85. Tournament End
Sharil won the tournament. Isaac didn’t think that came as a surprise to anyone watching. Her final opponent had been level 29, a solid 3 levels below her, and by that point most of the betting had already concluded; all that was left was to watch the fight itself.
A part of Isaac felt bad for not being able to fully appreciate the match. He consoled himself with the thought that Sharil hadn’t seemed fully invested in it either. In her first few fights, she had put in more effort, often waiting a bit before attacking in order to scan her opponents for openings and potential unexpected surprises. In this last match, however, she hadn’t hesitated to get things over with. The moment the countdown reached zero, she shot into the air, the wind pressure alone being more than enough to whip up a thick cloud of dust as she swung her serpentine tail straight into her opponent, slamming them out of the ring before they had a chance to react.
It probably hadn’t helped that her opponent had been a fire elemental, and Sharil’s serpent tail, covered in metallic scales that reflected the red tint of the barrier, seemed to be resistant to flames.
Still, despite how quickly the match had finished, the spectators still cheered, and Olzu in particular had hollered loud enough to ignite fresh waves of enthusiasm. Isaac clapped along, happy that she’d won, but mostly he felt relieved that the tournament was finally over.
“Tired?” Mortimer questioned beside him. The half undead man’s expression hadn’t shifted at all during any of the matches, but that at least was to be expected. It did make Isaac feel better about his own muted response.
Isaac heaved a sigh. “More than you can imagine,” he muttered. His eyes drifted over to the stage, where Sharil was still flying in the center of the platform and frowning at the surrounding stands. She barely glanced at her fallen opponent, who, after a few minutes, had hobbled to their feet and limped over to the healing area, dulled flames drooping.
Olzu jumped back from where he’d squeezed himself between two Abyss creatures who had barely noticed the small demon in his quest for a better view. Once he landed back on the ground, he scampered down the aisle, tripping over himself a few times. He didn’t say a word, probably was too excited to remember to, but it was pretty clear where he was going. Isaac stood to follow, as did Mortimer a few seconds later.
The three of them, after much pushing and shoving, finally reached the platform. By then Sharil had drifted back to the ground, though her six wings were always a little spread to help her maintain balance. Even out of the air, she easily towered over the platform, and Isaac briefly wondered what would have happened if one of the titans or dragons had decided to join the tournament.
Sharil’s solid yellow eyes widened slightly when she noticed Olzu, only for her expression to immediately transform into a scowl that fully displayed sharp, jagged teeth.
“You’re supposed to be resting.”
Olzu skidded to a halt and coughed a few times when some dirt sprayed directly into his face. “I’m fine!” he insisted once the coughing fit was over. “Lord Lucius said I could come and watch!”
“Is that so?” Sharil squinted down at the smaller demon with suspicion. “So if I ask Lord Lucius, you’re sure he’ll say—“ she stopped, cutting herself off as her eyes shifted over to the others in the trio. “Oh, Isaac. It’s good to see you.”
Isaac just nodded. “Congratulations,” he said.
“Thank you.” The demon didn’t look particularly enthused. Olzu narrowed his eyes, huffing and crossing his arms.
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“You won! You should be more happy,” he said, a bit more sharply than Isaac expected. The vehemence of the words made Isaac think back to that night when he’d found the imp-like demon practicing to the point of exhaustion. When he’d claimed nothing would be enough. His eyes darted between Sharil and Olzu in newfound understanding. Olzu really was more similar to him than he’d realized. He shifted his weight, not sure what to make of that.
“I didn’t think it would be so easy,” Sharil muttered. She sighed and shook her head, smiling wryly. “I suppose I keep forgetting I’m not weak like I used to be. Haven’t quite gotten used to my current level. Ah well, it was still an interesting event. I’m not sorry to have participated.”
The sharpness in Olzu’s eyes and posture bled away a little. The demon’s gaze darted down to the ground, and he quickly asked, “That’s it, right, Traveler? No more events?”
Isaac nodded slowly, not taking his eyes off the demon. “Yeah, I think so.” He furrowed his brow, glancing over in the direction of the commentator’s booth. Now that the matches were over, the spectators had departed the stands and were crowding the area in packs and swarms, making it impossible to make out the little wooden construction through the layers of bodies. “I think Fable’s supposed to give some sort of ending speech, but knowing them, that probably won’t happen.”
He hoped they did. He never thought he’d actually want to hear Fable talk, but a speech would help wrap up the tournament’s stray ends and give it some greater meaning, make it more than a simple stress relief with a few “accidents.”
“Isaac.”
Snapping out of his thoughts, Isaac turned around to face Mortimer, who had remained standing quietly off to the side while he’d conversed with the demons.
“I’m going to head back to my store before the train becomes too crowded,” he said simply. He paused. “Are you fine on your own?” he asked, and that hint of hesitation was there again.
Isaac couldn’t help but snort. “Yeah, don’t worry. You don’t have to baby me, you know.”
“Well,” Mortimer said, “technically from my perspective—“
“I get it, you’re old as fuck. Doesn’t count.” He paused, surprised at how easily the retort came out.
Isaac thought he caught the hint of a smile, or the closest Mortimer could get to one, at least, before the half undead man turned around and walked away, slipping through the growing crowd with impressive ease.
Once he was out of view, Sharil remarked, “I don’t believe I’ve met him before. Who is he?”
Isaac hesitated. “He’s…a friend,” he finally settled on.
“The one with the freaky bone powers,” Olzu piped up. Isaac was pretty sure most demons had weirder abilities, but he could tell it would be a futile argument, so he settled for scowling at the small demon.
“Ah, that one,” Sharil said in understanding. Curiosity apparently satisfied, she soon changed the subject. “Where are you planning on going after this?” she asked.
“Chrowall,” was Isaac’s immediate response. He shook his head. “I haven’t gone back since the start of the tournament.”
“I imagine it was difficult to be away from home for so long.”
Isaac mulled over the words. He thought about the calendar and the red circle, the sound of rain, the grey walls that were the same color as a plain and unremarkable headstone. He remembered the first time he’d brought flowers to decorate Lloyd’s grave, he’d wondered if the colorful blossoms only made the dullness of the stone stand out even more. It seemed to him that the flowers could only temporarily mask the grey, but they could never fix it because they would never truly be part of the graveyard.
“It wasn’t terrible,” he finally said. He cleared his throat.
Isaac’s eyes drifted down to the tablet, where Sharil’s name and a summary of the tournament bracket was flashing on the screen. His eyes shifted over to where Aster and Seaton’s match was listed. The merfolk’s name had been crossed out with a red X, and the words [SYSTEM VIOLATION] were scrawled beside it. He frowned.
“Before I head back,” he decided, “I think I’ll stop by the Golden Lands first.” He tucked the tablet under his arm, out of view. Isaac nodded at the two demons. “Congrats again, Sharil. Take it easy Olzu.”
He was already walking away when the smaller demon sputtered behind him and began ranting about disrespectful humans in an all too familiar shrill voice. He shook his head, smiling slightly, and strode forward to the subway station.