Chapter 9: Final Match

Noah got up early the next day and set himself up in Valon’s room. The final match of the tournament would take place in the evening, so he had all day to train his magic and craft new tools. He was particularly interested in the red crystal he had received the night before. It was another meruleum gem with unique properties. He split it in half, using a mix of alchemy and some magic tools, then set one piece at the end of the room while he held the other. He cast his clone spell, channeling the mana into the gem he was holding. However, rather than appear around him, the illusion emerged from the other half of the crystal.

He had only read about these in books, but these harkonen gems were indeed powerful. They worked in pairs, or in this case, halves, similar to quantum entanglement. When a spell was sent into one gem, it would emerge from the other, like a voice carried through radio waves, and their range was nothing to sneeze at either. There was a story of two kingdoms at war in the ancient past, with a sly king sending the other a harkonen gem, one of two, under the guise of a peace offering, much like the Trojan Horse. Upon the second gem being placed in the throne room as a trophy, the first king gathered his mages together, and they all cast a powerful earth spell on the original gem. Their magic was released through the second, destroying the enemy castle and winning the war.

Noah sat down in a meditative position with the first half of the crystal in his lap. He had already practiced with his awareness projection and could enter the required state faster and easier than before, but he couldn’t do anything with his real body while living through his clone. Like before, his sense of sight and hearing carried over, and he was again looking down on himself. There didn’t seem to be any issues with using this technique through the gem.

“Shannon, would you mind coming up here?” Noah hollered through his clone.

She arrived and saw him sitting on the floor with his clone standing beside him. No matter how many times she saw it, it still made her uneasy. “Yes, My Lord? Uh ... which one—”

“I’m talking to you through my clone again, and I have a task for you if you aren’t busy.”

“Of course not. What can I do for you?”

“I’m currently projecting my consciousness using these two gems. I’d like you to take this piece here and carry it with you as far as you can so we can determine the effective range. I’ll be with you the whole time, in spirit, you might say. Would you mind?”

“I’d be glad to.”

She took the other half of the gem and went outside, with Noah following her in his illusory state. There, she took her centaur form, and Noah climbed on her back. Though his illusions could pass through and around solid objects, he could give the impression of physicality if he focused, so while he couldn’t touch Shannon in this state, his illusion could bounce off her like light. Shannon set off briskly down the streets of Colbrand, with Noah seeing and hearing everything through his clone. He quickly passed the maximum range of his awareness, but thanks to the jewel, it ceased to be an issue.

“Does it feel strange having me on your back like this?”

“It is a bit ... unnerving. I can clearly feel your presence, but I can’t touch you. It’s like when you know you’re being watched. The lack of weight makes traveling easy, but I also like feeling your weight on me. I find it comforting when we’re pressed together.”

“Think of it as a means of communication. If we are separated, but have these jewels, then wherever you are, I can be there to talk to you. I just need to get more of them.”

“I suppose that is also comforting.”

As they traveled, Noah noticed many citizens glaring at Shannon. They would never dare to do anything to her while he was around, but it was clear that the anti-beastman sentiment was gaining traction. Ironically, it was Roc helping to hold it at bay. Though his goal had been to earn the public’s ire by humiliating their mages and warriors in combat, his strength and tenacity had instead earned him great respect, and some of that respect was being shared by extension with the rest of the beastman race.

“Are you looking forward to tonight’s fight, My Lord?”

“Well, it’ll sure be interesting. Back at the academy, Seraph and Roc—or Gideon, as he went by—used to duel each other every day. They just could not get along, going at it like wild dogs. Roc never won a single fight, but he came closer than anyone else, and his tenacity was admirable. However, that was without his beastman traits. Now he’s fighting with everything on the table, minus an arm, while Seraph’s power is merely a fraction of what it once was. Like I said, I’m sure it will be interesting. What about you? Are you curious about the fight?”

“Well, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t rooting for your beastman friend on principle.”

“I can’t blame you for that.”

They reached the outskirts of the city, but Noah’s illusion and his awareness were still strong.

“These gems are great. Who knows, maybe it would work all the way in Welindar.”

“Shall I keep going?”

“If you’re willing. Let’s just stay aware of the time.”

Thus, Shannon picked up speed, traveling countless miles from Colbrand without reaching the crystal’s limit. At midday, they finally turned around, and reached the city late in the afternoon. They didn’t want to be late for the show. That evening, they departed from the Zodiac home to the arena and found a vast ocean of people trying to get inside. Almost everyone in Colbrand was attending the final match of the tournament, but it wasn’t just the local citizens. For days, travelers and merchants had been arriving in the city to attend Knight’s Day, and now they were packing in to see the bloody climax. The arena was close to bursting with both bodies and excitement.

Before they could get in, Berholm found them.

“Please tell me you don’t have another job for me to do. Let me guess, you want me to bust Roc’s kneecap so that Seraph will win?”

“Your help is needed, but not for that. King Galvin worries about troublemakers taking advantage of the crowd, be they the Profane or miscreants. Every knight in the city and surrounding area is being put on full alert and stationed throughout the arena while soldiers patrol the city. I understand the ... tension ... between you and the king, but you are also a gold-rank knight, and we need your help ensuring the safety of the public.”

“That is a very reasonable request. As you wish, I’ll help where I can.”

“Lady Zodiac, can I trust you as well?”

“Spirits above, Marcus, do you really need to ask? Of course, I’ll help.”

“My Lady, are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“My body is fully healed. Whatever is going on, so long as I don’t use magic, I’ll be fine. I didn’t become an expert sword master simply because of Zodiac, after all.”

“Still, Shannon, stay with her. I’ll perch myself close to the ring.”

Night fell, the stars overhead taking their places as if wanting to watch the fight. The stands were overflowing with spectators and illuminated by numerous braziers. Countless knights were scattered throughout to maintain a vigil, with Noah standing guard at the edge of the ring in his invisible state. Tarnas was absent, supposedly dispatched on a mission the other day. It was a shame he would miss the fight. There was excitement in the air, with two names being chanted in anticipation. The audience was divided over who to root for; the tenacious beastman who had climbed to the top with one arm, or their prince, broken but driven.

“ROC! ROC! ROC! ROC! ROC! ROC!”

“SER-APH! SER-APH! SER-APH! SER-APH! SER-APH! SER-APH!”

The referee stepped out, illuminated by magic light. “Ladies and gentlemen! Tonight, we bear witness to the final round of Colbrand’s first fighting tournament! Whoever wins will have their name etched into history, with the greatest warriors of every coming generation walking boldly in their footsteps, ever chasing after the great hero who claimed this eternal glory!

Let us honor those who gave their lives in pursuit of this dream, and mourn the skill and talent the world lost in their passing! And let us show our respect to those who fought bravely and nobly, but could not reach the mountain summit! May we see them in this arena again, so that they might strive once more for greatness!” The audience cheered and hollered in excitement, celebrating the courageous dead and the humble fallen.

“Now, allow me to introduce the final two contenders! Over here, we have the beastman warrior, Roc, of the Ashok Mountains!” Roc entered the ring from one side with half of the audience cheering wildly. The gaping hole he received in his wing had been mended, but his shoulder was gone for good, not that it mattered much. “And over here, we have the Crown Prince of Uther, His Highness, Seraph Albion!” Seraph, doing his best to put on a brave face, arrived on the other side of the ring. The rest of the audience was on their feet, chanting the prince’s name once more. “Now, let the final match of the tournament begin!”

The ref stepped back, and Roc and Seraph faced each other. Standing at the edge of the ring in his invisible state, Noah watched with amusement. However, while Roc had a focused scowl, Seraph seemed confused.

“Wait a second. No, it can’t be. Gideon?”

“Took you long enough to figure it out. Maybe if you hadn’t spent all your time moping and feeling sorry for yourself, and actually paid attention to the fighters around you, you would have realized it out. Gideon is the name I used to enroll in the academy, pretending to be a simple human instead of a proud beastman warrior.”

“I heard you lost an arm during the Red Revelry, but I never thought—”

“No, you never think; that’s your problem. But after all the losses I was forced to bear while holding myself back, I’m finally going to defeat you here and now!”

Roc launched himself towards Seraph, flying low to the ground with his mana burning like a furious pyre. Seraph tried to intercept and swung his mace, replaced after his fight with Cain, but Roc grabbed it with one of his clawed feet and yanked it out of Seraph’s hand, then spun around and slashed Seraph across the face with his other foot. His talons didn’t cut deep, but they drew blood. Seraph staggered back, trying to heal the wound, but Roc gave him no time. He launched a barrage of attacks at Seraph, spinning like a top with his arm and legs bombarding the prince. Seraph dodged as best as he could, knowing that Roc’s talons could rip him to shreds if he wished, and his mana-wrapped hand could sever head from neck.

“This is pathetic!” Roc snarled, kicking Seraph square in the chest and sending him staggering back. “You’re supposed to be stronger than this! I didn’t get burned by your light all those times just so you could hide it away now! Fight back, you coward!”

Seraph regained his footing and assumed a combat stance. It was evident to him that the difference between Gideon and Roc was like night and day, and he’d have to fight for his life to have any hope of victory. He charged up his mana as best as he could, forming a flickering aura of light around him. With holy magic flowing through his body, his strength and speed were given a mild boost, hopefully enough to keep up with Roc.

Seraph went on the offensive, hurling mana-imbued punches and kicks. The two warriors threw everything they had at each other, putting little thought into protecting themselves and instead letting their attacks cancel each other out. Their kicks would smash together like trees in a tornado, their swings collided like blades and maces on the battlefield, and their mana clashed like lava meeting the sea.

With every exchange, their movements became faster and more powerful, the two of them improving each second like knives sharpening each other. The audience watched with still breath, doing their best to follow their movements. The benefit of this match happening at night was that Seraph’s light magic was brighter and more clearly visible, especially when it collided against Roc’s mana, almost resembling fireworks.

What the audience could not see with their untrained eyes was the difference in the two warriors’ demeanor. Seraph looked like he was barely holding on, struggling to keep the pace up, while Roc’s scowl only deepened in fury. However, his anger didn’t come from the challenge of fighting Seraph, but from the absence of it. What first appeared to be a titanic stalemate between two powerful fighters began to turn, with Roc overtaking Seraph. In a desperate move, Seraph tried to kick Roc in the chest the way he had been kicked earlier. Roc blocked the attack with his arm while using his wings to push himself back to lessen the force. Now, with space between them, Seraph gathered as much mana as he could and launched it at Roc.

“Searing Radiance!”

Roc took flight, flying low to the ground and zooming around the blast to dodge. He reached Seraph, and before the paladin could protect himself, Roc rained attacks upon him. However, these weren’t mana-infused attacks that would pulverize bone and rend flesh, but regular punches, kicks, and sharp jabs. Was he holding back to save his strength, show mercy, or taunt his opponent? Roc landed one blow after another, and Seraph struggled to mount a defense or counter. Every attack that landed broke his focus and his strength, turning him into little more than an upright ragdoll. Roc finished with a punch to the gut, lifting Seraph into the air and sending him hitting the ground rolling.

“Damn it, I did not train, and struggle, and fight through this whole fucking tournament just for THIS to be the final match! You are not the warrior I fought back at the academy! You were an arrogant, self-obsessed troll, but at the very least, I could respect your power! Now you don’t even have that!”

“What do you want from me?!” Seraph shouted back.

“I want to fight the man I could never beat before! I want my wings to eclipse the light of the nation’s best paladin! I want you to show some fucking backbone, or did Noah take that away too when he put you in your place?!”

Roaring in frustration, Seraph attacked Roc with a flurry of desperate punches and kicks. Roc caught his fist, stepped onto his knee, then wrapped his leg around Seraph’s arm and used that leverage to flip Seraph onto his back in an arm lock. Roc got atop Seraph and delivered several furious punches to the face, leaving Seraph bloody before he got up and backed off.

“Ever since I left the academy, I’ve trained and pushed myself, imagining when I would get to fight you again, when I would get to even the score for all those losses and taunts! Are you really going to deprive me of an honorable fight?”

“Fuck you,” Seraph cursed while spitting blood and wiping it from his face. He slowly tried to get up. “You should be glad. I’ve lost my power, and you’ve lost your arm. We’re both broken, just shadows of our old selves. You finally get an even—”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Roc snarled, kicking Seraph in the face and knocking him back to the ground. “I didn’t come here for an even fight! I didn’t come here for an equal matchup! I came here to beat the odds! To prove everyone who dismissed me was wrong! All those fights at the academy, I was holding back my wings, my talons, my true strength! I chose to fight you as a simple man, because I wanted to know that even without my beastman powers, I could still beat Light’s Emissary, that even a simple man can defeat God’s chosen warrior!

When I returned for the tournament and found out you were competing, I was ready, ready to fight you with nothing held back. Even if a simple man couldn’t beat Light’s Emissary, a beastman could do it! Now here I am, and all I feel is ... disgust.” Roc then shook his head and walked away. “I’m done wasting my time on you. I quit.”

“Are you forfeiting the match?” the referee asked.

“That’s right. There is no honor in this fight. At this point, it’s just a pathetic farce, nothing more than a pair of cripples squabbling in front of an audience, and I’ll have no part of it.”

“You can’t just walk away!” Seraph shouted, getting to his feet. “After everything I’ve endured in this tournament, all the pain I’ve suffered, all the fighters I went up against, all the times I forced myself to get back up, this can’t be how it ends! I can’t win, not like this!”

“My thoughts exactly! Defeating you now, when you’re this weak and pathetic, would be more shameful than any loss I took at the academy. I’d rather walk away than accept a hollow victory. No, that shame is YOURS to bear. That is the punishment for your failure. Congratulations, Seraph, you win again.”

Roc continued walking away, but Seraph wouldn’t have it. He charged towards Roc while gathering all of his remaining mana for a desperate attack. “Face me, you bastard! Fight me like a true warrior! I deserve that much!”

Roc dodged Seraph’s incoming punch, then spun around and delivered three sharp jabs going up the middle of his chest, just as Noah had done to him. Seraph staggered back, trying not to vomit, but inevitably fell to his knees and further shamed himself in front of the audience with a messy heave. Roc again turned his back on him.

“I can’t even look at you right now. Get your power back, Seraph, get stronger, just as I will. Face me again after you’ve surpassed the warrior you were the last time we fought at the academy. By that time, people will fear the strength of my one hand like it’s the hand of God, and never again speak of my missing arm like a handicap. Until then, I won’t fight you while we’re both broken.”

As he left the ring, the crowds stood in a thunderous roar, half cheering Roc’s name and the rest screaming in fury about the outcome. The fact that Seraph would officially be the winner meant nothing to the fans, for they knew who the stronger warrior was. On the other hand, the indignant shouters were infuriated by Roc’s allowed participation, his arrogance in the face of the prince and the crowds, and the certainty that he had somehow cheated.

Seraph beat his fists against the ground and howled in anguish, once again humiliated in front of an audience and showing the world how weak he truly was. After everything he had gone through in this tournament, he thought he was finally getting on the right path, that he was facing his sins and slowly earning back the power he had always wasted. But to win the tournament this way, to suffer this hollow victory, took everything he had accomplished and cast it into the breeze. Was this his fate? To be humiliated every time he thought he had gained some semblance of honor?

In the corridors under the stands, Roc was in a similar state, punching the wall with his mana-wrapped fist and shattering the stone, all while snarling in frustration. He had achieved his goal, proving the strength and nobility of the beastman race and crushing the arrogant fighters of Uther, all before the crowds that condemned and enslaved his people. It should have been his victory, but just like Seraph’s, it felt painfully hollow. He put his hand on the place where his shoulder used to be. He and Seraph, two broken men.

Broken. That word kept echoing through his mind over and over, as if his own subconscious was mocking him. Despite his brave words to Seraph and Noah, it still ate away at him, this weakness he’d carry for the rest of his life. No matter how strong he got, he would never be whole, and never know how far he could have gone. No matter who he defeated or what he accomplished, people would look at him and see a cripple. He’d look at himself and see a cripple. He had overpowered Seraph, but just like his body, his victory would never be complete.

He was then shaken from his thoughts by the sensation that he wasn’t alone. He could feel a presence approaching from within the darkness and hear deep breathing accentuated with a beastly growl. Roc, the proud warrior who never ran from a fight, felt a powerful instinct shake him to his core: flee.

Back outside, Seraph was talking to the referee, trying to see what could be done to remedy this situation. The tournament could not be allowed to end so shamefully, with an indignant forfeiture and a hollow win. He needed to regain some semblance of honor. However, the conversation was interrupted by an explosion under the stands. Roc was tossed out of the wreckage, wrapped in dust, and narrowly stuck the landing.

Audience members screamed in terror as Cain emerged from the destruction, but his body had changed, courtesy of the parasite attached to his spine. He was now even taller and more muscular, with his skin, already toughened by his rhino attributes, now resembling plate mail. His head was like a rhino’s, but mutated, giving him multiple sets of horns and tusks. As a Profane, he wasn’t on par with the elite fiends like Kaisen or Carthace, but his power was as genuine as though he had been naturally bitten.

“Time for slaughter!” he roared.

The referee was grabbed from behind and lifted in the air, caught in Ingram’s talons. He, too, was imbued with a parasite, making him larger, faster, and stronger, with mutated attributes. Now flying with four wings, he carried the referee above the stands and impaled him on a flagpole, then perched himself on the edge of the ring. He glared at Roc with his head like an owl’s, but with grapefruit-sized eyes that were horribly bloodshot. He first twisted his head 360º like in their fight, then rotated it like the hand of a clock.

“You and I have unfinished business, boy,” he clicked with his beak.

Throughout the crowds, other Profane were appearing, and not just fiends. Mages, monks, and warriors, many of whom had taken part in the tournament and handled defeat poorly, were casting their humanity aside and becoming ghouls, all for the sake of power. The barrier protecting the audience came undone, and the Profane turned their attention to the fresh meat around them, now burdened with insatiable hunger and thirst. Blood started spraying, but this time, the knights of Colbrand would not let the Profane have their way. Stationed throughout the stands, they converged on the fiends and ghouls, attacking from all sides.