Naissance ducked low as Helena fired off one of her 'world famous' — if the woman herself could be believed — roundhouse kicks. The fame of the move itself might have been overstated, she had certainly never heard of it, but one thing that couldn't be denied was that it hurt bad. She hadn't been fortunate enough to take the brunt of one, though not for lack of Helena's trying, but she had been watching the woman fight over the past two weeks, and she had seen what had happened to people who had taken it.
Especially on the head, which Naissance had learned was a favorite target.
Low to the ground, Naissance lunged forward, wrapping her arms around the grounding leg of Helena with vice-like strength. She brought Helena's leg up, encouraging the already stumbling woman to the ground with a hard thud that drew a cheer from the crowd watching the exhibition.
This was no scuffle between recruits, a difference in politics come to blows, this was the final round of the Camp Elderhaven Fighting Tournament, the ambiguously named unofficial fighting tournament that had sprung up two weeks earlier. Single elimination, winner takes all.
Naissance and Helena had dominated their respective brackets, Helena with kicks that moved fast and broke trees when they made contact — literally — and Naissance with her combination of grappling takedowns, submissions, and punches that were known to send people flying.
She put her talents in submissions into practice with a wrench of Helena's ankle, who let out a scream of anguish before cocking her free leg back and firing it forward directly into Naissance's jaw.
Pain exploded throughout her entire skull, she could almost feel her teeth shatter together on impact, stars filled her vision and her back slammed against the ground. She groaned, writhing onto her stomach as her ears began to ring, quieting the loud 'OOOH!' from the crowd and the cheers that followed.
She barely registered the referee beginning his count.
"One!"
She buried her head into the grass, trying to ground herself on the sensation of the slightly prickly blades. She cupped her ears, trying — and failing — to quiet the ringing. She was still conscious, thank the King they weren't allowed to wear their boots for these fights, but she could feel her brain begging for her to call the fight right here, right now, just don't make me take another one of those kicks.
"Two!"
She blinked, which actually did help clear the stars, but only a little bit, their stubborn after image still bright specks against the shadowed grass. She held them closed, squeezing as tight as she could, before opening them again a second...
"Three!"
...Later, now the stars were almost gone, like how the night sky looked under the lights of the city, not out here. The ringing had begun to die down at some point, but she was not sure when. She gripped her hair at the roots, the tug enough of a distracting sensation that she could begin to shift the focus of her pain from her red hot jaw to anything else. She tried to open it, and to her astonishment, she was able to, though the motion sent a new wave of pain through the lower half of her face.
"Four!"
Damn it, was something broken? She made a few more experimental movements of her jaw, each subsequent one sending slightly less painful jolts throughout her mouth. She was no doctor — he was in the crowd right now, gleefully cheering along with the rest of the ravenous hoard — but she didn't think it was. That was good, that was good.
"Five!"
The pain was dying down now, more dull throbs pulsating from her chin than the explosive heat off the impact of the kick, but now she was experiencing a new problem. Her brain's begging had gotten even harder, a haze had started to take over her, her vision was out of focus — though clear of stars now.
"Six!"
She gave her hair another distracting tug, though that sensation was even duller than it had been the first time. I won't do it, her brain said with it's stubborn refusal to acknowledge anything other than this haze, I won't get back up.
"Seven!"
But I need to, she could feel her body plead as she pushed herself up slightly with her elbows, her legs stirring ever so slightly. We took her to the ground, we know that trick now, and she hasn't hit us until now. We can win this.
"Eight!"
Do you promise, her brain asked, tentatively agreeing to allow more movement throughout her body. She let go of her hair and began to push herself up, legs shaky as she began to stand.
"Nine."
I promise.
...Then let's win.
One last tight blink, and Naissance pushed herself to her feet, the crowd erupting again in cheers.
Naissance turned to face Helena, who smiled in satisfaction.
"How did that feel?"
Naissance chuckled, rubbing her jaw, which sent a small sting through the parts she touched. "Not good," she said, returning the smile. "Not good."
"Sorry about that," Helena said — not sounding particularly sorry — as she dashed forward, aiming a kick towards Naissance's stomach.
Naissance turned her body to the side, hooking her arm around the attacking leg and bringing her free hand up to send a hammer-like fist down onto Helena's forehead. The smaller woman managed to turn her head to the side and raise her arm up to block the punch, though Naissance was sure that it stung at least a little bit.
She swept Helena's remaining leg from underneath her, sending her back onto the ground. This time, Naissance dropped down on top of her, two more hammer fists coming down onto Helena's gut, which she moved her arms down to block, which gave Naissance the perfect opportunity to send a left hook straight to the side of Helena's jaw.
Helena's hands immediately went to grip the impact zone, but Naissance didn't let up.
More punches to Helena's head, chest, stomach came down faster than Helena could block them, though annoyingly, she was still making efforts to block them.
The only ways to win this tournament were by tap-out, knock-out, or count-out.
Naissance grabbed one of Helena's arms and hooked her other arm underneath it. She held tight to her own forearm, and with the hand holding Helena's wrist, began twisting it towards the back of Helena's neck.
The woman screamed, but the referee only asked her if she was submitting, so Naissance kept pushing, each second straining the joints in Helena's arm even closer to their breaking points.
She could feel victory inch closer and closer, and then...
A whistle blew, and the crowd went silent, the referee quickly separating the wrestling duo. Both parties were confused.
Helena began to argue with the referee, who shushed her as he tried to drag Naissance to her feet.
"What's going-"
Then the crowd parted, and in stormed the fuming Captain Ansel.
His gaze swept the crowd, no words needed to chastise each and every one of them, before it settled on Naissance. She shifted uncomfortably, somehow the man nearly two heads shorter than her made her feel smaller than a child.
"Come with me." Was all he needed to say before he turned on his heel, gave one more admonishing glance to everyone in the crowd, and began to wherever he was taking her.
The crowd began to disperse, muttering in disappointment at the anti-climatic ending of the fight. Naissance looked back at Helena, who was assessing her body for bruises.
"Sorry about that," Naissance said. "You know the rules, tap-out, knock-out, or..."
Helena waved a dismissive hand. "Yeah yeah," she looked at Naissance and smiled. "Good fight, I'll get you next time."
Naissance smirked, letting out a small huff of air for a laugh. "Good luck."
"You too." Helena said grimly, before turning to leave.
Captain Ansel had not stopped, already half way to his tent, Naissance quickly jogged to catch up.
She knew better than to beg for forgiveness in public, or to speak to the captain without being prompted, so she followed in grave silence, her body unable to tell the difference between the short march to the Captain's tent and the long walk to the gallows. She was one of the best recruits in this camp, certainly the punishment couldn't be too bad. She was too much of an asset-to-be for the Gold King's army... if she wasn't discharged right here, right now.
The Captain pushed past the flaps of the tent, Naissance ducked down to follow.
***
She had not been in the captain's tent before that point, and now that she was in it, she wanted nothing more than to stay there. It was twice as large as any other tent in the camp, twice as tall — Naissance could comfortably stand, which was not something she could do in most of them — and twice as warm in the particularly cool autumn evening. There were three ceiling-high tbookcases, filled with more books than Naissance could read in her whole life. She looked for the source of the heat, but could not find no fire. Magic? The captain's bed was large and covered in fluffy pillows and thick, warm blankets.
In the center of the tent was a large, over-cluttered wooden desk, which the captain took a seat behind. He shuffled through some papers before seemingly finding what he was looking for.
"First off," he said, looking at the paper in front of him. "I am very sorry to tell you that your parents were killed in action." He did not sound particularly sorry.
Naissance's jaw dropped open in shock, her whole body going stiff. "What?"
"In their recent campaign," he read. "They were met by a force of Stone Trolls in the Haelloft Mountains, and bravely gave their lives in pursuit of the Gold King's will." He stopped to look at Naissance, who had barely heard a word after 'killed in action'.
He continued reading. "Now, I have the honor of telling you that you are being deployed to the Eastern Front, to the Vivirum Forest." He tossed the paper to the clutter. "Congratulations, you get to fight dragons."
He looked at her, waiting for a response Naissance was not able to give. Those words were the only thoughts she could form.
Her parents had been killed in action.
Both officers already enlisted in the Gold King's army even before the War with the Gods began, they had been deployed first when the war began. She had been 17 then, and she eagerly trained in all manner of combat she might need every day until she turned 18 and was able to enlist herself. She dreamed of fighting under their command, but she had gotten shipped to Camp Elderhaven for training, where she had been stuck for a month.
She had asked at least once a week about when she might be deployed, and where she might go, and if there had been any news from the Western Front. The Haelloft Mountains was the longest mountain range in the entire world, birthplace of the Trolls, and were an essential target in the Gold King's conquest. News had been sparse, not like from the other fronts, where updates on the situations came nearly daily, but most updates from the west were of another Troll city toppled, or a patch of forest around the mountains cut down, less places for Wood Trolls to live.
There had been no word of a defeat, but the Captain knew everything before everyone else, despite Naissance's best efforts on this particular matter.
"Well?" The Captain asked, Naissance hadn't realized she had been standing there in open mouthed silence. "Any questions?"
"Do I..." Naissance rasped, she could feel her throat beginning to tighten. "Will I get to have a funeral?"
"Not until after the war is over, most likely." The captain said. "Anything else?"
Naissance shook her head.
"Go pack what you need, you ship out in an hour."
Naissance barely nodded, turned, and left.
The world fell away around her, each step feeling like she was stepping over a void of nothing. She walked to her bunk tent, finding her bunk and carelessly throwing her few belongings into her bag.
Just like that, it was like she had never slept at that bunk. Someone else would come in and replace it the moment she left, maybe some other child eager to serve alongside their parents in this war.
She hoped whoever came by next would get the chance.
She left the tent, taking one last look at the camp. She had grown to like this place, it had become a cozy home for her. She was eager to tell her parents all kinds of stories of it when she got to their front, she was eager to tell them that she had been proven the best fighter there.
"Leaving so soon?" It was Helena, walking up to Naissance's side. "You can't go before our rematch."
Naissance looked at Helena, whose smug smile dropped.
"You alright?"
She opened her mouth to say no, but she couldn't even muster that small sound through the welling of emotions.
"I know it's scary, but you're the most dangerous person here, wherever you're going, you'll give anything a run for its money." She pointed a playful finger at Naissance. "You better make it out of this war alive, I want that rematch."
"Yeah." Naissance barely croaked out. She turned, and began towards the carriages at the edge of camp.
"Good luck!" Helena said as encouragingly as she could.
Naissance was ushered to her carriage, along with three other recruits, all bright eyed and ready for whatever the dragons had in store for them. They paid no mind to Naissance, who hugged her bag to her chest, alone with nothing but those words.
Her parents were killed in action. And she wasn't even going to the Western Front, she couldn't even avenge them.
It was that realization that pushed her over the edge.
She began to cry painful, silent tears.
And she didn't stop until they finally reached her new assignment, 7 hours later.