All the participants stood in pairs on floating ice platforms that were suspended just above the arena’s edge, arranged in a large circle. The colosseum was an enormous expanse, stretching over a hundred meters across. At the center of the gathering, Varian stood, accompanied by Faron. The other First Division members had seemingly disappeared.
Sorn stood still beside Aria, her eyes locked onto Varian. He felt a flicker of relief, for her gaze had shifted from the brooding self-pity she had worn since their pairing.
Sorn’s gaze drifted to his left. Three platforms away, Oden and Crystal stood together. Near them, Keilan stood on the platform next to them. He had seemingly composed himself fully. Sitting right next to Keilan was a young boy, his face pointed firmly downward. Sorn blinked, disbelief passing through him.
Of all the people he expected to make it this far, Kaen was the least likely. Yet here he was, sitting idly beside Keilan as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Sorn then realized that he hadn’t seen Kaen come after him in the race, which meant Kaen had likely beaten him. The realization left Sorn feeling proud of the boy. He had no idea how, but the boy had managed to overcome his expectations and make it here.
Before he could dwell further on the thought, his mind grasped at something else. Varian had just said there were twenty competitors. He had only seen four follow him in. Serene, then Zacen, then Keilan, and then finally Zalen. That meant there was one more person that he had missed. Had it been Kaen?
Sorn returned his attention to Varian, who had begun speaking again.
“As you know, you all have been numbered,” Varian announced. Beside him, an elderly woman held up an icy speaker to Varian’s mouth. It projected his words, allowing everyone nearby to hear. It was reminiscent of the bird heads that the Emperor had used during the Prophecy. “This stage will see the first twenty who finished the race engage in a series of one-on-one battles. The ten victors will proceed to the next round. There is no time limit to these bouts, but I will end any fight at my discretion. Your sole rule is this: you must not kill any Ice Elemental. Should you do so, there will be consequences.”
Sorn felt a ripple of unease as the eyes of several Spears turned toward him, giving him sideways glances and sneers.
Varian continued. “You are all invaluable to us. To our cause. We require your strength for the Promised Day.” He glanced at a few, lingering on the faces of the Spears in particular, before going on. “We’ve predetermined the matchups to ensure fairness. As the Order dictates, if you win, you are worthy.”
If you win, you are worthy. The words filled the faces of many with eagerness. They had made it this far. Their confidence and work had bore fruit. Now nothing could stop them besides their lack of combat ability.
“The matchups will be as follows: The highest number will face the lowest. We will then move upward and downward from there. For example, the one who placed third will face the one who placed eighteenth.” Varian then fell silent, nodding toward Faron, who cleared his throat and stepped forward. The old woman moved the speaker towards his mouth, and he began to speak.
“The first matchup will be between those who placed tenth and eleventh. If your number has been called, raise your hand.”
Sorn’s gaze snapped immediately to Oden, who stood tall, arm pointed to the sky. The Marauder’s eyes were fixed on the opposite platform, his expression a glare. Across from him stood a boy, no older than Oden himself, his uniform emblazoned with the one symbol that Sorn had grown to despise.
"Number ten, Oden of the Marauders," Faron’s voice boomed, "and number eleven, Ren of the Spears, please enter the stage and prepare to face your opponent."
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Oden stood before his foe. Ren, the “Longspear,” was an opponent he wasn't thrilled to face. The boy had been heralded as one of the future members of the First Division, his name often spoken in the same breath as Raven’s. Of all the participants Oden might have faced today, few were more daunting than Ren. Moreover, Oden was a bit conflicted to see an old childhood companion standing before him in such a manner.
Ren was older than Oden. He had lived through a total of twenty-three winters. Meanwhile, Oden was had just recently turned twenty. They had first met when they were mere children. Ren was seven and Oden was approaching a daunting four. He remembered their hideout in the forest outside, and some words echoed through Oden’s mind. Words that ceased to have meaning when he was eight.
"When we grow up, we must lead our clans and strive for peace!"
On Oden’s shoulders rested a medium-sized axe. Ren had a long spear floating by his face. This spear was unique to Ren. Its size put even elite Spears to shame. Some of Ren’s spears were said to be as long as seven meters. A spiked tip now glared at Oden, and the rod was just as long as the rumors said.
Without warning, Ren’s spear shot forward with terrifying speed. Oden’s reflexes kicked in, and he dodged, swinging his axe upward. With a clean swipe, he severed the head of the spear, sending it spinning away into the air.
“Well done, you’ve improved,” Ren remarked lightly.
“We haven’t fought for over ten years,” Oden grumbled in reply.
Without missing a beat, Ren summoned three more spears, each one formed in an instant, appearing out of thin air in full form. Oden studied the situation carefully, measuring the distance between them.
When facing any skilled Spear, you had only two choices: close the gap, or remain distant and perish. Generally, Oden preferred hammers, but against someone like Ren, he had to prioritize agility. He conjured a second axe with his free hand, dual-wielding the large blades as he surged forward at Ren.
Ren responded instantly, hurling his spears toward him. The Marauder cleaved through them mid-flight, but the spears kept coming.
In an instant, Oden closed the gap, his axes raised, aiming for Ren’s throat. He swung low, aiming for a diagonal cut, but just as his strike would have found its mark, a spear manifested beside Ren, blocking the blow and throwing Oden off balance.
Oden’s eyes widened as two more spears appeared, one aimed for each of his eyes. He twisted his body in the hope of avoiding the attack, but Ren anticipated his move. The spears shifted, angled inward, and for a heartbeat, Oden felt death.
With no time to spare, Oden raised his forearms, encasing them in ice, and with a grunt, he blocked the spears. The force of the impact reverberated through his bones. If this kept up, his arms would shatter like glass.
“I suppose that’s why they call you the Armored Fist,” Ren obsserved.
Oden gritted his teeth, catching and crushing another incoming spear with his hands. As he looked up, he noticed Ren had traversed backward. The distance between them grew, which was no surprise to Oden. The Spears relied on their reach, keeping their foes at bay and striking from afar, wearing them down until the final blow could be struck.
Thus far, he was losing.
The battle had not gone as Oden had hoped. He had intended to strike quickly, relying on his axes and hammers to overpower Ren. But now, he was pressed into using something he didn’t want to have to display so early. This was a lesser form of a technique he had learned from Aaron, the “Heavenly Defense.” His mentor was an old Marauder who had deserted his clan and his future position as a Royal Guard to follow Draco.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Using this ability came at a cost though. Oden could no longer summon ice structures as long once he activated his fists, at least not for a few hours. This meant that he was no longer able to cover his blind spots and his reach was drastically reduced. On the other hand, he became even more agile, and his offensive productivity was much higher than it had ever been. Also, it allowed him the potential to use his final gambit, though he wanted to avoid using that if he could. In short, he was doing something that was very high risk, high reward.
The two continued to exchange blows, and it was soon realized that at this stage, the two were equally matched. Oden made short and effective movements, prioritizing his stamina as he could now more easily deal with Ren’s spears.
This surprised Ren, who tried to get strategic with his spear usage, aiming for Oden’s blind spots, but Oden had begun to use Ren’s preference of maintaining distance to his own advantage. He could always predict the spears’ trajectory, and he could afford to spare a second to look behind him as it would take a few seconds more for another spear to reach him.
Ten minutes turned into twenty, then twenty turned into thirty. The audience above had long lost interest with eyes peeling away and side conversations brewing as time went on.
Exhausted too, were both the Spear and the Marauder. Ren had produced many spears, more than he was generally comfortable with making. Weaving through and taking down the giant spears had taken a great toll on Oden as well.
"Why don’t you just forfeit? At this rate, you’ll wear yourself out in an hour."
Ren’s words rang true. Even though the Spear was fatigued, he had now begun to temper with the size and speed of his spears. This allowed him to preserve his strength and fight more efficiently.
Oden, however, did not have a similar strategy. He could only continue to dodge for so long. Every time he tried to close the distance, Ren retreated with ease. He was too seasoned of a fighter to be caught off-guard by any card Oden played. Oden only had one option left.
"Have you ever wondered why I left you that day?” Oden asked.
Ren faltered for a moment. He didn’t understand Oden’s angle. Distracting him here was useless, as Ren was at a comfortable range away.
"Huh?" Ren asked as he formed another spear, allowing it to float silently at his side. "Of course I know."
That day was the day when the winter howled the loudest. Snow fell harder than it ever did, and the world was embraced in a sheet of white. Ren had slipped away from the Goblet, eager to meet in their secret place.
When he arrived at the hut, Oden was nowhere to be seen. He waited, letting the hours stretch, but no one came. When arrived back through the gates, it was a pivotal scene that shattered bonds and sent ripples through many hearts. It was a scene that induced outrage, but through strategic politics, many had grown to forget it.
The former second-in-command of the Marauders, Aesir, had climbed to the top of the Marauder Hall. Using his signature ax of ice, carved his arm with the blade as he held his arm high. With a final scream, showed the crimson worms etched on his flesh while he shouted.
"Death to the Spears."
And then, with the axe still in hand, he severed his head in one final stroke, his arm still raised as he died standing.
That night, Ren had scoured every inch of the Fortress, searching through every place he knew. Many Marauders were also on the lookout, but it was only Ren who could find the hidden places where Oden took refuge. In a single hour, Ren found him. Curled in the snow, his body a trembling ball of despair, Oden was weeping.
“Hey. Hey," Ren said softly as he brushed the snow from Oden’s head, "I’m sorry about what happened to your father. But you can’t stay here. Everyone is looking for you."
"Everyone?" Oden’s voice was hollow. His eyes were dark, filled with a hatred that no child should possess. "You mean the Marauders. Not one of your people cares about me."
The emotion that dripped from Oden’s voice was something that Ren had never seen from him before. He stood still in that dark alley and he too, a mere child, had no idea how to process these past few hours.
"Oden," Ren breathed, his heart heavy with confusion. "What are you talking about? I care."
The two of them had always met in their hut to hide from the adults, to be kept away from their politics, and their schemes. In those cherished hours of complete privacy, away from all prying eyes, they had spoken of peace, of dismantling a corrupt system. They had befriended each other by sheer chance, their innocence trumping over their conditioned prejudices. But now Oden’s words made it clear that perhaps his clan’s efforts weren’t so unfruitful.
Oden rose swiftly, and Ren felt a tremor run through his bones. He had never paid much attention to the difference in their height but now Oden’s few extra inches had never felt so daunting as the Marauder stood above him.
"NO, YOU DON’T!" Oden screamed, his chest heaving with fury. Ren stood frozen, his tongue locked in place.
"You’re a Spear," Oden spat, the word laced with venom, "just like the rest of them. You look down on us, use us for your gain, and you don't have a single ounce of sympathy in your soul. You were born evil, and you’ll always be evil."
“What are you talking about?” Ren asked. He was frustrated and he wanted his friend back. Oden didn’t answer immediately. His gaze drifted, not toward Ren, but something beside him. Ren followed his gaze. To his shock, he saw a spear floating right next to him, its sharp edge glittering coldly beneath the night sky.
Ren wasn’t due to acquire his ability for another year or two, but the sight beside him betrayed that notion. His power had awakened early, and the first person it was pointed towards was his best friend.
“Wait, Oden, I didn’t mean—” Ren began, but his words faltered as he looked into Oden’s eyes. They no longer were filled with a burning, dark rage. His pupils simply reflected a cold, distant fury.
“No,” Oden said calmly. “It’s fine. I understand now. I’m the Marauder. I’m a violent brute that needs to be subdued and controlled. I’m a mere pet to raise so I can fight in wars for you on the Promised Day. And the moment I display any shred of emotion, that’s when your trust breaks, doesn’t it?”
What are you even saying?" Ren’s voice cracked with desperation, but Oden offered no answer, standing silent. Ren looked back again. At his spear. If it wasn’t for that forsaken thing, that one thing that was ruining everything. He reached out, his mind screaming for the spear to disappear to just break or vanish, but he struggled to take control over his newfound power.
And then suddenly, the spear shattered with a loud BANG! Ice splintered into jagged shards, scattering in all directions. Tiny bits slashed across both of their skins and blood began to drip from their cuts, painting the snow underneath.
Oden didn’t flinch. He gave Ren one last, bitter look. "Goodbye, Spear." The words were filled with a numbing finality. "Have nothing to do with me ever again, until we meet on the battlefield."
And here they stood now. On a battlefield.
As Ren re-lived that nightmare, he gave in to the sudden urge to let out what he’d been holding in for years.“Your father was a lunatic who killed himself out of an unfounded hatred. Then all you Marauders pushed that hate onto us. And truthfully? I expected that from your kind. The same way I’d expect it from mine if the roles were reversed.” He took a breath to compose himself, “But one thing wouldn’t be the same if I switched with you. There’s no way I’d replicate your actions.”
Even upon hearing this fight’s announcement, Ren had not expected he would be saying any of this. Time, he had thought, would wash away the bitterness and old memories. He had moved on, or so he’d believed. He’d accepted Oden’s silence over the years, even convinced himself that the boy he had once called a friend was lost to him, a casualty of the world they’d been born into.
“I’ll admit, I was wrong that day,” Oden admitted suddenly.
Ren felt a spark of frustration in his chest, and the words came flying out. “Then why?”
“Why what?” Oden echoed.
“Why didn’t you ever apologize? Or at least say something to me?” Ren asked. The spear beside him wavered slightly as he spoke, his emotions heightening by the minute.
Oden’s silence dragged for a moment longer than it needed to. “Because I didn’t know how to talk to you again. Not until now.” As he said this, he began to slowly crouch, his hands pressing against the frozen ground.
“If you want to rekindle our friendship, it’s too late,” Ren said.
“I wasn’t trying to.”
And then he added, “Thanks for waiting until now.”
Ren's heart leapt. He hadn’t given it thought yet but— what was Oden doing crouched on the ground until now? “Huh?”
Before Ren could process his thoughts, Oden moved. In an instant, he became a blur of frozen mist. His breath emitted from his mouth like a cloud of ice, his hands also producing clouds of mist. Claws of ice, like a wild beast’s, began to form around Oden’s arms as he attempted to close the distance.
Ren’s instincts took over, and he launched his spear at Oden’s heart. The spear met only resistance, as Oden shredded it to pieces without breaking a stride.
In an instant, Oden closed the distance between them. Ren’s heart pounded as Oden’s arm stopped mere inches from Ren’s neck. Time stopped around them, and they could feel their breaths on each other’s faces.
Ren’s finger twitched, but Oden pressed his arm forward, letting a single drop of blood splash onto the frozen ground below. Neither fighter moved or yielded. They simply stood in silence, unwilling to admit defeat.
Oden suddenly felt a tap on his shoulder.
“Enough.”
The voice belonged to Faron, who stood behind him now. His hands were neatly folded behind his back, his eyes filled with indifference. "Oden has won this fight," he announced. "Please return to the barrier so I can proceed with the next match."
With a simple wave of his hand, he turned to Ren. "And you," Faron continued, "are eliminated. Please go over to that edge and you’ll find the way out."
Without waiting for a response, Faron stepped back onto his floating platform. He ascended slowly, leaving the Marauder and Spear alone once again.
Oden’s voice broke the quiet. “One thing I need to correct you on,” he said. “My father wasn’t a lunatic. He was a hero until his death.”
Ren’s eyes met Oden’s once more. "You really are a terrible person," he said, his voice like an unhealed wound.
"I know."
As Faron reached his desired destination next to Varian, his voice rang out again. “Now, number nine, Flem of the Chains, and number twelve, Zachary of the Claws. Please enter the stage and prepare to face your opponent.”