The audience grew impatient with the lackluster match the longer it dragged on. Within the crowd stood a slave girl chained and leashed with iron manacles around her neck and limbs. The owner of the leash whipped the girl, who looked not even ten years of age.
“Don’t you dare fall asleep. Maintain that barrier, filthy trash!” No one around him batted an eyelid as their booing continued, shaking the entire coliseum.
Huddled together not too far from master and slave, the group of thugs cheered for the sight of my death. “No-mages like you deserve a thousand deaths! Kill him slowly and painfully!” Profanities spewed from their lips, whereas Arisa, in the center of the group, was the only anomaly. She shouted for my safety before getting slapped by the bullies.
I remember the day we met; she eagerly helped me find a job after my caretaker left. I spent countless weeks getting rejection after rejection. “A no-mage will ruin our reputation. You don’t even qualify to be a slave.” That was all I amounted to. I was shunned away like a rabid dog, all too familiar with doors slamming in my face. With her in my life, I began to have hope. Hope of living a normal life.
<>
There was nowhere left without ice. The previous shards that stuck to the arena floor melded together, forming a bumpy ice rink. For some reason, I had always enjoyed cold weather. I smiled at the thought of building a snowman as the last ice shard struck at my last remaining foothold. I rolled onto my side, skidding across the ice.
‘I’ll just wait for you to come to me then!’ Using my daggers to steer my change of direction, each and every ice shard hurled at me missed. Looking up, I saw my opponent descending closer to the ground.
“Cold!” My clothes started sticking to the ice. No, the ice felt alive, spreading in an attempt to capture me.
“Time to die!” Burning through the last of his power, the opponent sank until he hovered inches above the center of the arena.
The ice encased me from bottom up while I struggled lying on my right side. I exhaled puffs of frozen air as I used the remaining strength in my left arm, taking steady aim and throwing. Whether he let down his guard or was fatigued from mana depletion, my dagger met no resistance as his body dropped to the ground, dagger protruding like a flag in his chest. As soon as life left his body, the ice dispersed. I never truly understood how magic seemed to be linked to the wielder. Once dead, not a single trace remained albeit the destruction left behind.
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The announcer checked my opponent while I focused on the stands where Arisa was being held hostage. From this distance I could barely make out faces, but at least she seemed safe. Even if I made it out of this tournament alive, what would stop them from harming her anyways?
The announcer declared me the winner and called on the next number to pick their opponent. Many say luck is fifty percent of the battle, and if that’s the case, I was already halfway in my coffin. Whoever thought up of these selection rules, pray I don’t get my hands on you. Next up began climbing onto the arena floor. Short fellow, this one, even compared to me. As long as he didn’t have flight magic, I’d be able to manage, or so I hoped. Bright blue light swirled around his combat boots. His specialty was wind magic, a freaking speed enhancer.
To my surprise, he stood there staring at me as if sizing up an opponent. The announcer came around and told the man a second time, “Fighter, choose your first opponent!”
The short guy raised his finger and pointed it straight at me and shortly after, the commencement of my next battle began.
Both daggers were handed back to me by a tournament employee who helped carry the flying ice mage’s corpse off the arena. The dagger’s blade curved at the tip, a foot in length with blood dripping from the one in my left hand.
The oriental bell sounded again, and like my first match I went in for the instant knockout. Everything seemed to connect. My palm strike went straight into his chin but met with no resistance, only an afterimage fading from the spot as dust blew up.
“Ah-hahaha, you’re done!” Several meters behind me, the short man laughed viciously. I felt a sense of unease as his finger pointed directly at me. My mind said it saw nothing, however my instincts moved my body and face to the side.
A strong current of wind brushed and hit my cheek, flicking my neck even more to the side. My right cheek was throbbing, most likely bright red from the pain. I gently rubbed my cheek, barely able to avoid feeling like I was dodging a curveball. I could anticipate his wind attacks, but any sudden change of direction was impossible to predict.
My opponent tilted his head as if impressed, and the blue light encircling his boots shined brighter. His body flickered disappearing and reappearing from multiple angles around me, fast enough to create several after-images. It looked like I was fighting a whole squad of mages.
No matter how fast or unpredictable his magic, as long as I kept moving, he would have the same amount of trouble trying to land a hit. I randomly ran at each and every after-image, striking with my daggers. With each strike, the images faded away like phantoms, all of them fake.