The young Marauder stood still, his glare dark as he stared his opponent down. It wasn’t her fault, of course, he knew that. She had done nothing to him, but it didn’t matter.
Minutes ago, the leader he had looked up to had fallen. She was someone chosen by the Gods, a warrior he had trusted to stand above all others. But she had tripped over the first pebble and left to freeze alone. And the one who carried the blame was the most insidious woman in the entire Fortress. He had never known a shame so bitter, he had never felt rage like this.
The Princess before him was merely a frail girl. But she was his opponent nonetheless, and his ticket to revenge. And right now, revenge was all that mattered.
His fingers curled into fists and he readied himself to lunge, but the fight never truly started.
Just as the first syllable had left Faron’s lips, his world had already done a complete 180. His stomach lurched, and by the time he realized what had happened, there was a sharp point pressed against the back of his neck.
“Sorry, it’s over,” Crystal said, her voice hardly above a breath.
Sorn's eyes followed the victorious girl below. Her light blue hair flowed as she stood above her opponent, the strands rippling in the wind. There was a minute of stillness before the battle was announced over. As Crystal walked back to her platform, there was a softness in her movements, an element of melancholy to her body language. Moreover, Sorn was surprised. He had not expected her to reign triumphant like this, despite knowing she was strong. No fight before had been so quick and one-sided, but now the first top of the top three had won in an instant. It was truly a statement that she was to be feared.
However, Sorn’s mind still lingered on that brutal, unforgiving event that was Serene’s brawl. Recalling it left a bitter taste in his mouth, but this fight had given him something to look forward to. He, Oden, and Crystal had made it to the final round.
“Number two, Scorpius, and number nineteen, Keilan of the Royals. Please enter the stage and prepare to face your opponent.”
The final touch would be if Scorpius felled Keilan here. Scorpius was a unique case amongst the Ice Elementals. In his time with the Marauders, he had heard many rumors, stories, and anticipation. But not once had Scorpius been mentioned. However, Sorn had seen firsthand just how dangerous that man was. No one, besides perhaps Raven unsettled him the way this weird man did.
As the battle was announced, Scorpius raised his hand. “I forfeit,” he called out. Nearby heads turned towards him, and Sorn wasn’t sure if he had heard him right.
Faron wasn’t sure either, and he floated towards him. The two exchanged a small dialogue, and then he hovered back towards the middle of the arena, using the ice speaker to project his voice for all to hear.
“Scorpius has willingly withdrawn from his match, giving the victory to Keilan of the Royals.”
Keilan stood alone on his platform, arms crossed. His face remained stoic, and he neither betrayed tension nor excitement. Meanwhile, Sorn’s heart sank at the news. He glared towards Scorpius, who also showed no emotion. It was as though every decision that man made was done to hinder Sorn for no good reason.
Beside him, Sorn heard a sharp exhale. He turned towards Aria, and was quite surprised to see her blushing. Her usual nonchalance had vanished, and she fiddled with her thumbs just slightly. Her gaze was directed at Keilan, and by far this was the most uncharacteristic thing he had ever seen from her.
Sorn resisted the urge to tease her, deciding that such an action would be detrimental to his well-being. And then, for one last time, the arena called for his attention. The final match between Kaen and Zalen had been announced.
Sorn still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around Kaen not just being in the top three, but the top one. He had truly overcome every doubt put on him. For the past few battles, the casual disinterest Aria had worn so easily had slipped away. It was now replaced by a quiet concentration, which bothered him slightly. He remembered her closeness to Crystal, so there had been no surprise in her attentiveness during Crystal’s fight. It had made sense, given their bond.
But now, as Kaen moved toward the center of the arena, Sorn wondered as to what held her attention this time. Certainly, it wasn’t Zalen. Was it Kaen, then? Did she have some history with him that he didn’t know about?
“Does he have some kind of hidden ability, and that’s why he got first?” Sorn asked aloud, wondering if Aria could quell his curiosity.
“Not to my knowledge.” the Dancing Blade responded. “But it doesn’t make sense to me either.”
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
As the scene below unfolded, Sorn wondered if these last fights had been scripted. There was a strange symmetry between Zalen’s fight and his older brother’s. The way it unfolded was almost comical. Both of them had been ambushed in the very first moment, though that is where the similarities ended.
With a twist of his hands, Kaen seized Zalen’s arm, pushing it in an unnatural direction behind his back until the stubborn Marauder was forced to give in. Kaen had robbed him of both victory and his pride.
Zalen swiftly left the arena following his defeat, and the Fourth Stage of the Tournament was over.
Ten doors slowly raised around the perimeter of the arena walls. They had been embedded into the ice, and now they revealed a set of dark chambers. The competitors were told that they would be given an hour to rest in these chambers before being summoned to the final stage. They were also not permitted to communicate with one another. As the evening began to inch closer, Sorn took his leave from the arena’s edge and made his way toward the nearest door.
The cold air in the room didn’t bother him much as he lay down on a bed conveniently there waiting for him. His body was still sore, but at last, he could allow himself to relax for just this brief moment…
Sorn awoke with a sudden jolt, the sensation of falling pulling him from his dreams. This feeling was becoming familiar now, which probably wasn’t a good thing. He was spiraling down a narrow tube of ice, the world blurring as the cold wind slammed in his face.
----------------------------------------
Meanwhile, in the Fourth Stage, Varian stood alone in the center of the arena. There was no one in sight—Faron had just left upon hearing the news that the Dancing Blade were acting up. It appeared as though the Marauders had invaded the Goblet as well. This left Varian with a dilemma, and as he tried to decide which issue he’d tackle first, he felt the arrival of something unpleasant.
“Well, this is quite the expected surprise,” he said.
“If you expected it, you wouldn’t be all alone.”
Standing opposite of him was Cedric. He was alone, just as Varian was.
Right as Varian noticed Cedric, the next phase began. Chains shot out from the sky, wrapping around the strongest Spear. There were ten chains in total, each approaching him from different angles. They tightened around his chest and his arms, constricting him with a force that stole his breath almost entirely. Varian's body stiffened as ice edges bit into his skin.
If Varian had to count the number of capable warriors among the Chains, he would’ve stopped at twelve. It seemed that they had been silently lurking as they closed in around him. But for how long, he had no idea.
“You might be wondering where we came from,” Cedric remarked as the chains around Varian constricted just a little more. “We’ve been waiting to drop down from the floor above, the moment your guard was at its weakest.”
“You were always so loyal to me,” Varian replied. “What changed?”
Cedric snapped back immediately. “Are you mocking me?” His foot dug into the ice floor. “You know perfectly well why. All your secrets, all the unanswered questions you keep locked away, the Prophecy...” His voice trailed off for a second. He met Varian’s gaze as if he were trying to pry open the walls that the Iron Stag had so carefully constructed. “Tell me, Varian. Where is Fiore?”
Varian’s eyes darkened, the mask of control slipping just enough to reveal the anger beneath. His patience was already wearing thin. This farce had been stretched out for far too long.
“And who do you think you are?” he demanded. “You are a child, inferior to me, the lowest on the Council. Yet here you stand, wrapping your filthy chains around my body, taking my patience and my respect for granted. Your every word, every action goes against what the Order has taught us!”
Despite being chained and unable to move, there was clear confidence in the man. He spoke like a parent disciplining a wayward child who had long forgotten their place. He looked around. This was not just about Cedric anymore. All the Chains in the vicinity were now being addressed.
“You all have commendable skills. It is only your clan and the Emperor who are well-versed in sealing. But at the end of the day, your clan is few in worthy warriors. You are disposable. On the Promised Day, such lowly tactics won’t work anyway. You all will be the first to die—”
Cedric’s body was trembling. Gone now was the faint composure he’d been attempting to uphold. Now there was only raw hostility. He cut through Varian’s words, interrupting him mid-sentence. “ENOUGH OF YOUR STUPID RAMBLINGS!” Varian fell silent, the command in Cedric’s tone sharp enough to make him pause. But the next words that followed were measured, though there was no hiding the venom that came with every syllable. “I asked you a simple question. Answer it.”
To Varian’s right, an older man stood. Carson, the "Runemaker", was the head of the Chains before Cedric. He began to mutter to himself, causing glowing blue symbols to form in the air. Varian knew then—this had gone far beyond the point of no return.
Carson’s voice was controlled, tired even, but beneath it, there was an unmistakable anger. “As you can probably tell, we are not working alone. Great measures have been taken to get you alone here, like this. Answer the question, or you will never see the light again.”
“Is that so?”
As the words left Varian’s mouth, four spears, hidden in the corners of the arena, began to glow. At first, they seemed like harmless poles of ice, underneath the setting sun.
“It’s her—” Cedric began, his words cut off by the sudden movement of the spears. They erupted from their positions, with all of them shooting toward Carson. He contorted his body, twisting in a desperate bid to avoid the onslaught, but the runes around him shimmered and vanished with a flicker, and he cursed to himself.
"Such an unfortunate waste of talent,” Varian said with a false somberness. "Your plan wasn’t bad, but you failed by overestimating my confidence in my ability. The Iron Stag stands proud with his First Division for a reason.”
As he spoke, the chains binding him loosened, and he was on the verge of freeing himself. Then, from above, three more chains descended with a terrifying speed, wrapping around Varian’s limbs, and reinforcing the bonds. Meanwhile, some other Chains had gotten to work on intercepting and taking down the loose spears flying around. The chains wrapped around Varian prevented him from using his ability. This was the work of First Division Carmilla, the “Mindspear”.
“Did you truly not think we’d expect something like this?” Cedric taunted.
“No,” Varian replied simply, devoid of concern. The words had barely left his mouth when a scream echoed across the arena. Cedric turned, eyes wide in disbelief, to see all the Chains in pursuit of the spears fall to the ground, dead.
“There is truly nothing I love more than secrets,” Varian said. The spears that had once filled the arena were now gone, replaced by four figures. Faron, Jaron, Camilla, and Aries—each of them stood tall as they brandished their spears with deadly intent. They should’ve been far away, dealing with the planned distractions. Cedric’s heartbeat rang in his ears, his mind screaming at him to run away, to come up with an idea, to do anything.
"Kill them all," Varian said, and thus, he began the bloodbath.