Chapter 128

His charge still carried the momentum created by the POWER relic, but his movements suddenly slammed back to normal. Let’s not forget, this was still an immensely skilled, graceful, and honed warrior coming at me, but the sudden loss of POWER jarred him. He tried to direct the attack as he sped through the space between us, making the most of the momentum he had gained, but even as he did, I could see his lips melt into a look of despair. He crashed into me as I sidestepped the blade, shoulder-checking me hard, and we both tumbled from the second tier to the third.

I landed on my left hand—the same hand he had wounded when he blasted the orb from my grip during the trial with the jars. It had been behaving reasonably well until now, but as I landed, I felt something pop uncomfortably. I writhed on the floor for a moment, recovering from the wind being knocked out of me and the new, uncomfortable pain in my arm. I saw Lance rise before I managed to get to my feet. I readied myself to spring into action to defend myself, but he only stared at me for a moment before, to my surprise, peeling away and fleeing around the bend of the tier.

The voice said, "You can’t waste time. His relic will start recharging immediately. You must go after him."

I lifted myself to a kneeling position, still gasping for breath. The fall had jarred my ribs, and I was struggling to catch my breath. My wrist hurt, but worse than the pain was the strange sensation that something was simply wrong with it.

"I’m getting to it," I muttered.

As I gained my feet, the voice said, "My, my, you really did it, Tiberius. You outlasted him. As long as you don’t dally too long, you’ll have an easy time putting him down now. Don’t worry about your left hand; you hardly need it. Just press him this time, won’t you? No more of this caution and care. Time is very much against you. My God, are you going to stand there forever?"

I grunted and started to lope around the tier.

The voice continued, "I really didn’t think you could outlast him this far. Of course, if his relic recharges, you’re done for. Did you see the look of surprise on his face when POWER faded from him? He won’t make that mistake twice, mark my words. If he gets a recharge, he’ll use it more efficiently, and you won’t stand a chance. Still, I can’t believe you did so well. Maybe I acted rashly…"

I thought back, Acted rashly? "What are you talking about?" Then, shaking my head, I said, "Never mind, we don’t have time for this. How long will it take his relic to recharge?"

I moved quickly and carefully, extending my HEARING and SCENT. Even through the chaos of the screaming crowd, I could detect him, still on this tier, waiting for me as I had waited for him.

The crowd was utterly losing its mind by this point. This had been the perfect show for them. It wasn’t a quick ten-second knockout—it had been a slugfest with all the twists and turns they could have hoped for. And now, it seemed their favored champion had turned the tide.

The voice said, Haven’t the foggiest. I don’t know what relic he has. As much as he had the favor and help of the big men in town, they wouldn’t have access to, nor would they risk, a truly precious relic on such a silly grudge. But still, he might have enough recharge to use some POWER in— I don’t know, it could take minutes or hours. I can’t even begin to guess without knowing what relic he possesses.

So I chased him. I was a little slower now. My side ached, and my body protested after the awkward fall, but I was very much the hunter again. I rounded the wall of the tier, and there he was, ready and steady, looking far less worse for wear than I had been.

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I sprang at him, my CUT smashing against his blocking CUT. He was startled by the power of it. I wasn’t holding back now—there was an urgency to my attack. I needed to put him down, and fast. His footwork was sublime. Even though he could barely deflect my CUTS, he stepped away perfectly, clearly understanding the game we were playing. He knew his POWER would return if he waited long enough, so he bought as much time as he could.

I roared in rage and pushed at him. It was a calculated risk. I pulled my SHIELD for added protection, and it completely deflected a flailing lash of his CUT. My next CUT came in hard, but he surprised me. He dropped. He simply stepped over the ledge to the next tier and fell. I didn’t wait for him to hide or gather himself defensively—I moved after him.

The voice urged, That’s it, don’t give him a chance. Good instincts, my little Griidlord. Keep on him now. He can only drop so many times before the floor of the arena becomes his only option.

A BEAM scorched the air past me as I dropped. He had tried to hit me mid-air. He was an excellent shot, but the action was too frantic, too close. I surged with a massive CUT attack as I plummeted down to him. He rolled aside as I fell, and my CUT smashed into the floor where he had been crouched. Wood splintered—no, it exploded. The kinetic energy made the whole structure shake. Boards and lengths of beam flew through the air, splinters igniting from the heat of the impact and friction.

The two tiers above us groaned and sagged. I leapt back as part of the upper tiers tilted and slid down, blocking the space between us. The smell of smoke filled my nose, and a haze of it lifted from the sudden pile of debris, keeping me from my quarry, buying him precious time.

But I wouldn’t give him time. I employed AGILITY, willing the suit to leap over the pile of broken lumber that had crashed down between us. I felt myself lift into the air like a bird taking flight, spinning on an axis that ran from my feet to my head. In moments, I cleared the smoking mess and landed on a jutting beam. I peered down through the thickening smoke—there he was, backing away from the growing fire, staring straight ahead, expecting me to crawl through the debris. Instead, I leapt at him.

He reacted just in time as my airborne CUT descended. He raised his own sword, not even trying to block, using the recoil of our clashing blades to propel himself away. God, but he was skilled. I landed lightly on the suddenly quivering boards of the tier. Briefly, I wondered if they would call a halt as the fire licked at the wood behind me and the structure continued to groan. But I thought not—nothing would interfere with this most sacred of contests. If the Oracle willed us both to burn alive, so be it.

We stood for a beat, staring at each other. He was afraid, I could see that, but he wouldn’t let the fear own him. He would have made a fine Sword. But whether it was for the good of the city or not, I needed the suit. I was going to finish this.

I said, “You’re done, Lance. You can still yield. The rules permit it. You don’t need to sacrifice your body for your pride.”

Of course, a big part of me didn’t want him to yield. A part of me wanted an excuse to take him apart.

He held his sword in front of him, pointed at me. He planted his feet and said, “No! You’re my test, I know that. The Oracle is testing me. It put a demon in my path, an upstart commoner granted special powers. This is all to test me. If this is the final moment, I won’t be found wanting. Come at me, you insolent shit. Come at me, and I’ll show the Oracle I’m worthy.”

The breath went out of me for a moment. The will to attack lessened. It was so true. My story wasn’t the only one unfolding here—his was too. There was another version to this entire tale. A noble’s son who had worked his hardest, earned his skill, and had every right to expect that the mantle of Sword would be his, only to have his path thwarted by a nobody who excelled purely because he happened to gain attributes unnaturally quickly. How vexing that must be. How frustrating. How unfair.

I held my sword tight in my right hand, my left only making a show of gripping the hilt. I realized there was another triumphant story to be told in the next few seconds. A story where the young lord, despite all odds, vanquished his demon. Defeated the contestant who had done what no one else could. Wouldn’t that be a wondrous tale?

But I had to have the suit.

The voice was in my ear, urging, Get on with it, quick, before it’s too—

Lance’s visor suddenly blazed with light.

The voice groaned, For fuck’s sake.