The day the tournament started, all thirty-two participants were gathered in the arena while the emperor himself addressed us and the crowd. We stood evenly spaced in a cubed formation, five in length and width with seven contenders in a line in front. These seven were wearing expensive looking equipment, with the exception of Eric who was still staying true to his surname. Even here, amongst fellow warriors, he looked out of place with his armor-less outfit. Had I not known his innate ability for life magic, I would have a hard time seeing him as a match to the other six champions, whom each were brimming with enchanted armors.
The seven in front being champions meant that the remaining twenty five of us were qualified participants. Considering my own qualifier which began with somewhere around two hundred and ended in five, this meant that about a thousand people had participated in the qualifiers, and at least four hundred and fifty people had died during them.
The emperor did not look healthy. It was apparent he was getting help from his aides, which looked to be priests casting life magic on him while he was speaking. Whether he was the one using life magic to amplify his voice or not was impossible to tell from a distance, as his spirit was straining from something though it was impossible to discern what.
“As emperor of the holy human empire I thank you all for having gathered here for this annual celebration of the warrior spirit. It is at occasions like these that we are all reminded of what separates humans from those that would stand against us. We should also take a moment to think of the brave souls that sacrificed their lives during the great conquest half a millennia ago, when the demons attacked. We live our lives today in gratitude to them, and the gods of light that we owe everything to.”
The old man took a little breather before continuing with his speech, making a pose of prayer or thought, inspiring the crowds to do the same.
“The tournaments will last for five days, with each participant having one fight per day to allow for proper rest. With the gods willing, we shall have a glorious celebration of strength and honor! I now declare the tournament officially open!”
He finished his speech with a slam of the royal scepter, a golden staff with a pointed crown shape on the top. The audience applauded and yelled, even the two to his sides were standing and clapping. Once this had settled he finally sat down again, along with both Lucas and Magnus whom sat down on either side of him. Then the loud man from the qualifiers stepped forward used said talent.
“The first match will be between the champions, Eric of Brill and Marcus of Helmfirth! We ask that the other contenders step out of the arena and wait their turn!”
Several hours of waiting later, my name was finally called. Though, my first match would be against one of the cowards from the second day of my qualifiers. The one remaining after the two cowards had fought for a spot amongst the five qualified. The loud man then explained the rules for the tournament; there were to be no serious or mortal injuries, and fighting after one party surrendered would disqualify the attacker.
After the formalities were over, immediately after we got the signal to begin, the coward surrendered. Luckily for me, I had not thrown anything at him. Who knows, I might have gotten myself disqualified, though I highly doubt that was the coward’s intention. Though, with the ever growing hatred against me for wearing dwarven armor and defeating the only female participant, the crowd might have called for my disqualification, and the emperor might have listened to their wails.
Unfortunately for me and the nobles openly backing Lucas, Lea returned with the money from me beating the coward, which was not a lot. As such, I was forced to supplement my payment to Sebastian’s men with money from said nobles.
The next day however, I met another man from my own qualifier, perhaps this was how they organized the fights? The man was the one wearing plated armor with an enchanted shield. The signal to begin was given and I approached him with fists clad in jagged dark rock.
The enchantment on the shield had glowed red on the day he had fended off the bombardments of the mage, signifying its origin to be mostly fire magic. If he was using the same shield, it would probably deflect direct attacks with fire’s explosive properties, so charging in and hitting him could be dangerous. Therefore my first move was to verify his enchant. Taking off one of my fists of rock, I threw it at him with some force., aiming for his torso. With his metal plated armor it would be difficult to dodge projectiles, though, unfortunately for me, my little glove of rock wasn’t much of a threat to said armor. Therefore, instead of empowering his enchant, he simply raised his shield as the rock failed to even stagger him in his steady advance.
This is why I made a bigger rock, about the size the magician from the qualifier had summoned, and threw that at him. Proving large enough to halt his advance, the rock shattered against his shield like the ones previously. His enchant was indeed the same, even if he had a shield with a similar appearance and a different enchantment, using it this early in the tournament might be foolish.
Knowing his shield’s properties, and not seeing any other enchantments on his gear, I too began approaching. At this the warriors pace slowed, probably confused at why the magician would advance toward the warrior. When we met, began swinging his sword at me, while keeping his shield ready to parry. I, on the other hand, was dodging his slashes, supporting my speed with a little life magic. These strikes only served to prove how talented Eric really was, being able to match my speed. The man in front of me however had no chance of landing a hit on me, and was clearly becoming fatigued faster as his slashes grew more desperate and less refined. Letting this little game continue for a little while, I ended it by reaching out to the flat of his sword as it passed me by. Having reached it, I then encased the entire blade in a burly rock, almost making the man drop his weapon from its weight alone.
After attempting to use his sword as an improvised club, he quickly realized how useless it was to attempt hitting me with a now even slower weapon. When he did realize this, however, he raised his shield to cover his entire body as he slowly advanced towards me again. Not failing to understand his plan, I raised a few rocks in front of his feet without him noticing. Once he arrived at these, he stumbled forward a little, giving me the opportunity to get around him. Now at his side, I snuck in between him and his shield, not allowing its front to face me, and grabbed his shield arm. Realizing what I was about to do, the man tried to escape my grip with vigor, and punches to my sides. His plated fists landed on my armor, but would sometimes find their way in between, bruising my flesh. His efforts were rendered in vain, as his shield was soon in my hands, and I allowed him his space.
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Now, I was wielding his shield, and all he had left was the earth clad sword he had dropped earlier. For a short period, the man raised his fists against me in a guard. At this, I just waited, as he quickly realized the futility of his own situation and surrendered.
This time my winnings were substantially higher, as Lea told me she overheard people betting against me in anger. Was their hatred a blessing in disguise? I could only hope that would continue to be the case.
Having some time off, and some extra cash, I went to the Nasty Brew after dropping off a payment at the White Tiger. Meeting Noel in the dark again, I bought a potion, and went home to taste it. Its effects were good, and as I predicted it had a slight tinge of copper in its taste. Though slightly disgusting to drink another man’s blood, the copper taste was one of the better aspects of the potion’s flavor, as the other parts were better described as hairy or snotty.
On the fourth day of the tournament, my opponent was the one Alex had called a dark horse. She had learned from the crowd that there were several rumors of his origin and nature, all of which were obviously lies and speculation. From watching his fights while I rested, she had learned that he was a magic user capable of strong earth and possibly fire magic. In addition to this he was carrying sword at his hip, though he had not drawn it in his two previous fights. That said, he had only really fought once, yet it was enough to convince some that his strength was unmatched in this tournament.
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Alex had been worried at me entering this match; she was saying she had a bad feeling about it. Since I had reassured her it would be fine, I had best demonstrate just that. That was why I had already drawn my claymore from its sheath on my left hip before the signal to begin was given. Alfred, too, had drawn his sword; I guess he was taking me seriously too.
The signal was given and the battle begun, my claymore’s large size was intended for devastating assaults so it was a shame I currently cautiously had it in front of me ready to parry. Though my claymore was large, Alfred had demonstrated speed that could rival my own, and was additionally about a head taller, giving him a longer reach with his arms. With my blade being longer, it was hard to judge which of us had the longer total reach, as we cautiously approached each other.
The claymore was a sword given to me by father, saying it was a family heirloom that only the strongest of warriors could properly wield. Having never seen him use it, I suppose that was the difference in strength between us. Or maybe he simply preferred his bow; after all he was more of a tactician and would stand further away from any battle that might occur.
Alfred was the first to strike, dropping his front knee as he advanced with a rushed pace. The swords thrust reminded me of another man, whose speed had been similar and whose tactics too. Like I had done with Alphonse, I guided Alfred’s thrust to the side with my blade, before using the length of my blade to arrive first at his finger. As I was about to sink into his grip, he released his sword and went for mine, holding its flat with two hands and preventing it from advancing further.
After he had held it for a little while, he quickly retreated back a few steps, leaving his sword at my feet. Having made him lose his weapon, I now advanced with claymore held high, ready to swing. Alfred had used his magic to surround his fists in some dark and menacingly spiked stone, the likes of which I had never seen, not even in the halls and tunnels beneath Brill. If he parried my strike with those, would they break? Or would my sword break? I guess I’ll find out shortly.
As I was thinking that, Alfred readied and fired a punch at me, somehow shattering his rock mid swing, sending pieces of it my way. Having little time to react, I turned my head to the side and closed my eyes, preparing for the incoming wave of splinters. They hit me all over, some having enough power to pierce through my garb and lodging themselves into my skin. None of them damaged my face luckily, as I turned back to face Alfred. When my eyes opened again they were met with a rapidly approaching jagged, black stone. The hit had connected with my face before I had time to understand what it really was.
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The fight against Eric had ended quickly, all things considered, though not as quickly as I would have liked. His brutishly large sword being immune to my magic was certainly not something I had expected, as I had not seen any inscriptions on it whatsoever. Judging from Eric’s spirit, he didn’t seem to be powering any such enchant either, truly quite the surprise. Having the fight drag on any longer would have made my chances of being exposed to him exponentially higher, as he would likely enter his berserker-like state of mind if I just slowly wore him down. I could probably handle him even then, but drawing on excessive amounts of mana might make me a hot topic in all the wrong places.
Though, that was now in the past, as Eric’s misshapen face was slowly recovering with help from his natural life magic. The jagged rock of the fist that had knocked him unconscious, had pierced his face nastily in several faces, but the judges of the match did not consider lasting damage to the face a serious injury, as most warriors sustained such injuries during their lifetime without hindering their progress or power. Additionally, since Eric was such a natural talent of life magic, I doubted the injuries would leave anything but minor scars, maybe not even that.
With the third match won there were now only four contenders left, as the original thirty two had been halved three times.