71. The Final Event

Isaac wandered about the field for the rest of the individual events, which continued on without pause and only grew increasingly more specific. One particularly memorable event involved seeing who could heat up an object that looked like a chunk of metal but was not a chunk of metal the most. It had started normally enough, but after a fire elemental decided to “spice things up” by creating an unnecessary tiny tornado of fire, it had escalated to the point of multiple explosions going off, including one on the other side of the field. Miraculously, there were no accidents, mostly because a majority of the participants of that event were fire resistant to some extent.

In general, after the flight competition, there weren’t any more accidents of that degree. There were plenty of minor wounds, and the field had had to be reconstructed with magic a few times, but nothing as dramatic had occurred since Olzu’s fall, to Isaac’s relief.

The second portion of the tournament was finally wrapping up, and the events had petered out until only a few remained. Isaac stood watching one of the last ones, a shield skill competition, where Igor stepped up with his usual stoic demeanor and clanking armor. He held an oversized shield in his right hand and stood at ready. A mere second later, a barrage of floating spheres of water hurtled towards him.

It soon became apparent that the shield was much too heavy for the man, and he wasn’t exactly very fast to begin with. Isaac winced as Igor somehow managed to miss every single block, and the delay in his movements actually made it look like he was purposely shifting his shield to get hit. Isaac heard snickers from the other waiting participants, but Igor continued on, his armor becoming increasingly drenched. By the time the bombardment of water balls was over, the snickers had grown to full blown laughter. To Igor’s credit, the man didn’t seem particularly bothered. He just frowned in his usual mildly expressive way and stepped away to allow the next person in line to go.

Isaac watched the man walk over to the spectator stands, the clanking of his armor now taking on a distinctly wet sound. A part of him was silently impressed that the man had stayed in the tournament for so long despite being very clearly outclassed in nearly every category. He shook his head and glanced down at the time on his tablet. The last event would be concluding soon and the final part of the tournament would start after that, so he decided to head over to the stands himself to wait for the inevitable announcement.

—

Hearing Fable’s voice over the amplified microphone was somehow even more grating than hearing it in person. The slight metallic screech undercutting every minor movement of the microphone just made everything a little bit more annoying.

“Okay folks, that’s the last little event, probably. I don’t actually really care if you all had fun or not, but Lilith told me to say that, so there you go.”

The microphone made a shrill piercing noise, and Isaac winced as he waited for the sound to die down again. Fable continued talking, unperturbed.

“Anyway, we’ve got one last thing coming up, and I’m the one who planned this one by the way, so you can thank me later.” Isaac could practically hear the grin in the other Traveler’s voice. “I know you’re all super repressed and violent, so hey, it’s time to rejoice! The last event’s, like, an actual tournament. One on one sparring, folks.”

The stands around him immediately burst into chatter. Isaac jumped slightly, glancing behind him as the previously silent Underside residents buzzed with activity. Wings fluttered, he caught the gleam of shifting scales and claws, and a wave of murmurs ran through the stands like the low rumble of thunder. There was a glint reflected in many people’s gazes, sharp and bright. Isaac shifted in his seat, edging a bit further away from the suddenly animated spectators while keeping a close eye on them.

“Now now, quiet down folks. I know you must all be thinking how great this is and all, but I got some caveats too.”

A few more whispers passed through the crowd, but the frantic burst of energy died down somewhat, replaced with a coiled anticipation.

“We’re doing simple first solid hit or first out of bounds wins,” Fable drawled over the mic. “I do mean solid, so, like, blocks and stuff don’t count. And the System’s still in place; we’re not just gonna pause the thing. You attack anything with intent to harm and, well, you’re fucked. Basically if you can’t get it through your skulls to spar nonlethally, I mean, I don’t really need to say what’ll happen to you.”

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The deflation was tangible. After swelling up like a balloon, the energy popped all at once, and he blinked slightly in surprise. He would’ve thought basic sparring would still be a nice way to relieve tension.

Fable continued speaking. “Anyway, since a bunch of you probably don’t have the self control, you’re allowed to sit out on this one. It starts tomorrow, so you’ve got a whole day to think about it! Better get those brains running and figure it out by then! See ya,” they finished. With one final squeak, the microphone clicked shut.

The stands launched into activity. Isaac was jostled to the side as the crowd of fey sitting a row behind him descended down at once. He would forgive that group of fey because they couldn’t fly (from what he could see), but the following line of demons really had no excuse to not just fly away. Isaac tapped his finger against the tablet as he waited for an opening so that he could leave, but no one seemed particularly keen on letting him through. He’d just about resigned himself to exiting last when someone finally had the courtesy to stop and let him slip into the descending line.

When his feet finally touched the ground and he’d escaped the crowd in the stands, he breathed a sigh of relief. It was stifling up there. “Thanks,” he said, turning around. Isaac paused.

The person who’d let him through was a tall merfolk who he recognized as Seaton. His eyes instinctively darted over to the long spear that was currently stashed away on the man’s back.

To his surprise, Seaton gave a friendly smile. “It was no trouble at all,” he said, and the man’s voice sounded distinctly different when he wasn’t exchanging curses with Aster. It was higher, for one, and much smoother, holding more of the signature lyrical quality that defined many merfolk voices. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to speak to you for a while now. My sister’s mentioned you.”

Sister? Isaac scrunched his forehead, trying to figure out who that could be. He didn’t interact with many merfolk to begin with, in fact the last one who’d requested a stat request was…

He frowned, squinting at the man. “Is your sister Lorelei?” Now that he looked more closely, there was some family resemblance there. Their hair was the same shade of dark blue, as were their scales, though their eyes were different colors. Lorelei’s had been clear lavender while Seaton’s were light blue.

Really, the biggest resemblance was the fact that Seaton’s voice when he’d been yelling at Aster had a very similar tone and inflection to the way Lorelei spoke all the time.

Seaton’s eyes lit up. “That I am,” he said. He bowed slightly. “My name is Seaton, the 5th heir of the Wavelands. It’s an honor to meet the Traveler in person.”

Isaac processed a couple of things at once. First was that the Wavelands were probably what the merfolk called the Woodlands, which made sense, considering the tension between them and the forest fey. The second thing he processed was that this meant Lorelei was also royalty, and he’d definitely accidentally insulted her multiple times.

What tumbled out of his mouth, however, was, “What’s royalty doing in this shitty tournament?”

Seaton blinked, and Isaac was just about to apologize when the merfolk chuckled good naturedly.

“It would seem strange, I suppose. It’s a bit of a, ah, complicated subject, but despite my official title, I don’t hold much sway. I’m here to test my skills, just as everyone else.”

Isaac didn’t comment that a majority of the people participating were there to vent, not to test their skills or do anything so honorable. He cocked his head to the side, frowning. “I don’t mean this to be rude,” he said slowly, “but your personality’s kind of different from what I expected. Based on the events, I mean.”

The merfolk looked embarrassed. He coughed, clearing his throat. “I have…a bit of a temper, I’m afraid. I usually try to keep it contained, but it’s difficult when there’s so many…agitating people around.” He gestured vaguely. “I will endeavor to keep it in better control, especially during this final event.”

“You’re participating, then?”

“Of course, this is a unique sparring opportunity and I don’t plan to pass on it. It’s quite rare to face such different foes.”

Isaac just hummed, eyes flicking back to the stashed spear. Well, if he was really confident about it, he should be fine. Still, Isaac was planning on checking the brackets tomorrow, not just for Seaton, but for multiple people.

“Ah, my apologies, I’ve occupied more of your time than I planned.” Seaton gave a final bow, the motion crisp and well practiced. “It was nice meeting you,” he said.

Isaac nodded. “Same,” he said.

With another nod of his head, the merfolk hurried away, disappearing into the crowd. Isaac watched his retreating back before his eyes darted over to the other participants still on the field. Many were talking, but quite a few had drawn weapons and seemed to be practicing in anticipation for the fights the next day. The sound of swinging metal and the sizzle of magic formed a constant backdrop to the murmuring.

Isaac turned around and stepped away from the crowd, unable to escape the growing sinking feeling in his gut.