Complications of Being Invaded by an Alien Race You Never Knew Existed

Chapter 1.23

Exhilarating.

That was how Lucas Smith would describe standing on the ice after finishing a program.

Panting for breath, sure. Exhausted, sure. Dissatisfied with his performance, definitely. But it was all worth it when he remembered all the time and effort that went into each and every movement and the way the crowd went wild.

He loved figure skating. From the bottom of his heart, it was his life and soul, the center of his world. So he worked as hard as he could for twenty-six years to become the best figure skater out there.

And, now, here he was.

In the one place he had never imagined he would be in. The spot that was occupied by the people he despised the most.

They were accusing him of sabotaging last year's silver medallist's skates.

You see, just a few hours ago, there was a loud scream. Everybody rushed to the source and found the silver medallist from last year, Jain Michaels, clutching his foot in pain.

He had his skating outfit on and one skate. The other skate laid sideways on the floor next to his foot. Suspicious red droplets hung from the blade of the skate, threatening to fall to the ground.

Everybody's eyes travelled upward to the hands that grasped the young skater's foot. Red liquid leaked through his fingers, and tears streamed down his face. Suddenly, an ominous feeling filled the hearts of every person at the scene as they speculated what this red liquid was.

Concern filled Jain's coach as he knelt by his side. In a soft, calm voice, he asked, "What happened?"

Jain shakingly removed his hands, letting everybody see the atrocity that he had to go through. Behind his hands was a gaping wound situated right on the ball of his foot. Blood spilled out of it, creating a puddle on the floor. His coach gasped and immediately shouted for somebody to get the medical personnel.

"Get somebody to help!" he yelled, panicking. A few people obeyed, running out to inform a staff member.

Silence descended upon the room after the loud thud of the doors closing, everybody frozen in fear and shock. The only sounds came from the sobbing Jain who was being tormented both physically and mentally. His coach finally broke the silence as he enveloped the other in his embrace.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered in Jain's ear.

That was when the reality dawned on Jain. If his injury was as terrible as the pain he was feeling, he might never be able to skate professionally again. The thought crushed him.

He didn't know what he would do if he wasn't allowed to skate. He would be a mess, trying to find a new passion. The possibility sank in, and Jain froze for a moment before breaking down again. He hugged his coach back, his grip tight as if his coach was his only lifeline.

A skater under the same coach, Kudo Itsuki, suddenly gasped and pointed to his friend's foot in horror. "The... bone. It shows."

The coach glanced at Jain's foot again and caught a hint of white in the mass of red. His eyes widened, and he gulped. What person could possibly be this cruel?

He placed his hand on the wound, putting pressure on it after he remembered how much blood Jain was losing. Blood oozed through the gaps between his fingers making a plit plat sound that irked everybody. It only served as a reminder of the ruthlessness that occurred while they were blissfully warming up.

As the coach put more and more pressure on the wound, Jain winced. The pain resonated through his body, reaching all the way up to his thigh. It lingered there, before another wave came, asserting its dominance over the area as the young skater flinched again, unable to do anything but wait. He didn't want to wallow in his misery, he really didn't, but what else could he do until help came?