Their first round was just... Absurd. Tyr felt that way, and he hadn't even contributed to the victory.
Matches were elimination based, but there were pylons on the side of either team that could be destroyed in a situation where someone was using illusion or invisibility to hide from their opponents. Near all artifacts allowing them to do so were illegal, but that just meant it had happened once, and probably would again. Their first victory, Rafael and Goroshi had blitzed the pylon so fast that the Telurian team had no had time to respond.
Plodding despondently out of the arena, sighing and wondering what they were going to tell their families back home. A bad match up, they were clearly all mages and lacked the reflex or physicality to stop the charge. Telurian's didn't typically make for very good warriors, in any case, too scrawny, and their magic casts were longer. It wasn't a shocking result. What with the rules that prevented them from doing certain things, considering their blood could kill humans if it made contact with them. That had ensured they'd never been conquered, but largely irrelevant, whatever the case may be.
The second round was one of the kijin teams, and while they certainly put up a fight – only four of Tyr's companions made a move – and he, again, was not one of them. Daito wanted to seat him, preventing him from acting even when he tried, and he wouldn't explain why. It did, however, leave him in awe at this worldwide competition and how astonishingly... Well...
“Are all of the competitors this weak?” Tyr said, addressing the two men joining him in the preparation room below the arena. Rafael was cleaning his weapons and ensuring that his 'hair looked good' before the next round. He was a very vain man, but he had a disdain for women, especially his fans – some opinions on the concept of 'lookism'. Rafael claimed he did it for himself and no other.
“I've got to say, I'm actually quite disappointed.” Tyr concluded.
“There is weak.” Goroshi grunted, removing the bandages that perpetually covered his limbs. His arms were blackened in some places, a mass of scar tissue covering his entire left arm. The right looked like it had been electrocuted rather than burned, grisly wounds regardless. “And there is strong. My strength does not make others weak, strength is inside, measuring oneself against another to assert superiority is a great flaw of character. Low seeded teams face high seeded teams in the first few matches, this will not last forever. They are all strong, and deserving of respect, calling them weak dishonors their effort. Don't do it again.”
“You're right.” Tyr replied, though he wasn't so convinced. The clans, and their people, had such a simple outlook on things. Fight the self, because you will always be your greatest opponent. And then, he'd contradict himself internally, he'd been doing that for as long as he could remember. He'd been his own worst enemy, Goroshi was right. “But do you get what I mean?”
“Naturally.” Rafael pondered the question for a moment before bobbing his head back and forth. “This competition, forgive me – but it's a joke, and always has been. That's why the empires win every single time, with Oresund clutching a few for themselves. Saorsa won one year, a long, long time ago. Ever since then, the empires started sending their best and crushing the competition. Because of that, and the fact that some powers keep their strategic resources hidden... The world isn't weak, but you'll notice that many of actual ability don't send their best to the games, even the once in a decade ascendancy trials. Once you get to that level, people tend to lose interest in these things. Or they are not permitted to attend by the primus', I am sure there's some reason for it, but I never really cared. This is my first, and only trial I'll ever participate in, this is not for me. And I have no wish whatsoever to be noticed by the gods, they are fickle and demanding lords, and your freedom will be taken from you should you accept a blessing. This is known.”
“Who are we fighting next?” Tyr asked.
“Amistad, which should by all means be a decent fight. The Bringer of Ash himself is leading their team – might even beat us. I've been looking forward to seeing him in action for some time now. A role model of sorts, you could say.”
“Kael?” Tyr raised an eyebrow. He'd been so shocked at Nala jumping on him, which was for some reason an act supported by Jura... That he hadn't had much time to observe the competitors. He'd been cringing so hard inside of his helmet before that, the dramatic entrance insisted on by Alexandros... He might've looked fearsome, but he'd been staring down and away from the eyes of the others, a bit discomforted by how it had felt.
“Kael.” Rafael snorted at the lack of title or surname. It was common sense for a warrior to show more respect for another, even if they were trying to kill each other. “Do you know him? Oh... That's right, you went to the Red Dragon, didn't you?”
Tyr nodded. “He was a professor there. I wouldn't say I know him, but he and I have interacted, mostly because he'd constantly chase me around, always harassing. Fought once, too.”
“Truly?”
“We did. It was a draw, if you're asking – and it was a duel of blades, not magic. I'd say you and he are about evenly matched in all ways. He fights in the thunder style, which is a unique sub-form of lightning and Krieg swordsmanship... Or something of that nature, it's a custom Sieg derivative form. It's worth noting that he's an air prime element as well, despite the nickname he's got.”
“Can I beat him?” Rafael said, but Tyr shook his head, resting his hand on the mans shoulder.
“No. Because I will. By the way, can you cut hair?”
“Of course.” Rafael nodded. “Do you think I'd let a woman toy with my most prized feature? I do it myself.”
“Rafael...” Tyr paused. “Are you an incel, by any chance?”
“No. I do not hate women, but I do not trust them. I am 32 years old and plan to remain a virgin for as long as I live, and believe me – it's not involuntary. Strength lies in purity, Tyr, do not let the comforts of the flesh lead you astray from the righteous path. Their temptation will not break me, I am a pillar of purpose.”
“Uh... Good for you, man. That's... Really great.” Tyr coughed.
“Brothers against degeneracy.” Goroshi grunted in affirmation. “Guided by Agni.”
“But don't you have Rose?” Tyr raised an eyebrow.
“Yes.” Goroshi nodded. “But we do not have impure relations, we make pure, passionate love. This is the way.”
–
The crowd was incredibly loud, before quieting as the teams made their way out of the tunnels. People liked screaming. Tyr had never been much for cheering, all the noise made his head spin. It seemed like an inefficient use of their time, to just keep yelling like that, watching strangers fight...
Two teams to watch, but everyone knew that the winner would be Haran this year. Again. Amistad had blazed through the first two rounds without apparent difficulty, with Kael Emberwind himself facing down the ten member teams alone, winning singlehandedly. The Lyran team was plenty interesting, but against the Bringer of Ash... He wasn't the only one on the team to watch, all of Amistad's team were battlemages – whereas the Lyran team was only a few mages and the rest of them warriors. That was the inequity of magic, no matter how impressive a knight was they didn't tend to amount to much against a real magic user. Let alone an archmage.
Just like before, Kael marched toward the center of the stage alone as the rest of his companions arrayed themselves arrogantly at the edge. Standing there with their arms crossed to watch their archmage sweep another round.
Contrary to all expectations, the Lyran team did the same, with Tyr stepping forward to meet Kael alone. They exchanged some words that nobody could hear – even in the primus' booth. Kael laughed at Tyr before lazily drawing his sword, thrumming with wild magic. Those who could read lips might've made out something about a 'you're in my world now, little man'. And a response from Tyr that...
No, that couldn't be right. Sigi was doing her best to keep an eye on the match, they'd come to a draw in a duel of swords that Kael had not taken very seriously. Presented with magic, as ridiculous as it was to come alone, and Tyr... Had responded with 'I eat ass'? That didn't make a lick of sense, in any context.
Kael's body seemed to blur and become indistinct, pounding toward his opponent with incredible speed and ferocity. Just as the blade would have landed, Tyr's own body came alive with magic of his own. Tyrannical force enough to crack at the surface of the arena, his boots writhing with tendrils of electricity, weaving under the first stroke languidly and blurring off into the distance. This game of cat and mouse continued for a moment longer as the crowd watched both fighters streak across the arena.
–
Tyr wasn't sure how to deal with Kael's incredible power. He could dodge it, but just barely. Kael had been and always would be an arrogant person. The kind of mage so confident in his ability that he'd put himself on the back foot time and time again. Everything was a game to him, and instead of raining down spells at Tyr, he seemed insistent to show off that pretty sword work of his. Very vain, Tyr had his own vanity but they were not at all compatible in terms of personality.
Win or lose, Tyr was here to test himself first and foremost. Alexandros had his schemes, but it was time to see how far he could go against a real mage. The match wasn't predicated on his win, Kael had made the oath but Tyr had not reciprocated. After him, it'd be Rafael's job to finish it. Kael was truly that unconcerned with... Something. Maybe he didn't care about winning, or maybe that famously aloof educator who dodged accusations of caring about his students actually did. Tyr, after all, was one of his. It was a contrast in personality, a man who loved seeing others succeed, someone who'd stood at the peak and stagnated for long enough to almost want to lose. Humility in his arrogance, who knew? Tyr wasn't a psychologist, he just wanted to give the man a good kick in the teeth.
The professor would sit twenty to thirty meters away, he would swing, and then he'd shoot forward to appear within arms reach. Tyr's freerunner's were at maximum capacity just trying to move him out of the way of that blade wreathed in crackling energy. Granted, nobody could be killed inside these wards, much like the protective enchantments of an academy – but he doubted he'd stand up well against the power an archmage was capable of wielding when magic was allowed. Not that he could die, granted, but he could still be cut.
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“I can deactivate my magic, if you'd like.” Kael was disconcerted, both by Tyr's constant fleeing and his abrupt change in demeanor. He'd been looking forward to this fight the most. After all, Tyr had been training for years – most of that time spent inside an astral space that Karl had unfortunately been unable to experience himself. Despite that... He still seemed so weak, not quite the challenge he'd expected. “Cat and mouse is not my game, kid. Show me something.”
“You couldn't handle me without magic.” Tyr said, a half lie. In all reality, Kael might be able to if he obeyed the same rule – he was no longer playing for the experience, but playing to win. Kael had a loud mouth and was stoking Tyr's ire with every connection, baiting him to anger. But he was not who he used to be, time and experience had tempered him. His mind remained cool and collected.
This was a year where so many races and kingdoms had thrown some of their greatest participants into the challenge for whatever reason. There would be more challenges beyond this one, a chance to impress Agni and get some more time. He continued sliding across the ground with empty hands as Kael struck at him, missing each time. Viciously pursuing the skating form of the younger man with air clapping feats of arms and magic combined, enough to mulch Tyr's eardrums every time they lashed out. Some reverberation in the air, his soft parts bruised by the shockwaves even from a miss.
“But you're right.” Tyr pivoted under a sweeping blow and hammered his fist into Kael's midriff. It felt like striking the side of a mountain, feeling his wrist shatter under the pressure. The professor slid back, but only a bit, barely phased by the punch. Tyr's infusion magic was impressive but it wasn't anything above the human standard, a good sign for someone so young, just not for the person he was. “It is, however, the game that I've always been best at. Sorry about this.”
Wait a minute. Kael squinted, the man before him... If it moves like Tyr, looks like Tyr, sounds like Tyr... It must be Tyr. But not once had he used any actual magic, everything was activated from the artifacts worn on his body. Panther style, they were dead ringers for one another. Then why...?
“...Sorry?” Kael frowned.
'Tyr' allowed his helmet to disappear. The professor hadn't been given the chance to get a good look at his face thus far, nobody had. He had been covered by the helmet, and then by that woman's face. But it wasn't Tyr.... The silver armor faded away to reveal a vaguely familiar man. One with black hair graying at the temples, wearing a suit of mismatched armor. The air rippled around the man like a mirage. Illusion magic, and fairly adequate illusion magic at that.
A large, very familiar gray skinned Anu had his hands held in the air, a pair of heavy gauntlets reaching to his forearms, waving them about as if at the head of a chorus. Looking about him, Kael saw five blackened pillars sunk into the earth in a ring around his team. So lackadaisical they'd been that they hadn't thought to defend against anti-magic wards. Traces of deuritium covered the pillars, not technically illegal...
Damn.
“Mages...” Tiber sighed. “All of that power, and none of the humility to consider using something so simple as a detect magic cantrip.”
Even so, he was excessively wounded. It was all he could do to remain standing even with the assistance of his artifacts, the masterwork of a sword he'd been given, and Valkan's barriers.
Someone screamed something about cheating and honor, before a plated foot cracked his skull against the arena. A man with a mask standing over the woman who'd cried out. On the other side of things, Tyr was dragging a bedraggled Garth across the stone, looking a bit bedraggled himself as the man cried out loudly in protest, but made no move to defend himself from the verbal lashing. Flat faced and a bit apologetic, switching places with Tiber had been the plan, and a decent one – Tiber excelled at strategy. But it was still... It was. No use crying over spilled milk.
“Listen, man. I'm sorry, nothing happened between us, I swear! You can't believe the rumors!” Garth pleaded to the man gripping the collar of his robes, crying out with a panicked stammer. “I like guys! I've never been with a woman, seriously! I'm gay, man!”
“Congratulations, but what the hell are you talking about?” Tyr asked, confused. Confused, but not hesitant. He punched the man directly in the nose until his slack body stopped moving, beating his head into the ground. They were all eliminated, Valkan's magic wasn't just for fighting, the spellbreakers were all-purpose in a way that Tyr's were not, and they were incredibly versatile in their use. Illusions would only appear as vague outlines and identifiers to the crowd, but not to the opponent. There was a limit to the use of illusions in the contest, and the Anu seemed to be casting in such a way as to observe these regulations, 'artifact borne' or not. Perhaps... A focus might not constitute an 'artifact' in that context, but in any case... It was a loophole in the rules, and accusations that they were cheating weren't entirely off base.
None of them had any experience sensing this Anu magic, unsure of what to make of the strange mana before it was too late. Samson had planted the first pylon before activating it – revealing himself, but it – also – was already too late. He'd taken Wilhelm by the nape of his neck and let jaw meet knee. It was a nasty trick, but it wasn't against regulation. Tyr felt a bit bad, he'd always liked professor Wilhelm, almost sad that he'd been treated so brutally. Not the end he deserved.
Mages could blow up buildings and smash castle walls, but they were often just as breakable as a normal human. It was like a man with a sheathed sword, no matter how well forged it was, you had to draw it to stab somebody. It wasn't always the case, there were mages like Rafael or Kael with a great deal of spira refining their physical bodies, but they were exceptions, not the rule.
“Smart, and crafty.” Kael had a sour look on his face, looking away from the old man and towards his own student. “But dishonorable. I did not think that you would have stooped so low as to trick me, Tyr.”
Tyr shrugged, still some ways away from the 'Bringer of Ash'. “The only thing I intend to do is win, and I am well aware of the fact that your team would beat ours in a fair fight. Fair in the face of three archmages and seven other mage against five casters of our own? Give me a break.” He looked toward the man with a hard glint in his eye. “But you. Me and you, right now.”
Kael nodded. “As expected. Rules of the duel? Real ones, this time, no more duplicity.”
The crowd was booing, but the target of that displeasure was unclear. All they'd seen and understood was that five men had lugged iron pillars across the arena and began viciously beating down the team from Amistad. Men who'd simply stood there until the enemy was close enough to get their hands on them. All of it seemed... Well, it was just boring. Nobody came to these things to watch such a silly excuse of a fight. The strategy was irrelevant, they'd come to see flashy magic and blood, not a one sided beat down.
Alex, above in their podium, was looking down with a soft smile on her lips. Even with her reservations for her irritating husband, it was... She couldn't put her finger on it. Pride, perhaps, that he was actually capable of using his brain after all.
“What a scumbag.” She said, and the others agreed wholeheartedly. Based on the body language and magic presented, Tyr must have designed and carried out this degenerate plan from the beginning. Tiber had engaged Kael initially, wearing the other mans face, running away courtesy of the artifacts he wore on his feet.
“Smart, though.” Tythas shrugged, he wasn't bothered in the slightest. The problem with modern mages was they all only ever thought about evocation. Putting holes in things, flinging elemental spells, but a true mage should be ready to make full use of the infinite things magic was capable of.
“No rules.” Tyr said, down below with his sword still sheathed at his hip and a calm look on his face. “Magic, swords, I don't care. I want you to give me your best.”
“Really?” Kael frowned. “You know that I could squash most of you flat without much effort, right? An archmage isn't a joke, kid. We are strong, I've been playing around this entire time and still I managed to defeat those other teams alone. If not for this trick... We would've won so easily, you know that. I will always be your educator, I think we have that kind of relationship whether you were in my classes or not. You are a representative of a place I care very much about, but if you make a challenge, I'll accept it. Are you sure?”
Tyr nodded. “I plan to kill an archmage on day. I'll very well need to know what level of power they are capable of. And you'd be surprised just how far I've come, professor.”
Eyes wide, Kael looked nervously at the handsome yet cold visage of the young man before him. Full of righteous conviction, perhaps the only ambition still at home in whatever had taken the place of his black heart.
“No.” Tyr said with an exasperated sigh. “It's not you, you idiot. Why would I want to kill you? I'm talking about Hastur.”
“Ah...” Kael nodded. “That uh... That makes sense. In that case, I accept your challenge given that you accept my requirement of no more... Anu magic. We'll leave it at that.” Kael could shatter illusions effortlessly, but whatever Valkan was doing was beyond him. Not in the scope of its raw power, but the... Surety in which it asserted itself on the world? He was absolutely confident that the worlds powers were already in a panic, calling back to their leadership to notify them of this development. Those gauntlets Valkan wore were capable of giving their race the same ability to emit mana as a human – with their own incredibly powerful inborn magic behind it. And that... Well it was just plain terrifying. Valkan was his friend, but the rest of their race...
The others backed away to give Tyr a space for his duel, the anti-magic pylons could not be stored in dimensional rings – and they were heavy. Samson took two while the others labored at handling the rest, with the booing of the crowd growing louder. In the rear, Daito stepped forward to smile up at them, his voice magnified by magic.
“Dear people of all the kingdoms.” He said brightly. “Let it be known that the White Wolf representing Lyra has personally challenged Kael Emberwind – with the winner claiming the result of the round. Apologies for all of the tomfoolery, we wanted to ensure they were given as open a playing field as possible. Naturally, in honor of this glorious contest – we will surrender the bout in the event that our champion loses, and all of that. We are very... Er... Honorable, lots of chivalry here!”
Tyr looked back at him with anger plain on his face, hissing in a low voice. “What the hell did you do that for!? That wasn't the plan, Rafael was supposed to fight him after I lost!”
“Then don't lose.” Daito shrugged. “Personally, this is all so tiresome, I would like to visit the nearby inns while we've got time to spare. Rafael?”
“It's alright, it's not like I have an obsession with the guy. I already plan to do well enough in the individual rounds to bring back a prize to the republic.” Rafael said. “I'm sure master Kael would be willing to accept my challenge at any time should I wish for it.”
Kael had a sour expression on his face, but he nodded. “It would be an honor to fight the Winter Knight, I am pleased to see that your reputation was not simple rumor. We are colleagues, you and I, and even beyond a fight I'd love to speak with you. As for this pup, I'd have to say I agree with him. You just threw the match and wasted all of that effort... I'm assuming you crafted those pylons yourself?” He asked Tyr.
“I did. With Valkan's help. They are actually very interesting. It's not an anti-magic array, they are a combination array cast of deuritium and--”
“I really don't care.” Kael retorted with a snort.
“Dang...”
“Regardless, they are impressive, I could barely feel them, myself. Mana dispersal devices are so rare – you have a real talent for forging if nothing else. I'm sorry that all of your effort was wasted, I really am. You've got an... Interesting team. Should've stuck with us, though, I think.” Kael commented. “They don't seem very, ah... Committed.”
“His lead.” Daito said with a shrug. “His fight to win or lose.”
“...” He looked toward Jura, Samson, Tiber, Goroshi... They all had reticent looks on their faces, or eyes – as Goroshi's was never visible. But they did not step forward to argue against it. Meaning they had all sent Tyr across a tightrope only to cut the line as soon as he'd arrived to the other side.
Putting all of the burden on his shoulders alone, giving him another reason for his ever growing list of grudges against Daito. The man... Was laughing.