Chapter 126

How does POWER work? I silently asked the voice. I kept myself pressed to the wall under the overhanging platform above me. Lance's rapidly drumming footsteps drew closer, and I tensed. I suspected he wouldn't be able to see me without leaning out dangerously and exposing himself. Even with this strange ability he had gained, if he leaned down, my high-level CUT could be enough to finish him.

The voice replied, What did all your trainers teach you?

I said, Nobody ever bothered to teach me much about POWER. You said it yourself—no contestant in a Choosing has ever gained a level of POWER, so why waste time tutoring it? I know it has something to do with raising physical attributes, but I thought there were limitations on POWER. Don't Griidlords limit their use of the attribute in combat situations?

The voice said, Yes, indeed they do. You, in fact, have some possible avenue to getting through this. Hmm, maybe I acted a little rashly...

I couldn't fathom what the voice meant by acting rashly. I wasn’t aware of it ever acting at all, unless you counted blathering and mocking in my brain as action.

The voice continued, POWER allows a suit wearer to direct energy from a finite well to boost physical stats. The size of the well is most certainly finite, and once exhausted, it takes time to replenish. Our noble friend up there has fired up POWER and seems to be running it continuously, which means he must be burning through his reserves. I don’t know the precise nature of the relic he’s using, but I’m unaware of any such relic that would raise his POWER by more than a single level. Such wonders do exist, but their rarity is such that I doubt they'd be available for a ploy like this. And, frankly, a single level of POWER makes the boy unbeatable.

I heard the footsteps drum by above me. He must have scanned the entire perimeter of the upper floor by now. My HEARING gave me a clear sense of his movement. I wondered why his SCENT or HEARING didn't allow him to track me by heartbeat or odor, but the tournament was alive with the sounds and smells of the crowd. I didn’t know which of those attributes he had leveled.

I asked, So how long does he have before he exhausts it?

The voice said, He seems to have directed his POWER attribute to his speed stat, which, as you've seen, is a fine use of it. A normal level-1 user would have exhausted their reserves by now and would already be recharging. This relic must come with a larger reserve. But mark me, Tiberius—that’s your only way out of this now: wait for him to burn through his energy, then strike while he’s recharging. I just don’t understand why the dolt is being so wasteful. Why isn’t he turning POWER off when he’s not in combat?

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I could have answered that. I understood. I was already salivating at the thought of experiencing the power Lance wielded. The suit had a drug-like effect on me. I’d seen in Olaf’s eyes that he also felt the ecstasy of power from the suit. Lance, for all his arrogance, was a gifted suit user, and he too probably felt the joy of the suit the way I did. I could imagine what he was experiencing as he dashed about, deciding on his next course of action. He was alive in a new way. The power coursing through him probably burned like heavenly fire. He might even have been aware that he needed to switch it off to conserve the resource, but it would be so hard to let go of that invigoration. I understood.

I felt a vibration through my feet. My heart jumped a gear. Lance had leapt to this tier. I could feel the rapid vibrations of his feet as he raced around the tier from the opposite side. I could hear the impacts of his feet on the surface as he came for me. The crowd noise rose with excitement as they watched him. They might be rooting for me, but what they wanted to see more than anything was the next clash of steel on steel. I jittered slightly; he would come fast. I had seen the speed he could employ now. I needed to be facing him, but I wouldn’t have time to turn… But which side?

I activated SIGHT. Bear with me—because even to this day, I am proud of the play I made in that moment. I activated SIGHT and scanned the crowd. There was no vid screen up during the fight, for the very reason that someone in my position could use it to unfair advantage. But I could zoom in on the faces in the crowd. None of them were watching me. They were all watching the figure streaking with superhuman speed towards me. I focused on faces in the crowd, watching their eyes tracking him. They were all pointed to the left.

Time slowed for me a little as I watched their pupils move. What a marvel of the suit that I could see the eyes of the spectators from this distance. I watched their pupils reveal my opponent to me. I let my HEARING measure the distance. I let the drumming vibrations of his steps seep through my feet.

At the last possible moment, before Lance had rounded the bend, I leapt towards him. I pushed everything I had into my CUT. I felt the power surge through me, through my sword. I felt the heat of the blade flaring against me. I had to narrow my eyes as the light erupted from my own sword. He was too fast for me to swing at directly. Instead, I used this chance to strike at where I expected him to be.

In this instance, I did not go unrewarded.

His blurring figure rounded the bend of the second-tier platform. He was racing, buoyed aloft by the experience of power, perhaps even drifting slightly in an ecstatic haze. Well, I brought that ecstasy to a sudden halt.

I caught the briefest glimpse of his lips curling into a surprised snarl. Then his mouth twisted into an expression of agony. He had time to pulse SHIELD. The attack would have been too much of a surprise for him to respond had he not been employing POWER, but his enhanced speed gave him just enough time to raise SHIELD and turn his body slightly. Regardless, my blow exploded on him. The kinetic fire raged on impact, a burst of light and force that shook my own arms, let alone his body. His form was sent hurtling from me. He skipped off the edge of this tier and struck the tier below. The glowing light of his visor dimmed.

Like a stone on water, or an object tumbling down stairs, he glanced off each step of the tiers, his body dashed brutally with every fall. I held my breath. His trajectory was clear. He was going to hit the floor of the arena.

I had done it.

I was about to win.