“Ladies and gentlemen! It is time for a show! Give it up once more for Gunther and Damian!” the announcer roared, then got off the stage amidst the fervent applause and cheers.
Damian’s face became more serious, he had been studying the particles in the air while the announcer was working his own kind of magic, he scoped out which particles to use and immediately focused on them.
One red particle grew in size, it turned into an illusory floating orb, just a tad larger than the size of his fist, he jolted, then swiftly turned to the next particle, and the same happened again.
Damian began to sweat; that wasn’t his spell!
“Hoho.” Gunther chuckled, “You are a bit too slow on your execution young man.”
The red balls orbited in Damian’s direction, and he was forced to duck and roll to evade them.
They were moving slow enough for his actions to succeed, but he had no time to waste, as he desperately needed to use some particles himself... because the orbs that flew past him made a turn and came right back towards him!
“A homing spell!” Damian cursed as his head shot from left to right.
His eyes opened wide as he spotted a bunch behind Gunther, a plan formed in the back of his mind, a huge risk, but it would assure his victory right off the bat.
Damian pushed himself off the ground and sprinted right at the old man.
“Go get him underdog!” the announcer cheered from among the crowd, his smile grew in excitement, but it froze on his face as he felt a cold and sharp object press into his back.
A whisper entered his ear, one that caused a chill down his spine, “Don’t turn around.”
It was a female voice, but her tone made him shudder, he glanced to his left and right, but no one seemed to notice that he was getting threatened, “I, uhm, don’t think I did anything to warrant this.” he spoke while continuing to force the smile.
“Tell me about these prizes... these artefacts.” the female voice demanded.
“I’m sorry I- I don’t know where they are being kept. I am just here to rile up the crowd.” the announcer became flustered, but he felt the object press into his back a little stronger in response to his answer, “They, ah, they are rank one artefacts, there are two of them to be precise. I do not know their functions, I am not a mage, I just know that the fact they are from the Land of Fog is causing many to be interested in them!” his voice took on a hint of pleading.
“Tell me about the Land of Fog.” the voice switched up her question.
“You don’t know about the Land of-” he tried to turn his head in surprise, but the cold glint reminded him of his situation.
“It is an ancient battlefield, riddled with the remains of mages of former times. I do not know why or what they fought; I only know that the resources left in there draw in all sorts of people.” he swallowed some of his saliva, but seeing as the person behind him did not respond, he chose to continue, “The Ironhoof family highly values the Land of Fog, and Pyrehaven as its closest entry point, because the mages that fought and died in there left behind so many treasures, artefacts, and supposedly inheritances that could allow even regular humans like myself to start down the journey of being a mage...”
The announcer took a short breath, “Groups of adventurers head there together, because travelling alone is a death-sentence. I don’t know why; I have never been there myself! I have only ever heard rumours and hearsay.”
The sharp object that was pressing into his back was suddenly gone, he spun around, but found nobody suspicious, just a regular crowd.
Damian evaded another fire bubble cast by Gunther, his goal was within sight!
He stretched out his arm, formed his hand into a fist, then pulled his fist back towards his body.
The particles behind Gunther reacted, long javelin-like objects launched themselves right at the old man, two barely missed and were planted into the ground beside him, while a third stopped just an inch away from his throat.
Gunther raised his hands in defeat and smiled, “I guess I am too old now to compete with such an agile style of fighting.” he praised Damian, and the crowd burst out in celebration!
The announcer stepped back onto the stage, walked up to Damian and raised his hand into the air, “We have our victor! The underdog, Damian!” he proclaimed as his eyes frantically looked through the onlookers, trying to identify whoever had just interrogated him.
“Thank you, Gunther, it’s truly been a pleasure to have you here today. If you allow me, I’d love to invite you to a drink in your honour, and I hope that we will get to see you on the remaining rumble days too. I wouldn’t say no to an experienced commentator.” the announcer smiled, his eyes squinted, there was nothing out of the ordinary... at least nothing he could see, sticking to a mage was the best bet to ensure his safety.
“Perhaps just a cup, my lady wouldn’t be too happy about any more than that.” Gunther agreed.
“Alright folks! The next fight will be in just an hour, have fun, but don’t drink too much! You wouldn’t want to miss out on the next round!”
... ...
The hooded woman swung open the door to an empty bar, the only one present was a well-dressed middle-aged man, that was using a cloth to wipe some cups clean.
He glanced up from the counter at the unusual sight, and watched the hooded figure take a seat across from him.
“I was expecting the entire city to watch the brawl today... what brings a potential customer to this place instead?” he asked as he set down one of the cups.
The hooded figure pulled something out of their pocket and placed it atop the counter.
The bartender noticed the long, slim, and delicate fingers, before his focus shifted onto the golden coin underneath.
He picked up the coin, then moved it towards his mouth, where he bit into the metal, to ascertain its authenticity, “What do you want? A beer, an ale-”
“Information.” a female voice interrupted him.
“Information? What kind?” he twirled the coin around his fingers.
“The Land of Fog. Are any adventurer groups headed there?” the woman asked, her voice monotonous.
The bartender inspected the coin, then stuffed it into his pocket, “There is a group that’s headed towards that place. Word on the streets is that a rich noble is paying them a hefty sum to go and find them something.”
“How can someone join that group?” she asked, but the bartender smiled lightly, and opened his empty palm, the back of his hand rested against the counter, “I am not sure...”
The woman placed another gold coin into his hand, after which he continued speaking, “Actually, there is something I remember... the leader of that group is someone I used to know, perhaps a few words could convince her to make an exception for a ‘friend of mine’.”
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A third gold coin got exchanged before the bartender smiled contentedly, “They will depart from the east gate shortly after the brawl wraps up. Don’t blame me if you miss them. And it's also no fault of mine if they decide to kick you out midway.”
The hooded woman stood up again and turned to face the door, “What is her name?”
“Matilda. You’ll know her when you see her.” the bartender waved her goodbye on her way out.
... ...
Two people dressed in lavish gowns were leaning against the railing of a balcony several meters above the makeshift arena for the Magic Rumble.
“Inviting Gunther was a marvellous idea. The other participants are also doing a very good job, you have truly outdone yourself this year. We will have profits like never before.” the man spoke, he reached over to pat the shoulder of the woman beside him.
“You are too kind. None of this would have been possible without your resources and connections. I believe the artefacts were the biggest draw and motivator for our participants.” the woman flattered him right back.
The two watched on in glee as the announcer once again took to the stage, “Welcome back ladies and gentlemen! We are about to witness the grand finale of this year’s Magic Brawl! As you know, last year’s champion, Serka, took a major loss, defeated by the hands of the newcomer, and rising star, Damian! Serka did not take his loss lying down! He fought his way through the losers’ bracket and emerged victorious... now he has returned to defend his title, the rematch we have all been hoping for!”
“Make some noise... for Serka and Damian!” his voice echoed through the plaza, and the crowd erupted with excitement.
The chanting of both of their names clashed with each other, although Serka was extremely popular with the locals, the underdog had shown his worth, and that he had what it takes to snatch victory away from the former champion.
Damian rose to the stage, his fist was lifted high into the air, his spirits were still at their peak from his win just an hour ago.
He had taken Serka down once and was confident in doing so a second time.
On the other side of the stage slowly emerged a man in his thirties, his hair was as black as tar, he had a thick beard just above his lips.
He wore regal clothing that hinted at his noble descent, but he didn’t look haughty in the least, he smiled and waved at the viewers, then gave court nods to those that were shouting his name.
The announcer walked up to Serka; the intensity of the chanting lessened as they wanted to hear him speak, “Serka! First off, congratulations on making it to the finals once again. We are all very interested in seeing how this fight will unfold, so I won’t blabber on for too long, I just have a question for you.”
“Are you feeling as confident as you are looking right now?”
Serka laughed out loud, “Yesterday’s loss was a wakeup call for me. I had severely underestimated my opponent, which ended up being my downfall. I have been strategizing and preparing for this rematch today, I am glad that Damian lived up to my expectations and beat Gunther, making it possible for me to redeem myself, and to defend my title!”
The people cheered for him, the announcer patted Serka’s back, then walked to the other end of the arena, to interview Damian, “Damian, you have proven time and time again that your wins weren’t just due to luck, even calling you an underdog isn’t right, because at this point many already changed from supporting Serka to you... how do you feel, do you think you can beat Serka once more and take the crown from him?”
“I’ve already defeated him once, it doesn’t matter how much he strategizes, by the end of the day it will be me who wins and gets the artefacts!” Damian’s words caused an uproar, his supporters cheered, while Serka’s supporters tried to boo him out.
The announcer smiled, then stepped away from him, “What wonderful convictions! Everyone! Get ready! This will obviously become a heated battle!” he walked off the stage, and approached Gunther among the crowd, “You may begin!”
Damian squinted his eyes, the last fight between him and Serka started off with an explosive exchange of spells, they had both shown each other pretty much all the cards they had up their sleeves... but now Serka was claiming to have gained or thought of something that would defeat him.
He immediately turned to the particles closest to him, they transformed into javelins under his control, and hovered by his side, ready to respond to whatever Serka had prepared.
Serka closed his eyes, he took a deep breath, then opened them again while exhaling.
He locked onto Damian, and rushed straight at him, he caught a red particle between his fingers mid sprint, then placed it at the centre of his palm and crushed it.
Flames lashed out from his closed fist, they wrapped around his hand and turned into a burning glove-like claw.
He repeated the same for his other hand as the first javelin came lunging his way.
A whistling sound came from the javelin as it tore through the air, Serka ducked under it, and tried to grab it with his weaponized hand, but the javelin ripped right through with its speed.
Damian frowned, he realised what Serka was going for, and when combined with the fact that he was fast approaching, he needed to act soon.
He attempted to navigate the edge of the arena, while keeping Serka at bay using at minimum three spears to stop his opponent from potentially getting hold of one.
Serka stopped chasing him blindly, there was hardly a chance for him to breach through and get close enough to Damian, so he shifted his focus to the red particles in the air around them.
He utilized his claws to swipe through every single one he came across, they split and turned into claw-marks that hovered in the air.
They were stationary; however Damian began to sweat profusely, whatever his foe was preparing, he must stop him at once!
Damian increased the number of javelins to five as he ran at Serka, the crowd cheered on his assault, but the two were entirely focused on each other.
Each of the javelins acted like they were an additional limb, Damian looked strained, but skilfully stabbed at and defended against Serka’s claws.
Although he was attacking from a certain distance away, for some reason he felt that the claw could bypass his weapons and obliterate him in moments.
Damian didn’t dare to lose focus even once, he carefully observed every motion of Serka, where his feet stepped, where his hands moved to deflect the javelins.
He was trying to analyse his foe, and the longer he watched the bigger his respect for the man became.
It was like Serka was fighting against five people at once, and he wasn’t losing!
Damian frowned, “Give up! When you run out of energy, I might accidentally strike you with all javelins at once! The artefacts can’t be that important that you would risk your life for them!” he shouted in an attempt to persuade Serka to resign.
“Dream on! I have invested far too much to walk away empty handed today!” Serka roared right back, then clapped his hands which produced a shrill sound.
One of Damian’s javelins trembled, then burst apart!
Damian coughed up a mouthful of blood as he jumped backwards, to escape Serka’s range; but Serka merely smiled, he spotted the levitating claw-mark behind his opponent.
“Since when?!” Damian coughed as he realised that Serka used a spell he hadn’t seen before, oblivious to what’s behind him.
He crashed into the mark, and not a moment later it detonated, smoke shortly covered Damian, before he came stumbling out with only two javelins remaining, the clothes on his back were burned, and he looked like using just those two javelins was already more than straining.
“How...?” Damian mumbled as he regained his bearings.
“I invested into an inheritance. A small one, but it still cost me quite a sum.”
“Just for two artefacts?” Damian couldn’t believe it!
Serka nodded, “Those two artefacts will help me explore the Land of Fog, which will allow me to find more inheritances, which will let me win the next year’s brawl too, as long as I get through this loop, I am destined to become stronger.”
Damian swung his arms in desperation, both javelins were launched at Serka, who ran at him in response.
Serka crossed his arms in front of his chest, and made himself as small as he could, to squeeze in between the trajectory of the javelins.
Time slowed down as the javelins were about to reach him, one grazed his nose while he was turning, and the other just lightly scratched his shoulder.
Serka finished his spin as the javelins struck the ground of the arena, he stopped in front of his opponent and held his fiery claw to Damian’s neck.
The crowd unleashed a torrent of celebratory shouts and whistling, “Serka! Serka! Serka!”
The announcer took to the stage one final time, he used his hands to motion for the crowd to get even louder, “Ladies and gentlemen! May I present to you, your new champion, the man that blew us away last year, suffered a setback just yesterday, but proved that he still is the one and only victor, the last man standing in this year’s brawl! SERKA!”
In the meantime, atop the balcony above the arena, the man and woman were alerted by a banging on the door to their room.
“You may enter.” the man spoke loud enough to be heard through the wooden door.
A guard robed in red cloth respectfully entered the room with his head held low, “Sir...the treasury has been broken into...”
“WHAT?!” the man shouted as he stormed up to the guard, “How much was taken?!”
“We- we aren’t sure entirely, but for now it would appear that not a single gold coin was taken-” the guard answered but was cut off mid speech.
“Then what was taken?!” the mayor’s eyes darkened.
The guard took a breath before hesitantly conveying the information, “Sir, the artefacts that were supposed to be awarded to this year’s brawl’s winner were taken...”
The mayor touched his forehead, his eyes became glassy, “No...”
“Spread out immediately! Increase the number of guards at the gates, no one is allowed to leave!” the woman ordered in his stead, he turned to face her, then agreed that this was the wisest decision.
“Apprehend everyone that entered the city recently! They are prime suspects!” he followed up with an order of his own.