After seeing Ronin off with applause, I didn't sit down. Instead, I beckoned a servant and asked to be shown to the room prepared for my pre-fight preparations. The remaining Iron grid tournament fights held little interest for me. However, preparing for my own duel was necessary, no matter how confident I was in its outcome. Left alone in the room, I settled into a lotus position right on the concrete floor, laid my spear across my thighs, and submerged into a light meditation. A meditation aimed at calming the flow of energies, balancing it, stabilizing it. Not that there was a particular need for this, but such a process was certainly not superfluous either.
The spectacle the earthling had shown, the fencing master's performance, made me reconsider how to conduct my own duel. Just this morning, I planned to play the "lame duck" again and scrape through my fight "by the skin of my teeth" and supposedly "on my last legs," as I did in the one-eighth finals. But the changes in the betting regulations and the opponent I faced today made such an approach unnecessary. I won't earn much from the bets anyway, so the need for artificially inflating uncertainty is gone. Meaning, I just need to win without any additional conditions.
Although there was one condition: it would be preferable to conduct the fight with the same calmness as the previous ones. I didn't put all that time into my new image just to ruin it for nothing. Said image will help me not only in Tries, which I plan to leave soon, but also in the future. Because my crossing paths with the Alchemists' Guild is clearly not the last one in this Cycle. At least, I hope so.
When the servant came to escort me to the arena, I was completely ready. The annoyance from the missed profits, which nearly overwhelmed me, also retreated to the background. It's already happened, and changing the situation is not within my power, so I need to plan and act based on the changed input. I already have much more money than I could have dreamed of, so it's not worth grieving. And as for getting to Deytran as quickly as possible or making this journey as cost-effective as possible, I'll figure something out.
I stepped onto the arena's sand in a completely serene state. And my calm face was not a strained act; I truly felt that way.
Unlike Ronin, the audience received both me and Tayan Quarish with significantly less warmth. I wonder, had Aun spread rumors about who was Quarish's teacher? If so, I felt a bit sorry. In light of the changed betting rules, the revealed truth didn't change much. However, it could significantly spoil the young mage's life. I was the one who told Aun that the revealed secret wouldn't do much harm and would mostly hit Quarish's teacher. In reality, I thought differently. I had lived long enough to understand that a poor but talented student who is obviously favored by the teacher would be subjected to harassment, setups, and other persecutions by those who consider the mentor's attitude unfair. I had no doubt that such people would appear. In my words to Aun, I wasn't lying when I said that a teacher, standing at a legendary rank, would deal with the consequences of the secret being revealed. But I consciously kept silent about the fact that the revealed truth would certainly not pass without a trace for Tayan Quarish himself. And now, watching how the young and talented mage stepped on the sand, I felt slight pangs of guilt. And it would be fine if all this brought me real profit, but now I wasn't going to get this profit, which means I messed up a person and made Aun cross the line, essentially for nothing. I don't like feeling like a scoundrel, but right now, I felt something similar towards myself.
It was unpleasant, it scratched from the inside, and the justification that I was doing all this for the sake of a great purpose, the salvation of the entire world, did not comfort me at all. Having briefly immersed myself in this feeling, I realized how much the "past me" had to break himself in order to, out of revenge for the questers, commit far worse and openly shameful deeds, betray, set up, kill. Precisely break - because such a turnover in behavior cannot be explained by a simple smooth drift of the psyche under the influence of a foreign world and changed circumstances. The past me sacrificed himself on the altar of revenge. Sacrificed all of himself, including his principles and morals. At the same time, the "past me," like the "current me," sincerely believed that he was acting for something much bigger. The ancients were not wrong when they noticed that "good intentions lead to hell."
I was so absorbed in these thoughts that I came out of my contemplative and introspective state only when Tayan Quarish made the first strike. The classic "Fire Fist." A ranged spell capable of hitting an opponent up to fifty meters away. This spell doesn't consume a lot of mana and doesn't require exceptional talent, but it can leave a decent burn on Bronze, and if it hits the face, it can burn out the eyes. But it moves at the speed of the hand that launched it. Hence, when applied without acceleration by Air magic, it rarely hits the target. Unless the target is not immobilized and is able to dodge. And I could move.
Shaking off my thoughts, I pushed away unnecessary reflections and smoothly, like flowing water, stepped out of the line of attack. That alone was enough, but I didn't stop there. My spear rose and swiftly, like the beak of a heron attacking a frog, struck at the spell flying past. With a dry pop, it immediately burst, tongues of flame eagerly licked the spear tip, but it did not even redden. Still, a "Fire Fist," especially at the Bronze level, is not a spell that can heat up steel.
Tayan's staff in his hands was only slightly shorter than my spear, and as the previous fights showed, the young mage was quite skilled with this weapon. But, of course, these skills will not help him if I close the distance to the range of my lunge. It was clear from Quarish's movements that he understood this perfectly. His chance for victory was to pelt me with magic from a distance and not let me get close.
The next thing coming at me is a "Wind Gust." Also a fairly simple spell. When cast at the Bronze level, the most it can do is knock you off your feet. But its advantage is that it comes from the spellcaster in a cone, and it's much harder to dodge than a "Fist." But I didn't try to evade; my spear struck forward and met the "Wind Gust" with a "Discharge" on the tip. This time the pop was much stronger: my "Discharge" exploded. It exploded and shattered the integrity of the compressed air flying towards me. In the end, only part of Tayan's spell reached me, but it only tousled my hair, causing no harm at all.
In the morning, before the draw, I wanted to make a spectacle for the viewers out of my duel. But after what Ronin showed today, that would look like a pathetic imitation. I still have a long way to go to match the fencing master in terms of aesthetics and vividness of fighting. And now, watching my opponent and the reaction of the stands, I chose a different plan for the fight. I could end the battle quickly, but I don't want to do that. Dragging out the fight due to new betting restrictions won't bring me much benefit, either. So I settled on the option I called "relentless advance." In which I will move at one speed, and whatever my opponent does, I will not change this speed, looming over the mage as if I were relentless and merciless doom, fatum. As if I am the embodiment of the inevitability of fate. My skills should be enough to handle this task. At the same time, I will test what I have achieved and how my progress in the art of combat is progressing.
The sand in front of me began to move, and when my foot was ready to step on the ground on the next step, this sand took the form of sharp, like needles, spikes. This time Quarish resorted to Earth magic, thereby demonstrating during the first phase of the battle all three elements he mastered. In my opinion, he made a mistake here. You should not throw all your cards on the table at the very beginning.
My foot changed its trajectory, drawing a wide arc, passing a couple of millimeters above the surface. And the tip of my boot, like a small bulldozer, cut off these magical spikes, turning them into the same sand from which they were created.
Tayan Quarish really had talent. Not everyone can use three elements equally at the Bronze level. A faint smile crossed my face; I knew that these abilities would not help him emerge victorious today. The only thing I didn't like was that I couldn't understand his mood and overall strategy. He should have realized that the spells he demonstrated would not stop me. Moreover, I couldn't read the expression on his face. The twitchy movement of his eyes and the relaxed facial muscles didn't add up.
I had already passed the center of the arena when Tayan showed a new facet of his abilities. "Fire Fist" and "Wind Gust" flew off his hands at the same time. I even quietly clicked my tongue, acknowledging the young mage's preparation. Such synchronicity is achieved by hundreds of hours of exhausting training and long meditations. I give Quarish credit: for his twenty-one years, he was good. Moreover, his double combination turned out to be just a cover for a new path of sand spikes. He's really good.
I don't understand. He saw my fights and knows that this won't stop me, not even scratch me. Such tricks are good against novices or against those who have rarely encountered mages in battle. At the same time, I'm sure he's not testing me. Having analyzed his movement, I realized that he did not even expect this triple attack to hit me or slow me down. No, he knew for sure that I would parry everything. But then, why does he resort to such tactics? And this lack of understanding made me a little nervous. Because it's bad when you can't read your opponent, it's fraught with unpleasant, up to lethal, surprises.
The third series of Quarish's attacks was again carried out almost flawlessly. In a different sequence with different flight speeds of spells. And again, I easily repelled this attack, continuing my steady movement.
Doesn't he understand that his current tactics are leading to a dead end? Especially since I know that the tricks he has demonstrated are far from all that he can do. In his last tournament duel, Quarish showed this. So why is he hesitating now? After all, his only chance is spells that hit the area. In the previous round, they brought him victory.
No sooner had I posed this question to myself than a wall of fire rose from the ground right in front of me, only a step ahead. It was small, waist-high, but the heat from it was quite palpable. With such fire walls Quarish had restricted his opponent's maneuverability in the last battle and then finished him off. "Fire wall" – one of the most popular and powerful spells of Fire Magic. It's used by mages of metal, precious ranks, and even the legendary Coil of the Spiral. It's indeed powerful magic. But on Bronze and even on Wootz, a mage doesn't have enough energy to make the heat of the "Wall" truly terrifying. For this spell, cast by a Bronze mage, to do real harm, I would have to stand in it for at least five seconds. Quarish's opponent in the previous fight, apparently, didn't know and fearfully shied away from the "Fire Walls." I, however, used my spear shaft to lift a wave of sand and, slightly knocking down the fire, calmly stepped forward. Yes, it was hot. But no scarier than jumping over a big bonfire. Since the width of the fire wall created by Quarish did not exceed half a meter, I overcame it in one step. In doing so, I didn't get any burns, except that the edge of my trousers smoked a bit. But I extinguished this incipient fire with a swift movement and by lifting a small wave of sand with my spear again.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Once again, Quarish bothers me with the fact that he was not at all upset about the failure of his main trump card. A new "Fire wall" rises in front of me, and as I step into it, a "Wind Gust" flies into my chest. The mage's plan is clear: catch me in motion when my perception is limited by fire and keep me in the flame with a wave of dense air. But it was readable, it was predictable. Before the "Wind Gust" reached its target, it was met by my spear with an activated "Discharge" on the tip.
No matter how hard Tayan tries, the distance between us is decreasing. It is clear not only to me but to everyone in the stands that the mage, despite the really high level of skills he has shown, is unable to cope with me. A minute or two, and no matter how much he runs, I will catch him. I'm sure this is clear to Quarish himself, but he is somehow calm - as if he is not in a real battle where he could be killed but at a written exam.
As soon as this comparison comes to my mind, everything falls into place. Both the calm of the mage and the excessive academical nature of his spells for a real battle. Quarish is not so much fighting with me as demonstrating his abilities and skills to someone. Possibly to his teacher, or maybe to someone else, as for who specifically - in principle, it doesn't matter to me. The essence is what is important. And he adopted this manner of dueling not because he disrespects me, quite the opposite. Apparently, Tayan realized from the very beginning that he didn't stand a chance against me. And he decided to use our duel as a platform to demonstrate his abilities. And he's doing well. Knowing that he can't win, he uses this fight as a chance to show himself. Hence his calm. He has already come to terms with the loss. He came to terms with it even before he set foot on the sand of the arena.
The closer the distance between us became, the more frequent and rapid the mage's spells were. It even seemed to me that the young man had entered a frenzy, caught his wave, and had it been anyone else from the remaining participants of the Bronze grid of the tournament in my place, he would have won. But he was out of luck today, and the draw brought the young mage against me.
A triple attack: two "Walls of Fire," coupled with a"Simoom," a combined spell at the junction of Earth and Wind magic that raises a sandstorm, try to block my way. But I, with my onslaught and the fact that "Discharge" destabilizes air magic when it is destroyed, leave all these obstacles behind. Not more than five meters separates me and Tayan Quarish. That's it; the game is over. He, of course, can still try to fend me off with his staff and close-range magic, but I can see the mage is exhausted. His Core is empty. And from magical exhaustion, he can hardly stand on his feet. I prepare to strike and put an end to it when unexpectedly, Tayan Quarish bows deeply and hands me his staff.
"I admit my defeat," the chief steward sensed the situation and amplified Quarish's whisper with magic, making these words heard by every spectator in the stands.
What a sly one! He initially planned to surrender. That's why he was so calm, knowing that he wasn't in danger of being skewered by my spear. But good for him! He showed his skills, demonstrated his class, gave his all, to exhaustion, and then admitted his defeat. And no one will blame him. A mage with an exhausted Core is not a fighter, and everyone in the stands understands this. Therefore, in the eyes of the spectators, Tayan did everything he could. What a fox! I'm sure if the young mage looked at me now, I would see a cunning glint in his eyes.
"The fight is over. The victory goes to Raven from Seattle!" The chief steward's announcement echoes above the Arena.
If Tayan Quarish had tried to pull off something like this during a regular fight in the Arenas of Pentapolis, he could well have lost his head. Because the fate of someone who surrendered and dropped their weapons on the sand usually was decided by the stands. And the spectators could well vote for the beheading of the one who preferred to surrender rather than fight to the end. But this tournament was held according to the rules set by the Alchemists' Guild, and the young mage did not fear such an extremely sad outcome for himself.
Nodding to Tayan Quarish, who had paused in a respectful bow, I crisply pivoted on my heels, saluted the tribunes with my spear, and then walked unhurriedly towards the exit from the sand. Of course, the spectators didn't cheer for me as enthusiastically as they did for the mask of the "Rising Dragon" school, but I still received my share of applause. It seems like a trivial thing: what does it matter how the tribunes bid you farewell if you know yourself that you performed well? But it did make a difference, and that applause, although few, brightened my mood. Perhaps it is always nice when your work is appreciated at its true value?
This thought led me to understand that the spectators, considering me the only victor, were not entirely correct. There were no losers in this battle. Both of us won. Both Tayan and I. Each got what they wanted. I received the formal victory and progressed to the Bronze semifinals, while Quarish demonstrated his undeniable talent and excellent training to everyone in the city. For the way the young mage conducted this fight, for how he implemented his strategy, I mentally shook his hand. Knowing full well that he couldn't win against an opponent like me, he nevertheless squeezed the maximum benefit out of the fight for himself. My respect.
After leaving the sand, I immediately handed my tournament spear to an attendant. I had no particular desire to climb the tribunes and watch the rest of the day's fights. But because Aun and I didn't arrange any other meeting places, I had to go again to the sector for participants and their guests. I even managed to watch the final part of Paravi Malik's duel. To my deep regret and to the literal ecstasy of the tribunes, the girl won again. And, just like in the one-eighth, she won not by a clear advantage but rather by "outlasting." The darling of the public fell back into deep defense and, thanks to genuinely good parrying techniques, as well as excellent footwork and intelligent control of distance, wore her opponent out. When he began making mistakes from fatigue, she launched a sharp attack and dramatically ended the duel, disarming her opponent. Because of my achievement, "Mithril Body," her usual trick won't work against me. But, credit where it's due, the girl definitely had character and the ability to fight, even through the "I can't."
Aun only appeared when two out of the four today's battles on the Steel grid of the tournament had already ended. The boy's mood was somewhat mixed, and after sitting down next to me, he didn't start talking about something right away, as usual. I even had to start the conversation first:
"Did you manage to earn anything on the bets because of this rule change?"
"Forty-five gold," Aun grumbled discontentedly and, for some reason, looked away.
"That's it?" Even in my worst predictions, I hoped for a larger sum.
"You had to bet twenty gold on the mask of the 'Rising Dragon' school to get just twenty-one gold in case of a win!" The boy's indignation is genuine. "And the odds on your victory were very similar."
"Didn't the rumor you started about Tayan Quarish's real teacher change the odds?" I was surprised.
"Well, the thing is..." Aun cast his eyes to the ground.
"What thing?"
"The thing is, I didn't have time." The boy's voice became even quieter.
"How so?" I didn't understand.
"After the steward made the announcement, the crowd at the betting counter became chaotic." The youth avoided looking at me as he spoke. "The orderly line collapsed, and when the draw was over, the crowd, which had grown even larger, rushed to the counters. It so happened... It so happened that the crowd carried me directly to the counter, and I found myself first in line to place a bet." For the first time, Aun looked up at me. "Master, I simply didn't have time to tell anyone anything. And I couldn't leave the counter because that would mean going to the end of the new line. And due to the rush and the large crowd, I might not have been able to place any bets at all. I remembered your wish, but I didn't have time. And I thought that placing bets was more important than..." His voice grew softer and softer with each word, and I had to guess more than hear his last words.
I understood that the boy wasn't lying. It probably happened just as he said. But I was also sure that the youth, finding himself in such a situation, didn't try to find a solution but rather heaved a sigh of relief. He initially found it unpleasant to reveal the truth about Tayan Quarish's teacher, and when he had the opportunity not to do so, he took advantage of it. Maybe unconsciously, but I'm sure if he really wanted to, with his brains, he would've found a way to tell about the mage's teacher and then place bets. But he didn't want to, and, most likely, he went with the flow with a deep sense of relief. That's how I see the situation, and the only question is, how should I react? After thinking for a bit, I decided that my accusations or judgments wouldn't change anything; the bets had already been placed and played out. So, patting the boy on the shoulder, I said:
"Your primary task was to place bets; you rightly prioritized it and carried it out."
Actually, I even feel a bit easier now. Because Aun didn't make it, I, following my own financial gain, didn't make life difficult for another, perhaps decent, person. And this is probably good because even if Aun had spread rumors about Quarish's teacher, in light of the new betting rules, it wouldn't have brought us much benefit.
"Really?" Aun's gaze brightened at my words.
"Did you manage to go to the municipality?" I replied to his question with a question, thereby closing the topic of betting.
"Yes!" The youth's voice was already much more cheerful. "Of course I did. Otherwise, I would have returned much earlier."
"And?"
"Just as I planned, I pretended to be completely clueless and started inquiring if I could stake my claim on the 'Blood Wave.' And the third official to whom I was directed made it clear that the issue with the former pirate galley had already been resolved, and I was too late with my questions." Aun theatrically threw up his hands and added, "Too late, alas!"
It took some effort on my part not to yell at the boy for his verbosity. Instead, I asked in a very calm voice:
"And how was this issue resolved?"
"The 'Blood Wave' will be handed over to the fleet!"
"So, it will not be put up for public auction, as usual?" I clarified.
"Yeah, it won't be. The senate's trade commission has deemed the auction unnecessary and is transferring the galley over to the fleet."
"Was this decided precisely by the trade commission? Shouldn't the traders insist on a public auction?" I asked, clenching my fists.
"Yes, I found that strange too, but that's how it is." Aun nodded carelessly.
Clenching my teeth, I slowly exhaled. My suspicions and paranoia turned out to be not mere suspicions or paranoia but reality. Cristo, along with the rest of the fifteen-man crew of the rebel galley, had not perished in a fire due to their own carelessness but due to the cunning scheme of an officer. An officer who believed he deserved to be the captain of his own ship.
"Master, are you alright? Your eyes are red." Aun's voice brought me back to reality.