of us are going to pass the entrance with flying colours. So instead of jealousy, try gratitude. To have me on your side, you must have spent the last hundred lifetimes just cultivating luck', she jokes while chuckling lightly.

'This place is massive', I say.

'You're not wrong there', Amy replies, she smiles broadly while dramatically lifting her arms to the sky, 'there is no better stage for my grand debut', she says loud enough to raise the eyebrows of our fellow applicants.

'You're drawing attention', Tarik whispers frantically.

'Shouldn't the main character be noticed?' Amy replies. Some of the applicants nearest to us turn their head in our direction, they speak among their trios in whispered tones. 'News of my greatness must already be spreading', Amy finishes as she waves a hand in a dismissive manner. We ignore the stares and whispers and turn so we only face one another.

'What kind of test do they need a place like this for', Tarik asks.

'It's a coliseum so they'll probably make us fight', I reply flatly, suppressing in my voice my eagerness at the prospect of fighting the highborn bastards gathered among us.

'What? all of us?' Tarik asks back. 'Some kind of battle royal?' He finishes.

'It would make sense', Amy tacks on. 'This school is all about combat; it's natural they'd want to make sure only the strongest applicants get to be students here.'

'Whatever they want from us, I'm ready', I say, my voice betraying the façade of calm, hinting at the storm.

'That's the spirit?' Amy responds as if asking a question. 'Are you okay, Ner?', She asks. Composing myself I reply jokingly.

'With you on our side, what's there to be worried about?' My words seem to assuage her concern as her smile re-establishes itself on her face outshining the sun in the sky.

'One hundred lifetimes', Amy jokes.

'At least that many', I joke back. The three of us laugh together; the flame of anger consumed by Amy's warmth.

Metal clangs atop itself, ringing throughout the amphitheatre. Turning to identify the source, I see a white-haired girl walk alone through ruptured doors that had just prior, been identical to the others around the colosseum. An explosion fills the air followed by the thud and clang of a metal door hitting the sand and then being hit by its twin. Alone walks the towering frame of Wolf Yung through the threshold of the amphitheatre. A moment of silence is followed by the scene of doors being blown, torn, ripped, and pried from their frames.

Each demonstration of destruction is followed by a lone applicant walking through the area the doors had once inhabited. But for the torn fabric, blood and dirt, the intruders would have been described as immaculate. Their attire, high fashion. Each embroidered with regal inscriptions marking them out as highborn clansmen.

Their features, flawless. The boys; muscular, lean, tall. The girls; graceful, toned, dignified, but none so enchanting as the white-haired girl. Her hair sways gently across her back as she moves slowly towards the centre of the ring. Every step, deliberate yet delicate. She emits through her demeanour the power to tear down the sky, yet the fragility to shatter in the wind. A beautiful contradiction.

The white-haired girl reaches the centre of the colosseum and stops. At once the ambient Tension gathers around her like an intangible cocoon. The tension swirls, interlocks and concentrates until the very air around the girl pulses with excitement. Finally, it's expelled outward, engulfing the entire arena.

Wave upon wave of vicious energy crashes down on me. I stumble but catch myself. Tarik falls to the ground writhing in pain. Amy falls to her knees and grits her teeth. Instinctively, I gather the Tension around me. I Force it through my body. I concentrate it into my hands while forming spheres in my mind. Imagination manifest through the Tension in my fingers; I create a barrier. I reach out my arm. The barrier surrounds me. I release more Tension; the barrier expands until both Amy and Tarik are contained. Slowly, Amy rises to her feet. I reach down and gently help Tarik stand.

Around me in every direction, trios of applicants, lying, kneeling, or standing in varying states of agony. Some curled into balls, others convulsing violently in the sand, others still, hunching over, expelling their breakfast, drink, or blood vigorously onto the ground beneath them. The waves of Tension press down on my barrier, forcing me to increase its density until the transparent orb surrounding me tints translucent.

'If you can't stand the pressure of this art,' the white-haired girl shouts from the centre of the coliseum, cutting through, somehow, the cacophony of wails, grunts, and heaves of anguished applicants. 'You have no business going any further in this exam'.

Once again, Tension gathers around the white-haired girl, but I feel this time that she is not its conduit. The Tension contracts, and condenses, and collides until it erupts in an explosion of fire located directly where the girl is stood. The blast sends sand in every direction, concealing completely whatever remains of the girl in the centre.

Wolf Yung walks slowly towards the site of the detonation. Waving his arm in a fluid motion, he causes the air once more to ignite, and again, and again until all that could possibly remain of the girl is the imprint of her figure charred into the scorched sand and molten glass.

'Why are you trying to ruin my fun, princess?' Wolf shouts with no less humour in his voice than malice. 'It's not for you to decide the fate of these sheep', he continues as another explosion blooms from nothing. 'All of them, every low born and nameless insect, they're here for my amusement, and I'm not going to let even one of them escape.'

Three jets of piercing water burst from the cloud of smoke and sand concealing the girl and make their way towards Wolf. Wolf erects an invisible barrier blocking the water. The white-haired girl emerges from the cloud dashing towards her opponent. Tension fills the air around her; she lunges out of the area before the explosion.

Raising her arm with an open hand, the girl manifests a spear of water from the Tension in her atmosphere. She launches the spear suspended in the air, towards Wolf and continues her pursuit. Wolf dodges the spears and steadies himself for another explosion; before he is able to launch his counterattack, the girl reaches him.

With one motion the white-haired girl thrusts her fist into the stomach of her attacker and sends the boy flying backwards into the air and then the sand beneath him. Wolf coughs blood onto the sand and stands. He stretches out his arm and erects his palm. Bullets of condensed Tension launch themselves inches from his palm towards the white-haired girl. Sprouting from the Tension around the girl, disks of water intercept the bullets, they form rapidly and disperse once each bullet is neutralised.

The fierce battle continues, each combatant attacking, countering, and counterattacking with an intense and impressive display of Tension control. Drawing vertical invisible lines in the air, blades of water dash towards Wolf from the white-haired girl. The boy moves as to dodge, but the blades move too fast and he stands too close for his efforts to be effective. The density of the Tension manifest in water leaves no room for doubt; the boy will be cleaved in half.

The blade evaporates inches from Wolf. I feel the Tension disperse from the arena as if a herd scattered by a predator. A black-haired boy walks forward. My blood boils and nails tunnel into my palms as rage consumes me. The boy needs no introduction to me. Engraved on the back of his long, flowing white coat, a symbol. The symbol of the flag that had defiled my village. The boy is of the Xander clan. Without thought I move forward; Tarik catches my shoulder.

'No,' Tarik whispers. 'It's not a fight you can win.' Blood rushing to my ears dampens his words. I shake him off. Another hand catches me, softer but far more firm.

'I can only imagine how you feel, but not here, not yet.' Amy whispers urgently. I turn to her furiously. 'We get through these exams together, let's not risk that needlessly,' She finishes. The stern, yet gentle tone of her voice penetrates my fury. Closing my eyes and then opening them I nod and smile.

The black-haired boy continues until he is shoulder to shoulder with Wolf. Wolf takes a step back in deference.

'I trust you understand why I can't allow you to harm him.' The black-haired boy says, motioning to wolf with a sway of his head. 'As my subordinate, I'm sure you can appreciate the fact that I have a vested interest in his well-being.'

With no motion from either boy, spears of fire sprout from the tension congregating above them, each radiating enough heat to reach me where I stand, each directed at the white-haired girl.

Tension floods the coliseum and gathers around the three combatants; they fall to their hands and knees as if weighed down by the heavens. Above them, a light-skinned, blue-haired man appearing in his mid-twenties, dressed in a white untucked form-fitting shirt and formal trousers, stands suspended in the air. He lowers himself to stand between the kneeling boys and the white-haired girl.

'I have no problem with you killing each other.' The blue-haired man declares loud enough so the whole arena can hear him. 'But, call me old fashioned, two against one just doesn't entertain.' The Tension surrounding the contenders disperses and the three on the ground rise to their feet.

Addressing everyone in the amphitheatre, the blue-haired man says, 'Congratulations for opening a door.' He claps sarcastically.

'I'd say you passed your first test, but those doors don't operate as a test, they operate as a chance. A chance to give up, to leave. A chance to see the difference between those of you who can barely nudge a door open, and those of you who can rip it from its hinges. Here is your second chance, leave. You will not get another opportunity.'

The man paces back and forth, he locks eyes with some of the applicants and continues. 'Some of you see this school as a place to distinguish yourselves. Others, a chance to elevate your station, but what this school really is, is a battleground and unless you take this opportunity, for many of you it will be the place you die.'

'Any of you who don't feel like you can compete with our gracious volunteers…' He says, gesturing at the white-haired girl, and the two boys, 'should take this opportunity to not throw your lives away.'

Silence falls in the amphitheatre. Moments pass and people begin chattering within their trios.

'He's right... we don't stand a chance', Tarik says. 'If we stay here, we're going to die.' His doused panic flares with an intensity greater than before. 'When that girl did what she did- I, I couldn't move. All I could do was... fall to the ground- in pain!' He stressed. 'We have no business-'

'Stop', Amy whispered with determination, but devoid of the confidence she had earlier. 'I don't care if they're strong, it just shows me that I can get even stronger. 'We're not giving up.' I notice her fist clench into a ball. 'We're a team, the three of us.'

'We just met.' Tarik interjects.

'So what? Amy yells back. 'Don't ask me why, but I know, I just know that the three of us, we were meant to meet. We can do this together.

'She's right', I say. 'I've never had friends, but I feel like that's what we could become.' Amy laughs, confidence returning to her demeanour.

'We're already friends, Ner. All three of us and this is not where our story ends.' Amy places a hand on my shoulder and her other on Tarik's. 'Trust me, we'll ace these tests.' Tarik sighs and visibly calms down.

'You two are insane. He says.

'But I bet you're glad you met us', I say back, a half-smile on my lips.

'So, we're doing this!' Amy determines.

'Just don't be surprised if I end up haunting you for this,' Tarik replies. We laugh as the stress among us drains.

The blue-haired man claps his hands once, drawing our attention.

'None of you chose to leave.' the man says to the crowd. 'I'd admire your courage, but I've never seen admiration keep a grave empty, nor courage for that matter.' He continues glibly. He pauses, sighs and continues.

'Your second test is survival. You'll notice the flow of Tension around this colosseum, that's a barrier. I assure you; none of you will now be able to leave.' Looking around, I see in front of every door and frame where a door should be, a thick translucent barrier covering every area one could pass through. 'If any of you can fly, you'll find yourself unable to do so above the walls of this arena. In just a moment a horde of low-tier Tension beasts will flood these grounds. Your test is simple, to pass you need do one thing...

'Survive until the last beast is dead.'