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Tempest Tournament 3

The next round of the tournament introduced something new to what would have become a rather stale formula. Right before the first round Sectmaster Phagos did a grand speech about power and land rights or something of that nature, in truth John wasn’t really paying attention, nor did he feel the need to put that into his memory with what happened next.

With the deafening noise of massive machines moving the cage above, the arena was released and the entire floor seemed to move, the sandy stony floor rotating and rising as the surrounding ring fell away. The lower part of the arena was filled with various glowing formations and a wide array of different miscellaneous pipes, tubes and wires. Even the ones who had surely seen this song and dance several times prior remained glued to their seats.

“Representatives of each Sect are expected to not only master themselves against foes and beasts, but also the very forces of the world. The elements are unkind, yet they are not insurmountable, and indeed can also be mastered. Flame, water, ice and spore, you will not know which obstacle will be before you when the time comes to put your life on the line. But it is on you to triumph or perish, this is the rule of the world, this is the only truth.” Elder Phago’s booming voice continued as he spoke.

“Before we begin however there is the issue of challenges to be brought forth. Whether it be friendly rivalry or some deep seated petty grudge, the reasons for a challenge to be issued does not matter, only that both contestants are willing to see it through. Those who have received specific challenge requests will be informed shortly, and it is up to them of course if they are willing to face it.” The Dustrider Elder added as Elder Phagos sat down. From a distance John could see the reptilian man mouth the word cowardice.

A group of servants travelled down the contestant seating handing out small glass devices containing words, undoubtedly names of those who have issued the challenge. Magni impossibly seemed to pale more seeing his, Cobalt perked up in excitement now devoid of the weight he had seen on her shoulders far too often lately and as for him…

“For you master Aurelium…” A man he vaguely recognised from the Trials handed him a glass plate to his shock. When had he received a challenge? Who would do that?

[THIS ONE HAS AN IDEA…] ARTOS said, the eyes lining the Relic turning towards a heavily scarred woman waving excitedly at him in the Dustrider section of the crowd. He looked back at the glass panel which had the words Vee Mek emblazoned in glowing font.

Given how excited she was to see me… or rather you… I guess I should have expected it. He sighed internally.

[IRRELEVANT. WE ARE NOTHING LIKE THEM. WE WILL PROVE IT.] ARTOS stated with more certainty and… bloodlust… than John could have expected.

“Press the green circle if you would like to accept sir, otherwise we will assume you have declined the challenge.” The servant explained. It was strange seeing someone who was on a similar level- even a higher level with greater age and cultivation- treating him like a superior. It was enough to distract John from the worrying thoughts that had begun to bubble in his head.

“Yeah sure.” Idly he pressed the green button, not thinking as much as he should have on the actual challenge.

“Thank you. Miss Mek will be informed shortly.” The servant explained curtly.

What the fuck had he gotten himself into?

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What the fuck had he gotten himself into Magni of no clan thought to himself as he replayed the agonizing few seconds he stared at that little slab of powered glass. He had briefly considered turning down the challenge at first, but a wave of pride and hot headedness overwhelmed his common sense and before he knew it that damn bastard seemed to phase into thin air in the seat right above him to stare at him with terrifying intensity. He wore his blindfold to avoid being overwhelmed by all the little details mixed in with streams of thoughts and life which filled the air at all times, but now a mad part of him thought perhaps he had made a mistake.

He continued to stare at the blank stone wall in front of him, fighting off the nausea. Though in truth it wasn’t exactly blank, none of the Sect was. The ancient defensive formations weaved into the masonry was impressive, granting ordinary rock and a strange mortar the ancients called Concrete the strength far surpassing any mortal material simply by absorbing the passive energy given off by the cultivators within the Sect into channels of metal wire strung in gaps between heavy boulders. Though there were some minor flaws in the structure likely caused by decades of slow decay it was still a masterwork compared to most of the formations he had personally made. It was one of the few things he could actually focus on for a meaningful length of time with all of his eyes exposed without being overwhelmed, so here he was, training by staring at rocks.

He could have laughed at the idea. If his past self saw him go from fighting for scraps of food every waking moment to having enough time to waste to stare meaninglessly at a wall all day he would have punched himself stupid. Yet the anxiety refused to leave. The match was soon, the hour was coming, and for the first time since he had gained this mutation he could not trust his eyes.

And if he couldn’t trust himself what in the world could he trust at all?

From behind him an even, aristocratic voice spoke with a hint of concern and perhaps disappointment hidden beneath a regulated facade. He didn’t need to turn to see Cobalt’s pale, scaled face or the way she forced her skin to maintain its usual shade and texture. When she wanted to she could really act the part of the cold young mistress impressively. “You are going to miss the next match. What are you doing here Magni?”

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“Training.” He answered half honestly. “I thought I could see everything coming, but it turns out maybe I have been more blind than I thought.”

She scoffed and flipped her near translucent hair, the fibres flickering a slightly irritated orange hue for a split second imperceivable to most before she masterfully regained control. “I won’t pretend to fully understand what is going on, not all of us can read minds after all. But I didn’t think you were this pathetic. Seriously, you get your ego properly shaken by someone who counters your mutations once and you can’t get over it?” She scolded.

He couldn’t find an adequate rebuttal as he stumbled to justify himself, not even turning fully to meet her eyes with his own array. Still with a small snarl he had to bite back, his pride wouldn’t allow it. “I don’t expect you to understand, you who was always so invincible, so above it all! You wouldn’t understand what it is like to have been powerless, and you don’t get what it is like to be afraid of going back there!”

“If you are so afraid, why are you doing your best to prove it?” Her piercing response stabbed right past his defences. “John’s round is next, I consider myself a friend so I won’t be missing it. If you insist on wasting any more time staring at walls here, fine by me!”

She huffed and turned away. After a few minutes sitting in pained silence Magni found himself tying his blindfold back on and chasing after her.

He arrived just in time to run the colosseum to get a spectacular view of John getting run over in a cloud of dust and toxic gas.

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The prelude to this match felt different, even though he sat in the same old cell as in the first round, the energy of waiting for a challenge to start was entirely different to a pre-decided match. He cursed himself for not making the effort to know Vee more prior to the match, perhaps if he did he would have some idea of what was going on in her brain, but as it stands he had to live with the unknown. So he turned his focus inwards for what little time he had left, meditating as he felt the familiar and calming burn of Si course through his meridians, touching and leaving gentle sears at the edges of each of his organs on their way to his Dantian.

[ACCUMULATED RADIATION REACHING NEW ADJUSTED THRESHOLD: IN YOUR TERMS YOU ARE APPROACHING A BOTTLENECK.] ARTOS told him as he felt a strange burning itch at the sides of his neck.

Scratching at the rapidly flaking skin he acquiesced. Yeah, suffering the Curse while battling will probably be a bad idea. Besides I don’t think we have long anyway do we.

[INDEED.] ARTOS responded as the heavy metal doors slid open right on cue. A drawbridge now bridged the gap between the arena entrances to the circle, once defined by a chalk line, now a sheer drop a good eight or so feet deep. Of course the gap didn’t remain empty for long, as soon from a series of corroded metal pipes black ooze began to flow out filling the air with an undeniably toxic stench. He could feel the Si in the air thicken too, and had no doubt if he fell in not even the enhanced physiology of a Cultivator could make the experience less unpleasant.

On the other side a similar drawbridge descended, and atop it a greasy-haired girl with skin more scar than flesh in some places eagerly descended, her large muscular frame he could notice even from a distance bulging with more than just flesh and bone. He remembered how her skin tore open from her eager demonstration of their similarity, and wondered how she was even alive.

Then again he wasn’t one to talk.

[CRUDE SYMBIOSIS. UNLIKE US. WE ARE BETTER.] ARTOS clearly disagreed.

Ignoring the prideful machine he stepped forward and observed his opponent. Her excitement now was restrained, but he could see it in the eager glint in her eye and the tension coiled in every one of her muscles. He felt very much like a hapless worm that had caught the gaze of a hungry phoenix, or a wounded rattlebeast before a pack of starved chupacabras.

He heard the announcement of the match starting and felt his heartbeat roar in response, just in time to see his opponents eerily wide smile grow even wider as her skin stretched to its limits. He braced himself mentally for the inevitable followup of course but nothing could prepare him for…

“VALHALLA ENGINE!” Vee cackled madly as her skin split into a shower of gore, revealing two massive wheels still glistening with all manner of fluids John really didn’t want to think about. A roaring sound bellowed from her exposed chest cavity, her heart twisted in a nest of twisting metal visibly beating along to the noise.

One second she was still on the other side of the arena. The next she was right in his face. He slid out of the way just barely on time, and she slid right on the precipice of the circle, skillfully turning around and drifting right back towards him. He could see how her rough hair got singed by the fumes of the tar pit, but if she cared at all she made no indication of it with her massive grin.

He prepared a counterattack but misjudged how fast she was, indeed her acceleration was on a different level even compared to the Jackalope he fought in the trials. It was all the speed of the Mauler held back by none of the mass, and by the time he realised his mistake he felt two heavy tires slamming into him. Only the familiar high of pain suppressants kept the pain of quite possibly shattered ribs from keeping him down as he barely rolled out of the way of another speedy attack. He mentally signalled for ARTOS to activate Adrenaline Rush, but to his shock she was still faster than him, only being able to convert a direct impact into a glancing blow. How she managed to keep from going off the edge was beyond him, but clearly he needed something else.

[SUGGESTION: CHANNEL ELECTRICITY INWARDS.] ARTOS suggested.

What? He thought, incredulous.

The tiny distraction caused by his own thoughts gave his opponent the opportunity to get a direct hit on him again, he could feel large chunks of skin get torn under her tires.

[INSUFFICIENT TIME FOR DOUBT.] ARTOS added unhelpfully. [PREEMPTIVELY INJECTING PAIN SUPPRESSANTS.]

Before he could waste more time thinking about it further he followed the instructions and felt a wave of burning pain travelling down every nerve quickly drowned out by the familiar chemical rush of pain suppressants and an Adrenaline Rush. A name came unbidden in his mind.

[FUSE BREAK.]

“FUSE BREAK!”

The arena exploded in a flash of thunder.