The bi-annual magic tournament. Winning it in hopes to change my status, though standing here seven years ahead of schedule was never my intention. All to rescue my best friend from a hostage situation. My mind concocted various scenarios that revolved around escaping with Arisa to a new city. We would leave this awful town to start a new life together, a better one.
‘No turning back now…’
I’ve been the target of discrimination my entire life. Part of me wished to be left alone by this corrupt society.
The arid smell of iron and dust kicked up throughout the coliseum. My odds of fame were only a few wins away. This might bode well, were I on equal footing. However, not possessing magic has sealed my fate.
“Ladies and gents, let the tournament commence!” An announcer flew overhead with a lavalier mic secured to his gaudy suit jacket, offering the crowd play by plays from an aerial vantage point.
Cheers increased with the entire arena rattling as the scent of bloodlust filled the air. There was not a single contestant around or even close to my age of thirteen. My entry was rigged behind the scenes, allowing me this chance to test my fate.
Last I heard, the age restriction for participation started at twenty. Or perhaps, I was too naive to not hear of anyone younger ever entering and surviving. This was the only condition to be met, and not for the sake of risk involved, but purely for entertainment purposes. With age came experience, and therein more fun for the spectators.
A sight beyond the announcer caught my eye. In the higher seats, they sectioned off for important individuals. Out of the group, a girl was being held down into her seat. She was my one and only best friend, Arisa. The reason I was here.
The others were the brats that took her hostage. I wondered how they found this amusing. Picking on the weak must be taught around the world. If not, I’m just the unluckiest person around.
“First contestant onto the platform. Choose your opponent!”
The contestant rising onto the squared arena gave a pompous shout, detesting my no-mage status.
“Those without magic that dare tarnish the arena shall be slaughtered! Volatis!” The contestant yelled.
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When all the contestants had drawn, I got number twenty-four. I had the best possible number. I could have avoided continuous battles so long as no one chose me as an opponent right from the start. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I was actually being called on first!
‘Focus!’
The constant training and suffering in life fueled the drive to end my never-ending disadvantage. My expertise in various martial arts was something I could rely on. One of the few things I could rely on.
Booing vulgarities resounded as I climbed the steps to the top of the arena floor. The vibrations coursing through my legs caused my heart to beat in fear, but stayed in check when set beside my desire to survive. In the center stood a 6’11” well-defined muscular mountain of a man, towering more than a foot above my head. It worried me that my first opponent not only had magic but might also be skilled in close combat.
‘Only one way to find out.’
Entering a low stance and waiting for my opponent to make the first move was not my style. The best move was the first one. The clanging of an orient-cultured bell initiated the start of the match.
Not a moment later, I blitzed my target and struck my palm to chin. His head snapped back as the fighter fell, his backside scraping the ground. I shocked the audience with this simple feat that lasted no more than a matter of seconds.
I stared at the announcer as he frantically fought with his microphone, trying to announce the outcome and advance the tournament. Looking over into the stands, I saw Arisa surrounded by surprised and angry faces. They most likely lost their bet from the outcome. I guessed their goal was to coerce me into entering this tournament, making some pocket change in the process of killing me off.
All eyes settled on me, filled with absolute disbelief. The announcer flew down to inspect the fighter on the ground. Their medical staff ran past, carrying the unconscious body away. I waited in the arena to see if the next contestant would choose me. The announcer called for the next number to select their opponent.
“Volatis!”
The next fighter in line shouted my name, flying and landing gracefully on the arena platform. Against flight magic, I knew what would happen and started to consider my options.
I unsheathed both of the daggers along my waist. They were my only means of winning against someone I couldn’t touch. The bell rang again, and before it even signaled the start of the match, he was already flying far above me. I was helpless in front of this guy.
To make matters worse, he was using ice magic. The ice shards slowly enveloped half of the arena. He flew circles in the air intentionally being careful to avoid any possibilities of a ranged attack.
Even if I wanted to throw my dagger at him, it would never connect. He was too high up. I cursed my luck, as my only option was to be backed into a corner. The amount of magic used to cover the entire arena in ice had to be taking a toll on his mana reserves.
I continuously dodged and watched his movements, waiting for him to weaken. I guessed right. His casting time and the period in-between each spell drastically lengthened. Only a matter of time until his flight magic exhausted in tandem.