Congratulations! You have qualified for the 1v1 round. Your opponent is…

Julin Alagore

Please enter the ring at your allotted time.

Position in queue: 10.

Kal sighed, of course, it was Julin. Either the Prophet had noticed the rivalry or the grand system was enjoying itself. Kal watched the first ten fights carefully, in case he had to fight any of their winners in the next round. But he kept getting distracted by the damned burning sensation in his chest. It hadn’t gotten worse, it was just increasingly distracting, it was like some dark god was staring at his chest and the very presence of those eyes on him was slowly burning him. It was starting to piss him off and he needed to enter partial meditation a few times to calm himself. He hadn’t bothered telling Dalen or Leo since they would probably stop him from fighting in the next round if he did that. He noticed a few people around started shuffling in their seats, some of them getting up and leaving altogether. Weird but he didn’t care, everyone around him was starting to get irritating. He needed to move and do something so when it was finally his turn he almost leaped from the stands, hastily waving his goodbyes to Dalen and Leo before jogging over to the ring. When arrived at the edge of the ring he spotted Julin standing opposite him, clearly excited to get started. He probably thought it was going to be easy to smash Kal into the ground but Kal wasn’t about to let that happen. He would destroy the stupid Serf. Kal checked his status one last time before stepping into the ring.

Kalum Lesta

Status

Class:

Null

Level:

0

Race:

Human?

Health:

220

Stamina:

260

Mana:

0

Attributes

Strength:

24

Agility:

15

Endurance:

26

Vitality:

22

Intellect:

12

Perception:

21

Will:

30

Wisdom:

19

Titles

Core Bane, Defier of Dhinir

Skills

Soul Forge [Corrupt]

He glanced at his health and stamina and was happy to see them both full but he couldn't care less about the rest at the moment he had Julin to beat up.

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Leo leaned over towards Dalen and muttered, “Is Kal acting strange to you?”

“Umpf… what?” Dalen said, around a mouthful of bread mixed with spirits.

“Is Kal acting strange?” Leo repeated, “he wasn’t talking much and he seemed awfully energetic.”

Dalen shrugged, “I’m sure he’s fine, he gets like that sometimes. I’m sure he’s just nervous.”

Leo sighed, he supposed that made sense, it was going to be a hard fight for the man. He would likely lose this fight. Even with Kal’s improvements and surprisingly high stats, he doubted facing a level sixteen of any class was impossible for him right now, but either way. Leo was very interested in seeing how the man went.

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Kal and Julin stepped into the ring at the same time and Kal received a notification.

The winner of this duel will receive a rarity increase to their final award due to the participants fighting together in previous rounds.

Kal was surprised at that, but he guessed a little extra bribery could always turn some against their friends. It was just lucky Kal didn’t like Julin in the first place so a boost on top of giving the man a beatdown was just a bonus.

The Prophet raised his hands once more and said the speech he said ten times already, “Let us see who is worthy of these two young aspirants of Dhinir, may he bless your blades.”

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The Prophet lowered his hands and turned to leave the ring, glancing at the two of them. When his eyes landed on Kal he visibly flinched, pausing, his expression transformed rapidly from surprise to disgust and then back to his usual sneer. As usual, the man continued to piss Kal off, and he was about to say something to the stupid priest but got distracted by another notification.

Choose your weapon!

Arming sword (Choose)

Bardiche (Choose)

Battleaxe (Choose)

Bludgeon (Choose)

Club (Choose)

Dagger (Choose)

Estoc (Choose)

Falchion (Choose)

Flail (Choose)

Flanged mace (Choose)

Glaive (Choose)

Halberd (Choose)

Horseman's pick (Choose)

Katana (Choose)

Knife (Choose)

Lance (Choose)

Longsword (Choose)

Mace (Choose)

Man catcher (Choose)

Military fork (Choose)

Morning star (Choose)

Partisan (Choose)

Pike (Choose)

Quarterstaff (Choose)

Rapier (Choose)

Shortsword (Choose)

Sovnya (Choose)

Spear (Choose)

Spetum (Choose)

Swordstaff (Choose)

War hammer (Choose)

War scythe (Choose)

Kal had put some thought into his options of weapons during his time after the first round. A spear would be very suitable for a fight with Julin but Kal wasn’t great with a spear. Sure he knew how to use it but like many other weapons, he felt too far away from his opponent so ultimately he ended up choosing a shortsword. Hopefully, his agility theory holds true in this duel, it may be his only advantage. Kal didn’t have a chance to see Julin fight since he was busy with Portan. Not that he really cared about any kind of plan at the moment. He selected the shortsword and two appeared, one in each hand. Kal turned back to Julin, ignoring the priest, and waited for the duel to begin. His chest burned now but Kal couldn’t care less, he needed to move.

The Prophet waved his arms once more and the duel began. Both Kal and Julin charged forward and met in the middle, Kal striking first but only scoring a glancing slash across Julin's arm. Julin recovered immediately, quite surprising for a Serf. He moved faster than Kal expected and Kal was barely able to block the strike above his head. The battle continued, it wasn’t truly an amazing show of skill but it was clear to all who watched that each of the combatants put their all into every strike. The Serf activated a fortification skill, occasionally speeding his movement and scoring several blows, Quotz’ Freak on the other hand attacked with such aggression that he occasionally managed to strike back but it looked like it would ultimately be a losing battle for the Freak.

Kal moved as fast as he could but Julin’s agility was not as low as he would have hoped, it was clear the man had invested his attributes more wisely than most. Kal was bleeding and his health ticked down with every second, and the burning in his chest only grew. He could barely think with all the sensations of this duel, the constant barrage of attacks against him, his bleeding, the crowd of spectators, and finally that incessant burning. But what was worse, he was losing. Kal knew it but he wouldn’t allow it, the fire within called for action but he wasn’t durable enough, it called for speed but he wasn’t fast enough, and it called for blood but he wasn’t strong enough. Something snapped, and the burning spread through him, each of his limbs burning with the need to move. The fire moved up his neck. This tournament was a sham, fighting was not for spectacle, fighting was not for the trill, fighting was the need to kill.

Birthright: Waking

Kal exploded forward once again this time he moved with even more ferocity, completely ignoring any risk to himself. Julin staggered back taking a wound on his side but countering and striking Kal across the back. Kal didn’t even flinch as he spun slashing again. Julin was forced for the first time to retreat back a few steps to avoid being run through by Kal’s second weapon. Julin’s side was bleeding heavily but he continued to defend and counter Kal’s attacks. He was faster but not fast enough, he was stronger but not strong enough, the burning intensified and his eyes began to ache. Kal stopped, and the fight paused for the smallest moment. He staggered slightly as the burning finally consumed him. and to kill was his birthright…

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Dalen and Leo watched the fight, their eyes glued on Kal. He was doing really well but they both knew it was only a matter of time until he fell. But then he stopped looking dazed for a moment.

“Wha… What’s he doing?”, he said to Leo,” Kal! Get back in there and beat his ass!”

Then Kal roared, and it was truly a roar, it sounded like something he would hear in his nightmares but then they felt it, and it was much, much worse. A powerful feeling of dread washed over everyone in the camp, even Dalen shuddered for a moment. Everyone froze, including Julin, he didn’t get a chance to react before Kal’s foot slammed into his chest. Dalen heard the man's ribs shatter at the strike. Kal didn’t stop there, he followed the crippled man and grabbed hold of his leg. The bone immediately snapped and then Kal slammed the man into the ground with much more force than he should have been able to. Julin was unconscious after the kick and now, well now Dalen was sure. Everyone was brought back to their senses when the Prophet roared.

“Defier! Heretic! Monster!” he roared, the air warping with the pressure of his mana-empowered voice. He vanished and immediately appeared next to Kal grabbing him by the hair and lifting him off the ground.

Dalen jumped out of his seat, “Put him down!”

Leo followed suit by leaping from his chair and down to the ring before he landed everyone received a notification.

A Defier of Dhinir has been detected.

Tournament temporarily postponed until purification can be delivered.

Kal struggled to swing his swords at the prophet but the blades would not cut him. The prophet simply sneered at him in disgust. “This disgusting freak has been marked for death by our lord. He has clearly joined with the dark cultists our mighty warriors face this day.”

Leo was frozen, attacking the prophet would mean treason in the Empire, “Don’t do this Prophet, you will be disrupting Lady Tanaruhn’s experiments.” Leo knew it sounded cold but what else could he do?

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Kal struggled to break free, he still had not slain his enemy. Now he had more to face, his ally betrayed him only moments ago, his silhouette turning crimson like the rest. He swung once more at the Prophet, this time aiming for an eye. It hit but bounced off like the rest, oh but the Prophet didn’t appreciate this one. Before Kal could react the man slammed a fist into his chest, and blood exploded from Kal’s mouth and onto the dirt. His mind cleared slightly as his resources dropped drastically.

“Tanaruhn can find another freak,” Kal was thrown to the ground hard and he felt his arms pulled tight to his chest a red-gold light wrapped around him, “By the power invested in me by the Conqueror I damn you to-” Kal was suddenly drenched in blood as the prophet’s head exploded, the rest of the man’s lifeblood pouring over Kal as his binding unraveled. The crowd exploded into a terrified rush as the followers scrambled to safety and the soldiers formed a perimeter.

Kal paid the chaos no mind as the blood of the Prophet soaked into his clothes, and the fire within began to burn even brighter. It hurt now, the intensity doubling then doubling again, he could feel his skin burning consumed in crimson light. That was when he felt them. Something could see him, see the energy burning within him. It wasn’t just one being but several each presence felt different, but they all judged him anathema…

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Nyx fired arrow after arrow as she saw Dhinir’s priest lift their target off the ground. The fool was going to kill the man before they even got a chance to acquire him. But her aim was true and the stupid priest died where he stood, dropping Him to the ground. The rest of the retrieval team moved, engaging with the enemy. The actions of the birthright forced their hand, they had hoped to simply scoop him up and leave. But it wasn’t fated this day. Nyx dashed between the tents firing her bow at the camp's sentries, they all died where they stood just after turning to see the commotion. Kiara stood beside her, cloaking their presence.

Kiara grabbed Nyx’s arm, her eyes wide as she stared at where the man fell, “Nyx something is happening-” she screamed, her eyes welling up with blood as she staggered backward but stayed upright when Nyx grabbed hold of her, “the firmament is failing the energy… oh Fyborh, we need to run Nyx, we need to run now!”

Nyx wasn’t about to argue with her friend, but she wasn’t about to leave that man here if something was about to happen, “Go! Warn the others, I’ll try to reach the target.”

Kiara looked like she was about to argue but nodded, she knew what getting that birthright meant for the Order. Nyx activated Shadow’s Grace and charged towards the tournament ring, she leaped over the first line of soldiers knowing that Danar or Eliza would deal with them shortly. She landed with a roll but as she got to her feet a flash of golden light washed over her.

“Holy Smite!” boomed a voice she recognized, and a searing pain washed over Nyx as the light receded and she barely had time to raise her bow to block the burning gold sword that was coming for her throat. She was thrown off her feet and launched fifty feet into a tent that immediately burst into flame from the residue of the holy fire that clung to her. Her Shadow’s Grace allowed her to gain her feet just in time to meet her attacker’s eyes.