Chapter 8: The Drive to Win

After each round, there would be a short break to let the audience get more food and use the lavatory, as well as let the combatants regain their strength with magic and potions. In the meantime, repairs were made to the ring. Workers and mages with earth magic were fixing the holes and seating that Cain had destroyed, and taking the time to fill in various craters. They had to work fast so the audience wouldn’t get bored, but they got it done, and the sixth round commenced with only seven fighters. Since “Reiss” had been disqualified, Roc was declared the winner by default, though he didn’t seem happy about it. However, his bruised ego paled against his concern for the following match.

It was Foley vs. Saimallah, and whoever won would be his opponent in the next round. Noah was also interested in his fight, and though he had a strong feeling about how it would go, he still wanted to watch it from the edge of the ring. The two combatants entered, the diminutive Foley and the towering Saimallah, with the audience eager to see who would win. It was the ultimate matchup between an unstoppable force and an unmovable object. They stood a fair distance apart, facing each other.

“A dwarf from Uther fighting a man from Vandheim, this is the start of a good joke,” said Foley.

“Your defenses are mighty, young warrior, and your endurance is worthy of legend. However, you cannot win this fight. You are out of your league. Surrender this match and walk away while you still can,” Saimallah replied.

Foley slammed his shields together. “A mountain does not run! Even the world’s smallest!”

“No, but they can crumble. I should have known better than to suggest surrender. Dwarves are renowned for their stubbornness.”

“Yep, we dwarves are thickheaded, and you’ll never find a skull thicker than mine!”

“Let the match begin!” the ref announced.

Foley threw up his defenses, wrapping himself with layer after layer of shield magic. Unperturbed, Saimallah calmly approached and stood before Foley. “Out of respect for your courage and what you have accomplished in this tournament, I will crush you, not with the Touchless Technique, but with my own fist.”

“Ooh, now we’re talking,” Foley chuckled.

Saimallah assumed a fighting stance and pulled back his arm. At that moment, the air became heavy with mana, bearing down on everyone as if a lead weight had been dropped on their backs. The referee instinctively retreated, and Noah, standing nearby, almost felt like cursing. If only Saimallah had been one of his teachers when he was pursuing the epitome of human potential, if only magic had been available to him, it would have saved him a lot of time and opened up new avenues. Were he to engrave the monk’s abilities into his war god body, there was no telling what level of power he’d achieve. Back then, he thought he had reached the pinnacle of evolution, the perfect physical form, but without magic, it now seemed painfully incomplete, and he was left to wonder how far he could have gone.

Saimallah’s mana surged from his forearm, shooting behind him like flames from a rocket, while his fist glowed with brilliant light. Then, with a quick breath, he threw his punch. The impact was invisible; the attack delivered faster than the human eye could perceive, but the sonic boom it produced heralded its power. Upon contact with Foley’s shields, a shockwave shook the stadium and filled the air with dust. Even Noah was left blinded and nearly deafened by the resulting explosion. The only word that could describe it was ‘perfection,’ the perfect punch, delivered as if by a god of martial arts.

Finally, the dust settled, revealing the devastation Saimallah wrought. A vast linear crater had been carved into the ground, leading to a hole in the wall around the edge of the arena, with every wall behind it likewise broken. There was no sign of Foley. Noah, cloaked, went off in search of the dwarf. He found him at the end of the path of destruction, lying on a pile of rubble. Noah checked his neck, finding a weak pulse. It was a miracle he was still alive, as just by looking at him, more than half of his skeleton was broken. His shields resembled sheets of wet cardboard run over by a monster truck, and his clothes were torn to shreds. His defensive magic, which had failed to stop Saimallah’s attack, had, at the very least, protected him when he was sent smashing through all those walls.

Noah fed him multiple healing potions, and even then, the extensive damage took time to repair. However, Foley opened his eyes, and Noah released his invisibility.

“Noah, is that you?” he asked groggily.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Did I win?”

“You survived. That should be enough.”

“Fuck...” he groaned. “Did I tell you that the lord of my village offered me his daughter’s hand if I reached the final round?”

“Yes, yes, the girl with the cow tits and ass like a wine barrel.”

“I reached the sixth round. You think he’ll at least let me cop a feel?”

“I doubt it, but you just go right on ahead and dream.”

Foley gave a pained laugh. “Maybe Yolanda will at least give me a pity fuck.”

“Hey, if she doesn’t, I’ll pay. You earned it.”

“Thanks, Noah. You’re a good guy.”

Tournament officials arrived with healers to tend to Foley’s injuries. He lost the match, but the audience cheered his name for surviving such an attack. As Foley was carried away and Saimallah exited the ring, Cain and the last church agent entered. However, Noah wasn’t interested in watching, and it didn’t seem like he’d need to step in. He searched for Roc, finding him perched on one of the balconies at the very top of the arena. Cain had already finished killing his opponent by the time Noah reached him.

“You can’t win this fight,” said Noah.

“Don’t start, I’m not in the mood,” said Roc. But although he tried to hide it, he was trembling in fear.

“You’re strong, Roc, no question. However, he is not an enemy that can be defeated with just tenacity and heart. He’s way out of your league.”

“I don’t run from a fight. I’d rather lose, knowing that I gave it my all, knowing what my all even is, than walk away and spend the rest of my life wondering how I would have fared.”

Noah sighed. “Very well, then, at least let me help boost your odds. You blame me for losing arm; well I offer you this as compensation.” He held out his hand and, from his ring, conjured the red feather from the royal vault, sealed in crystal.

“What is that?” Roc asked.

“This is a feather from the legendary phoenix, and its power can be yours. Elyot once mentioned it to me, but I gave it no mind until I found this and realized the stories were true.”

“And how is one little feather supposed to help me?”

“Just as a single spark can raze a forest, this one little feather will ignite a roaring flame within you. I studied this relic and analyzed the magic imbued, and while I cannot unlock its power, I believe you, as a member of the eagle tribe, are a much more suitable bearer.”

“Didn’t you yourself tell me not to listen to people offering me power? That they’d use honeyed words to tempt me, handing me the answer to all my prayers?”

“I was talking about the Profane, not myself. Listen, I’m trying to make things right. You lost a piece of yourself because of me, so I’m giving you a replacement. True, it won’t help you tie your shoelaces, but you’ll be stronger with one arm than you ever could be with two. Take this power. Tame it, master it, earn it.”

Noah was telling the truth about making things right with Roc, but it wasn’t the whole truth. While studying the feather the night before, he came across a rune that appeared in his own curse, the rune of Rebirth. Just as Noah was reborn through reincarnation, the phoenix was reborn from the ashes of its death. He had hoped to use the feather to help develop his counterspell, but in its sealed form, it was little more than a decoration, and if it didn’t bond with a fitting host, it would simply go up in smoke the moment he released it from the crystal. In order to properly study it and use its power to help break his curse, he needed to truly ignite the flame, and he needed Roc to bear it.

As he pondered over it, Roc looked down below in the ring, where Seraph was fighting against a warrior with a hammer tipped with an anvil as the head. He then turned back to Noah.

“Thank you, but no. I came to this tournament not just out of spite, but to know my limits, to find how far I could get with only one arm. If I must lose in order to understand just how strong I really am, and how weak I am, then so be it. You tell me to master this power, to earn it, but it still feels like cheating to be handed something like this. You don’t owe me anything, Noah, and I’m not going to blame you anymore for my situation. I lost my arm because of my pride, and I’m turning this down, so that for the rest of my life, every loss I take will be because of my pride, not because of you. Again, thank you, but to be worse off without it, to me, is to be better off without it.”

“I knew you’d say something like that, but I figured I still needed to ask. Good luck out there.”

“Thanks. I’d better get ready.”

Roc departed, and not long after, Berholm arrived. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you.”

“Considering that Cain just stomped the last church agent to death, I’d say my job is done.”

Berholm paused. “Not necessarily.”

“No, just no,” Noah said, shaking his head.

“The clergy is betting everything it has left on the monk. If you cause him to lose, they’ll be destitute, and we can purge the church of the corrupt leaders. The church and the kingdom will be reunited once again to fight the Profane.”

“You saw what he’s is capable of. He’s practically impervious to sabotage. I could stab him in the heart, and he’d still tear Roc to shreds.”

“You haven’t failed me yet. I doubt you will now.”

“You’d better have something big to offer me for such a risk.”

Berholm held up a small glass bottle. “Pure truth serum. I told you before that Cyrilo had been using alchemy to produce it, and something tells me you can as well. However, without a sample of the original, it’s clear it cannot be replicated.”

Noah had tried to learn the recipe from Cyrilo, but just as she kept the alchemic spell secret from the kingdom, so too was the recipe kept secret from her. So long as enough raw materials were prepared, alchemical replication could be performed without knowing the actual composition of what was being copied. It would be easy for Noah to steal the bottle, just as he had considered robbing the royal vault, but Berholm would immediately notice the bottle’s absence, same with any missing relics, and Noah’s pardon would be a thing of the past. It was true that Noah was already quite skilled at extracting information from people, but genuine truth serum was too good to pass up.

“Very well, I’ll see what I can do.”

Noah left Berholm and went down into the ring. Seraph’s fight had just ended, and right now, all of the combatants were recovering, and the destruction from Saimallah’s punch was being repaired. As he waited, Noah tried to devise a plan to take out Saimallah. Gassing him might work, but he shouldn’t bet everything on it. Succubus powder? If it worked too well, it would be suspicious, especially if Saimallah wasn’t injured or fatigued. A chloroform rag? Even if he was invisible, Saimallah would react and probably hit Noah with a blind swing, killing him if he wasn’t careful and giving away his presence. Soon enough, the seventh round commenced, and Roc and Saimallah entered the ring.

“ROC! ROC! ROC! ROC! ROC! ROC! ROC! ROC! ROC! ROC!” his fans chanted excitedly, a far cry from their earlier disdain for the beastman warrior. He had won their hearts, this young, one-armed underdog overcoming challenge after challenge, while Saimallah had dominated this tournament without breaking a sweat. Though the monk’s powers were impressive, even terrifying, they didn’t endear the crowd as much as the gamblers.

“You impress me, young warrior, to have come so far with such an injury. Few in your condition could have accomplished so much. However this ends, you can hold your head up high and leave here with my respect,” Saimallah grumbled through his thick beard.

Roc put his hand to his chest and bowed his head. “From such an esteemed master of the martial arts, your words are a greater prize than whatever this tournament has to offer, but like you said, ‘however this ends.’”

Nearby, the ref raised his arm. “Let the semifinals begin!”

Roc launched himself towards Saimallah with his wings while mana surged from his limbs. “Cyclone Impact!” He spun in the air and swung at Saimallah’s head with a powerful kick, but the monk’s apparition reached out and blocked the attack, then countered with a punch. Roc tried to pull away with his wings, but the apparition moved too quickly, forcing to block with his arm. He was tossed through the air, farther and faster than he would have with just his wings, a testament to the power of the attack. His forearm was numb from the blow, and his skin was already darkening from all the burst capillaries. Had he not lessened the impact with his retreat, his bones would have shattered.

Regardless, Roc went at it again, aiming for a punch to the stomach. Saimallah’s apparition grabbed his arm the same way Noah had stopped Viktor, then tried to twist Roc’s arm until he either dislocated his shoulder or Roc surrendered. Instead, Roc went with the force and flipped over in the air, then jumped again and tried to strike Saimallah in the kidneys with his knee. A phantom hand of mana appeared and caught his leg before the attack could land, but still, Roc didn’t give in.

Using his wings to twist his position in the air, he raised his other leg and brought down a guillotine kick onto Saimallah’s shoulder, only for the monk to once more intercept, this time with a phantasmal leg extending from his chest and countering Roc’s kick. A second leg of mana shot from Saimallah’s abdomen and kicked Roc square in the gut, knocking him back. He couldn’t stick the landing and hit the ground like a wounded bird, tasting blood. While the blow was powerful and incredibly painful, Saimallah was obviously holding back. Otherwise, all of Roc’s innards and his spine would have been pulverized.

Watching nearby, Noah frowned in unease. Saimallah’s Touchless Technique was more versatile than he expected. His apparition wasn’t just an extra set of limbs, for those limbs could extend from any part of his body in the blink of an eye. Even Noah’s clone couldn’t do that. Saimallah could kick, punch, and block from every possible angle without moving an inch. It was Roc’s three limbs against Saimallah’s eight, and he outclassed the young warrior in strength, speed, experience, and every other category. There was no way for Roc to win on his own. Noah had to step in. He got in close and began spraying carbon monoxide at Saimallah. There was no telling how effective it would be, and he didn’t have much left.

After catching his breath, Roc went at it again, rocketing towards Saimallah and blowing away the gas. “Monk Spear!” He flattened his hand into a blade and wrapped it in surging mana, but instead of going for Saimallah’s head or chest, he went lower, and tried to slice his femoral artery. Saimallah countered with a Touchless kick to knock him back, but Roc avoided the attack by the skin of his teeth. He then changed targets to Saimallah’s Achilles Tendon, earning a Touchless punch zooming towards his face. However, Roc dodged the punch and struck the apparition’s wrist with his own attack, dispelling it.

Saimallah was shocked, but looked into Roc’s eyes and saw they were the eyes of an eagle. Just like in his earlier fight against Beck, he was using a partial transformation to enhance his reflexes, and he could counter the Touchless apparition with his own monk magic. Saimallah rained attacks down on Roc, and instead of targeting the man himself, Roc focused on countering the attacks. Whenever a phantasmal punch or kick hurtled towards him, Roc would either dodge or meet the attack head-on with a magic strike. Kicks were negated with kicks, and his nukite slashes cut through intangible punches. It was an impressive display of strength and agility, but it wasn’t getting Roc anywhere, and it was impossible for him to maintain such a pace for long. Fortunately, the carbon monoxide that Saimallah breathed in was hindering him just enough for Roc to continue this stalemate briefly.

Finally, Saimallah moved for the first time in the fight. He pulled back his arm and punched the air. Like Reiss’s wind magic, a flameless explosion burst from his fist in a linear blast. However, this was simply pure monk mana launched forward by Saimallah’s immeasurable power. One of Roc’s wings caught the torrent like a sail, tossing him through the air without injury, but Noah, standing farther back, received the blast at full strength. He was knocked off his feet as if hit by a car, feeling all the air expelled from his lungs and his ribs threatening to break. He struck the ground painfully hard, with his illusion magic thankfully concealing his landing from everyone. It was a brutal reminder that even if he wasn’t actually fighting, he was still in danger of getting caught in the crossfire.

Noah couldn’t afford to be passive about this, especially considering that Saimallah was starting to take this seriously, at least more so than in his earlier matches. If Roc took a single direct hit, it was all over. The two charged towards the Saimallah and attacked, Roc with monk magic and Noah with his sword. Touchless attacks erupted from Saimallah like a load of buckshot, with Roc doing his best to counter and dodge. However, Saimallah wasn’t going easy on him this time, and was powering through the effects of carbon monoxide poisoning to hit harder and faster. That said, Noah was covering the defense.

Every time an attack was launched that Roc couldn’t handle, Noah intervened and severed the phantasmal limb with his sword. He ducked and weaved in between the two warriors, avoiding both of their attacks while inflicting his own to counter Saimallah. Saimallah had to notice that his Touchless Technique was being negated, but with Roc coming at him in full force, he didn’t have time to think about it and had to focus on the fight.

Once again, Saimallah moved, swinging his leg to launch another air blast. Roc, having his hands full fending off Touchless attacks, wouldn’t be able to dodge or block, but Noah had his back and sprayed Saimallah’s face with a mild irritant, something to mimic the symptoms of hay fever. His eyes and nose itching from the allergic reaction, Saimallah’s focus was broken, and his kick and the resulting shockwave missed Roc. With that brief opportunity, Roc closed in and managed to inflict a shallow cut on Saimallah’s cheek, shocking the audience. That was the first time someone had landed an attack on the monk, not to mention drawing blood.

“Hmph!” Saimallah grunted as he brought down his raised leg and stomped the ground, sending a massive eruption of earth skyward, higher than the top of the arena.

The crowd shrieked in terror as dust and sand poured down on them, as while the barrier protected the stands from magic, it didn’t block regular matter. Fortunately, no rocks were falling, simply because the strength of Saimallah’s stomp had crushed them all to dust. Both Noah and Roc were sent flying by the blast, with Noah suffering war flashbacks of being hit with artillery. He landed with his ears ringing and his eyes and mouth full of sand, feeling like a shoe tossed around in a dryer. Roc wasn’t far off, struggling to breathe and groaning in pain.

It took several moments for them to get to their feet and clear their senses, with the explosion’s dust cloud slowly settling. The referee was sprawled out unconscious at the edge of the ring, but this fight no longer needed one. Just from the look on Saimallah’s face as he stood at the bottom of the resulting crater, it was clear that he was done playing around. Seeing the monk’s stern expression, Roc straightened his posture.

“How about we put an end to this the only way we know how: each of us throwing everything we have in one final attack?”

“You have a good head on your shoulders, boy. It’ll be a shame to kill you.”

Roc just chuckled and spread his wings, taking to the air. The audience, at least those who had managed to wipe the dust from their eyes, watched with pointing fingers as Roc perched himself at the very top of the arena, at the same place where he had fought Ingram. “I had been hoping to save this for the final fight, but I guess I can’t be picky.” He widened his stance and held out his arm, with his index finger, middle finger, and thumb pointing out like he was about to pluck a fly out of the air. “Guillotine Beak!”

Mana surged from the tips of his fingers with roaring pressure and enveloped his hand and arm, resembling the head of an eagle. Like his Decisive Divebomb, this technique was a Beast Art, and his most powerful attack. Rather than a concussive impact, it was a cutting and stabbing move, similar to the Monk Spear, but several times more powerful. When both his fingers and thumb touched the enemy, it was like an eagle’s beak slicing its prey, allowing him to cut through wood, stone, and even steel.

As Roc charged his attack, Saimallah assumed a combat stance and pulled back his arm, just as he had done when he fought Foley, and like before, he was kicking up a dust cloud, giving Noah an idea. He couldn’t use his illusion guns while invisible, but if he dropped his invisibility and used the dust cloud for cover, even if just for a single second, he could fire off a shot, and hopefully, everyone would be too preoccupied to notice. A round with just the right amount of power and precise timing would distract Saimallah and weaken his punch enough for Roc to overpower him and land the decisive blow. That said, there was absolutely no room for error. Any mistake made would reveal his presence and get Roc, Saimallah, or possibly both of them killed.

He moved to the edge of the ring and into the shade, out of Saimallah’s sight, and hopefully where he wouldn’t be noticed by the crowd. He crouched and extended his arm in preparation to ready his weapon. Once he dropped his invisibility, he wouldn’t have time to aim. He had to do this as fast as physically possible. All three warriors were ready, their attacks waiting to be unleashed. The time was right.

Roc leaped from his perch and began flying around the arena. Once he had built up enough speed, he turned and dived towards Saimallah with his hand outstretched. The mana streaming from his hand wrapped around his entire body and radiated from his wings, making him resemble a giant silver eagle. He was closing in on Saimallah, with everyone watching, including Noah, holding their breath. Saimallah sent his fist hurtling towards Roc, ready to intercept. Even with all of the power Roc had gathered, he couldn’t hope to match that simple punch, but that’s where Noah came in.

At the very last second, he dispelled his invisibility and conjured a rocket launcher, held within his outstretched hand and resting on his shoulder. He pulled the trigger, and the illusory rocket shot off faster than the human eye could catch, racing against Roc to reach Saimallah. The rocket hit Saimallah in the side and exploded just a millisecond before Noah recast his invisibility and Roc’s attack landed. A massive explosion shook the arena and filled the air with smoke, dust, and mana, with the resulting shockwave slamming into the spectators on the edge of their seats and pushing them back.

As the dust cloud began to settle, the breadth of the destruction was made clear. Roc had pushed Saimallah back to the edge of the ring and destroyed a large portion of the wall, along with the ground, but neither fighter could be seen, only a pair of silhouettes lying amongst the rubble. Then, one of them stood up, and the smoke cleared. Roc was triumphant, with Saimallah laid out before him with a massive slash carved in his chest as if with a sword. That said, Roc had not come out uninjured. A huge hole had been punched through his wing, nothing that couldn’t be patched up with magic, and the shoulder of his missing arm had been obliterated, leaving even less of a stump than there was before. Roc touched the wound with his hand, and to everyone’s surprise, he began to laugh harder than Noah had ever heard him. He then raised his bloody hand, and the crowds erupted, chanting his name at the top of their lungs.

“ROC! ROC! ROC! ROC! ROC! ROC!”

Their voices boomed like thunder, and even Noah cracked a smile. Though he had helped Roc win, the victory was his. All he had done was bring Saimallah down closer to his level, but he could only narrow the massive chasm between their power levels, a chasm which should have still swallowed the young warrior whole. All other fighters would try to jump that chasm and fall to their deaths, but Roc flew across. He left the ring with his fist raised, and as he passed through the doorway into the corridors beneath the stands, he found someone waiting for him.

“Leuca Aithorn,” he chuckled, facing the elf warrior. “Were you waiting for me to be all wounded and exhausted so you could try to arrest me again?”

And of all the things the icy warrior could have done, Aithorn smiled. “As a reveler, it’s only right you end up back in the dungeon, but I don’t want to interrupt the tournament, so I’ll arrest you another day. For now, I think you’ve earned a chance to rest. You did well, Roc.” He then turned around and walked away.

“The next time we fight, don’t expect it to end the same way as last time,” Roc said.

Aithorn paused. “I’d be disappointed if it did.”

Under normal circumstances, the next fight would immediately begin, but repairs had to again be made to the ring. Walls were rebuilt and craters were filled, but so much dirt had been tossed at the audience that the barrier had to be lowered so that earth magic could gather it all. Even then, the ground was lower than before, but at least it was level.

Seraph entered the ring first, trying to hide his fear. The audience was chanting his name, but no amount of support could change the fact that Cain was the worst enemy he could possibly imagine; someone exactly like how he used to be. The towering rhino beastman appeared on the other side of the ring, grinning with sadistic anticipation while relishing the boos from the crowd. Seraph had always taken pride in his stature and natural gifts, but now he felt like a child in the presence of the evil behemoth before him.

“I’ve killed six people in the ring so far, and lucky #7 will be Uther’s prince. Today is a good day.”

Having been nursed back to health after getting tossed around in the previous fight, the referee stood between the two combatants. “I’ll allow no excessive violence. The rules are to defeat your enemy, not torture them, and certainly not execute them. Am I understood?”

“Do you honestly think your rules apply to me?” Cain laughed. “Rules only apply to losers too weak to kill the fools who enforce them! If anyone wants to stop me, they’re free to try! Now get out of my way!”

He knocked the ref aside and charged, not bothering to wait for the match to be officiated. Seeing the juggernaut thundering towards him, Seraph gathered what little courage he had and swung with his hammer. Cain blocked the attack with his arm and then delivered a punch straight to Seraph’s stomach. The moment Cain’s fist connected, Seraph tasted death, and it tasted like blood, a lot of blood. It poured from his mouth as if desperate to come out, while air refused to go in. He didn’t even feel himself flying through the air; he just saw the world around him spinning before hitting the ground. Racked with pain and unable to breathe, he writhed in the dirt, but Cain wasn’t giving him time to rest.

“You should try bulking up a little, boy! If I hit you any harder, you would have flown clear out of the stadium!”

With his foe approaching, Seraph focused his energy on healing and blocking the pain. He slowly got to his feet, sucking in air as Cain strode over. Laughing, he pulled back his arm and threw a punch strong enough to kill a bear. Seraph dodged the incoming meteor and brought his hammer down onto Cain’s arm with all of his strength. Cain winced from the blow and swung his arm to shake away the pain, when an average fighter’s arm would have been crushed into gravel.

Seraph swung again, this time aiming for Cain’s head. Cain used his horn to parry the attack, then kicked Seraph like a soccer ball, again sending him flying. This time, he braced himself to avoid complete discombobulation, but it still knocked all the air from his lungs. He rolled across the ground and forced himself to his feet, not having the luxury of a breather.

“Is this the best that Uther’s prince can do? I’ve banged my elbow on furniture that hurt more than that! Pathetic!” Cain then got down in a runner’s pose and lowered his head. “Linear Crush!”

Wreathed in mana, he charged towards Seraph, ready to splatter him like a bug on a windshield. Still trying to catch his breath, Seraph jumped to the side, narrowly avoiding Cain’s rampage. Just like in his earlier fight, the mad beast crashed into the wall around the ring, undoing the work of the repair crew. He quickly recovered and once again charged towards Seraph, but this time, Seraph was ready, or he hoped he was.