Chapter 7: And Personal

The next morning, Valia stood in the garden behind her home, overgrown after a year of neglect, but still beautiful. She held her sword out in front of her, breathing deeply. Step by step, she underwent the Dance of the Ivunara, an elvish custom performed before battle, as well as for exercise. It was a war dance to ease the body’s mana flow and loosen the muscles. Each day was easier, and she felt like she almost back to her old self.

Beside her, Noah was performing his own unique workout routine. Like the day before, he was wearing the duplicate headband he made. All of his muscles were under magical restraint, so not only did his workout stress his physical strength and stamina, but his mana as well, leaving him drenched in sweat, but unlike the day before, he completed the workout. Once they both finished their routines, she turned to him.

“Are you sure it’s not too early to incorporate that headband into your training?”

“I only get stronger by pushing my limits. Besides, I’d say I have a good grasp of this technique. I proved it last night, didn’t I?”

“The sex was certainly interesting, but you have to admit, Shannon and I were on top a lot more than usual.”

“Hey, you said you were feeling better and wanted some exercise. Men and women should spend equal time on top. I can’t be doing all the work.”

Valia laughed. “Oh please, you were just being lazy, trying to hide how much you were struggling to move.”

“Trust me, I’ll be back to my old self tonight.”

“You aren’t going to sleep with it on again, are you? You were so still last night; it was like sleeping with a corpse.”

“And thanks to that, my magical strength and dexterity have greatly improved since yesterday. Now, let’s try something a little more vigorous.” Noah drew his sword. “Shall we?”

“You’ve never beaten me before, and now you want to try and fight me while wearing that headband?”

“Well, you aren’t back to full strength, right? That’s quite the handicap you’re suffering. Maybe today’s the day.”

“Oh-ho, you’re going to pay for that,” Valia said with a grin.

The two of them faced each other with their swords raised. They locked eyes, feeling each other out, and then, without a single word needing to be said, they clashed. Valia’s blade came towards Noah like a volley of arrows, as if she was simultaneously attacking from a dozen different points and angles. Noah fended off her attacks, powering through the hindering weight he felt on his limbs, but just barely. Such rapid movement was a challenge, as it felt like he had cinderblocks hanging from his limbs, and an invisible bungee cord linked his blade to his chest, making every reach and swing an ordeal. On the other hand, Valia’s attacks were slower than usual, but clearly, she had regained most of her strength. It wouldn’t be long until she regained her original strength.

After exploiting a gap in her attack, Noah lunged and swung at her, his blade coming within inches of her throat as she backflipped beyond his reach, kicking his sword to try and knock it out of his hand. He succeeded in hanging on and went in for a thrust, but she parried his attack and countered with a diagonal slash, stopped by him catching her blade with the guard of his sword. The two of them went back and forth, launching attacks at each other while struggling to endure the onslaught they were both receiving.

Suffice it to say, Valia wasn’t giving Noah an inch. On the plus side, he had completely forgotten about his magical restraints, as he was too preoccupied with fending her off and trying to circumvent her guard. The effort needed to move never got easier, but it was steadily becoming second nature, and it all came down to stamina. He was doing better than he thought we would. He could also sense how much Valia had dulled during her weeks of recovery, but her skills were sharpening with every clash of their swords. Her muscles, which had softened from bedrest, were regaining their firmness.

Eventually, the two of them separated, each gasping for air. “Ready to take back what you said?” Valia teased.

“One more round,” said Noah, removing his headband. He felt utterly weightless, as if floating in space. He assumed a stance, pointing his sword at Valia. “Prepare yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go already.”

Noah rocketed towards her, and for one brief fraction of a second, he saw the shock in Valia’s eyes from his boosted speed. He, too, was surprised, feeling like he was wearing his anti-paladin cloak. It was natural to feel lighter and faster after removing weights, but removing the headband was a new definition of liberating. Valia intercepted his attack, but only just, and Noah rained slashes and stabs upon her, putting her solely on defense. She was forced back, unable to maintain her position with such a ferocious chain of attacks hammering her defenses. Finally, Noah slipped past her guard and held the tip of his sword up to her throat.

“What do you know, today really is the day.”

“If you want to pat yourself on the back for besting your teacher while she’s still recovering, go right ahead.”

“Spin it however you want,” Noah said with a smile as he sheathed his blade. “That was a good match.”

“Indeed. It’s been a long time since I experienced a loss in a swordfight. Well done.”

“I can see you’ve regained most of your strength. But what about magic? Have you tried casting any since you reached Colbrand?”

“No, but I figure now is as good an opportunity as any.” She sheathed her sword and stepped back, pressing her palms together. She began gathering her mana, but it was slow to react, like a creature awakening from hibernation. “Zodiac: Avagath.” A large silver magic circle appeared on the ground, showing the ten constellation runes open to her, and through them, she could feel the power of the cosmos beginning to flow into her. It was a feeling she had missed. Whenever she activated her magic, she could see the stars with her mind’s eye, the flickering light in the darkness, especially when she used Avagath, which expanded her sensory abilities.

Everything seemed fine, but only for a moment. Valia felt something seize her mind, like a hand around her throat, forcing her to look at something she didn’t want to see. The stars she normally saw through her subconscious, those flickering lights, were brushed aside, and beyond them, new stars could be seen. However, they didn’t produce light, so much as bend the light around them, staining it with malevolent haze.

These dark stars made her shudder in fear, for while she looked at them, she could sense them looking right back at her, weighing down on her soul with their insidious will. There were no thoughts, no feelings, but what she felt was unquestionably evil. The magic circle around her feet shattered like glass, and Valia dropped to one knee while clutching her head and hissing in pain.

“Valia!” Noah exclaimed, kneeling beside her. Valia didn’t respond, instead letting out a soft cry of anguish with her eyes screwed shut.

“What’s going on?” Shannon asked, rushing outside.

“I don’t know. She tried to activate her magic, and something went wrong. Let’s get her in the house.” Noah scooped her up in his arms and carried her inside, with Shannon nervously following them.

“I’m ok, I’m ok,” Valia said as he set her on the couch.

“You’re not ok, not even close,” said Noah.

“It’s fine, the pain is receding.”

“The pain’s disappearance doesn’t concern me as much as its arrival. What happened?”

“I don’t know, I saw something, stars I didn’t recognize—dark stars. It felt like they were crushing me.”

“Have you ever felt anything like this before?” Shannon asked.

“The closest thing I’ve ever felt was...” She paused and looked at Noah. “It was like when we sparred at the academy, and you stepped into my sensory field while your magic was active. It was that same nauseous feeling, but a thousand times worse.”

Noah wasn’t sure what to say.

Valia abstained from joining Noah at the arena, still feeling under the weather from her spell gone wrong. Shannon stayed with her while Noah set out. He still had a job to do. He arrived at the arena to find Cyrilo and her entourage joining in with the crowd.

“So, you decided to finally come out and see the fights?” Noah asked.

Cyrilo flashed a wry smile. “All the low-rank fighters have been purged, so now the real show will begin. Besides, with this tournament going on, I barely get any customers during the day, so I might as well close up and go see what all the fuss is about.”

“Man, this is so cool,” said Daniel. “I feel like I’m in ancient Rome. All we need is a few lions and some Christians to feed to them.”

Noah then met Berholm at their usual spot and was given a list of names.

“These are church agents? None of them gave that impression.”

“Our plan is working well. The losses you’ve given the church have cost them more money than their wins have earned them. Now, they are turning their attention to other contenders. I don’t know how you’ll pull the strings with that barrier up, but I trust you to provide good results.”

“Good results for good payment,” said Noah, walking past him. Once alone, he activated his invisibility and headed down into the bowels of the arena, where all the fighters were psyching themselves up for combat, while keeping their distance from each other.

Outside, Roc was engaged in the opening battle of the day, fighting against a talented warrior who could use both shield and sword magic. Again and again, he pounced on his foe, trying to smash through his defenses with powerful kicks and punches. However, even while his limbs were wrapped in mana, he could not break through the glowing tower shield the man wielded. With every attack that failed to break through, his enemy would counter with a slash, able to swing his sword with more speed and force than an average warrior could ever hope to achieve. Roc relied on his wings to pull him in and out of danger, but they were all that was keeping him alive, and he was left bloody from numerous close calls.

Realizing he wasn’t getting anywhere, Roc took to the air, flying in loops over the arena. People in the audience shielded their eyes from the sun and pointed at him, trying to keep him in their sights as his speed grew. As he built up his acceleration, he channeled mana into his right leg, and a sheath of energy enveloped eagle talons. “Decisive Divebomb,” he cast, prompting a magic circle to appear around his ankle. Beast Art, the combination of shamanism and monk magic. When he fought Aithorn, he could only use basic mana enhancement on his attacks, but by honing his monk magic by fighting Seraph over and over, his training back in the Ashok Mountains had been fruitful, and he had reached the league of true beastman warriors.

Now fully powered up, he flew up high above the city where no one could see him, then turned and rocketed straight down, using his wings to augment the speed of his descent. As with his fight against the wolf fiend during the Red Revelry, he adjusted his trajectory at the last moment, curving his descent. His enemy raised his shield, putting everything he had into his defense, but Roc’s power was too great. He kicked the man’s shield with all the magical and kinetic force he could muster, striking like a meteorite. His enemy resisted valiantly, but his footing gave way, and Roc smashed him into the ground, carving a trench through the earth before slamming him against the wall of the arena. Brick and mortar cracked like so many bones, and the man went limp with blood dripping from his mouth.

“And contestant Roc is the winner!” the referee announced, drawing a chorus of cheers and jeers from the audience. Many admired the tenacity of this one-armed beastman, and plenty of others felt threatened.

Roc left the ring, eager to get his wounds treated, though putting on a brave face. As he entered the hypogeum below, Foley met him. “Nice work out there. Just don’t go thinking that your fancy kicks will knock me over like him.”

“What, you’re still here? I thought for sure you had lost the previous round,” Roc countered.

“In your dreams! You’re talking to the world’s smallest mountain, and no man can move a mountain!”

The fights continued, but they were becoming more and more drawn out. The weakest combatants had all been culled in the first three rounds, and now the remaining warriors were going at it with everything they had. Eventually, Noah’s first target entered the arena. He was a young man, spirited and garbed in plate mail, having won his fights with hard-won determination and effort. His name was Falco. Noah followed him outside, the warrior unaware of his presence. On the other end of the ring, his opponent arrived, another man, a few inches taller and years older, wearing dark clothes and an amused smirk upon seeing Falco. Both were brawlers, entering the ring without weapons.

“Well, well, well, we meet again, younger brother. You’re looking well.”

“I’m not your brother, not anymore, not after what you did to our family! You killed our master and our sibling disciples!”

“All I did was sever the bonds holding me back. Family? Love? That’s for the weak!”

“I’m going to avenge everyone you killed and restore the honor of my school! Mine, not yours!”

“I discarded those pieces of trash, along with such foolish notions like honor. All that matters is strength!”

As the two youths bickered over their shared drama, Noah stood by, waiting for the referee to hurry up and do his job, but he was eating up the dialogue.

“We have a special treat for those in the audience!” the man boomed. “Brother against brother, a fight for the ages! In this corner, we have Falco Leon, and in this corner, Viktor Leon! Let the match begin!”

“I just said I discarded that name!” Viktor barked.

“This bastard isn’t my brother anymore!” Falco added.

“Just fight already!” the ref yelled.

Falco slammed his fists together. “Heavy Water!” Moisture was gathered from the air and formed two liquid spheres, immersing his hands. Noah had seen him use this technique in earlier matches. Despite being made of water, the two spheres were hard as rock, and their added weight made his punches stronger, but that wasn’t all. Along with strong offense, the orbs provided good defense, acting as both shields and catcher’s mitts for enemy attacks. It was a simple technique, but quite potent.

That said, Viktor was bringing the power as well. He extended his arms, and his hands caught fire, with his flesh blackening and hardening, soon resembling cracked volcanic rock. “With these hands, I slaughtered our foolish master and the rest of those whelps. Now, when I close them around your throat, I wonder which will kill you first, the heat or the strangulation?”

“I’ll sever those hands and lay them upon their graves, so they know they’ve been avenged!”

The two former brothers then charged towards each other and began their fight. Falco hurled punches with the skill of a trained boxer, every attack carrying the energy of a sledgehammer at full swing and relying on blocking with water for defense. Viktor replied with animal-like slashes, each finger capable of burning right through armor like it was cotton, and banking on his agility to avoid harm.

Their movements were rapid and well-practiced, displaying years of training to hone their martial arts. They did their best to avoid touching each other’s hands, but contact was inevitable, each having to negate the other’s attack. Every time their hands met, jets of steam and smoke would hiss from the contact, with Falco’s water coming to a boil, and Viktor’s flesh threatening to crack from the quenching.

As the fateful duel erupted, Noah paced around them, undetectable to everyone. The skills and techniques they displayed were impressive, particularly how they incorporated their magic, but while he took the time to appreciate, he also stayed focused on his goal. He had to make Falco lose the fight, but do so in a way that wouldn’t draw suspicions. He couldn’t use his guns, or any of his illusion spells while he was concealed, but he had other ways of sabotaging him.

He conjured a gas mask and metal canister from his ring, alchemically-formed, as was the carbon monoxide within. Any time the two brothers separated, Noah would creep up beside Falco and spray him with the gas. Odorless and colorless, Falco was completely unaware, mistaking the air on his face for the wind, with Noah using his mana to conceal the sound of the gas being released. It wouldn’t leave lasting damage, nor was it a threat to the crowds, but the more Falco breathed it in, the weaker he became.

His movements slowed, and his water magic flickered like a candle at the end of its wick. Regardless, he powered through, and after several minutes of relentless combat, he delivered a critical blow, punching Viktor in the chin and sending his brain rattling around in his skull. He staggered back, using what little mental capacity he retained to stay upright, while Falco hobbled over, his strength fading. He and everyone else simply assumed his condition was due to fatigue.

“Now you know how it feels to be the receiver,” Falco panted, “to be the one hoping for mercy from someone you once knew and trusted. But I won’t give it to you. Today, your story of murder and betrayal ends.” He pulled back his fist, ready to deliver the finishing blow. “Today, justice will be served!” Then Noah dosed him with more gas, and his legs gave out from under him. At that moment, Viktor threw himself forward with all the strength he had left, driving his burning hand through Falco’s gut and bursting out of his back.

“Like I said, strength is all that matters,” Viktor sneered before dropping Falco.

“The winner is Viktor!” the referee announced to the cheering crowd.

As Viktor basked in his success, healers rushed out and put Falco on a stretcher. Fortunately, the wound was mostly cauterized, and his organs weren’t damaged beyond the point of healing with magic.

“You’ll get him next time, sport,” Noah said under his breath as the defeated warrior was carried off. Already, the gas had dissipated in the open air, fading into nothingness above the crowds.

Noah’s next target then stepped out, Abner. He was another young man with that same glint of determination in his eyes and a sword on his belt. He had won the hearts of many spectators with his willpower, getting knocked down countless times, but always standing back up. There was a lot of money riding on him. His enemy also stepped out, a larger, older man sporting long hair woven into braids.

“In this corner, we have Abner of Solgen, and over here, Reiss of Dermott. Let the battle begin!” boomed the referee.

“Defeating you is just another step towards achieving my dream!” Abner shouted with a confident smile.

“Bring it on, kid,” Reiss grunted.

Abner drew his sword, and the blade glowed with searing intensity as a sheath of lightning enveloped it. Applying elemental energy to one’s weapon was basic magic, akin to dousing a blade in oil and lighting it on fire, but this was the next stage, the true combination of warrior and elemental magic, more like a white-hot sword pulled out of a forge. It reminded Noah of plasma weapons he had used in the past, capable of cutting through steel like butter, and Aithorn’s spear techniques.

Abner charged towards Reiss, and this time, Noah kept his distance. Assuming a combat stance, Reiss punched the open space, releasing a powerful shockwave from his fist. It was wind magic, solidifying the air with mana so that it hit Abner like a charging bull. He was knocked off his feet, flipping like a coin before taking a hard landing. After a blow like that, it was understandable that he had difficulties getting up.

“Had enough, ready to give up?”

“I never give up because I believe in myself!”

He got back to his feet and charged recklessly at Reiss. Reiss sent another air blast, but Abner dodged, though he was once more sent flying by the second that came immediately after. To his credit, he got up faster this time and took off again in a serpentine pattern, avoiding the barrage of air blasts from Reiss. Even Noah had to be careful not to be hit. Fortunately, the barrier protecting the crowd was doing its job, and every spell sent towards the stands was blocked. Abner got in close and jumped into the air, about to cut down his opponent, but Reiss was faster, and roundhouse kicked him with an added burst of wind, knocking Abner into the distance.

“You can’t win, kid. Surrender before you’re ground into paste.”

“As long as my friends are watching me, I won’t quit, and I won’t surrender!”

He went at it again, sprinting towards Reiss. An air blast was launched towards him, but he raised his sword and cut through it, shattering the spell like a pane of glass. Reiss continued hurling blasts, with Abner slashing his way through each one. He got in close, dodging another kick from Reiss, and finally landed a cut on Reiss’s shoulder. Reiss hissed in pain, but gathered his strength and grabbed Abner by the throat, holding him off the ground. For the wound Abner landed, Reiss paid him back with several punches to the gut, the last punch accentuated with an air blast that launched Abner like a champagne cork. Abner hit the ground rolling, though not by design, and left behind several blood drops before stopping.

“You’re going to die today, boy.”

Chuckling and spitting up blood, Abner slowly got to his feet. “You’ll think you’ll win this just because you’re strong? You don’t know what real strength is, the strength of having friends at your side, cheering for you! As long as I have them and hope in my heart, I can never die!”

The fight continued in that fashion. Over and over again, Abner charged Reiss, only to be soundly beaten and hurled back. He’d hit the ground and slowly get to his feet, often while reciting some motivational quip that made Noah roll his eyes. The young man’s tenacity was admirable, but Noah wished he would stop screaming about the merits of determination and friendship. He had a rule against taking pleasure in the suffering of others, but was letting this fight continue for his amusement in seeing Abner getting knocked around. Even for an ancient spirit like Noah, the young man’s unrelenting “put me in, coach!” energy was aggravating, and he wanted to see his spirit break.

However, the tide of battle began to change. Despite Abner receiving all the damage, Reiss was the one getting tired. No matter how much blood Abner puked up, he kept getting to his feet and charging, while Reiss, after every blast, was breathing harder and harder with a noticeable tremor of fatigue running through his body. Noah decided it was time to end the fight. Once again, Abner, albeit slowly due to all his injuries, hobbled towards Reiss, shouting with resolve. Reiss, scrounging up what little strength he had left, hit Abner with a weak blast, knocking him back only a few feet and kicking up a cloud of dust. Once again, Abner started to get up.

“Why won’t you just fucking die already?!” Reiss shouted in understandable frustration.

“Because I have a dream that you and no one else can stop! I make this pledge: I will defeat you, I will win this tournament, and I will become the—”

Abner was silenced as Noah, in his invisible state, covered his mouth with a rag dosed with Duska’s succubus powder. He tried to resist, but in his wounded and weakened state, the dust did its work quickly, and he couldn’t even raise his arms. “Shut up. Shut up. Shut up,” Noah silently hissed as Abner passed out. Thanks to the dust cloud providing extra cover, it looked like Abner had simply fainted from his injuries. He’d wake up, barely remembering the fight.

“And the winner is Reiss!” the referee announced to the adoring crowd.

Abner was carried away, and Reiss limped back into the hypogeum. The next two fighters entered the ring, and one of them was Noah’s next target. Hopefully, this fight would be simple, but he noticed the man he was after pulling out a medallion and kissing it. “Soon, my love, I’ll win this tournament, and with the money, I’ll be able to pay for your medicine, and we’ll live happily ever after.”

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ Noah thought to himself. It was time to crush another man’s dreams, something he was used to doing, but didn’t anyone enter this tournament simply because they were bored?

The rest of the fourth round continued without issue. Foley held his own in a fight against a woman armed with two quarter staffs, relying on his tried-and-true method of putting up his defenses and waiting for his enemy to tire. For several minutes, she beat on his shields like she was playing the drums, but when she realized she couldn’t break through, she surrendered, able to walk out of the arena with some of her dignity intact. Not long after, Saimallah claimed victory in another one-sided beatdown against a church agent, never even touching his opponent. The round ended with Seraph narrowly defeating an axe wielder, due much in part to luck. The man was mighty and skilled with his weapon, but the fact remained that if Seraph still had his magic, he wouldn’t have even been a challenge. All of the prince’s victories were won by the skin of his teeth.

There were four rounds remaining, and only sixteen combatants. Before the fighting could resume, there was a brief intermission. Daniel was giving another performance, and as the music played, Noah went to see Saimallah.

“Here,” he said, handing back the monk’s headband.

“Too much for you, huh?”

“No, it’s perfect, exactly what I’ve been looking for. I’ve just already replicated it.” He raised his hat, showing the duplicate headband underneath. He didn’t wear it constantly, like when he used his magic, but he hoped to be able in time. The sight shocked Saimallah.

“That’s impossible! How are you walking around? It should take months before you can even stand!”

“It was definitely intense at the beginning, but I figured it out. Like I told you before, I have extensively studied martial arts. Mastery over one’s body is fundamental. I can already feel my magic growing stronger thanks to it. We have some time before the intermission ends. Shall I begin teaching you the workout? I feel like I get the best results when I do it while wearing this.”

Saimallah put on his headband, and Noah could see the strain of the magical binding, but it wasn’t what caused him to lower his head. It wasn’t enough to be called a bow, but the act showed evident respect and a revised impression. “Please proceed.”

Outside, Daniel continued to play, with his mana and sound echoing through the arena and bouncing out as if the structure was a giant speaker. The people, originally drunk on bloodlust, were soothed by the reverberating tunes, and his energy filled their minds like a sweet drug. He eventually finished his concert and received a standing ovation. However, it wasn’t just his playing that got them all riled up. Now, the fifth round could begin, and the first fight was bound to be an interesting one.

As Daniel left the ring, Roc entered, while on the other side, his challenger appeared. Several beastmen had entered the tournament, with only three left, and the one facing Roc was another bird type, already stretching his wings in anticipation.

The ref raised his arm. “Welcome to the fifth round of the tournament! We start with our remaining winged combatants, Roc and Ingram!” As the audience cheered in anticipation, the two foes glared each other down. Normally, Roc would enter the ring with a stoic scowl, sharpening his mind for battle while spitefully feeding on the boos from beastman haters, but this time, he was smiling.

“What are you so happy about?” Ingram asked. He was taller and older than Roc, with hair that fittingly resembled an owl’s plumage.

“This isn’t our first time fighting. Do you remember a certain snowy day here in Colbrand, two winters ago?”

Ingram’s eyes widened. “It was you! That fucking eagle interfering with my mission! Do you have any idea how much trouble I got in because of you?!”

“You know how it is. Eagles and owls are natural enemies. This rivalry is in our blood.”

“Laugh while you can, because I’m going to take your other arm and turn you into pellets!”

“This time, try not to fly off with your tail feathers between your legs.”

Both fighters assumed their stances, and the ref dropped his arm. “Begin!”

Roc and Ingram hurled themselves forward, propelled by a pulse of their wings, and met in midair with two kicks swinging, only for their legs to collide like dueling swords. They dropped down to the ground and again went at it, hurling attacks at each other with rapid speed and ferocious power. Their long legs swung wide, their talons capable of gutting each other like fish. Ingram used a similar fighting style to Roc, relying on kicks imbued with slashing talons, but just as Roc was skilled in the technique, so too was he accustomed to defeating it, having fought countless eagle warriors back home like himself.