Kieran paced around the waiting room while twiddling his thumbs. It was a fond tick of Teal’s and he hoped it’d help him like it helped her. That was, until he realized she didn’t do particularly well with it either.

“Forfeit if you’re in danger, okay?”

He shook off her words.

Muffled cheers reverberated through the stone building following the faint ring of metal and explosion of magic in the distance. It filled the mostly empty room, bouncing off the walls and filling his already preoccupied head.

Alexandra and Teal were in the stands with the rest of the audience. So, he couldn’t rely on their presence to comfort him nor could he hide himself within his teammates. Of the four matches in his bracket today, he was participating in the last one. Freckles, Lanky, Josette, Raimund, and that bastard Bilal, all won their respective matches either yesterday or just hours ago. Even if they only knew him as Dewy Dubur, it’d be embarrassing to lose on his first match with all of them watching.

He transitioned to jumping in place, shaking his arms and legs as he did so. The crowd’s noise died down for a moment and he listened for the signal. A roar broke out along with thousands of disorganized feet stomping all at once.

The match was over.

The guide appeared before him and gestured for him to follow. Back again in the limelight of the arena, saddled with the excitement of thousands as they recognized his small frame, he trudged over to the middle where a tournament official stood.

Already on the field and opposite of him, was a rather burly man, probably at the upper limit of the tournament’s age range going off his roughly shaven face. If Kieran remembered right, this guy played the part of decoy defender and was the guy who had his clothes patch up by Freckles.

They exchanged no words, only looks. For Kieran, he might’ve preferred words.

In addition to having anywhere from fifty to a hundred pounds on him, the guy dwarfed him by almost two heads.

I hate being a kid. When I grow up I better be tall… and strong… and good looking. All the things I was in my past life.

Both of them were given a sword. It balanced well in his hands. As his opponent swung the sword to get a feel for it, Kieran followed the light glinting off its sharpened edges.

“We want to see their claws!”

“Hey, toss away your swords,” yelled another.

Their voices were ignored, thankfully. They put distance between themselves and at the official’s mark, they began the fight. A meagre fire bolt flew his way. He sidestepped and held his ground as the man ran toward him. It might not be the most exciting thing to watch but if he wanted to win, he’d have to get the other guy to expend his energy. He could already imagine the booing.

By the time his opponent reached him, his breathing bordered on unsteady. The run may have been short but if the fight dragged out long enough, the exertion would add up. It would add up for him too. Even though he’d done nothing in that time, the rigorous pumping of his heart left him short of breath.

Kieran avoided locking swords with the man and focused on dodging. Relentless attacks rained down on him and he was forced to throw a block to the side and a parry to the other. Each clash numbed his arms.

He raised his sword for another block but his arms faltered. The strike crumpled his half-baked defense. The man’s fist slammed into his shoulder. His head shook but the pain didn’t register.

Pushing off the ground, he rolled to his feet and fired off a shadow bolt. The polished sword took most of the damage, part of it stained black with the magic.

Thinking on his feet, Kieran turned and ran. A goose chase like this would give him time to recover. It went on for a while. When he turned his head back to gauge the distance between them, he broke into a cold sweat.

He pumped his arms and legs harder. Leather wrapped around the blade’s handle dug into his skin. The sheer weight put onto each step rattled his bones. From behind, he heard a monstrous, haunting, shriek.

“III DOnT WaanT tO DiEE…!!”

A shambling black mass. Eyes devoid of life. Its very essence writhed as if existing was pain itself. From shambling to barrelling, it chased after him, letting out grotesque groans. Its trunk sized bastardization of legs shook the very ground. Once again, it shrieked.

“II dOnT wAAAAAnnT tO DiEEEE…!”

Kieran tripped. His fingers throbbed, crushed between the sword handle and ground. Scrapes and bruises marred his arms. There was no time. He climbed to his feet and turned. Terror kept his eyes closed but curiosity pried them open.

His whole body tensed as he stopped breathing. Spit flew everywhere as he screamed the words, “Jarl und vass!”

A massive bolt of essence shot toward the black mass. He was momentarily blinded by a sudden appearance of a glowing yellow sphere and the glint of light off a blade. A man tumbled backwards from the explosion, the black mass nowhere to be seen. On the ground laid his broken sword while smaller pieces of the metal were strewn far away.

“Young Master!”

Air was forcibly pulled through his constricting chest. He was in a battle. A fight. There was no monster chasing him, just a man. Another person. People were all around. He would be okay. He wasn’t alone.

In the time he took to recover his mental state, the burly man raced toward him. Standing in for his shattered sword were his fearsome claws. Beset with a ferocious assault, Kieran blocked and weaved. Seeing his opponent’s face had a strange calming effect on him.

The man was strong but he was slow, slower than Alexandra by miles. He predicted an attack from the right and countered with a cut to the gut. Desperate attacks came one after the other as Kieran continued avoiding the now tiring man. After landing yet another successful strike, he followed with a shadow bolt. Right on the dome, a point-blank shot. Kieran swung and stopped the sword a cautious few inches from his throat.

“Dewy Dubur is victorious!”

Thousands of people moved at once and even though he knew they were clapping, cheering, yelling, berating, directing their attention and actions at him, their sounds faded. Their faces blurred. He dropped on all fours as he gasped for air. His arms trembled.

Hands grabbed him. They carried him out of the arena. It took five minutes of rest while under the effects of the spell circle to restore him to working order.

“I can’t believe a worthless person like you was our, kin-” Bilal stuck his tongue out in an exaggerated gag. “I can’t even say it. That fight, if you can even call it that, was absolutely pathetic. You ran from a peasant for most of it and then collapsed right at the end? If your family had any dignity they would disown you, but you’re probably all they have.”

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Kieran groaned.

“Don’t listen to that waste of space,” said Freckles. “He was a big guy and a straight up sword fight would’ve been hard. I think it’s impressive you beat him without using your gifts at all.”

Not like I had any gifts in the first place.

“That’s at least expected out of a noble. Though, I suppose a peasant wouldn’t know anything about that. My apologies.”

“Hah. I guess I don’t know much about nobles. Really, I wonder why only a certain bunch of nobles are taught how to use their heads. If we listened to your ‘plan’ in the first match we’d have lost,” she retorted.

His face twitched, “Your assumptions truly are something, you street rat. You weren’t even informed of the plan out of fear that you’d ruin it.”

“Not telling the spymaster was the whole point, you clawless bastard.”

Their bickering continued. He stared at the translucent screen that allowed them to see the arena. The view displayed by the four crystals,, no larger than rocks, captured a majority of the colosseum. Although it sported an eagle-eye view, broadcasted from the Overlord’s seating he assumed, he could tell who was next.

One of the twins was up. He fought against someone who Kieran could only assume was another noble by his clothing. Needless to say, as he didn’t even recognize the other person, the twin beat him within seconds.

“Young Master,” an anxious voice called out to him. “Are you alright?”

He nodded, already knowing who the voice belonged to.

The image of the arena flickered. Inside the purple crystalline body of one of the ‘projectors’, the white light dimmed. Soon enough, like a ripple in water, the other crystals dimmed until they eventually lost all their light.

Tournament staff leapt up from their passive positions and ushered everyone away from the spell circle. The guide moved to the hallway and whistled. A brief moment later, a wave of other staff rushed in and surrounded the spell circle. With hammers and chisels, they removed the floor tiles.

Three thin, long, robed men carrying tomes entered. Nobles who were near the entrance made way, and commoners were steered in the same direction. They knelt, opening their tomes and studying the pages within. As they laid down new tiles, the robed men produced black crystals.

From where he stood he couldn’t quite see what they were doing, but the occasional tapping and their wide movements told him what he needed to know. They resolved the matter in the span of a few minutes. The old tiles were cleared away, along with the spell circle, and in their place were new ones.

The crystals flared back to life, except for one. One of the robed men grabbed the floating crystal, handing it to Alexandra who, if one wasn’t paying much attention, looked just like the other maids, and replaced it.

Jobs completed, the robed men and extra tournament staff walked out in droves down the same direction. A majority of the commoners gawked at the overwhelming display of efficiency as well as a portion of the nobles. Kieran was among them.

“What the heck just happened?"

“The spell circle lost its effects and they redrew it,” answered Alexandra.

“Uh, yeah. That too but everyone was super organized with it.”

“Indeed, the tasks done were done well but it is not a new experience. If such a thing were to happen back at home, the task would be done with the same efficiency, if not more.”

When she said that, it made sense. Whenever they finished with their practice in the Restoration Rooms, the servants cleaned the space right away. The difference between the two events was that they never had to redraw the circle in the palace.

“What are you going to do with that, ma’am?”

Alexandra held up the crystal and crushed it, “Nothing. The quality is low and it has been overused.”

“What is that anyway?” Kieran asked as he caught one of the shards. Heat radiated from inside the piece.

“It is an Essence conductor, used to produce various effects such as long range communication, visual recreation, and even teleportation if conditions are met. I believe the first and second princes will be using them to return to the battlefield given the circumstances.”

“Did they use them to teleport back here?”

“Unlikely. Crystals high enough in quality for teleportation are rare and are saved for emergencies such as the ones in the outpost castles.”

Teal grabbed his shoulder and turned him around. She crouched down to eye level and looked him over.

“What are you doing? I’m fine,” he said.

She ignored him and spun him around. He tensed up, sucking air through his teeth as his arm stung with pain.

“Fine, are you?” With something to focus her attention on, she spoke more. “The spell circles here won’t heal you like the ones at home.”

She grabbed the attention of one of the tournament staff and they provided her with bandages after apologizing. Apparently they were going to do it themselves but got caught up in replacing the spell circle.

Alexandra watched the bandaging and said nothing.

“It’s only a small cut. Why are you overreacting?”

“What if this got infected?”

“It won’t.”

“But it might. You might be young but you need to start taking better care of yourself, Young Master.”

“I’m not a child.”

“If you think like that you’ll put yourself in dangerous situations.”

Kieran threw his head back and sighed. What was up with her?

“Shall we observe today’s remaining matches?” Alexandra proposed, either oblivious or uninterested in Teal’s actions.

Teal finished with her bandaging. Together they watched the arena through the crystals. Before the crystals were placed in the room, he had to go outside where the crowds made him deaf with their cheering.

I can see why people like watching this.

After the matches for the day were completed, tomorrow’s matches were announced. For Kieran, he knew he lucked out when he didn’t recognize the name of his opponent.

While thinking of his former teammate’s names, he heard Freckles and Bilal arguing.

“Go ahead and use whatever meagre gifts you have, street rat. I’ll crush you anyway.”

She laughed, “I don’t need them against the likes of you.”

“Is that a challenge I hear?” he asked with an indignant face.

“That’s right.”

“Hah. Fine. Neither of us will use our gifts tomorrow. Agreed, street rat?”

“You’re gonna regret it.”

Bilal snorted and left with his attendants in tow.

Freckles came up to him. “Hey there, could I bother you for a new spool of thread?”

Oh, right. I did say something about buying her a replacement or something didn’t I?

He glanced at his two caretakers. Alexandra nodded while Teal seemed lost in thought. Her eyes flicked between the two, not once meeting his gaze, and she nodded as well.

“Sure, let’s go.”

They left before the horde of attendees could and explored bits of the city. He had absolutely no clue where to go so he let her lead. The tailor’s shop wasn’t far away, a block’s distance at most.

Bright colored fabrics, smooth and reflective, hung out on display. At the front of the shop were a few slightly familiar faces. He knew none of their names but they were participants in the tournament. It wasn’t clear which one existed in this particular section of the city first, the tailor’s shop or the colosseum, but their businesses seemed somewhat interconnected.

When it was their turn to speak to the shopkeeper, Freckles asked, “Can I just get the usual?”

“Just the one again?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Are you sure?” Kieran asked as Alexandra loosened the string around her pouch. “You can buy another one if you’d like.”

It was thanks to her sewing supplies that they’d managed to thoroughly fool the enemy after all.

“No, this is enough.”

She received one spool of black thread and thanked the shopkeep.

“I wasn’t really sure you’d buy it if I asked. So, thanks. Heh. I never thought I’d tell a noble that,” she said as she stored the item. “Anyway, I’ve been meaning to ask. How old are you?”

His heart might’ve jumped out of his chest if he didn’t prepare for this scenario. “Just turned Fourteen not too long ago.”

She eyed him suspiciously, drawing her face closer to his, “You’ll hit your growth spurt soon,” she backed off, allowing him room to breathe. “Well, it’s about time I head out. I’m up against that bastard tomorrow so cheer for me, okay?”

Freckles left with a wave but then stopped. “I forgot to tell you but my name’s Felicia.”

“See you tomorrow, Felicia. I hope you do well.”