Zell and the others watched intently as the haughty young elf floated up to her seat a few dozen yards from them.

“She’s amazing...” Rin said without taking her eyes away from Sikuna. “Break Artifact is a terrifying spell that not even the masters of this city could use so casually.”

“It didn’t seem so complicated.” Nin said doubtfully.

“The words and gestures are only the tiniest part of it, as I’ve told you many times.” Rin was used to Nin belittling magic by now. “Controlling magic at that level is much like selecting several specific grains from a bucket full of sand in perfect order and with perfect timing.”

“That really is amazing.” Zell agreed, suddenly more impressed. He only then noticed that the elf Misazel was staring in their direction. When Misazel’s eyes met his, the elf flashed a smile and gave a friendly wave which Zell awkwardly returned.

A collective gasp from the crowd pulled Zell’s attention to the platforms. There, the tiny mysterious person was dancing literal circles around their burly opponent as strike after punishing strike found the most vulnerable body parts time and again. Something about the child’s movement was nostalgic to Zell, but then suddenly the fight was over. The over sized, middle aged brawler collapsed to the platform clutching his groin with both hands. Zell was almost certain he knew the victorious kid before their name was announced.

“Match! Winner, Mera!” The official announced as the apparent girl walked away.

Zell didn’t spare it any more though, since it was Rin’s turn to fight. She stood up and turned. Zell also stood and hopped up on his seat so he could steal a kiss and wish her luck. She smiled and blushed at the unexpected moment before making her way down to the arena floor.

Her opponent was a familiar, squat, black haired boy with an acne scarred face. His sneer from the day before had been replaced by a nervous, sweaty pallor. After all, the Corso sisters were minor celebrities around the city thanks to their fighting club exploits and tournament victories.

The stocky boy was the son of a successful baker in the northern merchant belt. Lemuel Pestle never really wanted to be a Monster Hunter. His father had sent him to the academy to get him out from under foot and earn some respect for the family name. Unlike Dunkun, the leader of his small group of friends, Lemuel held no illusions of victory against one of the Corso girls. On top of all that, Rin was the one that used magic, which scared Lemuel more than any sword. Lemuel resigned himself to his coming loss and decided to at least voice his regrets.

“I know it’s too late to be saying it, but sorry for being an ass yesterday.” He said loud enough for her to clearly hear. “I followed along with my friends like an idiot and fairly earned what’s about to happen. I won’t just forfeit and I’ll still do my best but I just thought you should know I didn’t really mean it.” He bowed his head, an act that would earn him a fierce scolding when his father found out.

“Apology accepted.” Rin said simply. It had come as a surprise, and had saved the chubby boy quite a bit of pain.

As the signal to begin sounded, Rin cast a terribly bright Candlelight spell and set it to hover only a few inches in front of Lemuel’s eyes. He was far too slow to react in time and was instantly blinded by the sudden painful flash of light. The next moment, a poke to his leather armored chest by a blunted sword sent him staggering backward until one foot found only empty air and he toppled unceremoniously from the platform. The spell was quickly canceled, but Lemuel would still see a large purple blob over anything he looked at for a few hours.

“Thought you were gonna beat him up way worse than that.” Nin said as Rin returned smiling.

“I was, but he said sorry for yesterday so I let him off easy.” Rin answered. “He used to be a nice enough kid, remember?”

Nin nodded. It was true that Lemuel had once been a friendly childhood acquaintance at a time when they used bread from the Pestle family’s bakery in the restaurant. Once he fell in with the cocky Dunkun’s group, he became a little cretin.

“What happens next?” Zell asked. “That was the end of the first round, right?”

“We’ll need to watch closely for the next pairings.” Rin answered. “Looks like they’re going to join the platforms from here on.”

Sure enough Zell looked down just in time to see a cross of white stone rising from the arena floor between the four platforms, unifying them into one huge space.

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“Is that done by magic?” He asked curiously.

“No, it’s a mechanical system built into the arena. There are huge gears and levers in the pits below that allow a variety of configurations. it can even be flooded with river water and drained in the same day to recreate naval battles.” Rin sagely explained.

A magically amplified voice from below stopped any further conversation and made them all gulp.

“Zell Balfonse and Misazel of Red Isle!” The official called.

“Already?” Zell hopped up and started to hustle away but three hands stopped him. He turned to see what he had forgotten only to have Rin kiss him on the lips as Cora and Nin each pecked him on the cheek. Jealous mutterings and shy gasps from all around him sounded clearly as he ran down the steps away from the grinning trio.

“Maybe too much?” Rin asked with a chuckle.

“Nope, he needs the extra luck against that elf.” Nin answered. “This fight’s gonna suck.”

Cora stayed silent but watched with deep concern.

Zell looked to Agitha as he walked past, and her message was clear.

“Go all out, this guy’s a real monster.” She said with no humor.

“Aye Teacher.” Zell nodded firmly as he answered.

Misazel was already waiting on the platform across from Zell as he hopped up on to it.

“Hey mini boss!” Misazel greeted happily with a wave and a white toothy smile. He carried no visible weapons but Zell had seen enough of his bare handed techniques to know that he was still plenty dangerous.

Zell simply nodded and held his blunted gladius at the ready. He let out a long exhale and focused his mind. Misazel noted the change to Zell’s expression and his smile widened.

“I have a good feeling about you, don’t let me down!” The platinum haired elf said enthusiastically. Then the signal to begin rang out.

Zell was watching intently, and had he not been channeling a great deal of mana into his senses he would have lost Misazel the instant the eccentric elf leaped vertically. He shot nearly thirty feet into the air, and at his peak something even more bizarre happened. A pair of translucent blue wings on Misazel’s back were barely visible in the sunlight, they beat once and suddenly Misazel was diving toward him with more speed than Zell had ever seen.

From the crowd’s perspective, the very second the signal sounded a massive boom caused them all to cover their ears and shield their eyes from the sudden gust of wind and sand. When the dust settled, the crowd went berserk. Both students had disappeared, and the arena of solid stone had been cracked cleanly in half.

Agitha had seen the truth of it. Zell had barely dodged the arena splitting dive bomb and had blocked the following kick. Unfortunately that kick had been the real threat from the beginning. The dive had simply been to throw him off balance and the upward round kick had sent Zell flying quite literally, far over the high wall of the arena itself. Even as he flew away, Misazel leaped with supernatural force after him with the aid of those mysterious ghostly wings. Agitha sighed and gave chase, a few leaping strides took her up the stands and atop the arena wall. In the eastern forest across the Vine river from the city, distant explosions could be heard.

“Don’t die Bait.” She ordered under her breath, dropping down to land outside the fifty foot high wall. The crowd was still reeling and clamoring to figure out what had even happened.

“Shit! Shit!” Zell thought frantically as he tumbled through the air. The river, and now a sea of evergreen trees passed beneath him in a blur. “What do I DO!?” He had no way to slow himself down, and even if he channeled mana defensively it was still going to be a devastating crash.

“I can save you.” Tarithiel’s voice dripped into his racing thoughts like a drop of icy water. “All you have to do is say my name and be ready to feed me...”

Even as she spoke in his mind, Zell caught a glimpse in the air behind him and couldn’t believe his eyes. Something was flying behind him and closing rapidly. It could only be Misazel. At this rate he would catch him just after he crashed into the trees below, in other words in just a few seconds. Zell’s short life had been a series of near death moments and last second rescues. Why change now?

“Tarithiel!” He shouted. He felt his mana drain dramatically and the world went suddenly pitch black and silent. No, not silent. He could clearly hear his own breathing and still racing heart but it was more like being in a tight cocoon. What had Tarithiel done? Had she whisked him away somewhere with her magic?

“Not even close. You’re almost on the ground, be ready.” With that unsatisfying answer, light suddenly returned though the unfolding... wings?

Zell had no time to question anything. He landed in a well balanced skid, digging deep furrows in the pine needle covered ground. He was facing the direction he had come, his mouth agape. He had apparently taken out a few large trees in his decent. They were splintered and toppled in a straight line marking his path. Misazel would be upon him any moment, Zell cursed that his weapon had been lost in the flight.

“Wish for it.” Tarithiel’s voice again came to him unbidden. “My form responds to your desires. As long as you have the mana to pay, I can be anything you wish.”

“I wish you were the strongest sword!” Zell thought, exasperated as he watched the blurred form of Misazel streak toward him.

“Greedy, greedy boy...” Tarithiel’s voice sounded sly. “Very well.” Zell felt his mana drain even more dramatically than before. At least half of his capacity had been taken now. But he could feel something in his hand.

At that moment Misazel’s fist came crashing in, and was intercepted by something incredibly hard, and comically huge. The noise and concussion deafened Zell for a second, and hurled Misazel back several feet into a backward somersault. He landed on his feet, shaking his right hand like an angry drunk after accidentally punching a beam rather than just plaster.

“What in the stupid hard giant hell is that!?” He pointed at the weapon that had appeared in Zell’s hand.

It was a double edged sword longer than Zell was tall. The bizarre blade was eight inches across at the center and more than twelve inches across at it’s strangely flared tip which was rounded into a half moon shape. The blade was a dark green color, covered in glowing runes, and clearly meant to be wielded by a much larger being than the teenage human currently holding it. The handle was as long as Zell’s forearm with a golden crosspiece.

“You asked for the strongest sword, and here it is. Tada! A real deal copy of the Deicide Guillotine, the blade used to behead heavenly beings. Zamael himself couldn’t tell them apart.” Tarithiel sounded quite pleased with herself.

Zell grunted as he lifted the weapon. It was heavy and horribly unbalanced. That said, he could indeed feel some unearthly force humming from within the wide blade.

“Well I guess if we’re playing with our toys...” Misazel growled, smacking his fists together. “Oribis and Astarot! Move your lazy asses.” Suddenly the rings on Misazel’s hands began to glow and change shape...