The Schools When a Friend Falls in Battle
(This is as if no one can be healed back from being defeated)
The storm student roars in grief, in rage and anger and everything because they’re feeling Too Much right now and it’s beating against them in an invisible storm that is becoming visible, the entire array of battle has become the most dangerous place. Cyclones whip hair and clothes into something that hurts and will lash skin like an animal tamer’s whip. A choked sob falls from the storm wizard’s trembling form and the enemies’ eyes widen with nothing but fear because regardless of turns and fairness and pips and cards they are done for.
The ice student lets out a distressed gasp. Their hands shake and reach towards that place where their friend has fallen, where hands that are still full of cards lie limp, those powerful weapons scattered. The ice wizard’s face becomes flat, dangerous like a lake with a too-thin layer of ice. Frost creeps in, covering the ancient runes that decorate the battleground. Their face twists and a snarl comes from somewhere deep in their throat because who knew this wizard, who favored cold drinks in the winter and even colder ones in the summer, who knew they could make such a beautifully terrifying face? The enemies watch, their own faces full of horror as the frost creeps in, as they become encased in freezing cold, oh gods, they’ve never felt anything so cold-
The fire student immediately acts. Before their friend even hits the ground, the rumbling of flames fill this worn battleground. A roar that comes from the wizard’s body and everywhere else accompanies this wildfire, this rage. The fire is going to consume everything in its path of grief and pain, and everyone, enemies and allies alike, should flee now while they can.
The death student stares at the spot where their friend once stood, where they had that determined grimace, where they had fallen. The death student dimly realizes that turns have kept going, that the battlefield skipped the circle where their friend was standing and living and- and everything must suffer as their friend did. Everything is wilting, dying. There is no everything now, no unity in death. There is nothing living, no one deserves it when they’ve hurt them so badly, no one-
The myth student is watching, realization hitting them like the club of the monsters, the minions they summon. This isn’t like their minion. They cannot come back, the light cannot come back from their once sparkling eyes. The myth wizard’s own eyes have lost the same light. The ground rumbles, the tremors matching the wizard’s shaking body. The myth wizard is breathing too fast, and it feels like their nightmares have come to life, come to taunt them. Creatures rise out of the ground’s cracks, all screaming war cries that match the pained sounds rambling in the wizard’s skull. Whispers fill the battleground, and all allies and enemies can hear it louder than the summoned minion’s screams.
The life student watches in disbelief. They failed. They had one job, they failed. Their friend is dead now and it is their fault, and nothing was there to cushion their friend’s head, but it won’t matter now, they can’t get a concussion or be in pain or healed ever again. Frantically, each turn of theirs is wasted because the card and creatures don’t know where to go, because there’s no one there to heal, no living being oh gods-
The balance student grits their teeth, but a pained scream still rips through their throat. Their eyes close, and they use the same breathing techniques they were taught so they could mediate, under the hot sun of Krokotopia, in the classroom underground that smelled of rich dirt. When their turn comes, no cards are needed, their eyes open wide and light up in divine fury. Justice reigns, the form of the spell in a blinded and fair woman. Everyone is here to be judged, and none shall survive this ancient cruelty.
