Our foes are not dumb beasts but reasoning, cunning, malicious monsters who actively pursue the destruction of our world and all that we could ever become. Forget at your peril.
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Jair moved a bit stiffly as he walked to the central amphitheater dome, having spent the past hours in an extensive workout both physically and magically.
He’d alternated spell preparation between sets of stretches and slow practice katas in the hours between the fight and the scheduled duel. It would take months to imprint the spells to a usable degree. The sooner he got the process started the better.
The first few weeks would be the hardest, until his bodies got used to the new expectations he had for himself. Blademaster and archmage, titles he would reclaim as soon as possible, were not attained by the faint of heart.
His first set of spells would be a standard complement that combined utility with defence.
Absorb and Reflect would retain their usual place as his hand spells. Most people chose to slot attacks as their fastest and easiest to cast abilities, but Jair had always been a believer in survival first and everything else after. Even a split-second advantage in activation speed could be the difference between life and death.
The lightning spells he could draw by hand, while the gravitational and shielding sets required exact measurements and took considerably longer without an existing imprint to trace.
He wasn't sure yet if he’d need different spells than usual for the coming conflicts. Already the balance of power was tilting wildly away from anything he'd known in the past. There was a good chance that gaps he'd always had to cover himself could be dealt with by others now, or that new gaps would be opened as a result of how drastically the timeline had shifted away from standard baseline.
For now, he’d focus on augmentation and control. He still had a couple weeks before the imprints grew stable enough to resist simple alterations, so if something came up he could always change course. Better to move in a direction and have to backtrack than wait around.
His body and mana both protested at the hard use, twinges and aches building on one another with every step, manabody stinging all over, but Jair had been through worse. He ignored the pain and moved smoothly as though without a care in the world.
Lian waited for him atop the stage, one hand on his sword's hilt and exuding an air of absolute confidence. Several dozen students had gathered to watch.
Ran had planned on attending, but Jair insisted he take a quick nap first and that was that. The two of them had apparently been studying hard, late into the night, for days. Ran needed the sleep almost as badly as Jair himself.
Not everyone in attendance belonged to the same classes as Jair and Lian. Jair noticed a few advanced initiates in the audience - distinguishable by their shortened sleeves not reaching the elbow - and even two teachers.
Moderated duels would normally be preferred but in this case seeing the teachers made Jair’s mood sour. He had yet to ingratiate himself with any of them, many of whom retained their former attitude of dismissal toward him. Even if he’d made inroads with the students and their families, it would be an uphill battle to gain respect from the teachers.
Jair had checked the code thoroughly. His preparations were unconventional, but not technically against any rules. That said, if his actions came into question, it would be a bigger problem to argue down the teachers than the fellow students.
Given Lian’s wealth and status, he wouldn’t put it past them to be biased in his favor even without active bribery any more than he’d put bribery past Lian.
Did Lian want to show up the upstart on his own? Of course. Would he take any technicality to win if he couldn’t succeed on his own merits? Absolutely.
Lian had never been exceptional even among his peer group, preferring to fight with his whole gang than deal with anything on his own. If Jair hadn't cornered him into the fight in the first place, he'd never have agreed to a solo match.
Such were Jair’s thoughts as he stepped up to the stage with exaggerated care, slow and dramatic.
The crowd whispered and pointed.
Perhaps he'd left his soulsword behind at dinner, they hadn't been entirely certain that he'd internalized it, but now there could be no doubt. He wore neither belt nor sheath, only a loose combat robe and trousers.
Lian's eyes hardened at the observation, but he'd clearly prepared himself for this. He stepped forward, drawing his sword and pointing it at Jair's heart.
"You who would impugn my honor, stand forward and face me without guile or affectation. Let my blade prove my purity."
Purity, ha. "I sustain my challenge. Your honor belongs to my blade.” Jair raised a hand ready, the other lightly touching his forehead. “Soulblade, manifest."
Silver light blinded all in attendance as Maelstrom appeared in Jair's outstretched hand, the wobbly blade pulsing unevenly with light.
Lian took a combat stance, well practiced with the sword even if his mage abilities were subpar, but still heavily reliant on forms at this age. Slow to react to surprises. Emotionally vulnerable, despite his attempts to hide it.
Jair matched him, mirroring the pose with precision and grace.
Lian's eyes flicked over Jair’s perfect stance, uneasy. Jair could all but see the calculation.
"I'm still willing to play at being friends after this," Jair told him conversationally as they slowly circled, eyes locked on one another. "When I leave you bleeding in the sand, it's only the natural outcome of the path you've chosen."
Light flared as the blades clashed. Lian's sword didn't so much as spark as they clashed together, while Maelstrom let off a wave of silver light that nova'd out vertically between them like a solid shield, dissipating just as quickly.
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Lian stared down at it, appearing confused as the flare faded and he finally got a close look at Maelstrom. "What... did you do to it?” His expression shifted to a derisive sneer. “Melted your own sword?"
Jair shrugged. "It was a busy day and I was in a bit of a rush. You should have seen the other guy."
Lian took advantage of the perceived distraction and lunged.
Jair evaded, moving through familiar forms, his body screaming in protest the entire time. His hours of stretches and focused warmups had been sufficient to make it possible, even if painful.
Lian slashed, Jair blocked, then retaliated with a slash and feint, driving his sword into Lian's left calf. He received a light slash across his forearm before he could disengage, tearing through his sleeve.
With only a single night's training, even his best efforts couldn't fully match his speed to Lian's years of training. Still, Jair had taken first blood, and Lian's retaliatory blow was glancing.
He disengaged and spun. Maelstrom flashed to his other hand as he moved, slashing up under Lian’s guard, throwing his sword high. Before Lian could recover, Jair stepped close and slapped his other hand against Lian’s chest, shoving hard.
To his credit, the young noble recovered quickly, hopping to the side and correcting his momentum with relative grace.
Not quickly enough. Maelstrom flashed and sliced through the expensive white fabric of Lian’s robe, drawing a thin line of red across his side.
“Hah!” Jair backed up and dramatically spun Maelstrom in a casual flourish, then almost dropped it as if the uneven balance threw him off.
Lian took this as a chance to strike, darting forward.
Jair recovered the feigned fumble and smoothly blocked, deflecting Lian’s sword to the side, twisting into a side kick to Lian’s injured leg.
Lian's jaw tightened visibly as he stumbled back, eyes beginning to glow bright icy blue.
Jair grimaced and jumped back. Apparently Lian had spent the evening attuning to his soulspell.
Since Lian only obtained the ability that morning, he’d assume it would catch Jair off guard.
He would be wrong.
Lian's ability could manifest explosive blasts of frost and ice shards at a location within his range, something like a frozen shrapnel grenade. He thought no one else had even seen it, let alone understood it well enough to counter.
Jair was already moving, more perfectly aware of Lian's power and its limitations than Lian himself. He’d prepared for this eventuality, never willing to underestimate his opponent, but he still wasn’t looking forward to it.
Jair's own soulspell was very internal and could do nothing on such a micro level - he'd tried using Temporal Reversion to deal with a fight blow by blow in the past, but his level of control couldn't come close to that degree of precision. At best, he'd end up within a few hours of the fight. Reverting a second or two, as useful as that would be, continued to elude him even after countless thousands of reversions.
Jair's best counter to Lian's attack was entirely basic - wear armor. He'd had Ran buy them both a set in preparation for the dragon attack, but since he had it may as well use it. He raised both arms to shield his face, just in time.
Lian's attack exploded directly in front of Jair, sending him back a step with the force of its impact, shredding his robe across the front, but the metal underneath wasn't even scratched.
You wouldn't wear armor as a proper mageblade, not metal or bone armor at least, due to its mana-static properties. Mage robes tended to be sleeveless and loose, sometimes eschewing anything resembling a top at all if one was particularly heavily empowered. Even cloth absorbed a portion of any spell passing through it, weakening the ability of its wearer by that much.
But though Lian may be following mageblade conventions as though they were law, there was no actual rule against wearing armor in a duel. It would be mindblowingly idiotic to block off your own ability to cast spells. Jair's protective plating, though unconventional, fell entirely within official parameters.
Lian was already rushing forward as the frosty mist of his attack slowly evaporated, anticipating a surprised Jair to be vulnerable and off balance. Instead, he met Maelstrom head on, the sword sliding past his guard and driving into his wrist. Deep.
Lian screamed and jumped back, his unbound soulsword clattering to the stage with a resounding clang.
Jair didn't let him get away, batting his arm aside with a stinging slap of Maelstrom, then sweeping his leg out and knocking Lian to his knees.
The noble rallied quickly, turning the fall into a controlled stumble, leaning away from Jair's followup attack and rolling toward his sword.
Jair reached it first. He trapped the blade under one foot and stabbed Maelstrom down into the back of Lian's reaching hand, driving through it into the floor below.
"Do you yield?"
Arm bleeding, hand impaled, leg twisted awkwardly, Lian nodded, tears of pain leaking down his face.
“So everyone can hear, please.”
Lian’s voice cracked, but he yelled out, “I– I yield.”
Jair took just long enough to scan the audience for any sign of objection. He saw disgruntled faces, but no one immediately shouted that the duel should be disqualified.
Satisfied, he dismissed Maelstrom back into his soul in a flash of silver light, kicking Lian's inferior weapon back towards its owner.
“Don’t imagine this is over,” Lian hissed through teeth gritted against the pain, clutching his bleeding hand to his chest. “You’ll pay for this insolence.”
Jair couldn’t be bothered to care. As long as they were wary enough to leave him alone for a few days while they regathered their courage and concocted new plots, that was all that he needed.
He made no celebratory remark, no gloating speech, only walked away without another word.
The roar of the crowd washed over him; shouting, debating, cheering or booing. Others simply sat in stunned silence, wide eyes following his every movement.
Some ran to congratulate Jair, others flinched away from his presence. Many were too busy gossiping to do either.
Jair didn't stop either to accept their adulation or to recriminate his critics. The whole weight of everything had finally fallen in on him, and he wanted nothing more than to hide away in his apartment and sleep for the next week.
He couldn't lose that much time, of course, if he was going to save Ran from the angry dragon, but tonight he could afford to give in to his exhaustion. He’d been driving himself for so long. During the countless repetition of those last desperate days he'd never had time for sleep. Throughout the day just completed there'd been no chance to pause.
If necessary, he could have forced himself to keep going another day or two, perhaps longer if you counted loops, but his mental checklist for day 1 had been fully completed and now... he could finally allow himself the rest he so desperately needed.
At least this once. He felt satisfied with his day one, and going into the remainder of the week well rested would be more valuable than simply continuing to rush forward. There wasn’t much preparation he could do that he didn’t already know inside and out.
He hardly registered the trip back to his apartment. If anyone came to speak to him on the way he didn't remember. Lian’s gang had disappeared from where he left them hours earlier, hopefully to get healer attention, but frankly he didn’t care.
Ran still lay sound asleep where Jair had left him, still alive and safely resting.
It was enough to bring a smile to his face, despite his own soul-deep weariness.
Then, at long last, Jair Welburne closed his bedroom door and fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.
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