Maybe it was cocky, especially after being forced to realize that my months of sparring and practical combat failed to hold up against years of the same thing, but I was confident in my familiars and my mana pool.
Credit to the kingdom named after the sun, most of the fighters employed fire-aspected skills. It made my choice for a familiar to use in conjunction with Spirit Lord’s Invocation easier. Nearing the end of the stairwell, a particular memory popped into my head, bringing a smile to my face.
Yeah, maybe we’ll try that.
Pushing through the crowd, another thing I noticed was the weird space they gave me. While the contestants seemed content to push against each other in order to squeeze into the prep-room of the underarena, most swerved around me allowing a five-foot bubble of no contact.
Whenever I met the eyes of one of the people near me, they’d look away and keep their head down.
That erased my smile but I shrugged in the end. I played the villain, their reactions made sense–even if I wanted more bite from the assholes I’d be facing. Not like I could entirely blame them. I did the taboo and threw monsters at one of their precious nobles.
While more contestants streamed through, the flow slowed to a crawl. I attempted to peer over the people’s heads but most were taller than me. Thankfully, the arena master’s voice was unmistakable and filled the room like a steady roar.
“Get your asses moving! Take an island and stay standing! You wait for my mark! If I so much as detect a whiff a’ mana from any of you, I’ll pulp you before you hear the starting chime! Is that clear!” Myol ordered.
A roar of ‘yes mams” echoed out.
“I said move! We are behind schedule as is. Don’t make me repeat myself!”
Eventually, the line pushed forward far enough for me to catch sight of the instructor. Her expression was fierce, and she held a barely contained snarl that made meek any unfortunate soul caught moving too slow for her liking.
When her gaze roamed my way, she stopped and the snarl disappeared, replaced by a cold and expressionless face.
“You. Move forward,” she whispered, her voice reaching my ear in a low command.
Those ahead who hadn’t seen me turned as one before a flicker of light pushed them to the sides. I approached and her barrier rose around us, blocking the noise from the crowd.
“Yes?” I asked.
She crossed her arms. “Do I need to warn you about allowing monsters into my arena?”
“That depends. Do you think I can?”
“Is that a threat?” she growled.
“No. But it is a question.”
A beat passed and she dropped her arms to her side. Her face continued to maintain the conserved restrain but a smile ghosted her lips.
“The enchantments are well enforced, and unless you're an enchanter with the means to see through the guild’s illusions, I doubt it. But don’t take that as permission to try. You cost the arena enough money as it is. Another day’s delay is unacceptable, force my hand and you’ll be barred for the next century. Am I understood?”
“Crystal. What are my limits regarding the assholes supposedly gunning for me?”
Her eyebrows twitched. “No deaths. No crippling. Those who break my rules will be broken by me.”
By now those who were streaming through the room and into the tunnels had slowed their paces to stare at the two of us. There was equal amounts of curiosity and anger directed at my mask. I couldn’t hear their whispers but I imagined that the special attention I was being shown rankled.
In the corner, I caught a group of four staring hard. Their gazes were different. It wasn’t angry sneering but one of rage. Myol pandered over to where I was looking and grunted.
“Your cockiness better have the power to back it up. They won’t go easy on you.”
I shrugged. “Fine by me.”
Myol shook her head and the barrier faded. She snapped toward the closest bunch blocking the tunnels and banged her fist against the wall behind her. “What did I tell you? Get your asses moving, now! Make me repeat myself and you’ll be disqualified! Move!”
The arena master’s words spurred the fighters into action. I followed the flow and found myself outside, facing the cheers and excited stomping of the audience. Those who exited the tunnel were quick to claim a tile for themselves, forcing those from the back to walk further in to find a spot. The walls were lined and the corners filled, with the center being the most untouched.
I didn’t think placement mattered so I strolled across the sand.
Nobody wants the center. Makes sense, least coverage and more likely to be caught in the crossfire.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
As I chose a tile for myself, a man rushed by me and caused me to stumble. I summoned my spear and caught myself using the shaft as a brace. Glancing up, I saw the man snarling at me.
My eyes narrowed. I recognized him. He was part of the group of four. One of the nobles, most likely.
He backed onto his tile with a smirk. “Watch your step. Don’t want to fall in front of so many, do we?”
I ignored him and moved to another tile, this time as I stepped toward the slab of stone, my tail lanced outward and caught the idiot attempting to clothesline me.
I glanced back and saw the red-haired boy spit out sand. “Oops. Watch your step there. Don’t want to fall now do we?”
“Y-you!” the clumsy idiot growled.
A flick of my spear scattered sand behind me, eliciting another round of coughs. The man who stole my tile looked ready for murder but he stayed on his mini island. Looks like they were willing to be aggressive but not stupid.
As I reached my space, the darker haired brute stepped forward. “You should have dropped out. The houses won’t forgive your mockery.”
What is this? A cheap soap drama? Classic villain henchman monologue spiel number two?
I turned away and found the other two; a wiry man with blonde hair and green eyes as well as a lithe woman covered in flowing purple robes taking up the tiles nearest to me.
Swinging my spear up to my shoulder I nodded to the chattiest of the bunch. “So, we doing four on one or do you guys have an honor system you have to follow? What exactly are the rules for ganging up on someone?”
The blonde idiot smirked. “We don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re here for the tournament.”
“Right. And my name’s not ‘Idiot number three.’”
“My name is-”
“Shut it. He’s taunting you. Don’t debase yourself to childish trickery,” the robed woman commanded.
“And you’re idiot four. Chatty-cathy over there is one, and the sand muncher is two. And I’m Mordred! So now that introductions are out of the way, I ask again. How are we doing this?”
Number three looked ready to explode, but stayed silent under the baleful eyes of One and Four. I attempted to needle them into talking, but they didn’t take the bait. By the time the rest of the tiles filled up, I had given up and instead focused on cataloging the faces of those closest.
To my left were fire specialists who used bigger area of attacks, to my right and back were mostly warriors with rogue types interspaced between. Thankfully, I spotted neither Zog nor Sereza, which left me dealing with the four fools attempting to glare me out of existence.
No, don’t be stupid. There could be others, don’t put it past the nobles to try more underhanded tactics.
Purple robe was most likely a caster. Three and One were warriors, judging by their builds. One especially had the most muscles. Two was harder to guess. He was a hot headed idiot, with a short temper. But then again, so was Isaac.
“Definitely a rogue, then,” I mused while examining two from head to toe.
“What was that?” he spat.
“Mmm. Would you happen to have shadow-based skills?”
For a brief second, his eyes widened in fear before he recovered and turned up the eye-daggers by three notches.
“You are a disgrace to all that is-”
“Silence!” One snapped.
I changed my mask to display my tongue sticking out and blowing a raspberry. “No fun.”
One made a disgusted face and turned away.
I wonder how much longer this will take. We’ve filled the arena by now.
As if reading my thoughts, the announcer floated into view. His eyes roamed the battlefield and I briefly caught his eyes linger on me.
Hackles were raised but his voice drowned the outpour from the audience.
“Before you stands thirty individuals ready to make their stand and fight it out in order to proceed. Thirty shall give it their all while only ten spots are for the taking. Do you think they have what it takes?” he shouted. A cacophony of answers rumbled out and the announcer spread his arms, gesturing below him. “I don’t think I heard you correctly, so I’ll ask again. Do we think they have what it takes to win the free for all?!”
This time, a resounding yes boomed through the air. Those on a tile started to tense, their fingers twitching while eyes darted around them.
The announcer lowered his arm but kept one up and pointed to the sky. “We know the rules but I’ll say them again. This is a free for all, whether you ally yourself with others or crush those in your path, the only goal of this round is to survive until there are ten left! Once the twentieth contestant has fallen or been disqualified from continuing, a buzzer will ring, and your bracelets will light up. Those who continue attacking after the round is over will be removed from the tournament and have their spot given to the next available fighter. Remember, we expect blood, we expect determination and desperation! But no permanent damage, and no killing! Fighters if you understand, nod your heads!”
I complied and my bracelet glowed green. Others did the same and the slowest of the bunch caught on and rushed to comply. Once all thirty fighters had green bracelets the announcer clapped his hands and a chime rang through the air. He clapped it again, eliciting another chime.
Weapons started to appear for those who had dimensional storages, and those who had their weapons in their hands got into position.
The four idiot-teers remained weaponless, but their bodies readied and their faces tightened.
Here we go.
“And let the first free for all of the tournament… BEGIN!”
The announcer clapped a third time and mana flared. I ignored everything else and launched forward, rushing at Two.
He raised his hands and a mace appeared along with a small buckler made of stone. Mana rushed from his arms and into his weapons creating a flaring red aura that spiked like quills across the armaments.
I raised my spear and mimed a horizontal swipe, but as he raised his shield to block I slammed my tail into the ground and jumped away.
Take out the caster first!
His eyes widened as he trailed my feint and tried to leap from his tile but I was faster. One and Three summoned swords of their own but they were too far, and by the time I was within swinging distance of Four I had already weaved a thread into my spear and charged the acid building at the tip.
Now!
But as my spear reached for her face, she waved her hand and gray liquid rushed from under her sleeve. My spear connected against the blob as it flattened and punctured through but stopped three inches in.
I yanked, and freed myself and aimed another swipe but the blob extended into a thrust, forcing me to retreat.
“Damn. Thought I had you,” I teased.
The adrenaline was settling in, and the bubbling excitement crawled across my chest. I shifted position, circling around Three while the other goons moved to surround me. An arrow zipped past my ear and shattered across the gray barrier, forcing me to duck as the metal ricocheted at my head.
“So much for nobles and their honor! But come! I shall spank the four of you and present your asses to your house!” I taunted.
Four stepped back, her blob thinning into tendrils that snaked toward the other three. When it reached their legs it separated and spiraled into a rotating ring around their chests.
What the fuck kind of support skill is this?
One stepped forward and extended his sword.
I slammed my spear against the sand. “Volunteering to be the first?”
His mana spiked and dark-red crystals sprouted from his limbs. My eyebrow raised but he stayed in position. The others held back, retreating behind him.
Maybe I am getting too cocky. But damn is this interesting.
I opened my mouth to speak, but so did One.
“Are you-”
“FIGHTERS! A thousand gold bounty for any who helps us remove this monstrous scum from the tournament! Five hundred gold more if you allow us the final blow!”
Oh fuck you!