When Kichi emerged from the ice rubble, Masahide was astonished to see her alive. She was as agile as a mountain goat. He tilted back in his seat and released a breath he hadn’t realized he held. Why did he even watch his friend fight?
Whitebeard appeared relaxed, sitting with his elbows on his knees and a rounded back. The wide-brimmed hat shadowed his face, which maintained a smile.
Masahide shook his head. “Does anything shake you?”
“I’ve seen such wonderful and terrible things in my travels. Kichi just survived imminent death. Fantastic.”
Akira raised many fragments of ice and hurled them at Kichi, who evaded them sometimes by the width of a hair.
Masahide looked up to the highest tower. He thought he could see Ema, as small as an ant, looking down from the balcony. “We don’t have time for this. We need to bring the falcon feather to the summit.”
“End your match quickly, then. Don’t draw it out like you did the last one.”
Masahide noticed his mouth was open and closed it. He hadn’t drawn anything out. The powers of Mount Templar needed understanding. The weapons of the mountain champions were at his disposal, but he didn’t know how to use them consistently, nor did he know why he’d been gifted so much access to the spirit realm. He wouldn't have used the lance if he could do it all over again. Am I drawing fights out because I’m afraid of using lethal force?
As if reading his mind, Whitebeard said, “You must not hold back in the future. Twenty-five knights will be left fighting after today, and you must be among them.”
“Why’s it so important for Kichi and I to compete?”
“The Duke thinks the King is weak. Soon, he will set things in motion, starting with this tournament.”
Masahide noticed Akira could barely hold herself up. Her legs wobbled as she stepped. He would never doubt Kichi again. “Then I won’t let you down,” he said.
“It’s not me you’re fighting for. It’s the realm.”
Kichi pointed her sword at Akira, who fell face-first to the stone.
Over the next hour, Kichi wolfed down every bite she could. The bear servants brought the last tray, and she ate half, let out a belch, and covered her mouth. “Pardon me.”
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After three fights, Masahide heard his number.
The girl Tosa, who sat between Kichi and Hisa, looked at him. Her hair had the color of oil on water, and he could see through it. “Harutane Hijikata,” she said, “has maxed out his rings. He has forty-seven, and you only have thirty. And he’s from a direct lineage of the old emperors.”
Whitebeard grabbed his arm. “Don’t hold back, or it might be the last thing you ever do.”
“I understand.” Masahide made his way to the center square and set his mind on ending this quickly. He’d never fought other than defensively, but part of that was being a mountain warrior. He clutched the Heart of the Earth.
Harutane was a burly man of muscle and fat. Two mustaches dangled from his face, and his eyebrows pointed in at the bridge of his nose. “It is an honor, Masahide. You can summon a lance. That’s a lost art the realm hasn’t seen in a century.”
The bow Masahide gave was deep. “It’s an honor to face someone of the pure blood. I’ve heard great wisdom and powerful secrets passed down in your family.”
The two stood a moment after the gong tolled. Swords whipped into their hands. The crowd shouted, mostly in favor of Harutane.
Masahide felt frozen in place. He knew he should go all out, summon a lance, and win the fight, but that wasn’t him. Power didn’t come until a threat presented itself. But he could press with the blade.
Steel rang against steel. Both pressed and retreated in the whirl of honed edges.
Masahide lost himself in the rhythm of the lethal dance. This was how a tournament should be fought. This was a show of skill. It symbolized real combat, not the horrific act itself. But I’m supposed to end it. Ema is counting on me. Whitebeard, too.
Harutane pressed forward. “I was expecting your lance. Show me your strength.”
Dancing back, Masahide struggled to respond. “It doesn’t feel right. This is honorable.”
“It’s been generations since these contests were true to their original purpose. Let loose, or I will bring a firestorm that even the knights in the front row cannot shield against.”
“I can’t. I just can’t.”
Harutane made a disgusted noise. Then he flew back and raised his arms. Everything above him began to waver. It was as if he were opening a blast furnace door.
This was a true test. An eruption of fire was the one thing that could bring down a mountain. The only thing left of Masahide would be a crater. But why couldn’t he bring forth his power until it was too late? It surged through him now, but he’d be cooked alive by the time he opened a conduit to the Hall of Champions.
The knights threw up shields all around the arena. A waterfall of fire surged from Harutane, who was only a shimmering figure in the heatwaves, and it engulfed the world.
Masahide
Level: 30
Focus: Conjuring (conduit)
Secondary focus: Quake
Weapons: pure sword - 35% pure
Items: Heart of the Earth