Magic Trials (Half-Blood Academy #1)(43)

The powers granted to them because of their bloodline had all manifested.

They’d become faster and stronger, a better version of themselves, as befitting a student of the Half-Blood Academy.

That moment of distraction and bitter feelings cost me instantly when Jack drove his fist toward my head. I leapt back to dodge the jab, but I wasn’t quick enough. Though he missed my skull, his blow smashed onto my shoulder blade.

I widened my eyes in astonishment as I heard the clear, sharp sound of my bone cracking. Pain jolted throughout me, threatening to paralyze me. But I couldn’t allow that, or I’d be done with before it even started.

My opponent was stronger than I’d thought. He was no longer a mere human male. He’d upgraded. He was now formally a part of the killing machine, a strong descendant of the Olympian gods, while I remained the non-evolved.

If his fist had smashed into my head, he’d have opened my skull.

A flick of surprise also passed through his expression, twitching a muscle in his jaw. He hadn’t expected me to be fast enough to dodge his killing strike.

The rumor on campus, probably started by Demetra and her minions, was that I was a dud because I wasn’t a true descendant.

Jack probably thought that eliminating me was doing me a favor; he definitely thought it was what the Demigod of Sea wanted.

Though my shoulder throbbed, I pushed through my shock and agony so I could spin out of the next series of jabs, punches, and dropkicks from my adversary. In the meantime, I blocked out the clique’s cheering for their champion.

With a weapon, I might be able to show him what I was capable of. But the demigod had known that and pitted my weakness against my opponent’s strength. I hadn’t the slightest edge over Jack. Even his weaknesses seemed stronger than my strengths.

We circled each other. He attacked and I parried, taking a few more hits on my sides and one on the jaw as I observed his moves, desperate to locate his Achilles' heel.

I wasn’t familiar with boxing, which seemed to be Jack’s favorite sport. I bet he’d have been a pro boxer if he hadn’t been accepted into the Half-Blood Academy.

He swung his thick arm toward my face while his other hand tried to ram into my middle, intending to punch out my breakfast.

Unfortunately for him, I hadn’t had any, but I was wise and just fast enough to leap out of harm’s way.

When he aimed his next punch toward my ear, hell-bent on damaging my eardrum, I ducked from under his arm and rammed my fist into his side, as hard as I could.

He didn’t even flinch. He was built and trained for hits and impacts much heavier than my puny fist could deliver.

I couldn’t do any damage to him without a blade.

And I had no magic.

After a few bouts, he’d cracked my shoulder blade and a rib or two, yet I still stood, still fought back as viciously as I could, despite how badly I was outmatched.

It was getting hard to keep pushing through the agony my every muscle and bone felt from the brutal onslaught of my opponent. Luckily, instead of shutting down, my body still coordinated with my commands.

Maybe I was just too stubborn.

Jack marched toward me, and I staggered back.

A defensive strategy no longer served me when I was facing a stronger and faster foe. I now met him blow for blow. Every time my knuckles whacked him, pain radiated to my arms and shoulders. I started to suspect his muscle really was hard as rock, or maybe he’d used his enhanced power, boosted by the runes, to harden his muscles.

I wouldn’t know how it worked since I hadn’t gotten any fucking benefit from the ritual.

I’d started bleeding everywhere and pain throbbed through my every fiber.

Everyone watched Jack pound me like a lion on a housecat. The clique cheered every time their champion thumped a new punch on me.

“Maul her face again!” Demetra shouted instructions. “Make her ugly.”

Paxton didn’t make a sound, but I could picture the sadistic, satisfied smile plastered on his face at the pathetic, helpless sight of me.

That was what he wanted.

I must have looked really wretched, because both Nat and Yelena started calling out, despite their fear of the demigod.

“Yield, Marigold!” Nat shouted.

“Marigold, please yield,” Yelena pleaded. “Let’s fight another day.”

There was no other day. I wouldn’t give the fuckers that satisfaction.

They could make me yield over my dead body.

Jack kicked me in a devil-style, faster than my swollen eye could catch. The hard heel of his foot rammed into my left ear.

A new layer of pain blossomed in my head, and my ears felt like I’d been hit by a train.

For a few seconds, all I could hear was the unbearable ringing that pounded my ear, drowning out the cheers, begging, and curses from my classmates.

Yet I still heard Paxton’s scolding, “You think this is the worst you’ll face, Marigold? You’ll face far worse. The demons will do more terrible things to you when they catch you if you’re as sloppy as this.”

Oh, I’d rather to be caught by the demons than by the demigods, fucker! But I had no strength or time to tell him that before Jack lunged at me again.

This time, I dodged faster than he’d expected me to be able to, as rage pumped through my veins.

I swept his legs from under him. He fell to the ground with a thud, and I leapt on him, my balled fist colliding with his cheekbone.