Deep breaths.
I sucked in a breath, the wind rattling around the edges of my mask.
Deep breaths. Just like old times.
I took in another breath, anxiety gnawing at my gut.
You can do this.
There was no one in the room with me, something I found I preferred.
Anyway, there needs to be no one if the plan is to work.
I took another breath, looking at the clock nearby.
Two minutes.
Two minutes, and then I would face the strongest opponent of my life.
You can do this. No pressure, though.
I grabbed the pommel of my sword, still trying to get used to the feel of the weapon.
No, it’s just not… Just not the same.
It would have helped had I had more than a week to get used to the weapon, but I would have to make do.
I glanced from the corner of my eye, watching the ticking hand of the clock.
One minute.
One way or another, this was bound to cause controversy.
But.
But, after further consideration, it was the only plan that seemed to fill the gaping issues with my initial plan to represent myself.
I was still representing myself, but not publicly.
Anyway.
Had I stepped out into such a publicly viewed venue and fought as I usually did, all it would take was a single person who’d been there for one of former adventurer Zero’s duels to know that something was amiss, that Professor Koor of Parisian Academy and Zero the Flowing Blade where one and the same.
And that spells far too many problems.
It had been too short notice to reach out to anyone else who might stand a chance, a slim list to begin with. Anyway, active adventurers weren’t likely to take such jobs on such short notice without considerable pay, pay I didn’t have.
“Former adventurers, that’s a different story.” I smiled weakly behind my mask.
And I knew an adventurer who left that life behind, disappearing after all but declaring he was the strongest amongst his gold-ranked peers.
Well, ‘knew’ wasn’t exactly correct.
After all, I was him.
Still not a good plan.
I cringed inwardly. It was bound to draw attention that Zero had returned after years of vanishing, representing the interests of the Parisian academy seemingly out of nowhere. Still, it was better to draw a correlation rather than outright identify my current alias to who I once was.
I hope, at least.
I cast one final look at the overhead clock, already aware of what I would see.
It’s time.
I stood up, gingerly pushing myself off the bench I’d been seated on.
I used to spend so much time in rooms just like this.
Perhaps not quite as…. ostentatious as this waiting room, but the sentiment still stood.
I’d thought I’d left that life behind, but now...
I pulled open a nearby door, a long tunnel leading from the room.
Here we go.
Walking with purpose, I watched as the light at the end of the tunnel grew, first from a dull spot far off, then into a great wall of white. At last, I stepped through the threshold and out into the sunlight.
“And the first to appear, in a surprise no one could have seen coming. Representing and championing Professor Koor of Parisian Academy, the rising star of several years ago. Thought gone, vanished to the ends of the world itself, his return will spark quite a stir. While officially never rising past silver ranked as an adventurer, the defeat of former high-gold rank one Iris Steel Haze in a duel to the death, and the successful completion of a dungeon expedition, he is one of few who could claim the rights to earn the title of a Nizeium ranked adventurer. Give it up for Zero of the Flowing Blade!”
The crowd went wild; our stadium was larger than any other arena I’d ever fought in.
Guess this Honos Festum really is a big deal.
I raised my hand, lowering it a moment later. With the mask hiding my face, there was no point in trying to do anything further to appeal to the crowd over.
My mask was relatively simple, black with two slits for my eyes, and that was it. I hadn’t been going for any symbolism or iconography; I had just wanted to hide my face.
Speaking of face…
I glanced toward the stands, looking for the VIP box where ‘Professor Koor’ was standing, waving from his seat.
Ick. That feels strange seeing my own face on someone else.
The magic used was surprisingly simple. I’d captured my likeness in a still pool of water before a trusted secretary of the Director had submerged their face in the water. After their head resurfaced, no longer was it their face, but my face staring back at me. The theory behind the spell was simple, a layer of water clung to his face, shaped to be an approximate moderation of my own. Then, the water would precisely twist and alter itself so the light reflected perfectly, presenting a replicated image of my face.
It’s still creepy, though.
I ignored it, looking elsewhere. I saw a figure approaching from the tunnel opposite my own, stepping out from the light a minute later.
“And finally, representing the interests of the Aizenbern and the Grucias! Famous for his exploits as an adventurer, he was known as one of the fleetest of feet, the unavoidable blade, the unfailing strike, the shooting star of a man! Harris Flash Step, a former member of the Nizeium party Godsend, friend, and right hand of nobility!”
Of course.
Standing across from me was Harris, now holding a thin sword in a fencer’s salute as he stared at me, his mouth a thin crease.
Can’t say I’m surprised.
Harris was the de facto go-to for the nobility and wealthy to rely on. His binding vow made him unable to act against their interests; as such, he was as reliable of an option as he was strong.
And he was one of the few people I was genuinely uncertain of my ability to triumph against. He was as fast as I was; his expertise in Inner Magic meant he could nullify magic. His vast mana reserves meant that, unlike most Inner magic users, he could fight for well beyond what they could ever hope to replicate.
For a moment, I smiled behind my mask, a memory wafting through my mind. The same age as my students, trying to best a city guard of Theronhold, his prowess with Inner Magic meant there’d been nothing I could do to stand against him.
And now look at me.
At the very least, Harris certainly was looking at me. From a distance, it was difficult to tell without enhancing my sight. However, I could still barely make out the look in his eyes, a hard edge and a wariness that told me he was not about to mistakenly underestimate me.
He’s nervous.
My ‘legend’ and my meteoric rise had suddenly stopped when I’d vanished from the ranks of adventurers. To most, it would be as if I’d suddenly disappeared of my own volition when the truth had been that I’d been excommunicated from the guild.
How much does he know?
Did he know I’d been exiled? Was that where his weariness came from? Or was it that he had believed I’d been on some secret quest for the last few years and only just returned?
Regardless.
Neither option changed that at the end of the day, Harris was my opponent, and he’d gone through enough that he wasn’t likely to make the rookie mistake of lowering his guard.
So, this is going to be difficult.
“Furthermore!” The announcer shouted, his voice magically broadcast throughout the arena through cleverly placed devices hidden within hardly noticeable corners. “It has been a year and a half since the last Honos Festum was held! As is tradition, such events must be presided over by a region’s ranking member of royalty. With that, I would like to welcome Viceroy Alexandria!”
Standing in what I could only call an ‘even more VIP’ box, cordoned off from the rest of the crowds, was a woman I’d seen before, smiling graciously and waving.
“But not just Viceroy Alexandria is here today!” The announcer continued, voice growing even more elated and excited. “Please have a warm round of applause for Regent Arete Narmer, our crown princess, and our future ruler!”
Sitting on what could, by pure definition, only be a throne was Mona, elevated ever so slightly above Viceroy Alexandria. Unlike when I saw her in class, she was dressed now like royalty, with an elaborate scarlet dress and golden bands adorning her arms, her head braided through with rubies and obsidian colored usekh on her neck.
Hanging just below the obsidian-colored choker was a necklace I was familiar with, my mana marble still attired upon her.
Oh, wonderful. Now one of my students gets to watch.
The thought perturbed me. Logically I knew that at least a few of the kids were likely intermixed within the crowds or special zones meant only for important people. Still, I hadn’t taken the time to search them out.
Distractions would only get in my way after all.
Whatever, focus.
I turned my attention back to my opponent, drawing my blade as I did, the sensation familiar, like a well-practiced ritual.
“As with tradition, the Honos Festum may end in one of two results. A champion shall declare surrender, or the battle shall continue until only one remains alive.”
Surrender or die. Can’t say I’m shocked that those are the only two options.
“A field official will be presiding over the duel to ensure the elements of the duel remain safely contained.”
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Ahh, basically, there will be someone to make sure no stray fireballs are sent into the crowd.
A grizzled old man entered the massive arena, leaning upon a large cane carved with intricate runes.
I’m assuming that the cane is a dominion holder within the arena.
Attuning a device, or oneself for that matter, to an area meant that whoever held the attuned device would have greater control over the mana within their dominion. The man, I had no doubt, was already an accomplished mage, and aided by the cane, he would likely be able to instantly nullify errant spells that may pose a danger to the crowd.
I’d never spent enough time in one place for long enough to consider creating such an item, but the thought was interesting.
Focus.
I gently shook my head as the grizzled man approached the center of the arena, gesturing Harris and myself forward.
“Right.” The man spoke as if chewing each word before spitting them out. “You both done this ‘for. So, we skippin’ the basics. My signal, you can proceed. Salutes, then take ‘yer places.”
Harris inclined his head to me, raising his sword in a quick salute as I repeated the gesture back. Without another word, we turned away, walking until we were reasonably far from one another.
The grizzled man nodded, walking toward the edge of the massive arena, tapping his cane on the ground. A stone seat rose, after which the man sat upon it. The man yawned once, looking around to ensure everything was still up to expectations.
C’mon.
Harris took his stance, his sword pulled back almost as if he were about to launch it.
Strange, never seen a style like this before.
Already I was on edge, and the fight hadn’t even begun.
C’mon.
I risked a glance at the grizzled man, the crowd holding their breath in anticipation.
C’mon.
Finally, like releasing the gates to a dam, the man brought his cane down hard on the stone beneath his, a massive red flare-like firework launching into the air before exploding.
I subconsciously heard the announcer’s babble, but I’d sunken deep into an almost trancelike state, rushing forward to meet my opponent, who was every bit as fast as I.
With an explosion of sparks, our blades met. Every strike from Harris brought speed and force I’d never encountered in another human.
Gritting my teeth, I met his strikes with equal amounts of ferocity. The man fought not with the defensive style of the southern nobles nor the wild, aggressive swings of the deserts, not even the flurry of rapid strikes of the north.
It was a style entirely unique to him. He used his sword in a way that seemed at odds with the nature of the blade itself. Every swing treated the entirety of the weapon, not just the bladed edge, like a bringer of death.
Why?
It made no sense; the shape of his blade didn’t match with such a strange mix of acrobatic and composed bursts of savage power, graceful arcs that disregarded his sword as a mere sword.
Still, I wouldn’t let the incongruity get to me. I continued to match his strikes, catching them on the flat of my blade, weary of wearing through the sharp edge of the sword. After all, it was no mana-tempered silver or any semi-magical metals. My sword was forged of entirely ordinary hardened steel.
Blades exchanging one against the other in a dance of death, we continued our battle until Harris suddenly dodged backward, putting distance between us.
“Shall we turn it up a bit?” The man asked me, an expression of, strangely enough, satisfaction on his face.
I whispered once under my breath, a single word before I rocketed forward, my speed increasing several folds.
If it surprised Harris, he showed no signs of it as he caught my blade on the back of his sword, parrying it away before striking forward with a sudden thrust.
With the grace of a cat, I leaned backward, the sword thrusting directly through where my chest cavity had been a split second before, now only separating a single hair from my head.
Continuing my backward momentum, I vaulted back, flipping through the air with a level of acrobatics that even Tez would have envied.
Keep moving.
Harris closed the gap instantly, his sword chasing me with the persistence of a hyperactive dog. No matter how intricate my movements were, the man was continuously on my heels, his blade always threatening to pierce me through the heart or take my head from my shoulders if I relented for even a moment.
Damnit.
I clenched my teeth, the tide of the battle too fluid to fully grasp. There was no doubt in my mind such speed meant he was already utilizing Inner magic to propel him forward faster and faster. Still, it was no different for me, as I was already drawing magic to enhance my speed.
Damnit.
I couldn’t recall the last time something or someone had been so capable of keeping up with my speed like this.
That’s because there was only one.
A Hollow. An enigmatic nightmare that still clawed through my dreams on rather inauspicious nights. Even Iris hadn’t been able to physically keep up with my speed. Only the vast range of her magic could counteract my agility and speed.
And yet here was Harris, a purely vanilla human, not just defending but retaliating with offensive pressure against me like we were old dueling buddies.
It made sense how Harris had played a key role in killing a Hollow with Godsend in their past. Fast and powerful as a Hollow was, without something or someone to physically preoccupy the dark existence, even the strongest mages would fall to it.
Step by step, I could feel myself beginning to be pushed back, losing ground to his endless assault.
I eyed his blade for a split second, hoping that it would reveal cracks after the stress he had been putting it through, fighting with his unusual style as he did.
The hope was dashed, not even a single scratch on the metal.
It’s either powerfully enchanted, sustained by his mana supply, or made of some metal I’ve never heard of.
It didn’t look like mana-tempered silver or nizeium or even ornnax. It was perhaps a few shades darker than the regular steel grey of my own sword, but it otherwise looked normal.
Meanwhile, a glance at my blade already showed worrying amounts of stress fractures. Those tiny hairline cracks would soon grow until the blade exploded under the stress of our furious battle.
Damnit.
I’d been hoping to push Harris to draw upon his deeper reserves of mana first, but slowly being pushed back as I was, there was no getting around it.
Harris was the better swordsman, with an equally powerful blade to boot.
It was my turn to dodge out of the way, putting enough distance between us that Harris relented, letting me have my second to do whatever I was about to do.
How noble of him.
Raising my sword parallel to the ground, I slid two fingers along the blade.
“Aulous.”
As my fingers slid down the blade, it was covered in a deep blue layer of water, like the artic seas had manifested over the metal.
“And there it is! His once famous signature move for which he owes his title, the Flowing Blade!”
I ignored the announcer, focusing on my sword.
This should do.
The water swelled like a whirlpool around my blade until it appeared like a thin blue saber-like baton, spinning so swiftly that it could carve through steel like a pressurized water jet.
“I see we’re stepping up the pace of the battle once again,” Harris spoke from where he stood. Changing his grip on his blade, he held it with two hands, closing his eyes for a moment in concentration.
Then, like a lit candle, the blade ignited a great orange flame. It wasn’t the flame that impressed me. Anyone with an affinity for Scorz could ignite their blade had they wanted, something that didn’t really amount to much; it mattered little if the sword that cut your head from your shoulders was on fire. Your head would still be gone either way. What did impress me was when the flame began to compress, tightening and surrounding his blade until no longer was it a flaming sword but a beam of orange light, burning with the intensity of the sun.
How?
It wasn’t Primal magic. He had spoken no words of power nor Kin magic; I hadn’t felt any disturbance in the surrounding mana.
There was only one answer, an answer that, while in theory worked, I’d never seen or heard of ever in practical play.
Until now.
“Mastered Inner Magic.” I sucked in a sharp breath, and even in the middle of our duel, I couldn’t deny my awe at what I saw.
“Oh?” Harris cocked an eyebrow at me before giving me a quick downward nod. “I’m surprised you figured that out.”
Not like there was any other option, really.
I kept silent, staring at the glowing beam of light. Inner Magic, at its core principal, was nothing more than using mana, the energy contained solely within oneself, entirely within oneself. For most, it was little more than a small bonus and an impractical distraction at worst.
But most didn’t have the raw mana reserves of a nizeium ranked adventurer like Harris. Elevated to heights impossible by all but an extremely select few, he had channeled the strength of Inner magic, not through his bodily self, but through his sword, often thought of as an extension of one’s body when mastered.
When that energy was concentrated solely within his blade, the intensity of the concentrated mana exploded out in a wave of hyperthermal energy, igniting and burning away the combustible particles in the air around the sword. The initial explosion of heat dying out, the concentrated power was contained within and around the blade, now appearing like a sword of energized plasma.
“Now that we’ve re-armed ourselves, shall we begin again?” Harris asked, apparently opting to wait until we were both ready.
In answer, I charged forward, my whirlpool blade of pressurized tides clashing against his sword of burning corona. Swords meeting, we were sent flying away from one another as the two opposing forces reacted, an explosion of steam throwing us away.
“In a clash of explosive force, neither side appears to be giving an inch! Zero’s time away from the public was clearly spent well, more dangerous than ever! But his opponent is an obstacle few can ever dream of facing one day, much less prevailing over!”
While I heard the announcer’s words shouting in earnest, I ignored them, letting the words pass through my ears like background noise, only catching a single thing the man had said.
Neither side giving an inch? No, not quite.
I glanced at my vortex blade, dismayed. In a single clash between Harris’s plasma sword and my vortex blade, the heat from his weapon instantly evaporated much of the cascading water covering my blade. The spell that sustained the water edge had already been cast; it was only a matter of channeling more mana into it, and the water that had been explosively evaporated was replaced.
But.
But every clash of our blades, if our last exchange was anything to gauge by, would cost me dearly, forcing me to continuously resupply the water sustaining the swirling vortex.
And I didn’t have the mana to spare that Harris did.
My time for rumination was short-lived, as Harris was upon me once more, like a mirage flickering to life before my eyes. I met his blade, now expecting the blowback from the steam explosion our collision of blades would create; I used the momentum of the explosive force to spring into a counterattack and thrown into the air, I flung a hand down toward the grounded Harris.
“Aulous!” I shouted, lances of solid water sent like arrows toward his center mass. If the surprise of seeing ice rather than water shooting toward him surprised the mana, he didn’t let it slow him, his burning sword sweeping through the projectiles as he thrust his hand out much as I had.
“Scorz!”
Oh, crap.
Midair, there was nowhere for me to dodge. The gout of flame was too broad; it would swallow me like a dry leaf in a bonfire. Null could disperse it, but it would nullify the mana that sustained my vortex blade, requiring me to recast the spell. The initial casting of the magic was more costly than even maintaining the spell for a prolonged duration. I was already using flow, and it wasn’t as if suddenly increasing my physical strength would give me anywhere to kick off from midair as I was. Rainsplitter, when summoned as an ordinary blade, wouldn’t be enough to defend me from such an enormous flame. If I summoned Rainsplitter in its truest form, the same form I’d used against the Hollow, it would leave me with no mana to fight afterward. My last option, crawl, would only give me more time to experience my demise.
Good thing it’s not my last option anymore.
Flicking my hand to the side, I pointed away, whispering under my breath as the great column of flame suddenly veered off course, like it had crashed into an invisible barrier and forced it to redirect.
Immediately I felt the effect of the spell, a rather severe dip in my mana reserves contained within my sage rings. Only a few days ago, such a spell would have taken half of everything I had.
But that was when I had only four sage rings.
Landing back on the ground, I was met with Harris’s perplexed expression, the announcer shouting at the top of his lungs, words I made no effort to register.
He damn near won with that.
I’d gotten too complacent, too comfortable with the false belief that Harris would only utilize Inner magic. His position as the go-to muscle of nobility meant that he avoided using any sort of external magic. Inner magic was just passable to those who opposed the usage of magic in general. I’d let that alleged fact cloud my judgment, and it had almost cost me.
Still, there is a more significant takeaway here.
I was pushing him harder than he had prepared for.
I smiled viciously beneath my mask, savoring the realization like a long-awaited delicacy.
Harris hadn’t come here expecting a real fight. At best, ‘Professor Koor’ should have been able to scrap up a desperate gold-ranked adventurer who didn’t mind being publicly embarrassed for an easy paycheck. Additionally, Harris’s expert usage of Inner Magic and vast amounts of mana to draw on made him a natural counter to nearly all mages. Only mages of similar or greater magical strength would be capable of overwhelming the innate magical nullification of Inner magic.
Whatever he had been prepared for, it hadn’t been for Zero to appear. Already ‘Zero’ was an enigma; during ‘his’ active years, his magic had already been unordinary, a magic knight who relied more upon the strength of his blade than the sheer overwhelming force of his magic. Harris’s Inner magic, so favorable against most mages, did little against an opponent who likewise used magic in a way that was meant to augment rather than overwhelm.
He doesn’t know just how strong I really am, does he?
If push came to shove, would Harris be willing to die over an engineered feud meant to make the Academy look bad, something I was sure he was aware of?
No. His binding vow, while it forced him to act in the best interests of those who employed him and to never betray them, I had doubts that it would compel him to fight to the bitter end for such a flimsy reason.
I can make use of that.
The time for holding back was over. If I wanted to win this, rather than bide my time and wait for the perfect moment, I had to create the moment, push him so hard without showing a single sign of wavering, and make him truly believe that this battle would be one that could only be won by putting his life on the line, something I was all but certain he wouldn’t follow through with.
Easier said than done.
I held my sword before me, dispelling the water as I let the blade tip hover just above the ground. Then, I released the pommel, letting the sword drop as the tip buried itself into the ground. Seeing this, Harris relaxed momentarily, his shoulders easing by the tiniest of degrees.
“What’s this? Zero has released his blade! Is this perhaps his way of offering a surrender, that he has recognized -”
“Rainsplitter,” I whispered. From within my now empty hand, a glowing sword began to manifest, like a tree sprouting in fast-forward.
“No! It appears that was not a surrender but a declaration! Not only will I fight, but I will win; that is what Zero is now declaring to the world!”
I cringed inwardly, the brief respite from the intense action allowing me to hear what the announcer was saying.
Dramatic, but he isn’t wrong.
Rainsplitter had fully appeared, not in its regular appearance, but shining with the light of a grand star. It was a waste of energy; maintaining the energized state if I wasn’t planning on releasing its full strength was impractical, but I wasn’t trying to kill Harris unless push came to shove. I just needed the appearance of unshakeable strength.
“So then,” I spoke up, staring directly at Harris, who had redoubled the grip on his sword, watching me cautiously. “Shall we take things up a notch?”
Then, like two heavenly meteors, we crashed against each other, a shining sword pitted against a burning blade.
It’s now or never.