There have always been two worlds: the one we see and the one we choose to see. When the haze of disbelief clouds our vision, the chosen world becomes so much easier to view. What were to happen if one was to become lost in this nonexistent world?

Or perhaps, what would happen if someone flirted with the boundary of these worlds, playing with each like a cat with a string? How would you know which was real: the one clinging to reality or the one that deludes themselves in the false. Then again, what if someone brought these world together, forming some sort of living mask for themselves? At that point, which version is truly in control? Or would this person even know themselves?

Well, wouldn't that be a curious case?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

The clash of steel sang in the air, each impact sending a shiver across my skin. The two students, a petite girl and a large boy with an overwhelming presence, skitted away from each other as they prepared for their next move. After a second, the boy charged while swinging his mace in a wide arc.

The boy had won every single one of his matches for the last two months. He had gained a reputation as the ‘king of his class' within the last two weeks. His unrivaled strength and force of his bludgeon left all of his opponents crumpled on the floor, sometimes even unconscious. He was truly an unstoppable force.

Once he started that swing, I knew he would lose.

The girl dropped to a kneel and propelled herself forward, right under his arm. A Faunas with small antlers growing from the sides of her head, the girl had agility the boy couldn't rival. At the start of the match, the two daggers she wielded would have been seen as laughable. They were about to find out what made them so dangerous.

As the boy sailed over her, the girl pivoted with the grace of a veteran dancer. She slammed the hilt of one of her daggers against the boy's side.

A smart move. With his Aura active, the girl's daggers wouldn't have enough force to break through. In a situation like this, blunt damage would be more effective.

As the hilt made contact, the white stone that it was embedded with, a crystal of Dust, began to glow. A blast of air gushed from the weapon, ruffling the clothes of the audience while hurtling the boy against the wall. He sunk to the floor, his Aura failing as his head rolled.

"That's enough!" The instructor shouted. "Citrine Crollin is the winner of this match!" A crowd of boys groaned from the stands while a pack of girls hollered their approval. "Yes, yes. I expected such a reaction, but we have to move on nonetheless. We have time for one last match before school ends." Dozens of hands shot up. The instructor sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Like I've said hundreds of times, these selections are randomized, ensuring that everyone has an equal opportunity to participate. Let's just get on with it."

He turned his back on the seats and faces watching the sunken platform where the matches took place. Projections of screens showed blurs of pictures that zipped by until landing on two: an average looking boy, and myself.

A sigh of disappointment revolved around the seats, except for a small band of students on the opposite side of the arena, who wished the boy good luck. I rose and walked down the steps leading to the arena floor, not in any rush. My opponent peeled himself away from his friends and ran down the steps in a hurry, almost dropping the weapon he had slung across his back. He smiled nervously, which I returned with one of ease.

"U-um… b-best of luck t-to you…" He stuttered as he fiddled with the cuff of his jacket.

I chuckled quietly and said, "Why thank you. You're so kind to be concerned about me."

"O-oh! Th-thanks!" He blushed as one of the guys from his group snickered loudly.

I waved my hand absently. "Let's have a good fight, alright?"

The boy didn't try to respond; he simply nodded and adjusted his feet.

Hmm. He doesn't fight a lot, but I know he uses a spear/projectile mixed weapon. Knees slightly bent, but that didn't help much. I looked lower. He was raised on the balls of his feet; the boy was preparing to attack first with his staff, or else he would have planted his heels to account for recoil. In that case, I'll have to throw him off balance.

"Readyyyyy BEGIN!" The instructor roared.

The boy charged immediately, just like I thought he would. I drew Midnight, my dual swords, from their straps on my lower back. The boy drew back his staff, planted his foot, and aimed a blow at my shoulder in one fluid motion. I used the flat of one of my swords to knocked his staff down, making him lose of footing. I smashed the hilt of my other sword against his temple, causing him to stagger sideways. I made my move, slashing away at any spot I could while he struggled to regain his balance. He made a sound in his throat and pressed a button on his staff, causing the spearhead to split open and part, revealing an opening in the shaft. Another gust of wind pouring from the opening and pushed me back to the far edge of the arena, but I remained on my feet.

By the mechanical whirl I could now hear, the boy was changing his style of attack by activating something on his spear. The head began to glow red, the air around it shimmering from heat. I jammed my sword-hilts together and they clicked to form my bow. The boy pulled the weapon back as if preparing to strike me even at that distance. I tried to grab an arrow from behind my back, but I wouldn't be able to notch it in time. Instead, I grabbed a canister dangling from my waist.

The glow of the spearhead reached its peak. The boy thrust his weapon, a fireball erupting from the point. I threw the contents of the canister in front of me, a cloud of sand flying out. I channeled the Dust mixed in with the sand, my Aura grazing over the red substances. The sand instantly heated and burst into flames before solidifying into a barrier of glass. The second it was complete, a fireball collided with the barrier. He launched four more, causing cracks to appear in my defense. It was no matter; I had already drawn the arrow that I needed.

My blood was humming in my veins! My breath came out in gasps and pants. My muscle tingled with the urge to be used! It was incredible! Right here, when I'm fighting like this, everything else breaks away. The pain, the nightmares, the blows, the monster; they burn away to ashes! Here, I have a will! Here, I have control! Here, I have strength! Here, I have what I always lack:

Power.

I stepped out from behind my barrier, on the move instantly. My opponent gave a yelp before continuing his assualt. Every second I was moving in a different direction, matching my dodges to the rate of his attacks. When I was within twenty feet, he swung his spear around and took a defensive stance as he anticipated close combat. When I was close, he jabbed at my chest.

I allowed my knees to buckle as I lunged forward, diving under the weapon. I drove my right heel against the ground and skidded to a halt, my bowstring already loaded and pulled taut. I took aim and released.

The arrowhead slammed into his midsection as he turned, but his Aura absorbed most of the impact. It wouldn't matter. The Fire Dust within the projectile ignited from the impact, causing an explosion that sent the boy flying, his Aura breaking from the blast. He crashed and slid about two feet before he was left groaning on the ground.

A collective utterance of disappointment sounded from his friends. The instructor announced my victory as the screens flashed an enlarged picture of me. I disassembled my bow and returned my swords to their straps. I walked over to the boy as he began to rise. Holding out my hand, I said, "You held up your end of the promise. Good match."

The boy blushed as he took my hand. "Th-thanks."

“Why don't we try again some other day?" I questioned. "It could be rather… interesting to see what may become of it. Who knows, maybe the outcome will change?"

The boy tried to speak, but he could only muster a stutter. We walked off the fighting platform, where he received condolences from his group.

The bell announcing the end of classes blared over the intercoms. I walked right out of the arena, through the quickly filling halls, and out the doors. I strode off the school grounds, walked for about ten minutes, before reaching a crossroads. To the right: the main body of the city, where stores and the population flourished. To the left: the nest of my stepfamily, who would be arriving home in their luxury car. Forward: my destination.

As I walked on, I felt that familiar mask slip away, allowing my thoughts to return with a vengeance. Whenever someone is around, I feel this shroud go around my mind, a mask, a disguise. I respond on impulse as if some other voice had hatched within my own. Sometimes, I didn't even think, but I used the most appropriate response to avoid any problems. The way I acted with the boy was an example; merely an act played out with my face and voice but pulled by the strings of another.

Now, that persona retreated back into its chamber within my mind. My thoughts of my stepsisters’ inevitable torment returned, the chores I had to fulfill before my stepmother became angry, the void and yet vicious stare of my father. All of that loomed upon my return.