45th of Season of Air, 59th year of the 32nd cycle

  Newt lost three sect-mates in the three following battles, each time finding himself forced to finish the matches personally. Spell formation scribes, in particular, presented a challenge for him, but he endured and plowed through their tricks.

  After the moons he spent learning and reading, he considered himself a master tier scribe, and deconstructing the spell formations he saw laid out was within his ability, allowing him to just barely eke out a victory. If not for his danger sense warning him of his opponent’s backstabs and invisible attacks, they probably would have defeated him.

  Assuming Newt had not lost count, the scribes were their tenth opponents, and his team was about to face their eleventh battle.

  This is going to be the final fight, right? Newt estimated his spiritual energy reserve at some sixty percent. The spell formation scribes drained him more than any other battle.

  As they neared the battle-room, Newt wondered whom he would meet in the second place finale. Unexpectedly, his team’s opponents were two black-rated cultivators, five reds, and nine orange-reds.

  These guys lost the finals upstairs, and now we have to face their full team here.

  Newt smiled. Dandelion had won, meaning even if he lost to the team before him, Newt was richer, and placing third in an event was his sect’s new record.

  “You only need to defeat four, Senior Apprentice Brother,” Flare said.

  Newt chuckled. That meant the two black-rated cultivators and two darker reds. A rational part of him knew he should have let the spell formation scribes eliminate Flare, but the thought sat ill in his mind. His path was one of protection, and using helpless allies as fodder conflicted with his nature.

  Flare stepped forward as did one of the blacks. The person, it was impossible to say whether he was a man or a woman, held a sword. They had an athletic, lean build. Their hair was tied in a bun and the outline of the sword they wielded appeared very common. Everything about Newt’s adversary spoke of average, save for their rating.

  The person saluted with their sword, and Newt decided to think of them as a man based on the sharp yet courteous gesture. Flare returned the salute, and the matronly voice announced the official start of the match.

  The battle ended in a blink. The swordmaster lunged and pierced Flare. With her spiritual energy spent, she failed to react in time, and disappeared from the arena.

  Newt saw the attack and knew Flare would lose immediately. With nothing else to do, he approached his opponent. He tried to protect his sect-mates, but the rules of the challenge were against them. The swordmaster waited patiently and saluted. Newt returned the gesture with his spear and the match began.

  The swordsman moved with an impossible speed. Like a gale, he descended on Newt, slashing and thrusting, no regard for self-defense. Newt dodged and retreated, rock spikes covering the ground between them, but the swordsman paid them no heed. He stepped on them, as light as a breeze, and Newt recognized an air element movement technique.

  The man was the master of the blade, Newt’s stabs and sweeps clumsy and easily dodged. The sword slashed for his throat, but struck Granite Crust, sending off sparks. Firewall consumed the black shade, and Newt had no way of knowing whether his shield deflected the fire as the man jumped back.

  He landed heavily, and Newt pressed forward, slashing. The man rolled, his movement slow, and Newt hounded him, thrusting and sweeping. The man tried to parry the third blow, but covered in burns his blade slipped, and Newt’s glaive bit into his neck.

  The shadow and its sword disappeared, and Newt stared in confusion.

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  He was completely spent, out of spiritual energy. That’s why he couldn’t defend himself from my retaliatory flame.

  Newt stood in the ring, with the second black silhouette watching him. They waved their hand, and a red-rated warrior approached. The red was slimmer, their body petite, and Newt thought them a woman or a child too young to participate in the tournament.

  She saluted, and Newt returned the gesture before the battle started. She swept her sword ten feet away from Newt. Luckily for Newt, he summoned Granite Crust immediately. He sensed the danger a moment before the invisible blade struck, but there was no avoiding it.

  A crescent of compressed air struck his defense, and the outer crust cracked, the layered defense’s second layer stopping the blow. The woman swept her sword again and again, hitting Newt thrice before he recovered. He charged towards her, fiery blasts propelling him forward, but she fled, sweeping her sword and shooting invisible crescents at him.

  After the third charge, Newt realized he could not catch her. She’s wasting my energy.

  Newt stopped, understanding his opponents’ strategy. The black would send two reds to exhaust him, then finish him off. That made chasing after the air-attributed cultivator a losing proposition, he would waste too much energy even if he caught her, which was not guaranteed.

  Newt stopped, but the woman pelted him with attacks, standing just outside his reach. Her position meant to goad him, her barrage exhausting his spiritual energy on defenses.

  Defense is more economical in terms of resources. A portion of her energy disperses as the attack travels, and she doesn’t hit with the entire surface of her attack, meaning there’s waste there as well.

  Pressurized air sliced at Newt’s defenses as he thought. The duel was an exchange of spiritual energy. At best, she was burning thrice the energy Newt had to waste on his defenses, at worst, the ratio was five to two. Meaning, if she started with her full energy, which was unlikely, she could hammer Newt down to ten percent of his total reserve.

  The battle will drag out, and if she’s the one with the most spiritual energy, she will exhaust me. After several moments of consideration, Newt made his choice.

  Flashfire exploded, and he sprinted after the woman. The sudden noise and blindness disoriented her long enough for Newt to stab her and win the match, but his next opponent would expect the technique. The only question was whether they would manage to exhaust him.

  The battle drained five percent of his reserve, so, even in the most unfavorable scenario, Newt would have five percent of energy left for the battle against the leader and win the second place.

  The next battle was as annoying as Newt had expected. The opponent was on the lookout for Flashfire, and Newt made two dozen feints by outstretching his hand as if he was unleashing a technique, the blades of air missing him, and the rest of the time, he struggled to dodge, the end result being a victory at the cost of fifteen percent of his reserve.

  The black silhouette approached, calm and steady. Newt watched them, wondering about the state of their spiritual energy reserve. They had lost on the upper track, and if anyone fought, it was the two black-rated warriors. Has the newcomer fought until the point of exhaustion like their comrade, or did they lose in an instant?

  Newt could only guess. One thing was for certain, he could not allow a black-rated warrior to hit him as they please, regardless of whether their ranged attacks can pierce his defense.

  The two combatants saluted each other, and the duel began. The black shade leaped at Newt, and Newt jumped back. There was no unnatural swiftness, the opponent was trying to get inside Newt’s defenses, to neutralize his advantage and capitalize on their own. And yet, something about the situation was off.

  They aren’t using their spiritual energy to move, and they know I can and will retaliate with fire when they strike me. If they have no spiritual energy, they would immediately lose. No, they have enough for a shield, and one attack, which they believe will break through my defenses. Don’t be too confident, they might have a larger reserve of spiritual energy.

  Newt fought conservatively. He retreated, barely holding out before the onslaught, the opponent outclassed him in skill and speed. Newt’s body was powerful, but he still lacked training and experience, losing ground where he should have been winning it.

  A few dozen seconds into the duel, Newt realized he would lose if he kept hoarding spiritual energy. It was his biggest advantage, and by his calculations, the duel should be their final match.

  The swordsman lunged again, and Newt lashed out with his fist even as he retreated. A wave of fire shot from Newt’s fist, expanding and turning into a screen. Newt’s previous two opponents would have dodged, relying on superior movement techniques, but they had spiritual energy to spare, the black shade did not.

  The shade jumped to the side, their flight too swift for something which relied on muscle alone. Newt sent out another Firefist, then another. The fifteenth struck the shade, and they disappeared. Newt could not recall the last battle in which he wasted so much spiritual energy when the wall opened before him, sweeping away the thought.

  There’s more?