Hellhound At Supernatural Academy

It was finally the day of the interclass hand-to-hand combat competition. I met up with Zane that morning, and we headed off to school together. In the days leading up to the competition, Zane and I had trained relentlessly. My match with Rizor had been finalized by the school for a while now. The school allowed us to choose our opponents, as long as both parties consented and they were from different classes.

It wasn't just us; everyone trained hard in preparation for this event. It wasn't about winning; it was about survival. If someone came to their match unprepared, I doubt their opponent would show any mercy. That was something I had come to understand about the students at this school—they were like wolves, always going for the neck. This was how individuals with supernatural abilities were taught to behave from birth.

I happened to like wolves.

As we entered the classroom, I saw the nervous faces of our classmates. I hurriedly took my seat beside the window. My neighbor seemed especially agitated, tapping his fingers on his desk repetitively. Usually, he would pester me the moment I entered the classroom, but today he was unusually quiet. Jeffrey had attempted to train with Zane and me, but he was just holding us back, considering he practiced Taekwondo while we were focused on Wing Chun.

The way Jeffrey utilized his Taekwondo with his shapeshifting ability was... something. Jeffrey was a faun—a half-human, half-goat creature. It wasn't a bad idea, per se; Taekwondo is an art that primarily uses kicks, and those hooves of his could be pretty effective if utilized the right way. It was just disturbing to watch.

"Hey, Sin, do you want to spar with me?" Jeffrey finally noticed my presence.

"We can't; homeroom is about to start, and then we'll have to head to the training hall to watch the first match."

"Shit! You're right. What number did you get again?"

"27. What number did you get?"

"Mine's the third match. How could my luck be so rotten? Haaah... Well, at least I'm not fighting Rizor or anyone else from Class A. Almost everyone from our class got paired up with someone from Class C. I mean, those guys aren't that different from us, right?"

"Time will tell."

"What a shitty answer. You know, Sin... when it's all said and done, I'm going to miss you. Sure, you're sort of weird and always spacing out, even in a crisis. To be honest, your good looks are the only thing you've got going for you, and a lot of the girls are going to miss you for it. Let's face it, this school isn't built for you; you're too weak. You've already made a mockery of yourself on admissions day. I'm scared of what will happen when you become Rizor's slave and get his family crest branded on your face. You'll be the laughing stock of the whole school."

"Is that your goat side talking?"

My match with Rizor would be no harder than melting a candle. He'd learn soon enough that I wasn't the victim.

"Hey! Fauns are intuitive creatures. It's best to take my advice and drop out of school."

Just then, Professor Yandri entered the classroom.

"Good morning, class. As you all know, today is the interclass hand-to-hand combat competition. You won't be allowed to use your supernatural abilities during the competition, so I hope you haven't neglected your training. Let's head to the training hall."

Our class followed Professor Yandri's instructions and made our way to the training hall. Once there, we noticed that some of the other classes were already present, while the rest were still arriving. There were 160 students in the entire first year, with 40 students per class, which meant there would be a total of 80 matches. My match was the 27th of the day.

Fortunately, the training hall was divided into three different sections, allowing for three matches to happen simultaneously. Everyone changed into their combat uniforms and waited for their matches to start. We sat in a stadium-like arrangement as the first three matches were about to begin.

While two other competitors prepared to fight, I mostly watched Jeffrey as he awkwardly entered the fighting area. His opponent from Class C, Cyrus Habgood, trained in Muay Thai and wore a smug look on his face as he stared down Jeffrey. The training hall erupted with cheers and shouts. I sat quietly beside Amelia, who was evidently worried about her brother.

"Don't worry; the judges are here in case anything goes wrong. He'll be fine," I said, trying to cheer her up.

"Do you think he can actually win this?" she asked.

"Who knows? He might surprise us all."

"I don't really care if he wins. I just want him to be safe."

"You really care about your brother, don't you?" I remarked. Amelia shot me a glare, looking at me as if I were dirt. Perhaps she thought I was making fun of her. "That's good; family is important. They are the only ones who truly understand you."

Amelia seemed shocked by my comment. "W-What was that? You almost sound like a normal person."

Well, that was rude, considering I was trying to be nice.

Their match started, and both of them took their stances. Jeffrey was in a front stance, with one foot positioned forward and the knee bent, while the back leg remained straight. The weight was primarily on the front leg, allowing for better control over his center of gravity, making it easier to absorb incoming attacks or maintain balance during dynamic movements.

Cyrus, on the other hand, was in the Muay Thai stance. His feet were shoulder-width apart, and his body was angled toward Jeffrey, with his lead shoulder facing forward. His hands were held up near his face, elbows close to his body. Cyrus's lead hand was positioned slightly forward, while his rear hand was closer to his face for protection.

Surprisingly, Jeffrey was the first to make a move. He started off with an axe kick aimed at Cyrus's head and shoulder, attempting to break through Cyrus's guard. Cyrus raised his lead arm in a high block, creating a barrier against the kick.

Cyrus then followed up with a knee strike to Jeffrey's rib cage. As he pulled back his knee, he immediately followed up with a right elbow strike to the head, then finished with a left hook to capitalize on Jeffrey's reaction.

Jeffrey coiled over, visibly in pain, causing the training hall to erupt in cheers.

"Get him, Cyrus!!"

"Did you see that combo?!"

"Did he lose already? The match just started! Are all Class D students this pathetic?!"

The scene reminded me of a gladiator match. Amelia grew more agitated; any minute now, it looked like she would burst onto the fighting area and give Cyrus a wallop. Her hands were starting to shake, and her eyes were getting a little red.

Cyrus exchanged taunts as the judge checked on Jeffrey. The other matches in the other sections were progressing smoothly, but there was yet to be a winner. After a little while, Jeffrey staggered to his feet, clutching his stomach, and got back into the same stance.

The match resumed, and Cyrus attacked with a left hook. Jeffrey attempted to dodge, but the attack grazed his chin. He successfully delivered a front kick to Cyrus's midsection, creating a little distance between them. Sensing Jeffrey's intention, Cyrus carelessly charged in for a knee strike but was met with a roundhouse kick to the face.

The attack seemed critical, causing Cyrus to plummet to the ground. The training hall erupted in loud noises, but this time, instead of cheers, there were gasps. My classmates jumped from their seats, cheering Jeffrey on. He seemed on cloud nine, jumping up and down as he celebrated his victory.

"Did he really win?!"

"But how? He's from Class D, isn't he?!"

Their reactions were far too hasty; he had only landed one blow. The match wasn't over yet. Cyrus got up, shaking his head violently to regain his composure. The look on Jeffrey's face was astonishing; he seriously thought he had won.

At the judge's signal, the match began again. The look on Jeffrey's face showed he was more serious than ever, the flames of his determination burning brightly. As for Cyrus—well, he just looked even more pissed off.

The match started with Cyrus on the offensive, launching attacks at Jeffrey as he desperately tried to evade them. Jeffrey followed up with his own attack—a hook kick that struck Cyrus's face, causing him to stagger backward. Riding the momentum, Jeffrey went in for another attack—a reverse punch.

Cyrus narrowly avoided the hit and delivered a right elbow strike to Jeffrey's head, then immediately followed with a right knee strike to his body, then finishing with a left hook. The deadly combination caused Jeffrey to start falling backward, but Cyrus grabbed his shirt, holding him upright.

Cyrus then delivered another right knee strike before transitioning into a clinch—a close-range grappling position. From the clinch, he delivered additional knee strikes to Jeffrey's body and head.

The crowd erupted in cheers as he landed knees and elbow strikes on Jeffrey's limp body. Jeffrey looked like a rag doll, completely lifeless, with his mouth gaping open and his head falling backwards.

Amelia, who sat beside me, watched in horror as her brother was brutally beaten.