Chapter 50

Welcome Ceremony III

Mags bolted forward, her boots pounding against the stage as her gaze locked onto the nearest golden ring. The soft hum of its glow tugged at her [Aura Sense]. It hovered just above her head—close enough to reach with a jump.

To her right, Szed moved with almost unnatural grace, his braided hair bouncing as he dashed for another ring. On her left, Dermot surged forward, his longer strides eating up the distance to his target.

Mags’s mind raced as fast as her feet. Five rings. One for each of us, at least initially. But then what? She knew the real game started after each participant secured their first ring. That part was easy. Who gets the remaining two?

Her heart hammered in her chest as she reached her ring. She jumped, her hand closing around the glowing band. It was cool to the touch, surprisingly light, but its faint hum sent a ripple of energy through her palm. It was too large to wear—about a hand’s length in diameter—she’d have to carry it.

Dermot and Szed had already snatched their first rings as well. Dermot’s fierce grin caught her eye as he turned toward the next closest target, just a few strides ahead of him. Szed, meanwhile, had hesitated, his sharp eyes darting to the final unclaimed ring suspended much higher in the air and just about equidistant from all three of them.

Mags forced herself to think quickly, her grip tightening on her ring. Dermot is likely getting his second ring without any contest from either Szed or myself… If she let Szed get the final ring, he and Dermot would each have two rings. It would make it easy for them to gang up on me at that point. Eliminate the weakest and then fight over who will be victorious. No, she had to fight Szed and focus on stopping him from getting a second ring.

But did she need to claim that ring herself?

She watched the tall, broad-shouldered red-haired nobleman confidently dash towards his second ring, unopposed and cocky smile painted on his face. Mags knew too many people like him. She hated that smug look. Just then, a plan crystallized in her mind. She pivoted, her ring clutched tightly in her left hand, and sprinted head on at Szed.

The Laanian boy’s citrine-hued skin glistened with sweat in the midday light as he crouched, ready to spring for the high ring. Mags closed the distance, throwing herself into a sliding tackle at the last moment. Her shoulder clipped his legs, sending him stumbling.

“Really?” Szed barked, spinning to face her. His bronze eyes flared with irritation.

Mags scrambled to her feet. She activated her [Void Cloak], burning aether and letting her body’s aura flare around her.

“Thought I was going to make it easy for you?” she snapped. She brandished her ring as if it were a shield. It would be nice if I didn’t need to hold this thing, she thought. She mentally attempted to withdraw the ring into her Pocket. Words flashed across her vision.

[Error: Ineligible Target]

Jebati! Of course!

Dermot’s triumphant laugh rang out as he seized his second ring. “Looks like you two are busy playing footsie. Thanks for the gift!” He held his rings high, their golden glow catching the sunlight streaming through the dome.

Mags bristled but kept her focus on Szed. She couldn’t afford to let him claim the high ring—not yet. Mags sensed the faint tug of aether being drawn in by Szed. She sprung forward, engaging him. The two clashed in a quick trade of blows. Szed was clearly using Physical Enhancement, matching Mags’ strength and speed with ease. But she couldn’t help but feel a modicum of satisfaction at the slight widening of his eyes when he realized each trade of punches ate away at his aura.

The two separated. Szed flicked his thumb and a projectile fired towards her face. She bobbed to the side, the projectile passing through her [Void Cloak]. With her [Aura Vision] she was able to see that whatever the object was, it was covered in Szed’s aura. Szed leapt towards the final ring, but Mags expected that, grabbing him by the ankle midair and slamming him to the ground.

Then, she drew in as much aether as she could in a single surge. The familiar icy sensation flooded her veins and her muscles pulsed with power. She grabbed Szed by the front of his shirt, picking him off the ground before she began to chop her feet, moving both of them away from the ring and towards the edge of the stage and the boundary of the playing field. “What are you doing?” Szed growled through gritted teeth. Something copper flashed on his hands, and she was barely able to stop her forward momentum in time to fall to the side, missing a swipe from the metallic, copper-colored claws that now tipped Szed’s fingers.

She tucked, turning her fall into a roll and coming up in a crouched position. She glanced back towards the high ring, and saw that Dermot had just about reached it. Good. Turning her attention back to Szed, she said, “Dermot is about to get his third ring. If either of us is eliminated or weakened, it just about ensures victory for him. We should work together!”

Szed hesitated, his aura flickering as he weighed her words. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he glanced toward Dermot, who was already snatching his third ring from the air. Mags could see him quickly coming to the exact conclusions she wanted him to. A fight between himself and Mags wouldn’t be able to end quick enough. If Dermot joined the frey…

“Fine,” Szed muttered, straightening. “But if you stab me in the back, I’ll make you regret it.”

“Deal,” Mags said, exhaling sharply. She turned, her gaze locking onto Dermot, who stood in the center of the stage, three glowing rings held in one of his large fists.

The golden ring glowed faintly in Mags’s hand as she pivoted on her heel, watching Dermot ascend toward the high ring. Beside her, Szed’s golden aura flared, frustration tightening his expression.

Dermot, now holding three glowing rings, laughed. The sound was sharp and mocking, carrying easily across the stage. “Oh, this is adorable. I knew this was too easy . . . I guess the crowd needs a show!”

Mags barely had time to respond before Dermot’s aura exploded outward. She didn’t even need to focus on her [Aura Vision] to see it clearly. A deep, purple in color, Dermot’s aura burst from every part of his body’s surface, much like [Void Cloak] before spiraling around him, like a coiled, protective snake, before it suddenly disappeared.

Dark, viscous tendrils erupted from Dermot’s back, twisting and writhing like octopus tentacles. They snapped toward Szed and Mags with a sickening crack.

Mags dove to the side, her ring still clutched tightly in her hand. One tentacle smashed into the ground where she’d been standing, splintering the stage in a spray of stone shards. Another lashed out, catching her side and sending her sprawling. Pain flared through her ribs, but she gritted her teeth and rolled to her feet. She channeled aura, sending it to her side, numbing the pain.

Szed, meanwhile, had his hands raised, golden coins forming in the air around him. With a flick of his fingers, the coins shot forward like bullets, tearing through the tentacles with brutal precision. Each strike sent a spray of black blood into the air, the ichor sizzling as it hit the stage. So that’s what he fired at me earlier. Watching the barrage of coins impact the tentacles made her happy she had dodged the tossed coin.

Dermot barely flinched, his grin widening as if the attack amused him. “Is that all you’ve got?” he taunted, his voice dripping with condescension. He held his rings up. “You need to get closer if you want these.”

The mechanical judge hung suspended in the air high above them, motionless at the edge of the dome, its dark visor unreadable. Clearly, the damage being done to the tentacles from his back wasn’t enough to break the rules, at least not yet.

More tentacles erupted from behind Dermot’s shoulders, taking the place of the ones torn to pieces by Szed’s barrage.

Mags pressed forward, weaving between the thrashing tentacles. Something in her gut screamed with every step, warning her of the danger, but she pushed through the fear. Another tentacle lashed out, grazing her arm and tearing through the fabric of her sleeve.

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She gritted her teeth, her focus narrowing on Dermot. She re-ignited her [Void Cloak] as she darted between two more tentacles. Something tugged at her ankle, and she realized one of the torn tentacle remains had wrapped itself around her leg. But it wasn’t enough to stop her as she surged forward. One of Dermot’s new tentacles cracked through the air like a whip and Mags met it his a right hook, her fist blasting through it like a melon, sending viscera through the air.

She leapt forward, landing in front of Dermot. Just as she was about to unleash a flurry of blows, an unsettling feeling shot up her leg. She glanced down to see the tentacle that had wrapped itself around her ankle become translucent, phasing into a dark, purple aura that passed through her [Void Cloak] and into her skin. It burned but only for a moment. She gritted her teeth throwing a punch towards Dermot’s face, only for her fist to abruptly stop halfway through the motion.

It was as though her arm had suddenly quadrupled in weight, and a heavy hand was pushing her fist towards the floor. You’re not stopping me! She silently screamed in her head as she burned aether, strengthening her body and urging her fist to continue its trajectory. Her fist moved forward, but curved downwards, pulling her forward, off-balance and stumbling forward, crashing onto the stage floor before Dermot’s feet.

“Well, well,” Dermot sneered, looming over her. “It seems like you don’t appreciate the gravity of the situation.” His smirk twisted with satisfaction. She glared up at him, but a crushing weight pressed down against her whole body. He crouched, his hand reaching toward her ring.

Dermot’s hand shot back as a furious cloud of coin projectiles filled the air above her. The remaining tentacles from his back curved in front of him, taking the barrage of metal.

Mags growled, her body refusing to move under the invisible force on top of her.

Szed leapt into the fray, his aura blazing golden as copper claws extended from his fingertips. He slashed through the tentacles surrounding Dermot, each strike precise and vicious. The tentacles writhed and recoiled, black ichor spraying onto the stage. The last tentacle fell away in a blur of golden and copper, leaving the red-haired young man exposed.

Before Dermot could react, Szed spat a silver liquid from his mouth. The strange substance glimmered as it arced through the air, heading straight for Dermot.

Dermot moved to dodge, but Mags, still pinned to the ground, acted on instinct. She threw her arms around his legs, locking them in place with all the added weight crushing her body. He stumbled, unable to escape.

“No, you don’t!” she hissed through gritted teeth.

The silver liquid hit Dermot’s forearms, hissing and bubbling as it made contact. He roared in pain, the sound echoing through the dome.

The weight lifted from Mags like a boulder being rolled off her back. She gasped, scrambling to her feet despite the ache in her limbs. She lunged forward, driving her shoulder into Dermot’s legs and taking him off balance.

“Now, Szed!” she shouted.

Szed swiped at the air and she could see his aura flare. Coins, hundreds and hundreds of them, had been scattered across the stage as a result of the Laanian boy’s projectile attacks. They rose off the ground, hovering midair before coalescing into a massive, shimmering hand. The construct formed an open palm and slammed into Dermot’s chest with a resounding crack, sending him hurtling backward.

Dermot hit the edge of the barrier. There was a shimmer of light, a ripple in the dome—and then he was flung out of bounds. His body tumbled across the arena floor outside the stage.

The golden rings he’d been holding didn’t follow him. Instead, they struck the barrier surrounding the stage and stuck there, but just as the last portion of Dermot’s body had exited the field, the three rings were expelled from the barrier, landing at one edge of the stage, all three floating a few feet off the ground, only inches from each other.

A sharp, resonant chime echoed through the arena. Above them, the floating mechanical judge flashed with light, and a notification appeared in Mags’ vision.

[SOULSINGER DERMOT UR FIERACH: ELIMINATED.]

Mags panted, her chest heaving as she stared at the floating rings. Her heart hammered in her chest, but she allowed herself a small, triumphant smile.

“We did it,” she murmured. Her plan had worked.

Szed nodded, wiping the sweat from his brow. His aura still shimmered faintly, but his sharp gaze was fixed on the rings.

“Yeah,” he said, his tone even. “But we’re not done yet.”

Mags’s smile faded as she realized the truth in his words. There were still three rings—and now, only two contestants left. Each holding a single ring.

Mags staggered to her feet, her legs trembling beneath her. Her eyes met Szed’s, and for a moment, the world seemed to still. The air between them thrummed with tension.

Then, without a word, Szed flicked his wrist. The metallic hand that had slammed Dermot out of the arena crumbled into a cascade of shimmering coins. They hovered for the briefest of moments before hurtling toward Mags like a storm of tiny meteors.

Mags flared her aura, activating her [Void Cloak]. A shimmering veil of silver energy encased her, and the barrage of coins ricocheted harmlessly off its surface. The sound was deafening—like hailstones striking glass. Sparks flew as the coins scattered across the stage, clinking against the polished stone. She burned her cloak as intensely as she could.

She gritted her teeth, her mind racing. With a burst of speed, she darted toward the golden rings hovering near the edge of the barrier.

But Szed was ready. He reached into his pockets and withdrew handfuls of copper balls, tossing them in quick succession. The spheres rolled across the stage, instantly melting and spreading out in a calculated pattern that formed a gleaming copper path between Mags and the rings.

Her foot hit the polished copper surface—and pain exploded through her body. Jolts of electrified energy surrounded her body. Her limbs convulsed in pain and she stumbled back with a sharp cry. Her [Void Cloak] flickered, then dissipated entirely as she fell to one knee, clutching her side.

“I’m right here.” Szed’s voice cut through the air like a blade.

She looked up to see him standing tall, his golden aura blazing. His hand moved, and the copper balls scattered across the stage began to hum with energy. The polished copper floor seemed to ripple, alive with power.

“You’re not getting to those rings without going through me,” he said, his tone calm but edged with steel.

Mags forced herself to square her shoulders, her body aching from the electric shock. Her mind worked furiously, analyzing the situation. She couldn’t simply rush him—Szed had control of the battlefield now, having essentially cut the space in half with the copper barrier he created.

Her gaze flicked to the rings, still hovering tantalizingly close to the barrier. She clenched her fists, her aura beginning to stir again.

“Fine,” she said, her voice low and determined. “If that’s how you want it.”

The crowd roared with excitement as the two contestants faced off, their auras blazing and the stage crackling with tension.

Mags reached within herself with her mental senses, having practiced the habit with Malacoda and Rubicante. She touched her mana reserves, trying to sense how much she had remaining. Not enough for Devouring Pulse, she thought. Within her, she felt a second, deeper well of power. Enoch. Without being able to tap on that power, she had limited resources available. Void Cloak wasn’t going to be enough to see her through to victory.

I wonder how much mana he has available.

“It was a good idea,” Szed said. His accent in the common tongue was clipped and formal. “To work together. Neither of us would have beaten him one-on-one, not when he can manipulate gravity.”

The moment Szed’s voice faded, Mags lunged forward, her body a blur as she closed the distance between them. Her bare fists swung in an arc toward his chest—a feint meant to draw his focus. And it worked. Szed braced to parry the strike, but his sharp eyes widened as Mags twisted her wrist and, in a flicker of silver light, summoned Mithra into her grip.

The Ivaldi-wrought blade screamed through the air, its short but deadly edge carving toward Szed’s side. At the last moment, he shifted, impossibly quick, and the blade missed its mark. Instead, Szed’s copper-tipped fingers darted out, gripping the edge of Mithra. The jet black metal hissed and sparked under his touch. Szed’s claws melted, spreading over Mithra’s surface as though the sword itself was bleeding molten copper.

Mags gritted her teeth and pulled back, but the copper expanded, stretching from Mithra’s edge like a living thing. The tendrils shot downward, anchoring the blade to the ground as if it had become part of the arena floor. The pull was immediate, jerking the sword—and Mags with it—toward the polished copper surface that had become Szed’s domain.

She let go of the hilt, pivoting sharply on her heel and snapping her arm into a punch aimed at Szed’s head. But before the strike could connect, one of Szed’s golden, threadlike strands of hair unfurled with terrifying speed. It shot toward her wrist, wrapping around it like a snake, and another strand followed, looping around her ankle.

The force was overwhelming. Mags’ wrist was yanked toward her ankle, and before she could react, her body was twisted and dragged downward. She hit the ground hard, the polished surface cold against her cheek. She struggled, thrashing against the golden threads, but the bindings only tightened, forcing her wrist and ankle closer together in a cruel knot.

Szed didn’t hesitate. His boots pounded against the arena floor as he dashed toward Dermot’s fallen rings. The polished copper beneath his feet shimmered, parting like a liquid sea to create a clear path for him.

“No!” Mags screamed, her voice raw with frustration. She wrenched her body, muscles burning as she tried to free herself, but the threads were unyielding. She could only watch as Szed skidded to a stop before the rings, his hand reaching out to claim them.

The moment his fingers touched the glowing golden rings, the arena erupted with a deafening chime, like a bell struck by a god’s hammer. The translucent dome shimmered with light, and the mechanical judge descended slowly, its visor glowing as it acknowledged Szed’s victory.

[SOULSINGER SZED SED: VICTORIOUS]

[Contest Demispace: Dissolving . . .]

Mags slumped against the ground, the golden threads dissolving into golden dust as the match came to its end. The cloud of golden dust drifted toward Szed before re-forming into a strand of gold that wove itself back into his straight, black hair. She pounded her fist into the stage floor, her frustration burning hotter than the ache in her limbs. Across the stage, Szed held the glowing rings aloft, his expression calm but triumphant.

The crowd roared, but Mags barely heard it over the sound of her own blood pounding in her ears. She forced herself to her knees, her chest heaving as she stared at the victorious figure of Szed.

She had lost. And the bitter taste of it burned more fiercely than any wound.