“I almost died in the last fight with the Primes, Father, but we didn’t have the apples. Do you believe we will be able to handle the situation this time without as many deaths?”

River shook his head at his son, truly feeling that the City of Palaces could have an orchard of the powerful fruits and still lose valuable fighters in the upcoming battles.

“There has never been a time when the Primes weren’t unfathomably strong, my son. You must remember that they once used forbidden knowledge to become what they are. This is why our customs have restricted the entry to all libraries that were once used within this plane.”

“I’m not saying that we should join them in their blasphemous actions or anything so ridiculous, Father. I just thought that with as many Ambrosia Apples as we have this time, that you and the Elders of the council would be far more equipped to—“

River waved a hand through the air, stopping his son.

“Can you imagine reading words from a single page of paper that could give you the power to use skills so incredible, that you could split the sky open, craft bows as heavy as mountains, or even conjure an arrow that could kill a god?”

Stream stayed silent, shaking his head slowly as his father continued. River truly wanting to impart how dangerous the beings were that they could only fend off, rather than defeat. It was the only thing important to him in that moment. As he could not lose another of his family to the fight that had already claimed the majority of his family, as well as many other mixed blooded Ancients for as long as he could remember.

“No, son, these aren’t beings that we can handle. These are entities so mighty that their mere tantrums put our entire population at risk by them simply being awake. If it wasn’t that they were made to be mindless by the magical laws of our homeland, we’d either long ago been slain or enslaved. I wish with every day for better options, but fighting them to a state of exhaustion is far better than extinction.”

River let the words sink in, hoping that his son could understand his perspective. Yet even as his son looked away, his frustration easily readable on his facial features, River prayed that his son wouldn’t do anything foolish, as River once had. As his fallen wife once had.

All you can do is prepare him River, nothing will give him more potential to survive what is to come than experience and guidance… thought River, forcing himself to move on mentally.

“Go get your friend, we are going to need as many strong people as we can get in our ranks,” River commanded playfully with an accompanied laugh that infuriated his son.

‘He’s not my friend,” Stream said with a rising tone that showed his frustration at his father’s continued pestering.

“Why, because of the odd crown that appears over his head when he fights, he’s not all that bad for a royal,” said River gesturing toward the cracked door to the bedroom that Arson slept inside.

“Well… yeah, that and the fact that I barely know the guy. You act like I don’t have any friends. Why do you keep pushing this so hard? You’ve never pushed me to be around anyone, not even Camilla, and I love her…” retorted Stream, blurting out more truths than he realized in a moment of annoyance.

“I mean she’s pretty. No, I mean her crossbows are amazing,” Stream continued, not making his attraction to his crush any less obvious.

“Ahh, well, you finally admit the young DragonKin lass is attractive to you. Good, I’ll ask her parents to bring her by for dinner.”

“What!”

“There is nothing wrong with me pushing you to make friends. You just seem to get along, anyone else and you’d have shot them already. I just think the lad gives you a fright is all, so you know that threats like a few arrows isn’t going to send him skittering off. I’ve seen lifelong bonds form from less.”

“Whatever old man, I’m not going in there to wake him up anyway, he needs his rest, you saw how badly he got torn up. Ambrosia Apple or not, he’s gonna need time to recover.”

“Doesn’t seem like it, he’s been listening to us for quite a while now. If he knew the language of the Giants I’d be worried,” River said glancing at the room door. Why the boy in the next room was listening so attentively without being able to understand was a true oddity, but maybe…

You couldn’t be listening because you do understand, could you…?

“What is your expectation here? You want us to train in the distortions? Aren’t they going to be absolute chaos until the Primes are settled once more? Who knows how long it's going to take to put them all back to sleep,” inquired Stream, snapping his father back toward the conversation.

“No.”

The bowman thought for a moment and continued after he gathered himself momentarily.

“Take him with you to the dueling grounds, fight as many matches as you can everyday until the rest of the council gathers their forces for the upcoming battle. You only have a few days, and I expect the both of you to grow as much as possible, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Stream said with a nod, needing no further prompting from his father to move. He immediately stepped away, and strode into the room Arson lay within and shook him to wake up after walking through the large space.

“It’s time to wake up, rich boy, we got more training to do.”

Arson’s eyes opened slowly, but locked onto Stream in a way that left the young man to believe his father’s words. If there were any doubts that Arson had been awake, none remained. A killing intent came from the Cultivator’s eyes that Stream had never felt before in his life. With only one exception that is, being his father alone, Arson’s next words filling Stream with more fear than anything he’d ever experienced prior.

“As you wish, little giant.”

…

Arson couldn’t help but notice Stream’s constant slight glances in his direction. An odd sensation could be felt by Arson, but he couldn’t quite discern what it was at first.

He’s sweating profusely. Lots of rapid eye movement, and he’s clutching that bow of his like he may fire at even his own shadow. What’s wrong with him, is he scared of something? Are those Primes really as bad as he and his father made them out to be?

Arson continued to ponder what he’d heard. Yet all that his mind lingered on, was their destination, and what Arson had overheard about the library within the City of Palaces.

What could be so dangerous about a bloody library…?

From what Arson could tell by River's conversation with Stream, neither believed that libraries were places of knowledge and power, but were instead, places to be feared. From what Arson knew a library was filled with books, but the father and son had spoken about libraries as if they held monsters within.

From what Anastasia described, Stream and his father would be seen as monsters in most realms. Not that I remember what scared me as a child…?

Arson hated how his mind was working without his memories. He didn’t remember anything personal, but commonly known aspects of life and culture were easily pulled to the forefront of his mind. So the feelings of positivity that thrummed throughout his body at the thought of a library, seemed to Arson to be completely adverse to how his new acquaintances had discussed what he felt may have been one of his favorite places in existence.

Anastasia said that I loved libraries, a sport called DungeonBall, and crafting anything that used runes. From what I feel to be true about myself so far, I doubt she is wrong, but for now I’ll drop it and focus on the task at hand.

He wanted to see what the dueling grounds was like since he entered the City of Palaces, but had kept away, not knowing if he’d be making matters worse for himself by stepping into a place dedicated to violence, and designated to the resolution of drama between the powerful.

Not knowing where he stood on the scales of power within the city, the dueling grounds had been the last place he’d wanted to go. After being left once more without his memories outside the trials, however, it was Anastasia’s sharing of his bow craft that made him rather excited to push himself further.

Arson was unsure why the knowledge he’d gained from his watch had worked this time, as he was sure she’d tried in the past, concluding that it must have been his ingesting the Ambrosia Apple that made it possible. Otherwise, Arson didn’t see what could have changed, and even wished his grander self had left him with more, but knew now just how limited his time had been.

“Looks like we are here.”

Arson looked around, feeling as if he should have been able to see inside the large structure even before they entered, but the sensation passed. The prickling of the skin at the back of his neck ignored, as eyes fell on him and Stream as they entered.

The dueling area had no door, and no roof. Only large walls held the battling races inside the area, which was still somehow larger inside than it was outside.

How is that even possible…

Arson knew instinctually that spacial dimensions were normally enclosed spaces, but as they entered the open doorway, night change to day, and the cool night air, shifted to a warm summer breeze.

“This place is incredible.”

Arson’s eyes took in runes that many there were incapable of seeing. His blocked memories incapable of telling him just how prominent the designs of interlocking patterns truly were.

“It's not all that, I mean the flying stages are cool, but other than that it's pretty average for the City of Palaces.”

Arson’s eyes widened slightly, only then realizing that many combatants within the area fought well above them. Translucent stages lined in light held battles far in the air over the duels below, every fight easily viewed from the ground.

Arson’s level of excitement grew. He didn’t know what he was about to be expected to do, but after what Anastasia showed him, he had many things he wanted to try.

His grander self had thought of many things that he should be capable of while using the bow in his hands, especially with the arrows seemingly being formed from mana, only restricted in capability by his own imagination.

So what Arson was about to try, well exceeded the normal bow structure in combat, and Arson pondered briefly how those around him would react.

Let’s hope this goes well for me.

“So how does this work, do we need to sign up somewhere to fight, or do we just walk around challenging anyone we want?”

“Absolutely not, it will more than likely be me and you sparring for a while. If we get challenged, good, otherwise, we don’t want to ruffle any of these noble brats' feathers,” Stream stated.

“Whatever you say, little giant…”

Arson noticed the young man stiffen. The young man’s action making Arson aware that the nickname he’d given him obviously struck a cord with Stream that made him uncomfortable.

“Come on, let's get registered,” Stream said underneath his breath, Arson barely able to hear the response.

The pair both strolled through the crowds. All types of different body types fighting against one another made Arson feel both amazed by the diversity, and alarmed by how integrated all the races seemed. Nothing was wrong with being united, but the groups seemed to only be friendly on the surface, all the different races clustered together, only interacting with those outside their race for battle.

That’s odd…

Arson lifted his wrist, only to get shushed by Anastasia who must have noticed what Arson had already. Either way, Arson decided not to comment.

“Stage for just the two of you, team battle, or free for all arena?” asked the kind looking Orkish woman at the registration stand.

“Just us two,” said Stream, pointing between Arson and himself.

The woman nodded, and before long Arson found himself standing across from Stream on a small stage in one of the far corners of the dueling grounds.

They stood 100 yards away from one another, with a few hundred yards between both of them and the stage edges. Arson stood creating various arrows, tucking them into a quiver Stream had let him use after Arson had asked for one. The simple storage device quickly filled with many arrows, all different shapes and sizes.

“Something told me that giving you that quiver wouldn’t be a good thing for me.”

Arson only shrugged in response at first, until he pulled free an arrow with a hollowed out center, the entire length of the projectile an odd honey comb design.

“We’ll see, could just be all for show,” responded Arson. However Stream wasn’t in belief of Arson’s statement for a single moment.

For the first time in Stream’s life, he was nervous. Being one of the best archers around since a very young age hadn’t equipped him for a combatant who could learn and grow as quickly as Arson, but the young man banished the thoughts as he lifted his own first arrow from his quiver and tried to put on his best smile.

“I assume that means you're ready?”

Arson nodded, and a countdown began. Each stage had its own referee, which was what was being paid for primarily, as the stages themselves were rather combat resistant, making any other charges necessary.

Once the ref triggered the start, both young men lifted their weapons and prepared themselves. Arson hoped his newest creations would actually work, while Stream hoped that he hadn’t just signed up for an engagement he’d soon regret.

A whistle signaled the start of the duel, and both young men fired. Stream smirked, having had fired an instant after Arson he knew his arrow was on course to knock Arson’s own from the sky. Only that never occurred.

Stream pulled free another arrow as Arson did; his slight pause at watching Arson’s own arrow break apart mid air and stretch costing him dearly. The arrow he fired was snatched out of the air by Arson, while Arson’s arrow formed a cage that slammed down around him.

“What the sparks!”

Arson snickered, and fired Stream’s own arrow right back at the young man.

“Not going to make this easy on you, buddy. Oh wait you're not friends with my kind, are you…”

Stream’s eyes widened in shock, as Arson formed another basic arrow between his fingertips. He was forced to duck, then dive away from another shot. His dodge sending him slamming into the cage around him, cracks forming in the structure.

Arson laughed taking out another arrow, the length of the arrow covered in small spikes with a spiraled arrowhead. He was worried that he wouldn’t be able to use the arrow he held in the dueling arenas but with the large space offered, he found himself immediately comfortable.

Stream started to kick at the cage, as Arson began strafing around the cage at an increasing distance to make it harder for his opponent to keep line of sight on him.

“You know this is more fun than I thought it would be!”

Arson fired the new arrow, tempted to push extra mana into the projectile, but didn’t want the fight to end so quickly. He instead pulled free another arrow with a chain link design, smiling to himself. He loved this arrow above all the others for the unrivaled level of utility it offered.

The second arrow he fired began to fold into itself as it rushed toward Stream. The young man frowning as the projectile’s path was far too high to make contact with him, noticing this, Stream broke free of the cage finally, turning toward Arson, who now maintained a position behind Stream, not allowing for the young giant to put his eyes on Arson.

“Speak for yourself, rich boy, where in the bloody—“

The arrow now perfectly above Stream had formed a star, a series of triangles pointing in every direction, before it exploded completely, sending shards in a globe of shrapnel and destruction.

Pierced by many of the shards Stream dove to the ground, and Arson took the opportunity to act. He knew that the only reason he held the upper hand was that Stream was being overwhelmed by the oddity that was Arson’s new arrows, and wanted to keep his advantage for as long as he could.

Arson looked up toward one of the flying stages that circled their own stage above, and fired the chain link arrow. The arrow soared high above, stretching and extending itself as far as it could; Arson still strafing and wrapping the opposing end of the arrow that became more and more like a rope by the blink around his waist.

Come on, come on…!

Arson prayed that the arrow flew with enough velocity to puncture the underside of the flying stage, and to his luck, it did, shredding through the bottom with ease.

Stream jumped to his feet, and Arson was yanked into the air behind the young man as he spun as quickly as he could to see where Arson was. Only, Arson was nowhere on the ground, and since Arson had never flown or shown any ability to fly, nor did he have wings like some of those around the pair battling on other stages, he didn’t look up. Only continuing to spin until he’d turned completely around, seeing Arson nowhere.

Stream even dove forward, firing an arrow behind himself before landing on his feet with a flip of acrobatic grace that Arson had to admit was impressive.

“Wow, I’m going to have to learn how to do that, for sure!”

Stream frowned once more, looking up to see a waving Arson. Rather than being shocked, however, Stream growled in anger and began to fire a flurry of arrows up at the young Cultivator.

“Hey now, that’s rude to do after someone paid you a compliment!”

“Die, rich boy,” screamed Stream in frustration.

Arson laughed, pulling out the fourth of the seven new arrows he had, shrugging before he fired it. This arrow’s structure was unique in that the arrow’s head was in the shape of a pyramid, with its apex connected to the body of the arrow rather than the base. Though not aerodynamic in the slightest, from Arson’s elevated position what he intended for it would make its structure a non consequence.

Nearly seven arrows had been fired toward Arson by that point, all of which were in line to hit Arson easily. When Arson’s arrow changed shape, the base of the pyramid forming a wall of bone as the four points stretched wide to form a defensive wall, Stream cursed. Not a single arrow hit Arson, nor did they pierce the wall of bone as it fell toward Stream.

“You’ve got to be bloody kidding me!”

Stream was once more forced onto the defensive, diving out of the way as the wall smashed down where he’d just been as if the bones were as heavy as bricks.

“Come on, little giant, aren’t you supposed to be the best!”

Their battle had gained attention. More and more of the races lining up around the edge of their stage to look at the two battle it out.

“Come on, little giant, is this all you got!”