When we entered the barber's shop, the eyes of the gray-haired master of the razor and scissors widened like tea saucers at the sight of me and my hair. But his surprise lasted only a second, then recognition flickered in his eyes, and a faint smile ran across his lips.
"Master Raven..." The barber bowed to me like a valued guest. "I see you've had a spat with the alchemists. Ah! It's been a while since I've seen something like this; about seven years ago was the last time!" He gestured with his hand, inviting me to sit on the stool.
"How do you know the Master's name?" Aun immediately asked with suspicion in his voice.
"Young Master Liao," the barber was carefully inspecting my hair, and when he spoke, he didn't even turn his head toward the boy, "not only did your grandfather enjoy watching the fights, we did so together. So, of course, I know Master Raven, as does everyone in the city who follows the Alchemists' Tournament."
"I apologize." The young man squeaked in embarrassment in response.
"So." The barber snapped his huge, primitive scissors in front of my face and asked, "Master Raven, how would you like to look? Don't be shy - I'm a skilled craftsman."
At first, when we were walking here, I was thinking of just getting a short haircut. But now, realizing that Aun had brought me to a true connoisseur of his craft, I began to ponder. Hell, I've always been told that I look like a bird of prey. One girl I used to date was a designer and artist who once drew me with long hair. She idi it in such a way that this resemblance to a bird became obvious even to me. And besides that, the drawn hairstyle looked chic. But it was just a joke then because very long hair was needed for that hairstyle.
Closing my eyes, I tried to remember the details and started speaking, explaining my words with gestures:
"The bangs are short, so they don't fall into the eyes. Temples are short, shaved above the ears up to here.
"This high?" The master of the scissors was a bit surprised.
"Yes, that high." I understood his surprise as I was asking him to shave a strip above my ears about five centimeters high. "And on both sides. Do you know how to braid hair?"
"Yes!" The barber replied with surprise in his voice.
"Then here and here, you make thin braids, thinner than a pinkie, four braids on each side, and fold them in the shape of a wing." This was the tricky part, whether he would get it.
"I can handle it." The master nodded, watching the illusion magic pattern glide over my palm.
"At the back, you also shave here and here to make the neck look clean. Also, gather the main bunch of hair into a tail. Gather it like this." Again, the magic of illusion came to my aid. "Can you handle that?"
"In twenty years, I've never had such a request, but!" He snapped his scissors. "You've landed in the hands of a true master! Don't worry!.."
We left the barber almost an hour later, paying thrice the usual price for his services, but it was worth it. I was pleased. I don't know how the barber did it, but he replicated the girl's drawing in reality. And by how passers-by were looking at me, it became clear that my image had taken on a new dimension.
"You're attracting even more attention now," Aun grumbled a bit plaintively.
"But it's beautiful! Isn't it?"
"A man shouldn't be thinking about beauty!" The lad proclaimed this as if it were an eternal truth.
"Pf-f-f!" I roll my eyes. "A man should think, period! If someone tells you 'don't think about something,' they're most likely trying to manipulate you."
"But..."
"Stop!" I didn't let him object and explained within his logic paradigm. "A real man does what he wants, and nothing can stop him! Right?"
"Right!"
"Well, I wanted to do this, and I did! What's the problem?"
"But... Okay, I give up!" He waved his hand. "But now, even more people are staring at you!"
I walked down the street, shoulders held proudly high, feeling like a raven soaring over the earth; all these gazes seemed merely the envy of those who couldn't fly. Being recognizable is beneficial to me right now - enhancing my image before the Tournament ends is helpful. Catching an interested glance from a beauty walking towards us, I cheerfully winked at her. In response, she blushed to the roots of her hair and giggled behind her hand.
"Don't you know who she is?" I nudged Aun in the ribs and asked.
"Miss Talia, she has her own shop on the street next to ours, only in her twenties, and already a widow," the boy responded with a hint of sorrow in his voice.
"Aha, so you know where she lives?" I inquired.
"I kno... You're not thinking of...?!!" Finally, it clicked for him.
"Why wouldn't I be thinking of it?" I laughed. "Will you show me her shop this evening?"
"Master! You should be thinking about the Tournament, not skirts!" The lad was genuinely outraged.
"I have a match with the favorite today, right? Right! If I win, doesn't the victor deserve a reward?"
"But..."
"And if I lose, doesn't the defeated warrior need consolation?"
"But..."
"In any case, you're going to show me her shop. It's not up for discussion."
"Master Raven!" Aun threw up his hands and cried out. "How do you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Always be in the right?!"
"Because I think with my head, not just eat into it." I clapped the lad on the shoulder and quickened my pace.
"Eating into the head..." Aun mumbled, mincing behind me, "And one can't argue that! The mouth is indeed part of the head... But how you phrase things... Master!"
"What now?!" His chatter this morning had worn me down...
The whole way to the Arena, the boy pestered me with questions, interrupting my enjoyment of the impression I was making on the passersby. Despite all the magic, men's hairstyles on Ain generally resembled a classic "bowl cut," with very rare exceptions, like the expressive and extravagant Larindel. But I must say, my new hairstyle would attract attention on Earth, let alone the reactions of the far more impressionable inhabitants of Tries. Well, once the earthlings get used to this new world, the notions of what's permissible in clothing and appearance on Ain will shift significantly towards greater individuality and freedom of self-expression. But that will be later, in about half a year.
As yesterday, I said goodbye to the insufferable chatterbox on the wide arena staircase. He went to the stands while I turned to the service entrance.
"E-e-eh…" On seeing me, a young lad, barely older than Aun, dressed in the clothes of a junior steward, was momentarily struck speechless, unable to tear his gaze away from my hairstyle.
"Yes, I'm Raven." I helped him.
"I-I-I'm sorry, Master." He nodded. "Follow me, please. Your fight starts in four bouts."
Because of my visit to the barber, I missed the chance to watch the first Bronze fights, but whenever I look at my reflection, I understand - it was worth it! I realize that this hairstyle might be a bit over the top. But I've wanted something similar for so many years that now I'm really pumped, and it's all because of such a trivial thing.
Left alone, I changed into tournament attire and once again analyzed the upcoming fight. This time I faced a serious opponent. It's quite likely that this Shiin Karim is currently better than me as a fighter. More than likely, actually. Less than a month ago, I barely managed to fight on par with Ender's assistant. And the tracker from Unudo only had two full spear stars. You don't have to be a genius to understand: this Shiin is definitely stronger than Tuan. However, that practice fight happened when I was on Iron, and my opponent was on Bronze. Also, in the weeks that passed since I left Unudo, I did not stand still but progressed.
But, no matter how much I may bluff to Aun and everyone else, I'm smart enough to realize that my current level is incredibly far from the form I had as the "future me" at the end of the Last Cycle. Since I learned my opponent's name, I haven't stopped thinking. And now is the time to decide on a final strategy for this fight.
Can I count on Shiin Karim being a fake champion? Of course not. He's skilled enough to have been the best in the city for several years, which, if it was smaller than Tries, then not by much. I think he has three full Talent stars in his favorite weapon. And that's the minimum. At the time of my temple visit and ritual, I had only two and a half filled spear stars.
Aun told me that Karim chose the dual straight Jian swords as his weapon. I, on the other hand, have a spear. In theory, if you only compare weapon choices, I have the advantage. Small, but it's there, as I'll be choosing the fighting distance. And the one who chooses the distance often has the initiative. I'm sure that the struggle for the initiative will be the basis of the upcoming fight. At the same time, I'll probably lose this struggle. I'll simply be overwhelmed by experience; after all, there's only the memory of a Mithril fighter in me, not his skills, abilities, and reactions. But, if I give up the initiative to an opponent with greater experience, it will lead to inevitable defeat.
Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.
Inevitable.
That means I cannot afford to lose the initiative. But how can I hold onto it when it can be taken away from me without my consent? So far, I have found only one answer to this question: to bet everything on the first strike. Go all in. Initially, for the first minute, play with distance, assess the enemy, and then invest everything in one onslaught. And this plan had every chance of success.
Indeed, there was one aspect in which I surpassed the champion of Cisto and practically any fighter or mage of Ain who was on Bronze. Due to my mithril and adamantium Achievements, my Core was denser than that of ordinary people. This meant my physical conditions were practically one rank higher. My strength, speed, reaction – everything was more at the Steel level rather than Bronze. And if I hide this at the beginning and then suddenly explode at my limit, it could lead to victory. No one expects such attack speed from a Bronze as I am capable of. Moreover, I would act non-standardly.
What does a swordsman wish in a battle with a spearman? His first desire is to reduce the distance. Get close enough to strike. Engage the enemy's long weapon in close combat. And all of this, I would present to Shiin Karim on a silver platter. During my attack, I myself would engage him in a clinch.
On my left palm, manifested by Illusion magic, the Rune of Destruction appeared. It appeared and disappeared. Disappeared until the time came.
And in the clinch, the local champion would be in for a big surprise.
"One more fight and it's your turn," the young steward hurried me.
"I'm going."
Comfortably positioning the spear in the crook of my elbow, I left the small room and followed the steward.
Already in the subtribune premises by the closed gates leading to the sand, obeying the gesture of the arena worker, I stopped. Judging by the audience's cries reaching me, the previous fight had not yet ended. However, I didn't have to wait long, no more than three minutes. For a moment, the stands fell silent, only to synchronously explode with screams, applause, and lively whistling. This noise hit so hard that fine stone crumbs fell on me from the arched ceiling.
"And onto the next round!!!" The magically amplified voice of the announcer reached me. "Progresses! Paravi Malik!!!"
Ah, now this incessant audience roar makes sense. Unexpectedly for everyone, the local favorite managed to win, hence the joy.
I took a step forward, but the steward blocked my way.
"You can enter after you're introduced."
Damn it! How could I forget this? This is what happens when nerves are on edge, even though I seem calm on the outside. I close my eyes, do some breathing exercises, and just as I finish them, I hear:
"Meet our city's guest, Raven from Seattle!!"
The steward promptly pulled his hand away and opened the gates. Stepping onto the arena sand, I was prepared for the sun to hit my eyes, so I took that step, slightly tilting my head and squinting. Even then, I nearly went blind for a moment; such was the contrast between the semi-darkness of the under-tribune rooms and the bright light of the open sky. My entrance was met with silence. Someone hooted, but they were quickly shushed. The announcer realized that the pause was only doing harm and immediately continued the presentation:
"And today, his opponent is the multiple-time champion of the Cisto Arena, Shiin Karim!"
My opponent entered from the opposite side of the arena. He walked in with his head held high, ignoring the disapproving whistles from the stands. The people of Cisto were never particularly welcomed in Tries.
"The fight will begin on the count of three!" A well-set baritone voice rang over the arena. "One! Two! Three!!"
Usually, while the announcer is counting down, fighters use this time to close the distance. But not this time. Both Shiin and I stood near the entrance gates all this time, each on his side of the sand. Slowly sweeping my gaze over the quiet stands, I stuck my spear into the sand and demonstratively cracked my neck. Then, unhurriedly, as if in slow motion, I did a vertical split along the spear stuck in the ground. Slowly lowering my leg, I pulled out the spear and, with a broad smile, in a semi-bow, I made an inviting gesture forward as if offering my opponent to step into the center first.
Yes, I realized that I was behaving like a bad actor in some third-rate Hong Kong action movie. But for earthlings, such behavior was familiar, while on Ain, such shows before a fight were a novelty.
The champion of Cisto watched each of my movements closely, and when I froze in the inviting pose, he smirked, slightly baring his fangs, and with a light, springy step, he strolled into the center. Each of his steps, each wave of his hand – everything gave away an experienced fighter. He clearly was not just accustomed to the arena - he relished being at its center. And the cold reception, the hooting of the local stands did not upset him at all. On the contrary, such a reaction from the spectators only spurred him on.
As for his appearance, he was an average-height man in his thirties with very long arms. Short hedgehog haircut and thick brows that met in the middle. This Shiin gave off a somewhat repulsive impression; there was something rat-jackal about him. Most likely, this feeling arose because of his thin, long nose, with a weakly developed chin slanting towards his throat. Nevertheless, his eyes were smart. Smart and crafty. Even without observing his movements, just by looking into them, it became clear that this man would stop at nothing for his victory! A predator. Strong, fast, skilled, mean. Knowing his strength. A very dangerous combination.
He was also assessing me. Constantly. From the moment he stepped on the sand. He assesses and fears.
And that's bad!
It means he will be even more cautious than usual.
From the stands, this probably looks strange. A swordsman stands in the center, while a spearman walks around almost at the very edge of the arena. However, unlike Ronin's fight, no one is whistling or jeering this time. The stands are immersed in silence. Even they can feel the tension that now permeates the air.
Having completed almost a full circle, I realized I would not see anything new from my opponent. It was time to get bold and mess with his mind. Suddenly stopping, I seemed to contemplate, then started to walk towards my enemy. I didn't run, didn't charge into battle; no, I simply walked at a leisurely pace. And when we were seven meters apart, I stopped and drew a line in the sand with my spear. After that, I openly yawned. All my behavior signaled that I wouldn't go beyond the drawn line, even if I had to settle down to sleep in this arena under the gaze of thousands of strangers.
No matter how much Shiin controlled himself, he had undoubtedly encountered something like this for the first time. His slightly twitching left eye gave him away. I was clearly annoying him. Annoying him with my behavior and my appearance. He understood that, purely in terms of outward appearance, he was losing to me in all respects. My inexplicable audacity irritated him. And at the same time, he feared my unpredictability. Nevertheless, he was a veteran champion and managed to suppress his emotions. He didn't explode into an unexpected attack. He held back and even smiled.
And what followed that smile I didn't like.
At all.
His Jian swords left their sheaths, twirled in the air, collided, and dozens of small electric discharges bounced in my direction in a narrow cone. Lightning Magic, Sparkle Shaft spell. In my opinion, not a technique worth learning. The Sparks jump too slowly.
I could have stepped aside or jumped away, but I chose the most dramatic way to neutralize the enemy's magic. My spear butt swept across the ground in a fan motion. The sand raised in the air, like a wave, collided with the Sparks, and they harmlessly exploded like childish firecrackers, causing no harm to anyone.
In response, Shiin approvingly clicked his tongue. He then immediately changed his stance, his blades collided three times, and three waves of Sparks flew in my direction.
My spear grazed the sand three times in response. Three times the sparks collided with the sand with the same result.
The sparks mean nothing, while his stance...
It's extremely low, but his back remains straight. In such a position, an ordinary person would not be able to move smoothly, lacking the muscular framework: our skeleton is not designed for such actions. But already at Bronze, our bodies are strengthened enough to allow the execution of what was previously impossible. And the Water Snake style, which Shiin Karim mastered, was a representative of such a school of battle. A school that could not appear on Earth due to the physical limitations of the human body. This style was not widespread. Too complex to master. The previous me, during the entire Cycle, encountered only two of its adepts and both times almost lost, pulling out those fights only by Shadow magic. Although back then, the opponents were higher ranked, not standing on the same step as me, as it is now. Worst of all, the Water Snake school is considered and, in fact, is the best sword style against pole weapons on the metal coil.
What is the advantage of a spear over a sword? Of course, the length. What is the sword better at? Defense and variability of attacks. A spear wielder's chance in such a clash is to strike at the legs and control the distance. The Water Snake style, due to its extremely low stances, allowed the swordfighter to easily defend their legs, thereby depriving the spear user of his main advantage.
The Champion of Cisto smiled: he saw that I had assessed the disposition. What a scoundrel - he's provoking me, but it's too early to attack.
"Shush, shush," echoed around the silent arena. These are Shiin's legs sliding on the sand, like on ice. And each such slide moves him a meter to the left, then to the right.
"Shush, shush," a meter closer, then a meter further.
"Shush, shush, shush," altogether chaotic.
The Water Snake style is beautiful. It captivates. Hypnotizes. Because subconsciously, we understand that a person can't move like this. It's not in our nature. Only the development of the Core makes these movements possible.
My chances are dwindling every second. There are only two fighting styles in Ain against which earthen fencing almost doesn't work, and I have come across an adept of one of them.
What bad luck!
If both of us, Shiin and I, were at the Legendary Coil now, I would easily sweep him off the arena as a nuisance. Because the Water Snake school does not progress well in the ranks and does not provide the increase in capabilities that other styles do. But we are on Bronze, and at this rank, he's an extremely uncomfortable opponent for me.
Extremely.
My real chance is only in Rune Magic. All other options are off the table now. But will I be able to engage in such close combat?
My reflections are interrupted by Shiin Karim. He doesn't wait for me to finish my analysis. He attacks. Like a snake, he glides on the sand. "Shush, shush, shush," at the same time, he doesn't move straight but constantly shifts; his movements are broken, unexpected, dangerous.
His lip movement gave him away. He didn't say the spell aloud, but his lips silently articulated its name.
I was prepared for a Discharge! But Shiin deceived me. Along with a powerful Discharge, which dryly clicked two meters from me, a narrow, directed beam of the brightest Light hit me in the face!
If this battle took place half a year later, and I was fighting an earthling, I would be ready for such a trick. But Ain's fighters hadn't figured out before our arrival that magic could be used not only for inflicting damage and wounds but also for disorienting their enemies. To be more precise, one apparently did figure it out...
Because of this unpreparedness, I basically just got a flashbang exploded one and a half meters from my face.
And I swam.
From there, my body reacted on its own. No, it didn't dart to the side in fear, like the me who had recently been transported from Earth would have done.No, it didn't launch into a fan-motion counterattack from the "blind combat" like the future me would have done. The current me simply didn't command this style yet.
The flash momentarily took me back to the past, to a time during one of the performances when a photographer blinded me while I was performing a stunt. And I was as if right back in that moment, even though I was standing on the sand of a gladiatorial arena in a completely different world.
From a standing start, with half-bent legs, my body performed a backflip.
From a standing position, with no run-up or preparation - a backflip. And to land squarely on my feet, I used the spear as a balance, extending it far forward. Sparks danced in front of my eyes, I could hardly see, but I grouped correctly. My feet touched the sand precisely, ten out of ten, as I'd never managed before. A light tap on my soles and, almost simultaneously, a powerful hit on my palms. So much so that the spear almost flies out of my hands.
"Ohhhh!" The stands exhale in unison.
They see what I can't yet. Healing magic spreads to my eyes, but I already know what I will see - this hit on my wrists is too familiar.
Sure enough, like a coyote caught in mid-jump, greedily gasping for air, pierced through by the whole length of my spear tip under the right clavicle, looking ahead in disbelief, the champion of Cisto has frozen.
A pain-filled exhale escapes his lips, and the alchemists' bracelets on his wrists activate immediately with a soft rustle.
I release my spear, and it remains lodged, stuck in the other's body. It can't be pulled out as it would open the wound.
"Champion," I say quietly, with a slight note of disappointment so that I can't be heard in the stands, "you've outplayed yourself."
And it was true. The fight was over. But it wasn't me who won it. It was Shiin Karim who lost it.
Stepping back a pace, I demonstratively spread my hands to the sides.
My whole appearance seems to say, "Ladies and gentlemen! I am as shocked as you are that it ended so quickly!"