Light didn’t like the smiles on the faces of his two opponents. He felt the odds were indeed unbalanced with his team of five against the two archers, but the confidence on both Arson's and Stream’s features was undeniable.

Both teams stood across from one another, and bets were already being taken by local brokers around the ring. The crowd had been stirred up to the point that the match had been moved to a primary stage in the dueling grounds, and Light even heard murmurs had already started that many believed the matches to be qualified to go on the Hunt of the Primes.

Not even close, you idiots, we’ll be lucky to be designated to join.

Light knew that the older generations felt the young often got in the way and were more liabilities, than actually resourceful. Having no time to think on the situation developing in the City of Palaces further, he returned his full focus to the task at hand.

“I don’t know why you think you even have a chance. Your mothers must have dropped you two on your heads as infants,” Light said trying to knock the joy from his opponents' faces. What Light couldn’t have known was that while Stream’s dead mother was a sore subject for him, Arson’s own mother was a topic that was off limits completely, to anyone. The young Cultivator didn’t even talk negatively about his own mother as a joke, nor did he let her talk down about herself in his presence.

Though he had gotten what he wanted, wiping the smiles off both their faces, he also destroyed any chances that either of his opponents would take the fight easy as they originally intended.

…

Arson glanced at Stream, realizing that what had been said had also bothered him. The slight comment hadn’t been the worse insult that had been directed toward Arson, but it was definitely a matter that Arson would let anyone believe he'd tolerate in any lifetime.

“I’m sorry, Stream, but I don’t believe that I can let him leave alive…” Arson mumbled toward his partner in the match. Stream glanced back toward Arson, noting the seriousness of his words, speaking up in an attempt to diffuse the situation.

“Take it easy, rich boy, we’ll have bigger problems if we actually harm this fool,” Stream said under his breath to Arson.

“People of the races, are you ready?”

The referee riled up the crowd further. Introducing all of the fighters in the ring one by one. The elves across from Arson and Stream, gaining an uproarious applause that made Arson roll his eyes as Stream clapped slowly.

“Then we have Stream, son of Acu, known to our city as, the heir of victory!”

The cheers for Arson’s partner were boisterous, but Arson could tell that the crowd supported their opponents more than his partner. Arson’s own decision had twisted the referee’s face when he told the elderly orc, but the silence that followed his own introduction, stretched a smile across his face at the storm of murmurs that followed.

“... and his partner Sovereign Arson Omni, known to his home as the fearless godling of potential, Reaper!”

Though the referee did her best to embody a host filled with excitement, fueled by the crowds exhilaration, she fell short. The woman knew what the title being proclaimed would incur, and had even tried to convince Arson to change his title to absolutely anything else, but he wouldn’t have it.

“Reaper, what do you think you are, a god, maybe it is for the best that me and mine end you here and now, boy…” Light said, drawing in laughter from the crowd as he smirked.

“I am your end…”

The laughter died. Silence fell upon the area once more. Arson’s smile was enough to unnerve Light completely, Arson able to smell a sudden twinge of sweat bloom on not just Light, but all the elves gathered.

“And with that we shall begin now,” the Referee said nervously, looking between both teams.

“Are you okay, Arson?” Stream asked, and Arson tried to push off the growing rage blooming in his chest. He nodded, but knew the gesture was nothing but a silently communicated fallacy.

He was going to do his best to break the mentality of power the elf in front of him had built up his entire life, and show him the might of a Cultivator.

“10…!”

The countdown began, and the referee stepped back to gain distance from the competitors.

“5…!”

Arson didn’t even let the countdown conclude before he pulled free an arrow from the quiver at his back. Lined up a shot, and fired.

The elves eyes went wide. Light pulled free a claymore from thin air, while his team pulled out various weapons.

The enemy team had their own archer. A spearman. A mage wielding a staff that brimmed with lightning, and a mace wielder whose free hand glowed with a soft golden light that made Arson assume that the individual was a potential healer.

Arson’s first shot was blocked by Light’s claymore, the DragonDust Arrow exploding to encapsulate the entire enemy team. The elves barely had a chance to move before Stream too fired an arrow, the flaming arrow he shot lighting the dust in the air ablaze, causing an even more powerful secondary explosion.

“Focus, fire on the archer,” yelled Arson, all while pointing toward the healer, whistling in the giant’s tongue to draw Stream’s attention toward Arson’s real target.

1…?”

The referee’s shocked tone while she finished made Arson laugh aloud as he moved toward the flame soaked group of elves.

“How dare you!” roared Light, rolling out of the area still drenched in a near wildfire. He yelled for his brethren to protect the archer in his group, even before he righted himself, only for his eyes to go wide once he realized what was happening around him.

As Light’s people scrambled to gather themselves. Arson had managed to pull free the healer from the storm of flames still roiling in the air, and was now using his bow to choke the young elf. Light’s teammate kicked and flailed trying to get free, but had completely panicked. Arson’s sleeves were on fire, and quickly was spreading down the length of the young elf’s clothing.

“What are you idiots doing, help him!”

Light’s command fell on deaf ears, his team still putting out the flames on their own clothes. Another whistle was heard from Arson, and Light immediately took flight spreading his wings wide.

“Thought you would never ask, rich boy!”

Three arrows shot through the team of disoriented elves, aimed directly toward the elf in Arson’s chokehold. Even before Light could dive toward his teammate, two arrows landed, piercing the young elf through the chest.

Before the third one could land, a shield wrapped around the young elf. And an instant later, he vanished completely. Arson looked around, only to find the young elf being catered to by the referee.

“What the sparks, we don’t even get to finish them off, what kind of pathetic dueling ground is this!”

“Shut up, rich boy, we have more opponents!”

Light dove toward Arson just as he pulled free his last DragonDust Arrow. The enraged elf swung his claymore, and Arson ducked, almost dodging the weapon, but was clipped on the shoulder. Light yelled with excitement but then froze at what he saw on the tip of his weapon.

The spurt of blood expelled was a beautiful white gold that made Light pause. This gave Arson just enough time to stab Light in the shoulder with the arrow he held. The DragonDust Arrow, exploded just after penetrating through Light’s skin, Arson cackling even as he and Light choked.

Light spit, trying to wipe his eyes and nose, the sound of an odd whistle touching his ears as he tried to blow away the dust around him.

“You sure, rich boy!”

“Just do it!”

Light turned toward where he’d heard Arson’s voice, prepared to take flight. Yet just as he jumped, a flaming arrow was embraced by the dust cloud, and exploded. Both Light and Arson were thrown in different directions, Arson cackling the entire time, even as he was flung through the air.

Light, having had just jumped, was tossed end over end, landing roughly on his head on the far side of the large stage. His head spun with disorientation as he wobbled to his feet; the young elf doing his best to clear his double vision, took in the area through his watering eyes.

What in the sparks are these two thinking… How can they operate so casually in this chaos.

Light stumbled as he tried to step toward the members of his team that were still fighting, an obvious concussion making his every movement a struggle.

Now positioned to either side of his team, Arson and Stream fired at every thing that moved. A cage wrapped around their mage just as the young elf tried to summon a storm to disperse the growing flames around them, and another odd whistle went out, and Arson fired an arrow directly at Stream, further confusing Light.

The cage then condensed itself so tightly around the mage that in less than a breath the young elf couldn’t be seen within the structure. The spell that was being created exploded within and the sound of drowning followed. Light’s bewilderment grew as he didn’t know who to help, his mind drawn in so many directions at once.

He wondered if the pair was insane, feeling hope as Arson’s arrow closed in toward Stream, but then Stream fired an arrow of his own. It wasn’t until the arrows from the pair of archers collided and both projectiles were knocked off course to strike new targets, that Light understood truly what was happening.

Stream’s arrow curved, and was sent directly into the bowstring of his team’s own archer, making the young elf incapable of using their weapon completely. While Arson’s arrow seemed to stretch, Light only then realizing an odd chain was connected to the back of his arrow.

The spearman on Light’s team had almost closed in onto Stream’s position, but Arson’s ChainArrow quickly collided with the side of his neck, wrapping around the young elvin female’s throat in a death grip.

Arson yanked the elf back and began to laugh even harder as she screamed in pain. Even before he got his captured foe close he pulled out an arrow that glowed from top to bottom, twirling it between the fingers of his freehand, while his chain arrow retracted itself.

“Could you not take so much pleasure in this, rich boy, they're not even all that good. Where is your sportsman like conduct!”

“What, it’s not like I can even kill them. There is nothing wrong with a little demoralization. At least they won’t try this again, or think that talking to us any kind of way is acceptable!”

“Light,” cried out Light’s team’s spearman, and Arson cackled as he stabbed down. The arrow almost touched the eye of the young elvin female, but a shield of light stopped Arson’s potential dismemberment, but not the explosion that ensued after the projectile.

I have to stop this.

Light thought to himself, his head still spinning, causing him to fall after tripping over his own legs.

Meanwhile, during Light’s attempt to regain his balance, Arson and Stream continued to fire shots at one another. Arson’s DragonDust Arrows collided with Stream’s own flaming arrows, creating a series of explosions that formed a dome of fire around the elves. Arson now not the only one laughing, Stream joining in as the pair held a conversation, yelling to be heard over the roiling flames.

“I thought you said that archery is the least practiced martial form in the City of Palaces, little giant?”

Ha, it is, rich boy. What’s your point?”

“Just assumed that meant that everyone else practiced stronger forms of combat!”

“I never sparking said that!”

The two finally stopped firing, once Arson whistled, signaling to Stream that the entire team with the exception of Light had already been pulled from the stage.

Stream looked around and lowered his bow in shock. He hadn’t even been forced to move the entire match, still standing where he’d been from the beginning.

His body shrank back to its normal size, and he shook his head, taking deep breaths to calm down. The shame he normally felt for transforming was a factor in his life that was normally filled with much trauma and regret, but for the first time in his life, fighting alongside Arson, unashamedly using his god-given abilities to their utmost potential. Stream felt no shame.

He looked over at the stunned crowd, and a twinge of regret was felt, but the moment he looked over toward the smiling Arson who raised his brows in his direction, he felt something else entirely.

Why am I disappointed right now, we won. Even with the odds stacked against us. Stream looked back at the staring onlookers and growled.

“What are you all looking at, aren't you supposed to be cheering or something like that?” Stream grumbled sarcastically. He looked back toward the chuckling Arson, who gestured to Light, the young elf leader on a knee as he struggled to stand.

“You got that, right? Not much of a point in us ganging up on him?

“Yeah rich boy, gladly…”

…

The leaders of the council watched from a distance. All shocked to silence, with the exception of Acu, who laughed heartily at the back of the group.

“This isn’t funny Acu, the time for something like this is better displayed when we aren’t about to fight enemies that could kill us all off, many will be demoralized by this.”

Acu looked at the Elvin leader. The beautiful woman shaking her head slowly at the sight in the distance. Her son being approached by Stream, made her blood boil. The swords at her waist gripped so tightly, that Acu knew that if he wasn’t there his own son may have been attacked already.

“This is what it is for steel to sharpen steel, Elana. I would have thought you would be proud that your son lasted even that long against a Reaper…”

Acu saw the woman’s grip loosen, the blood returning rapidly to her fingertips. She nodded slowly, but Acu knew that if the woman got the chance to cause Arson any kind of embarrassment or pain, Arson would pay tenfold.

Acu looked around at the other leaders. The orcs, the DragonKin, the fairies and many other races had their representatives there, as Acu stood proudly amongst them as the voice of the mixed blooded, smiling as his own son stood over his opponent victorious. A win that was said to be impossible no matter how skilled Stream was with a bow.

I’m proud of you my boy, now shake them up until their internal pride becomes external acceptance of what the mixed blooded are and will become…!