Inside the stadium, chaos reigned. Bits of small debris hovered around, held aloft by the mere presence of highly concentrated magic. The duo emerged from one of the many entrances to the seating areas, Tilo sliding down the handrails and Nemo skipping steps with reckless abandon.

Tilo reached the guard rails that surrounded the field, taking inventory of everything he could see from this vantage point. Nemo’s momentum slammed him into the same rails and he too tried to make sense of their surroundings. The field itself was set fifteen feet below the walkway that surrounded it. The magic defensive walls that normally would have protected onlookers were shattered, a craggy, gaping hole in the side opposite Tilo.

The kids would have gotten here earlier. Where were they?

Tilo’s eyes fell on a large cage. Inside, he could make out the shaking bodies of a group of kids. He did a headcount. Five. There was one missing.

Swatting at the cage was a massive Overbeast, its lithe body glowing a deep red from somewhere within. Though the creature was almost warped beyond recognition, what little that remained belonged, undeniably, to the snow leopards that perpetuated the mountain range on which Stonehall sat. 

With every hit, the students in the cage cried out. One of the students, Neal, grunted loudly with every hit. His arms were held aloft, a simply drawn magic circle hovering just above him. The kid had managed to make a defensive shield around them, but he wouldn’t be able to circulate the magic for much longer. 

Tilo rounded the defensive walls towards the fractured opening, shoving on any artifact he had that could be of use. All that he had was a pair of gauntlets, an amulet, and a single earring. There wasn’t a single weapon amongst them. He grimaced. 

Nemo had no chance against the Overbeast. He already knew that. The best he could do was try and make the best of what he had. His eyes fell on the magic circles etched into the field. He recognized a few, an idea brewing in his mind.

“Tilo! Is there a place to control the magic circles?”

Still running, Tilo pointed to a booth that sat just above the stadium seats. Nemo sprinted towards it.

Tilo, having reached the opening, launched himself over the rail and onto the field. He landed on the dirt with a thud, the Overbeast turning to look at him. His hands went to his sides, swearing with the realization that the professor’s cloak he was wearing wasn’t his jacket.

The Overbeast roared, the sound reverberating with such intensity that Tilo was forced to cover his ears. When the roar ceased, Tilo glanced down at the gauntlets he had hastily put on: small fractures grazed their surface. The same was true of the amulet tucked around his neck. If he was lucky, he’d get one use out of them.

He almost laughed. He could make that work. 

The Overbeast came charging at him, leaping with its jaws wide. Three layers of teeth revealed themselves, saliva dripping from the canines.

Tilo turned around, falling to the floor. He forced magic into the gauntlets. 

‘Domos.’

The power of the fire that erupted from them launched him backwards at a speed that exceeded that of the Overbeast, casting him across the field to where the cage was. The Overbeast caught itself, landing heavily and turning to face back to Tilo and, now, the kids.  

Tilo didn’t even have to say a spell word to stop the magic flow. The gauntlets simply cracked, splintering the etched circles to the point where they could work no longer. Even the professor’s cloak, which contained a protective magic of sorts, had been burned out keeping him from exploding along with the gauntlet’s firepower.

He turned to face the Overbeast, standing tall. Behind him, Neal collapsed, the shield disappearing. Again, the Overbeast roared, louder. It paced, teeth bared, growling and drooling. The animosity it bore was truly worthy of the name ‘beast.’

Tilo needed to get the kids out. 

He tossed away the gauntlets, pulling off the professor’s cloak. He still had the amulet and earring, both of which seemed to still have use left in them.

“Wonderful,” he muttered. He was almost excited. What better than a challenge like this. Real stakes, real limits, real everything. It was just like - he slapped his face, bringing himself back to reality. He had already told himself he wasn’t going there.

Having sealed himself in the control booth (sort of - there was one door and he only closed it), Nemo scanned the array of options before him. On a single panel lay dozens of small magic circles, each connected to the much larger circles on the field. All they needed was magic input. The one thing Nemo didn’t have.

“USELESS!” He slammed down on the panel. He wasn’t sure if he was referring to himself or the magic circles. 

One of the circles he pressed in his anger lit up.

“What the...?

He lifted his hand. It wasn’t so much a circle as it was a button. A mechanical button. A mechanical button whose label read ‘emergency.’

A blaring siren began across campus, a beacon that only told everyone that something was wrong, not what or where was the problem. Still, it wasn’t nothing.

Nemo groaned. There had to be something else he could do.

Down on the field, the students jumped in fear of the alarm. Tilo remained staring into the eyes of the Overbeast, ready, daring it to make the first move. It took no notice of the noise, all of its focus dedicated to its prey. 

“Come at me!” Tilo challenged. The Overbeast towards him, this time remaining on the ground. Its prey wouldn’t be able to dodge by moving underneath this time. Tilo had its undivided attention. He motioned for the students to escape the cage, prompting them to dash away from the oncoming creature and to the nearest exit. To ensure that it wouldn’t pursue them, Tilo rushed forward, meeting it head on. He pulled the amulet from his neck, holding it in front of him.

‘Hal.’

A circle erupted before the amulet -hardened and glowing green- which the Overbeast collided with, sending it backwards a few feet. It shook its head, quickly regaining its facilities. It roared once more, sending a large crack through the amulet.

Why just the artifacts? Why wasn’t anything else cracking?

Again, it couldn’t be a coincidence. Overbeasts had to be created, and the ones created naturally, if it could even be called that, would never have an ability that specific. 

Tilo had no time to consider what it might mean.

The Overbeast had decided that Tilo was difficult prey to deal with, moving to a much easier target. It lunged at the fleeing students, its large stride easily clearing over them, blocking them from escape. 

Silos, possessing a smaller stride, had managed to become somewhat distanced from the cluster of kids, though not by much. The Overbeast swiped at him, knocking him into the wall. He slammed into it, falling to the floor. A streak of blood painted the point of contact to his now seated position.

The other students cried out in terror.

In the booth, Nemo fought to find a way to do something, anything. He had no weapons, no strength. The closet was empty, the shelves were empty, the cupboards were empty. Everything was empty. Nemo had to think. He needed to think. That was all he had. But everything was empty and he had no mana. 

A group wail of terror rang out. 

He looked up.

For Tilo, everything froze.

A crossroads. 

Isolate. 

Yet again.

He gritted his teeth and made a choice

Tilo pulled the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. Two rows of intricate magic circles with interweaving runes lined his forearms, one row tattooed on each arm.

His heart thundered in his ears.

Nemo hurled the booth door open, eyes wide.

A pair of light, black gloves hit the ground.