“Can we help you sir?” inquired Iman without a second thought.
“Oh, um… y-yes, well I… it’s my wife, you see,” the man stammered. “W-Well, she has been really troubled lately and I was hoping you could… maybe help her,”
“And why do you need us?” Riva asked, a bit more concerned than the naive nør elf.
“Well, more her, really,” the man admitted, pointing to Iman. “The way you play that instrument, well it’s quite lovely. I was hoping you could maybe play it for my wife and it might cheer her up.”
“Well, alright then!” replied Iman, cheerfully. “I’d be happy to help. And I always appreciate an excuse to play!”
Riva held out an arm across the young nør elf, asking her to hold on for a minute. Staring deep into the man’s eyes, she asked him how they could be sure he was worth trusting. She wished, in the moment, that Azim was with them. His lie-detecting stuff would be really helpful right about now, she thought to herself.
The man assured the women he meant them no trouble or harm, and that he was genuinely just worried about his wife. According to the man, her gaze had been distant and uncaused for days, and she not only had not looked at him in all this time, but had not looked at anything too clearly. According to him, she barely ever even moved. He figured she was just depressed and had tried to cheer her up himself, but had been unsuccessful. Reading to her, singing to her, making her favorite food, nothing seemed to work. Before going to a doctor or anything as drastic, he first wanted to see if someone else could maybe get through to her.
Riva stared at the man suspiciously. She was still a little rattled from their time at the tavern, and because of such, she was a little more apprehensive about trusting strangers. Normally, she tried to see the best in people, as well as assume the best. However, the past few days, as well as the trials that had come with them, had left her trust in others turbulent.
The man, himself, was perfectly unassuming. He wore a simple cloth shirt with rolled-up sleeves and black trousers. He was human, with a bland, unremarkable face. What others would see as simple boring and easily missable, Riva saw as potentially the perfect cover. Still, she could not help but believe the man’s story. Looking over at Iman, the woman noticed that the musician was already starting to tear up slightly. Shortly after, the woman caved. If anything, she figured that the two of them sticking together would be safe. She put the protection spell that she had learned from Leone over the carriage and headed off with Iman to follow the stranger, hoping it wasn’t a mistake.
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The third match of the initial four was wrapping up, which meant Azim’s round in the northwest arena was starting up soon. While the last few contestants of the southwest corner match were dwindling fewer and fewer, the robot was sent to prepare for his. The metal man was taken into an assembly hall where all the contestants had to have their baseline magic level tested. Azim quickly noticed this test was being conducted using the same instrument Reavius had used with him back in Appilus.
One by one, contestants took turns holding the rhombus-shaped crystal, their connection to magic flowing through it and ripping a strip of paper in front of them. One of the moderators in the room with them, who was overseeing this test, would magically replace each ripped sheet with a fresh, new piece, allowing everyone a fair display of their power. Azim wondered if the spell repaired the same paper each time or got rid of it and replaced it with a new one.
“BML: 14, BML: 16, BML: 11, BML: 12,” the moderator recited as each combatant revealed their power, causing a number to float above the participant’s head for a second before disappearing.
Azim was impressed by how accurate the gnome moderator was. The paper itself did not have any measure or markings of where each level was defined. Because of this, the metal man assessed that the paper must have been replacing itself, for even if there were markings on the one before it, they would disappear by the next sheet. Regardless, the gnome was well-versed enough in magic reading that no matter how far the tear in the paper reached, he knew exactly what baseline level that signified. The moderator even had an assistant standing by his side who would nod after every call, confirming his declaration.
Seeing that each contestant was moved into a new room in the hall for the next part of their preparations, Azim decided to move to the very back of the line. In case there was any trouble with getting through the test, Azim did not want to have to deal with any other combatants after him being involved. He figured it was best to let everyone else pass and be alone with the moderators when his time came.
Soon enough, the line in front of him was nonexistent, and Azim was standing in front of a table with a long strip of brown paper on it. There were 3 other people in the room, the moderator, his assistant, and what looked to be some kind of security guard. He had a simple suit of armor on, a steel halberd, and the tail of a feliome sticking out from behind. There had been a few more of them when the others were still in the room, but now that only Azim was left, only 1 remained. Feeling outnumbered like this was probably an intentional move by the Brick House, as it likely served to intimidate the participants before a match, or assure that they did not try anything. However, Azim, being Azim, did not think anything of it and moved forward to begin his test.
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“Alright, son, you know what to do, right?” asked the gnome.
“I do,” stated the metal man.
Slowly, the android grabbed hold of the magic time with both of his steely hands. He tilted it downward and pressed it against the edge of the paper. And then he stood still. As expected, nothing was happening. Azim already knew this could be the result. He had done this before, of course. But the others in the room were starting to grow concerned. Why was the paper not ripping? At the least, what was the crystal not even glowing? Something was starting to seem off to them.
Just then, Azim took the few fingers he had hidden under the magic-detecting crystal and vibrated them softly. He shifted them just fast enough that they could cause a slight shaking, but subtly enough that no one would notice his hands moving. And for just a second, the crystal shook. Ever so slightly, by the tiniest degree, it rattled.
And that was it. No glowing, no tearing. The magic item did not even shake for a substantial amount of time. But Azim was sure what he had achieved was all he needed.
He set the magem down on the table, on top of the completely undisturbed paper. The android then looked over at the gnome and stated, “I apologize, but I believe that is all I am capable of.”
The moderator and his assistant were stunned. Even the guard, who was not expressing any visible distress, was in complete shock. The gnome had no idea what to think. How was that even possible? That was barely anything! That was less than nothing! Well, except for the shaking, the gnome thought.
He did manage to make the magem rattle, but only slightly. Is that really what Baseline 1 looks like?! I suppose I can’t recall. Even the average shmuck who never hones their connection to magic still has something like Baseline 3. And even the average for non-magic users is still about 4 or 5. 3 would be an outlier. But 1? That, while technically possible, would be such a rare case. Is that really what this guy has? A baseline magic level of 1? That’s insane! Why is he here, then?! The average BML we get here is usually about 14, and that’s just the average! What’s a guy like this going to do with a baseline of 1? Is he crazy? He must be crazy to come here! Then again… he is wearing that weird armor. It’s so bizarre, it covers every inch of him… though how does he even fit in there? Must be just a kid! Though I suppose I’d wear something that ridiculous if I had a BML of 1. The kid’s got to be investing everything he has into this suit. Or maybe the cloak does something? Still, though… crazy.
Azim stood silently while he waited for the reactions from the others in the room. After much silence, the gnome finally spoke up and said, “Alright, kid, you’re good. BML: 1! …Head on over to the next room.”
Leaving the 3 others to their own vices, the android walked into the next room waiting for him. There, he was greeted by what seemed to be a locker room of sorts. Contestants were getting their gear ready, reciting spells from their spell books, and making sure everything else was good to go before the match started. Some were messing with each other, some were just chatting casually as if they were friends, while others were sitting to themselves, mentally preparing for the challenge that awaited them.
Azim did not have anything he really needed to do to prepare, so instead the robot walked around the room, assessing everyone that would be in the arena with him. While the robot was not capable of feeling fear, he was still able to acknowledge the seeming strength of others and wanted to make special note of any combatants who seemed as though they might prove more troublesome. As expected, a few stood out to him.
There was a wizard who was practicing lightning magic, a hunter with pouches of hidden items wrapped along his legs, waist, and shoulders, a half-giant berserker carrying a heavily-chipped sword, a feliome witch with a staff made from some black tree branch, and a knight in shining red armor with two jagged swords. Everyone else just seemed like easy targets, and from the sound of the few that Asim had pointed out to himself, they all agreed.
“Nice suit,” the red knight remarked to the robot. “Where’d you pick up that thing?”
“I have always had this armor,” replied Azim honestly.
“Some kind of family heirloom, huh?” the knight guessed, not realizing what the robot actually meant. “That’s cool. You don’t always need to know where your stuff comes from, I think. Don’t worry about what others might say. Mine, though… my dad found it off a skeleton inside the Beldric Caves. Yeah, some crazy shit must’ve gone down in there, because my dad said the place was littered with corpses. And yet, this thing was unscathed. My old man just knew he had to take it. Now I’m just trying to live up to his legacy.”
“That is an intriguing story. Your armor is quite impressive,” Azim responded.
“Ah, that’s nothing. I’m sure everyone here has a story. Nobody comes to a place like this without a reason. Whether it’s the money or the glory, everyone here has something driving them to attain it all.”
“Oh, yeah? What do you think is driving that kid, huh?” the feliome witch replied, not minding that she was intruding on Azim and the knight’s conversation.
“Kid, what kid?” another woman spoke up, someone the robot had not clocked as memorable.
Now speaking to all those around her, the witch continued, “The kid! You guys didn’t see them? I saw them lining up for the last match, over in the southwest arena. I didn’t get a good look at them, they were covering most of their face and figure, but they were definitely young! I think maybe human or elf, but, they were definitely too short to be an adult. So what do you think they’re doing here?”
“I don’t know,” the red knight thought for a moment, before livening up. “But it doesn’t matter much, it’s not like they’ll be fighting us!”
Before anybody could say anything more, a familiar gong sound rang throughout the room, looming from outside as well. It was time. Azim, along with everyone else, shuffled out of the second room and back out into the event center, where they lined the sides of the ring and stepped in. A referee in the center cast a spell that encapsulated the entire ring, granting anybody inside the Fatal Exit charm, including herself and the two other referees in the ring with her. Everyone waited in intense anticipation. The final match of the first round was about to begin.