The husky voices punctures my concentration. I'd been trying to psych myself up for the day — willing power into every breath and sending it coursing through my body to tighten my muscles and sharpen my mind. It's something Agnis taught me that people here in Eldara call 'cultivating'. Forcibly inundating your body with essence to build up passive benefits.
It's been working, I think. Since I started doing it and fighting regularly, I've felt like I'm growing more and more capable at a rate that far outstrips anyone else around here. The power is coming easy, even accounting for my access to my parents's gates.
At least, I think so. I don't really have a frame of reference.
I sigh as the disruption makes me lose control of the flow and bleed the scalding essence out of the cracks in my scales. "Yeah? What's up?"
"Two things. One, take this." She proffers me an envelope. It's in a fine envelope — the kind of thing Lilly would use if she was sending something special — that's sealed with a purple wax seal with the front face is embossed with filigree and some words that make my breath catch.
To The Wayward Dragon
"It's real dramatic, huh?" She offers, leaning down to peer at the envelope with an intensity that gives me the impression that if she looked just a little harder, she might pierce the paper to read what's beyond. As such, I tuck it into a small carryall I keep on my belt and immediately stuff it into my locker. It can wait.
It takes a moment for me to respond, but I do so by putting on a big, insincere smile. "Yeah, probably just another admirer or something. People around here really are forward. I really don't get it." I admit. I've had barely a single day of fighting go by without being propositioned for dinner, trips or other such similar things. "I'll look into it after today's bout. What was the other thing?"
She beams at me, baring gaps in the smile that came from her time as a freelancer before taking up leadership of the Kharbon Grand Colosseum. "That was the other thing!" She laughs the way she does most things: explosively. "There was an interesting challenge made for you that I went ahead and accepted for you."
I look up at her with heavily lidded eyes. "I was prepared to fight that Firebrand guy. Spent the last day researching him, even." My annoyance comes through full force despite my best efforts to dial it back.
"Hey! You said you wanted to fight the Vigil when the opportunity came up. These three heard what you did to Tracker and Wrecking Ball and wanted to take a crack at it. Figured you'd like the change. I already talked to Firebrand, too. He was fine with a delay to tomorrow. You think I would mess up my schedule without making proper plans?"
She stares down at me for a bit before smiling again. "So, you in?"
This will be more valuable training. More preparation to get an idea of how the Vigil fights. More preparation just in case things ever come to a head — when they come to a head.
I nod, willing more fire to my core. Three versus one should be fun if nothing else.
— — — — — — — — — — ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? — — — — — — — — — —
I set about pacing as the announcements play. I always make a point to hunch over, to tense my muscles like I'm coiled to erupt into violence at any given moment. Everything I can do to affect the visual of someone spoiling for a fight.
My persona here, The Dour Dragoon, is pretty descriptive of the general feeling I aim for. After learning about a historical group called 'dragoons' that were surely inspired by my Ma, I took on the affectation of how they fought. Lots of leaping, attacking from unexpected angles using Aero platforms and high jump spells, and conjured(for them) flame breath spells. Basically perfect. And, apparently they were a grumpy bunch, so it all lines up quite well.
"And the challengers, coming to test their mettle against our rising star! Knights, three, from the Order of the Eternal Vigil come to win back the stolen pride of Tracker and Wrecking Ball! Team Farsight!"
Across the arena, the three knights stride out onto the sandy arena, walking confidently in their fancy enchanted armor as a group. None of them are wearing helms, as is common for arena fights.
In the lead, wearing an easy smile, is a blonde human man wielding a a simple longsword with ripping teeth on the reverse face. As he sweeps it through a flashy series of swipes and swings, I see the runes all over his middle-weight armor flashing and flaring. Even from here I can feel the Ignia pulsing off of them, so I have to assume they're given over mostly to strength enhancement in addition to whatever baseline stuff the armor will do. He has no defensive tools I can see, though, so I think he's probably going to be their anchor.
Then, just behind him, is a small green-haired elf around the same age. Very androgynous at a glance such that I really can't even guess at their gender. Their armor is a lighter class with no limb protection and they're not carrying an obvious weapon of any sort until they come to a stop behind the leader and flex to show off. At the same time they flex, I see some esoteric essence flash up the arms of their armor with a burst. After the light subsides, their gauntlets appear to have grown muscle and hide. It leaves their hands looking shockingly like gryphon claws and their legs begin the same process as they go low into a crouch that looks not unlike a preening cat or bird.
Stolen novel; please report.
Can't say I've ever seen it before, but they must be a shifter — a pretty rare type of magus who specializes in changing their physical form to suit whatever their needs are. It requires a lot of concentration, though, as evidenced by their face screwing up into a mien of effort.
Then, finally, behind them, and the only one with any headwear is the one in the back who has scaled, armored robes over their armor and they've got one of the most comically large hats I've ever seen in my life. The sort of thing that Lilly would describe a traditional wizard wearing from one of her stories if it were a parody. It's also obviously highly enchanted. Above and beyond anything else in their group. The runes coating it seem like nonsense to my untrained eye. There's so many that it makes hard to actually see the fabric of the hat. Aside that, they stand with a lazy posture, putting all of their weight on a shockingly mundane-looking stave that, itself, seems to be just a hunk of wood with no visible enchantments.
As I watch, the mage in the back seems to stumble a bit before pulling their hat back to look up at me with a coy smile and sleepy eyes, their tall vulpin ears poking through the steepled hat twitching as they do.
I merely pace, letting the huge stone blocks serving as the terrain for the fight break line of sight with each of them as I move to get different angles on them while the announcer prattles on. I honestly wish we could dispense with all of the rambling and just get to it. But the announcements are important, even if I find them annoying when I'm focused.
Blessedly, the announcer winnows down to silence and I hear the first chime. A dull, hollow thing that serves as the warning to "come to the ready". Releasing pre-battle spells, applying weapon oils, getting tools to hand. Things like that. For me, it's just gripping my weapon and spitting some flame to stoke my spirit to readiness.
For them, though, the mage begins incanting — a longform spellcasting method that usually leads to very complicated or sophisticated effects — the shifter pushes through more magical transformations until their full arms and legs are changed into muscular-looking gryphon limbs. Their mouth even shifts to be vaguely beaklike, with their eyes turning sharp and angular.
But the leader just stands around lazily, looking unconcerned.
I shout at him, there's another thirty seconds or so of prep time, so I might as well banter. "So, whats your trick, pretty boy? You the boring one or something?"
"Ach, nah. I'm more an enabler, ya know? Really let my friends shine." He fixes me with a beaming and boyish smile as he speaks, rubbing the back of his head and looking a little embarrassed. "I just practice the fundamentals, is all."
"Sounds like you're the first one to go, then." I offer as his explanation ends. My sentiment is punctuated by the next chime that marks the end of preparation time.
I count to five as I will my heartbeat to slow down and settle into a battle trance. The whole world around me comes into sharper detail as I do, helping me notice tiny details I might not have otherwise. My perception doesn't slow like Olly describes. Nothing slows down, and I don't really speed up either. It just feels like I can do more. I've yet to find a good way to describe it, but it feels like setting foot outside my door after a cold winter to stand before the first clear sun of the spring.
The final chime.
"[Obscure!]" The mage raises and slams their stave down to manifest their planned spell. Inky, black smoke ushers forth in a plume to hide all three from sight and when the smoke dissipates they're entirely gone.
It's a really clever play, especially when you have a number advantage.
Unfortunately for them, that magi used Ignia as the core component of their spell, so I just will Ignia to my eyes to highlight concentrations to see them having split. The shifter to my right and moving at an animalistic, loping run to blindside me just after the frontliner will arrive. At the same time, the caster has moved to be partially covered by a stone block.
I smile a wicked grin. I couldn't have asked for a better setup.
The leader arrives first, with utter confidence and a heavy overhand swing with his longsword. I step directly into him with a shoulder check as I grab his sword just above the hilt and headbutt him — just offcenter so I lead the impact with my horn. Finally, I grip the blade and twist a kick straight into his abdomen that sends him tumbling through the sand as the final of his three chimes signal the end of his participation.
Behind me, I hear a savage cry and turn to see the shifter leaping at me with a burst of essence to catapult them at me with serious force. I return the mightiest roar I can muster and drop my weapon to meet them claw-to-claw — something that sees their eyes go wide. They don't have long to think about it though. And apparently no way to change their flight after leaving the ground.
I grab their hands in mine, interlacing our fingers, and heft them up and over me. Their own momentum worsens the impact when I flip them and slam them flat on their stomach with a terrible wheeze bursting from their beaked face. A beaked face that is steadily morphing back to normal as they lose control of their magic. They're incapacitated, so I just scoop up my glaive, sweep it through an errant fireball from the magi to dissipate it, and then tap them at the base of the spine and neck to register two "hits" on my stunned opponent to finish them.
I'm gentle when someone has already lost.
As to the mage, I turn and stare directly at them as their coy smile bleeds from their face and their ears downturn. They have obviously determined I can see through their spell and are weighing options as I start to walk directly at them with claws bared.
"So…how are we handling this? Are you a noble "go down fighting" sort?"
The crowd is cheering and generally going wild after my opening display, but it calms down as I start to talk and my voice projects.
"Uhhhh, I offer you a draw." They say as they back up away from me and move to interpose some line-of-sight-blocking terrain between us.
"A draw? Are you secretly the real fighter of the group or something? If so, please. I would like some sort of challenge today."
I stalk around the corner they disappeared behind and right into exactly what I expected. Well, kind of. I expected a sucker punch attack spell. Something fast, like a bolt spell or something wide-reaching like a fireball.
I wasn't quite expecting a pile of explosive runes on the ground.
They burst at once, setting one another off and engulfing me in a proper inferno that sees a hit register against me. Frowning, I inhale deeply and draw all of the fire into my body, concentrating it into my throat as I see the smug-looking vulpin go shock white as a pleasant chime registers my "hit" being undone.
They stare wide-eyed up at the tracker above the arena before looking at me sheepishly. "Uhh… About that draw…?"
I do not give them a draw. Instead, I set them on fire.
As I try to do on occasion, I've got another newer writer to shout out. They're a good friend of mine and they're writing a story with some similar themes to mine -- namely things moving along at a controlled, slower pace, focusing on someone with a curse, among other more general things like being fantasy. It's a fun time-focused story so far!
? My 100th Life Will Be My Last ?
by Asher Teivel
Clara Crowsong has died ninety-nine times, and this is her last chance to save her family.