“Would either of you like me to repeat the rules?” the referee asked.

“No,” Edward and Nox replied in unison.

“Very well.” He held a leather-bound book as thick as Edward’s head between the pair. “Place your hands on the ledger.” The pair obeyed. “The Trial of Combat doesn’t just test your mettle and ability, but also your honor. The tournament’s commandments will now hold truer than ever. You may use no weapon, tool, armor, or consumable that isn’t of your making or purchased with coin earned through labor and wits. The same goes for materials and all associated costs if you produce them yourself. Do you declare that the first commandment will continue unbroken?”

“I do,” both men said, and the ledger lit up with aetheric light.

“You will use nothing besides the objects you first declared when reporting for the Trial of Survival and have carried until now. Do you declare that the second commandment will continue unbroken?”

“I do.”

“If either commandment is broken, may the perpetrator's protection wards shatter and fail,” the referee said.

The lights emanating from the ledger gained luminosity until they were almost blinding. Glassy triangles and arcane patterns shimmered in the air around both men. When they faded, the referee turned on his heel and marched out of the fighting ground. When he crossed the boundary, a barrier made of countless hexagons shone around them. The defenses would protect the audience from all that happened during the fight. Most would consider it unnecessary since neither man had earned the title of Mage or Aether Warrior. Nox thought their underestimation silly.

The glass walls had already told Nox most of what he needed to know about Edward’s arsenal. In order to condense their mana clouds into a star, practitioners needed to adopt a concept as their core. Most typically did so using a basic cantrip. Galvanising Touch was one such spell. It shocked one’s target with lightning but only through touch. It meant Edward hoped to build his arsenal around lightning-focused magic. Given his rank, the man had likely evolved or matured the basic cantrip, expanding its capabilities.

Unfortunately, Edward was leagues ahead of Nox in his arcane journey. He hadn’t just matured his star but also started his journey toward the first planet in the system. Since it focused on the concept of Shaping, it meant Edward hoped to contain and imbue lightning into objects instead of projecting it. Eventually, he’d learn to conjure weapons and tools out of pure energy. Still, Nox estimated the central star’s core mana value would need to reach a minimum of sixty-four, if not one-twenty-eight, before such feats became possible. It also meant Edward needed time to build up charge and pour lightning into his attacks. However, Nox refused to let such possibilities make him complacent. His opponent knew two if not three, more cantrips.

“Begin!” The queen’s voice thundered across the arena.

Edward drew his sword and fell into a pre-charging stance as soon as the match began. Lightning sparked from his finger tips almost straight away and slowly traveled up the blade.

The couple of heartbeats Edward used before initiating his attack was all the preparation time Nox needed. He didn’t nock an arrow or even reach for his quiver. Instead, he ran. Nox’s free hand retrieved a large metal flask from his coat. He unstoppered the custom container with his teeth and took a long swig of the cocktail within. The effects hit him almost instantly.

First, Nox’s eyesight grew sharper, and his heartbeat slowed. He felt nimble and quick. “Sniper’s Eye and Feline Grace,” he whispered, naming the first two concoctions. Nox’s speed increased with every footstep, and his body felt lighter. “Sprinter’s High.” Finally, he felt his voice box widen while his vocal cords thickened. “Auctioneer’s Brew.” Even though he still whispered, the words sounded as loud as everyday speech.

“Good evening, ladies, gentlemen, and all who don’t care for such polite terms!” Nox’s voice boomed as loud as Queen Mercer’s. However, the air didn’t ripple around his mouth. The volume stung his ears. Potions existed to protect one’s eardrums from high decibels, but adding a fifth concoction to the cocktail would’ve made it too toxic even for Nox’s supernatural resistances. “My dear mother invited you to witness the Trial of Combat, but I’ve arranged something much more entertaining for you!”

“What are you playing at?” Edward hissed, charging at Nox. A blinding blue glow enveloped his blade, and a curtain of spiderwebbing lightning followed it as he moved.

Nox slowed to a skip, continuing to retreat from his stepbrother, but thanks to his potions, he successfully kept pace. “My esteemed opponent has greater stride, better tutors, and excellent martial training. Meanwhile, I spend most of my time hunched over a workstation, either researching alchemical techniques or practising them for the betterment of my mother’s empire. Given Edward’s daily laps around the isles, he should have no trouble catching me. Yet the distance between us remains consistent.”

“Shut up!” Edward yelled.

“How is this, you ask?” Nox asked, finally nocking an arrow. “I call the potion Sprinter’s High. It’s a variation of the well-known Feline Grace and is compatible with it without raising toxicity. Who needs expensive enchantments or their even more ludicrous recharging costs when you can just take a swig of Noxian Brews?”

Nox drew his bow, slowed for a heartbeat, aimed, and released an arrow. It struck the ground just in front of his opponent, forcing the larger man to slow down. Nox used the opportunity to change direction and ran. By the time Edward regained his pace, their distance had doubled.

“Your foot soldiers and guards need not suffer. A vial of the inexpensive concoction on their belts, and they can cover distances much faster than their opponents.”

“Stand and fight, you coward!”

A couple of laughs rose from the crowd as spittle flew from Edward’s mouth. The light enveloping his longsword flickered momentarily but then solidified with renewed vigor. Suddenly his speed multiplied.

“Oh!” Nox feigned surprise as Edward accelerated, closing in on him. Then he continued in an almost deadpan tone. “Stepbrother has Haste. Whatever will I do?”

Nox stumbled, stopped, spun on his heel, and faced Edward. He exhaled, stretched, and reached for his quiver only when a dozen feet remained between them. Then his hand changed course. It pulled a pinky-sized vial from his belt and threw it at Edward.

Unlike with the arrow, Edward didn’t slow. Instead, he swiped at the container with his sword. He hit his mark, and the glass shattered. The smell of burning filled the air as the contents splashed against his clothes and foamed. The white lather grew and thickened, expanding over his body. Edward skidded to a halt as it covered him, hardening with every passing moment.

“What sorcery is this?” He demanded.

Nox laughed, and a chunk of the audience followed.

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“Brave men need not fall when blocking or slowing the charge of a dungeon-born beast,” Nox told the crowd. “A vial or two of this lovely brew will stall, if not stop them altogether. Find me after the tournament and just ask for Trap Foam!” He put on a sheepish grin. “I know the name isn’t the best, but I dare you to find something more catchy that encapsulates my creation’s power.”

The foam grew over Edward’s head and hardened. A heartbeat later, a glass triangle materialized above him and shattered. The alchemical material cracked and crumbled around his head, neck, and shoulders.

“Oh, pickle! I should be running.” His jester-like tone drew more laughs from the audience as Nox turned tail and ran once more. He heard the hardened foam shatter and lightning crackle behind him. Edward’s coughing and war cry followed.

When the thundering footsteps reached Nox’s ears, he reached for another potion. He barely had it in his hands and had half turned when a blinding flash forced him to close his eyes. A powerful force struck the case on his back, and Nox found his face in the dirt a heartbeat later. The sudden fall knocked the air from his lungs, and the cocktail in his stomach threatened to take a journey up to his mouth.

The footsteps grew louder, and Nox knew he had little time for recovery. Instead of trying to rise, he rolled onto his back. Edward grinned at him from a couple of feet away with his lightning-encased sword raised high above his head. Reflexes forced Nox to raise his arms in defense as the blade came down on him. It stopped an inch from his forearm before the sound of glass shattering filled his ears.

A second swing followed, and another protection ward shattered. However, Nox successfully suppressed any attempts at blocking it and rose to an upright position. Edward attempted a third swing just as Nox activated his first cantrip.

Everyone thought little of Nox. He remembered a time before his father passed when Queen Mercer and the royal family heralded him as a genius. Ancient bloodlines had combined to give him a keen intellect and great magical talent. Times had changed. Instead of a prodigy, they called him black sheep, father killer, cripple, and much more. An unfortunate Godfall may have limited his magical capabilities, but the incident left his intellect untouched. The limitations had only forced Nox to hone his mind and grow creative with his magic.

The metal case on Nox’s back sprang open just as Edward attacked with his most powerful slash yet. A mechanical arm shot over Nox’s shoulder and caught the blade. The runes covering it glowed as lightning arced off the sword and danced along the three triple-hinged fingers and attached wooden forearm.

“I was hoping to save this for the final,” Nox sighed. “But you had to go ruin my surprise.”

“Seriously?” Edward grunted, struggling to retrieve his weapon. “An Artisan’s Arm? How is it this fast?”

Nox didn’t answer. The average Artisan’s Arm moved much slower. They followed the user’s verbal and occasionally mental commands to hold objects in place or to handle volatile materials. No literature spoke of anyone weaponizing the tool. After all, fine-tuning one would require complicated spell scripts and expensive materials. There were more efficient ways of achieving the same with magic, and most mages developed better defenses. Those who fought at close range rarely needed such implements in the first place.

“I’m not telling.” Nox threw a pellet at his opponent. Edward retreated before it hit him, successfully extracting his sword and taking it with him.

The projectile didn’t explode into a mass of quick-hardening foam. Instead, it hissed, expelling streams of dense purple smoke. Despite his arcanically reinforced resistances, Nox’s nostrils and throat burned. He climbed to his feet and sprinted in the opposite direction of Edward. It wasn’t long before his lungs complained. The cocktail’s contents were never meant to mix with the neurotoxin in his smoke bomb.

"Need a quick escape?" Coughs punctuated Nox's marketing attempts. "Not all poison gases need to prove fatal or scarring." He paused again, wheezing as mucus threatened to clog his air passages. After taking a moment to regain his breath, Nox continued. "Sometimes disabling your pursuers' lower halves is enough. Making them lose control over their bowels and bladders is also an excellent deterrent."

The quiver still contained seven arrows. Nox had hoped to spend more time displaying his products, but Edward’s magic had progressed further than he had initially assumed. An arc of blue energy shot through the smoke cloud, parting it. The projectile flew several feet wide of Nox. Shaping had somehow helped Edward create a ranged spell out of Galvanising Touch.

“You surprise me, stepbrother!” Nox exclaimed, Auctioneer’s Brew amplifying his voice. “Either you’re smarter than I initially assumed, or Mother is bribing the Department of Dungeon Studies. It’s probably the latter. Someone must’ve designed that spell for you. That’s Lightning Cutter, isn’t it?”

The next arc of energy buzzed just over Nox’s head, and Edward’s footsteps grew louder, thundering in his ears. The cocktail was only supposed to enhance his senses moderately. However, the growing results suggested the combination had unintended effects. The influx of stimuli—primarily sound and brightness—was reaching the point of growing overwhelming. He needed to end the fight soon before the side effects did it for him. Nox needed at least a silver token if he wanted to achieve his goals.

Nox nocked an arrow just as Edward burst through the smoke cloud. The projectile flew true, but the target didn’t slow. Instead, Edward let it pierce his shoulder. A sword swipe and the trailing curtain of lightning halted the second arrow. A third met with the same results. Edward’s speed and reflexes appeared to improve with every passing second.

“Oh, no,” Nox said in a deadpan tone, dropping his bow. “I’m outmatched. Whatever will I do?”

When Nox feigned, grabbing handfuls of vials from within his coat and throwing them at Edward, the charge still didn’t slow. He knew what he needed to do. Even though he had initially planned on putting on a show, Nox would need to face his opponent seriously.

The Golden Isles' military training covered hand-to-hand combat. Most disregarded it, focusing on weapons, magic, or a combination of both. Because of his limitations, Nox had no choice but to practice it regularly. He never got the chance to practice it outside of weekly spars. The techniques would probably never see use in a real-combat scenario, but he had to try.

A defensive stance with weight on the back foot felt most appropriate. Nox kept his arms at chest height and held them in front of him, keeping the elbows relaxed. Meanwhile, the Artisan’s Arm rotated in its ball socket and up the spinal brace to its highest point until it sat between his shoulder blades. The device reached over his right shoulder, and the three fingers opened, forming a claw. Controlling it demanded complete concentration on the related cantrip, but he had no choice but to split his focus.

Much to Nox’s relief, Edward fired no more Lightning Cutters during his approach. Given the low mana levels of the Shaping Planetoid, three uses had likely already stretched Edward. Sniper’s-Eye-enhanced vision should’ve helped Nox see the differences, but the sensory overload and the increasing brightness got in the way. The light enveloping the longsword appeared dimmer, and the lightning curtain following it had shortened. Nox assumed the sweat on Edward’s face came from physical exertion. Now, he saw more. Bloodshot eyes. Pallid skin. Unstable Gait. Edward had burned through most of his reserves.

A half step proved sufficient. Edward’s longsword sliced through where Nox had stood a thundering heartbeat earlier. The Artisan’s Arm darted forward and caught the larger man’s right wrist before the weapon could rise. As expected, tendrils of lighting danced around Edward's free left arm. However, the final attack had sufficiently drained him, and he failed to react in time.

Nox released the Mage Hand cantrip controlling his third arm, and thrust his right palm into his stepbrother’s solar plexus. The Slow cantrip wasn’t a touch spell, but he lacked the ability to project it any farther than a couple of inches past his skin. Since he didn’t rely on his magic as much as Edward—not that he had many options—Nox could afford to overload the spell with mana. There was no cantrip Nox had practised more than Slow. He hadn’t found better compatibility with any other Novice-ranked spell. It also proved helpful in alchemy, slowing chemical processes enough for Nox to manipulate them freely. After years of research, he had found no better cantrip to use as his star’s concept.

Much to Nox’s surprise, the overcharged Slow did more than decelerate Edward. It froze him in place. The light enveloping the longsword dimmed, and the lightning curtain disappeared. Nox heard glass break and panicked momentarily, expecting his protection wards to shatter. Instead, he spotted shards of light blue crystal on the floor. Luminous patterns reminiscent of writing filled them.

“You lose, stepbrother.” Nox poured mana into his third cantrip and channeled its effects through the palm still pressed against Edward’s chest. “You’re not the only one with Galvanising Touch.”

The lightning that traveled up Nox’s forearm paled in density and luminosity when compared to his opponent’s spell, but it did the job. The second protection ward shattered, and the third followed a heartbeat later. The fourth materialized between Nox’s palm and Edward’s chest and remained solid despite the onslaught.

“Please deactivate your spell, Nox Ratra,” the referee’s voice boomed. “The match is over. You have won.”