Chapter 43: The Judge’s Tyranny
Silence ruled the arena, the haunting words of the God of War piercing the hearts of everyone who heard them. Rhinese was just as stunned as everyone else was, but she was one of the first to recover. This wasn’t unprecedented, but it was only the third time it had ever happened at this event. The first time was during the first tournament. He had chastised the Royal Family for mismanagement, and it had led to Rhinese’s Grandfather failing the Regent Royalty test.
The second time was to praise a warrior for exceeding performance - that had happened on the fifth year, the tournament that the Royal Family finally got things mostly right, and the modern tournament followed an identical format - just with a few minor changes to specific rules.
All this is to say: Rhinese had never suspected that something like this would happen in her lifetime.
The God of War’s typical approach was to deny rewards. In the past, that much alone was a sufficient warning that something was going wrong, but it hadn’t been enough for the past few years. It seems the problems had finally built up enough for the God of War to directly vent his rage.
She always knew that he directly watched the tournaments, it was hard to get his attention otherwise, but…
Forcing herself out of the spiral, Rhinese stood, walked over to the gem in the balcony, touched it, and spoke, “A consensus has been reached, and it has been upheld by the Highest Authority. Enacting the punishment set by the God of War, you are permanently disqualified. Do not return to Falst. If you wish to resist, you will be provided with a writ of banishment from my Father. For the sake of whatever dignity you have left, I advise you leave quietly.”
Rhinese felt a little pity for the scourged man. He was clearly out of it, and was covered in his own sick, but the pity she felt was not strong enough to give him a break. She was currently acting as a representative of the Royal Family, decisiveness was a requirement. If her actions went too far, she’d be reprimanded by her Father, but if she didn’t go far enough, she might be reprimanded by the God of War.
Weakly, the former champion stumbled to the edge of the arena where he was captured by soldiers and dragged off. They’d dump him out of the arena, and if Rhinese had been a more cruel person, she could’ve gone a lot further. Not as far as execution, that hadn’t been the direction the God of War had given, but any and every form of humiliation was open to her.
She elected not to take the path of cruelty.
Once the former champion had left, Rhinese spoke once more, “Resume normal operations.”
After a moment of hesitation from Draven the [Orator], he finally spoke, “Well then. …That was quite the, uh, experience.”
He had lost a lot of the energy he’d had before the incident.
“Though that was fortunately our last fight of the category, meaning the finalists for the under 25 category are: Fade…” he listed the 7 others, but Rhinese didn’t really care to remember any of the others.
Instead, she focused on Fade, who was walking off the field. He was incredibly pale, especially for a human. Pale enough that she suspected that he wasn’t actually one. She might have not suspected anything if it weren't for Richard, one of the strongest men in Alda, and an Uluu. She’d been around them long enough to recognize physical characteristics that the average Falst resident might overlook.
Fade was missing the characteristic tattoo-like lines that crisscrossed the bodies of Uluu, but as she looked closer, she could tell that he was completely covered from the neck down. Her suspicions grew.
The rest of the day ended without incident, there was only one category left, but it seemed like a lot of the excitement had been drained from the audience and Draven. The only one that seemed relatively unaffected was the cause of the problem, Crimson, who continued to act exactly the same as before, giving tone-deaf commentary and being overly blunt.
It was early evening when the last fight ended. Day three was the least attended of the three ‘main’ days of the tournament. Day four and Day five typically saw similar numbers between each other, Day six saw the highest attendance among high ranking individuals. The exhibition fights on that day were considered the most important by many ‘in the know.’
Rhinese tapped her fingers thoughtfully. It was a very strange day, and with Crimson involved, as well as the changes that had been made to the finals tomorrow, things would be very, very interesting.
—————
“We are now beginning the final rounds of the Tournament of Exhibition! My greetings to His and Her Majesty, and many of our foreign visitors! After three days of blood, sweat, tears, and godly intervention, we of Falst, are proud to present you with the changes that have been made for this year! In their wisdom, the Royal Family has decided that instead of fighting each other, the contestants will fight a champion who will decide the winner! For the Under 50 category, the champion is Soldier, an Am’zavac of the Dark Elves from Adurnia! Bearing the [Soldier Class] at Lv.50 exactly, and having a [Spear Mastery Skill] over Lv.70, he is truly an excellent representative!”
The cheers were so loud that Draven had to pause for well over a minute before he could resume speaking, “The champion of the Under 25 category is a wolfkin of Lupaken, please clap for Rivea! Rivea bears the [Martial Artists Class] at Lv.25 and boasts the [Skill: Acceleration], she will truly bring out the might of each of our competitors!”
As the names were said, each individual stepped out and performed a bow to the Royal Family, then the crowd.
“Finally, we are grateful to welcome a more familiar face. Sitting at Lv.1, with an unknown High-Grade [Class], please welcome the champion of the Under 10 category, Crimson!”
Crimson also stepped out of the shadows and took a bow. Unlike the prior two, there were some boos mixed in with the cheers. There were many who disagreed with a Lv.1 contestant.
Rhinese knew that there would be issues with the crowd, the rumors of the God of War speaking directly at the tournament yesterday had mostly neglected the name of the representative who the God of War spoke through - most of the rumors referred to Crimson as ‘one of the announcers’ which meant that many of the average members of the audience had no idea who they were booing.
Everyone sitting in the private boxes knew better though, Rhinese was cheering, much louder than would be polite, and even those who typically remained quiet were clapping politely. There was no one who had a private box who lacked the resources to know the events of the prior day.
Rhinese could afford to be a little more relaxed than normal. She wasn’t the main representative, her Father in the Royal Box was.
Draven continued, “And with that, lets get this thing started. First: Champion Crimson versus the powerful Barok!”
Barok was an older man, mid thirties, and everything about him was indicating that he was incredibly insulted to be fighting a Lv.1 Champion. He was much larger and wider than Crimson, and his gear was obviously better. Crimson didn’t have any armor, and only held a simple saber, while Barok held a massive Warhammer and a shield.
Everyone ‘knew’ the results of the fight, but Rhinese grinned. Not many people had actually seen Crimson fight seriously, not even her. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he’d win.
She didn’t recognize the saber though. Maybe he’d bought it recently? His typical weapon was a bokken, and he’d spent so long talking about how annoyed he was that his main weapon was a Katana - his explanation for why included words like ‘weeaboo,’ ‘weeb,’ and ‘cringe,’ so she still didn’t understand why because he refused to define those first two words for her. All she understood was that he found it embarrassing for some reason. Maybe that embarrassment had finally boiled over and caused him to choose a new weapon?
It was certainly an odd saber though, it had a weird kind of silver mist, almost imperceptible to the eye under the harsh sun, but easy to notice with the magnification that Rhinese had access to. It didn’t hug the entire blade, but seemed to steam off it in several points. Probably some kind of enchantment.
“Begin” was roared by Draven, and Crimson began to casually walk at Barok. He seemed bored.
Barok came out swinging, attacking Crimson viciously, and Rhinese vaguely recalled that Crimson had several scathing remarks for him the prior day. Potentially another reason for his outrage.
Crimson responded with an air of indifference. Typically a Warhammer would shatter a small weapon like a saber, but Crimson deftly deflected it, and used the momentum of the clumsy blow to trip his opponent.
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Barok threw himself back to his feet after a moment to catch his breath. Crimson could’ve ended the fight there by placing his saber to the downed man’s neck, but from his attitude up to this point, Rhinese knew that he’d continue the fight until the time was up. He was the one deciding the victor, so whatever standards he wanted to use were perfectly fine, along with his approach to the matter.
In the time it took for the round to end, Crimson tripped Barok four more times in the exact same way, punched him under the chin with the guard of his saber, and disarmed him three times. It felt more like a humiliation event than a round from the tournament, which was a feeling compounded by the fact that she noticed that Crimson was talking the entire time during the fight. Probably offering advice. Regardless, no one was booing Crimson anymore. Even at Lv.1, his [Skills] were oppressive.
Elegance was sitting with her once more, so she glanced at the Dark Elf Woman to gauge her reaction. She seemed to be having a good time, which wasn’t the mood most of the audience had, but Rhinese was happy to see it. Her favoritism was making this event a lot more enjoyable.
Draven’s commentary pierced her musing, “Now with the time up, let’s get general impressions from my colleague, one moment!”
He awkwardly hopped the wall dividing the commentary box from the stadium floor, then ran over to Crimson with his mic.
“What did you think of your opponent?”
“It is my hope that the rest of the contestants do not display the same inability to learn from their mistakes.”
Draven puffed up his chest and flexed to show off his non-existent muscles, “But with strength like his, does he really need to?”
“Of course! Learning is a fundamental gods-given right, to stagnate, to not develop the [Skills] and [Classes] they have [Blessed] us with is nothing short of wasteful! There is a phrase I know, ‘resting on your laurels,’ which means to decide that your efforts have been sufficient and you no longer need to improve yourself. It is my hope and my determination that fewer people will ‘rest on their laurels’ and become the kinds of men and women the gods would have them become! That is one of the expressed purposes of this event!”
Crimson’s impassioned speech finished off his opponent, and Barok walked off stage with his head hanging low. He didn’t seem to notice the sting his words had inflicted though.
Draven ran back to the box and introduced Crimson’s next opponent. It was a young human, tall and lanky with darkly tanned skin that had done surprisingly well - even for only being Lv.5. He was introduced as Mortimer, his [Class] was called [Weapon Caller], and the battle began.
Crimson was obviously a lot more gentle this fight than the last one. Mortimer started the fight by summoning two shields and a dagger, and tried to use them to effectively corner Crimson, but deft motions and effective footwork made for a slippery opponent.
Like before, she could see Crimson running his mouth the entire time, and as she watched, Mortimer’s fighting got even better with every passing minute. Unfortunately the battle didn’t go to time as Mortimer ran out of MP, and his weapons vanished. He surrendered of his own accord after that.
During the interview afterwords, Crimson said, “A very novel way of fighting, I imagine it must be very difficult to keep track of that many weapons, so I feel his control over them is rather lacking. It would be better for Mortimer to spend time practicing with a single weapon until his control was perfect before adding another. Three at once left too many gaps for me to take advantage of, but with a little more experience, I can see Mortimer doing very well in the future - he just needs to work on his MP efficiency.”
Quite high praise, coming from Crimson. This Mortimer would likely be scouted by a party even if he didn’t win - so long as he was a local.
The third round was as brutal as the first. Mortimer was the only one of the top 4 who hadn’t participated in a previous year…and the only one who didn’t have blood in common with another participant. The other three finalists were all brothers that had worked for years to dominate the competition, so Crimson was obviously punishing them.
His opponent was another large individual, built for power over all, Bren was using a great shield and a spear. He was a better fighter than Barok, and seemed to be out for revenge. He kept attempting attacks that would normally be illegal, but Crimson didn’t put an end to the fight, choosing instead to deal with the blows with ease by deflecting them. Bren was only tripped once, but he kept letting quick cuts and kicks from Crimson through his defense, so he was obviously being worn down.
As the time neared, Rhinese saw Bren say something to Crimson, and whatever it was, it was a big mistake. Crimson’s immediate response was to slip in close, grab the spear, and smash the pommel of his saber against Bren’s hand, hard enough to break fingers. As Bren hollered in pain loud enough to be heard from the private boxes without any kind of sound amplification, Crimson attacked again, slamming the pommel into his temple and knocking him out immediately.
Such level of violence was typical of a more usual tournament round, but it was out of character for Crimson. Breaking his fingers especially, the knockout wasn’t out of character.
Crimson made a few hand signs, and Draven announced, “Participant Bren has been disqualified! Furthermore…” Crimson made a few more gestures. Rhinese knew them, so she was just as surprised as Draven when he said, “Crimson has requested that he be barred permanently from participation? Really? That’s…I mean…”
He turned to the Royal Box and fell silent, awaiting the Royal Family’s decision. After a moment, Rhinese’s father spoke, his scratchy voice echoing across stadium, “Pending. We will investigate at the end of the day. Participant Bren is to be detained, and the Judge’s decision respected.”
It had been a long time since a disqualification. The events of yesterday hadn’t even been a disqualification, just the loser being banned by the God of War. Crimson seemed determined to completely upend the tournament this year, and Rhinese could only approve.
There was no interview conducted this time, so they moved to the final round.
“Champion Crimson versus Blain! Begin!”
Blain was the third brother, and looked similar to the other two. He used a spear and great shield as well, but he was a lot more tentative than his brothers, preferring to hide and hold back after what happened to them.
He was the first one of the day who forced Crimson on the offensive, Crimson had spent the day dodging, deflecting, and counterattacking over being the one attacking, so it was a standout difference. He wasn’t any less skilled on the attack, taking advantage of his opponent’s caution to disarm him several times, even getting the great shield away from him about half way through, and forcing Blain to ward Crimson with the spear tip. He found a way in regardless of the attempts to stop him, and elected for punches and kicks over slashing with his saber. Probably some form of mercy.
When the battle reached time, Crimson had this to say during the interview, “My opponent has no idea how to fight a defensive battle. I could tell from the fight that he is like his brothers, and typically spends his time on the attack, but instead of sticking to what he knew, he chose instead to let nerves get to him and fight in a manner that he had no experience with. This was an incredibly disappointing fight. Blain is not in contention for the victor.”
Draven asked dramatically, “Do you need any time to ponder on your decision?”
“None, it’s Mortimer. He was the only participant to embody the ideals of the God of War, fighting with honor and the determination to improve his [Skills]. He was also the only participant under the age of 30, which speaks volumes to the duplicity of the three brothers Barok, Bren, and Blain. This is my first time attending the tournament, but even a small child could tell that there’s something odd about middle aged men participating in a category that should only have participants under the age of 18.”
An awkward laugh came from Draven, then he turned to the audience, “And with that, the winner of the Under 10 category is settled! Our congratulations to Mortimer, and a reminder to him and the other participants to not expect any rewards from the God of War until the closing day of the tournament! Now, on to the under 25 category!”
The under 25 category went well, and the potential Uluu from yesterday, Fade, ended up narrowly taking the victory. Rhinese only knew it was a narrow victory because the wolfkin Rivea went into a lot of detail about her decision.
The under 50 category was the only one that didn’t have a single hiccup. It was hard enough getting enough participants for the category, but those who did show up were individuals who were trying to catch the attention of the God of War, they were desperate to do so. Many of them had hit a wall in their growth, and so hoped that a reward from him would allow them to overcome.
That attitude was extremely common, so bad actors were swiftly weeded out by the sheer determination by the participants.
With that, the end of Day 4.
—————
Crimson sat in a prep room of the colosseum, slowly breathing. There was a lot on his mind that he was forcibly setting aside, like he had the previous days. The second he’d gotten back, he’d been bombarded with information. Verity told him all about problems she’d had with Damus, but they couldn’t be addressed quite yet - the corrupt [Priest] had disappeared without a trace.
He’d also been banned from participating in the tournament. He had missed the qualifiers, so he wasn’t expecting to participate, but they had banned him anyway. It wasn’t an official ban - they might get in trouble with the God of War otherwise - but he was instead offered a deal: a paid position as a commentator and champion. He needed money for equipment, so he took the deal on one condition: that he’d be able to participate in the Open category. Much to his joy, an exception was made, and today, he’d be able to participate in the Open category.
The excitement was practically making his blood boil.
He glanced to his left. In the air, there floated a sliver wisp of light, his [Blade Spirit], invisible to all but him, it lacked any form of will, but responded instantly to his. Just thinking would cause it to move wherever he wanted, and whenever he touched the hilt of a sword, it immediately possessed it, causing the sword to give off a silvery smoke or steam. That was the only time others could see it in any form.
The effect was quite simple. When it possessed a sword, the sword got one extra point of durability, and one extra damage. Well, it did at Lv.2. At Lv.3, it now gave 2 durability instead of 1. Lv. 1 only had the durability increase, no extra damage.
It would be a slow growing [Skill], but Crimson had got it early enough in his career that raising it to a dangerous level was only an inevitability - he hoped to one day be able to kill a Dragon with a Lv.1 sword.
It was a good successor to the previous [Sword Kinship], containing the same basic idea of improving the weapon over the user, but the previous [Skill] was specific to each sword. Getting the full bonus from the [Sword Kinship] took a lot of time, but this new one was able to carry the bonuses between his swords. He’d already tested that idea with his claymore.
It was a perfect [Skill], and while the bonuses were smaller than [Sword Kinship] had been, it was still a new [Skill], Crimson fully expected it to surpass [Sword Kinship] shortly.
Considering he’d gotten the [Blade Spirit] from Averia, the Goddess of Nature, it would be more accurate to call it a [Familiar-Type Skill] over an [Artifact-Type Skill], but it was considered an [Artifact-Type Skill] because the spirit had a life span independent of his, so when he died it could be granted to another by Averia. That didn’t bother him, but it was odd to think about.
“We’re getting started, participants, head to the arena!” He heard being shouted in the distance. It was time to get started.