The banners showed a lightning bolt and a gear. Electrical against Kinematic.

Dellen thought of his matches in the ring back in Copperopolis. Now he was stronger, faster, and had more Aetheric tricks. He had seen his fellow initiate fall to Kinematic Aether, and had not been impressed.

He stood near the center of the ring, across from him was a small, wiry man.

They’d both won their first matches, Dellen in a spectacular fashion, his opponent’s gaze drifted to the charred sleeve of his robe.

“Dellen,” he said by way of introduction.

“Maximus,” said the wiry man.

They nodded at each other.

The bell rang and Maximus charged.

Dellen had expected Maximus to charge, Kinematic Aether favoured close combat and surprise. Fortunately, Dellen had a lot of experience against combatants stronger and faster than he was. Dellen formed ball lightning in his hands and released it at the speeding Maximus. As expected, Maximus dodged around the lightning, which put him a step away from where he’d been before. He brushed past Dellen who whirled with his passage and connected his fist to Maximus’s side. Miranda’s training coming to life on the sand, making Dellen’s movements a dance while Maximus rushed on like a drunken brawler.

Electrical Aether sparked from his knuckles into the man and his muscles spasmed. His next footstep came down awkwardly and his leg buckled under his weight.

Dellen continued his pivot and rained charged punches onto his opponent. “Yield,” he roared.

Maximus flailed on the ground, muscles spasming, and his body jerking under the relentless assault of Electrical Aether-empowered punches.

Maximus tapped the ground three times, signaling his surrender.

Dellen stepped back and waited for him to rise. Once Maximus found his feet, Dellen nodded his head in a show of respect before returning to Ardentus.

He detected a flat glare of annoyance from Albrecht. Not only had Albrecht lost to an initiate with Kinematic Aether, but he had lost as quickly as Dellen had won, and Ardentus had already commented, negatively, about Dellen’s prospects due to his being a full Trinity below the other combatants.

“Acceptable,” Ardentus said, which Dellen knew was the closest to praise he was going to receive.

Dellen’s next match was against a Steam Initiate.

They stood apart and Dellen introduced himself again, “Dellen.”

“Glover.”

Dellen nodded, still wearing his goggles. This was going to be difficult. Ardentus had spoken to them about the various types of Aether and how to combat them, steam was a natural insulator, his ball lightning would not penetrate well, and unlike the fire, he didn’t have any tricks to split steam apart and send it back at his opponent. Glover was able to largely negate his range advantage, and if he wanted to get close, well, he might be able to win the fight, but steam burns hurt.

The bell rang, and clouds rose from Glover’s body.

Dellen formed ball lightning and threw it. With the steam still thin, the lightning tore threw and scored a hit on Glover’s arm. Glover flinched, jerking his body in pain. Dellen followed up with another, but this time a wreath of vaporous air writhed around the man, grey serpents protecting and obscuring. The ball hit, but Glover batted it away, like a man idly swatting a fly.

The grey layer on Glover thickened, he was almost a statue of swirling air. The sand at his feet already looked like mud.

Dellen threw another ball lightning.

It didn’t hit so much as fizzle when it made contact.

For his part, Glover walked forward with an inevitability to his step like a coming storm. His body wreathed in steam that held a malevolence, like an enraged feral mist. He neither rushed, nor tarried, he approached faster than Dellen backed away. For his part, Dellen tried to think of anything in his repertoire that might help.

Watching Glover’s covering of steam grow thicker and thicker, he decided to approach, time was only helping his opponent.

Dellen charged. He felt his boots thud against the shifting footing of the sand.

Glover didn’t break stride, he came closer and swung a fist.

For a moment, Dellen felt optimistic, Glover’s attack was clumsy, wide, and a bit slow. Not embarrassingly so, but slow enough that he could tell that Glover had no formal training. He stepped under the punch and smashed his fist into Glover’s gut. The electricity arcing over his knuckles sputtered out.

A searing sensation shot through his hand. The scalding steam enveloped his skin, instantly transferring its intense heat. A wave of burning pain surged up his arm, accompanied by the hiss of steam meeting flesh.

His hand throbbed as the scorching vapor seeped into every crevice, searing the sensitive nerves beneath. The heat seemed to cling to his skin, creating an unbearable sensation of burning and discomfort. The steam's scalding touch penetrated his flesh, leaving an imprint of fiery agony.

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Dellen's fingers trembled involuntarily, his muscles reflexively pulling back as he tried to escape.

He backpedaled, clutching his right wrist.

Glover’s hands were on his stomach, but no more so than Dellen would have expected from a solid punch. His attempt to disrupt his focus had failed to pay off. He spared a glance at his knuckles, they were red with a blister already forming.

“Yield.”

Dellen almost appreciated the offer. He didn’t owe Ardentus a success, and he didn’t need to hurt himself, he could just yield. He was a First Trinity fighting an opponent of the Second Trinity, and he had no equipment that would help. Even a pair of thick gloves with metal studs could be used to negate Glover’s advantage.

Despite this, Dellen was not willing to tap the ground. He wanted to win, he wanted to earn those forging materials.

“Yield,” Glover said again.

Dellen shook his head.

“Thunder and lighting will not help you against me.”

The words tickled the back of Dellen’s mind. He formed a ball of lightning in his hands and held it; then he tossed it to his other hand. It escaped from its enclosure, crackled in the air and was silent in its new cage. He held it, and amplified past where he would have let it grow if he was practicing or participating in a nonlethal match. Still building the ball lighting in his hand, he ran past Glover, growing a second ball in his now free right hand. Both balls of lighting shone.

“Those won’t do anything to me,” Glover said, turning to follow him.

Dellen rushed him and released both balls on either side of Glover’s head.

Thunder erupted in the air.

Glover screamed, clutching his ears.

The steam around him lost cohesion and dispersed.

Dellen punched him in the jaw, knocking him to the ground before he wrapped his fingers around Glover’s throat. Holding ball lighting in his free hand he looked down and said, “Yield.”

Glover tapped the ground three times.

Dellen released his grip and held out his uninjured left hand to help Glover up. “Good fight,” he said.

Glover looked at him uncertainly, left hand straying to his ear. He nodded, and walked away without saying anything.

Dellen returned to Ardentus who was silent until the next match was called. Then with eyes still on the matches, Ardentus said, “I haven’t taught you the techniques you’ve used to win. When you joined us, you were almost unforged, and didn’t even know how to catch lightning.”

Dellen didn’t answer.

“You only just reached First Trinity.”

“Yes.”

“Who taught you these techniques?” Ardentus asked his words low and harsh.

“Desperation. I want those forging materials.”

“Desperation is not enough to defeat opponents a full Trinity above you.”

“They’re not creative with the use of their Aether,” Dellen said, “As soon as I do something new, they’re lost.”

“They’ve trained with methods the order has used for centuries, how are you finding ‘something new?’”

“I don’t know,” Dellen said, unwilling to say that in moments of stress fragments of old memories gave him sparks of insight.

Tiberius interrupted Ardentus, “If you win this exhibition, I will see to it that we hasten your path to Second Trinity and into Third.”

Dellen rocked back on his heels. Second Trinity and into Third.

“Can you win four more matches?” Tiberius asked.

The blisters on his knuckles suggested he couldn’t. “Depends on who I’m placed against.”

“There will be sixteen left, including you.”

Over the next five matches, the remaining Electrical Aetherforged lost to their opponents, ejecting them from the competition.

Tiberius came back to him, “You’re the only one to reach the fourth round, I want to see you in the fifth.”

Dellen swallowed, he wanted the forging materials, but from the little he knew of the order, having Tiberius’s on-going attention like this had every chance of being less of a blessing and more of a curse, as well, perhaps it was paranoia, but he thought he was catching initiates from other banners looking at him when they should have been watching the matches. By all rights, he should have lost in the second round, at the latest.

A match ended and new banners went up, Electrical and Aero.

Dellen looked at the stylized lightning bolt against the gust of wind. He would have, perhaps, thirty seconds to finish the match before breathing became a problem. He circulated Electrical Aether through his body and took deep breaths on his way out to the ring.

The only tactic any of the Aero Initiates had displayed had been thinning the air. It had won them all of their matches. His lips twisted into a frown, there had to be some way to use this tactic against them. Everyone facing them had rushed to close. Dellen wondered if that rush was a losing tactic. Perhaps he could try to extend the match. Ardentus had said that thinning the air was a tiring technique, if he could encourage his opponent to tire themselves out before the first punch was thrown, perhaps he could win without tiring himself out either.

Dellen nodded to the Aero Initiate before him, “Dellen,” he said.

“Percival.” The Aero Initiate said.

Dellen found himself disliking the name ‘Percival.’ He nodded at his opponent and waited for the bell.

A few heartbeats later the bell sounded and he found himself still debating strategy, a quick attack, or an attempt to outlast his opponent. He decided not to squander his range advantage and released ball lighting toward Percival.

Percival sidestepped the attack and came closer.

Dellen took in a breath and found it… Thin. His limbs felt heavier, and he felt weaker but not a lot weaker than he had been prior to First Trinity. It was tiring but manageable. He began to form ball lightning in his hand again, and felt the Aether coursing through him, it felt sluggish, but he knew it was not the Aether, it was him, even the Aether felt more difficult to manage.

He swung his arm toward Percival and let the ball lightning spark and die in his hand. Taking a sluggish step toward his opponent, he let his knee buckle and fell into the sand. For a moment, he lay there, then pretended to rise, one hand pointed at Percival. Dellen circulated a trivial amount of Aether to his outstretched hand, sparks were born and died where ball lightning should have flourished. His hand sagged down and his head followed, he did his best to track Percival from his shadow moving on the ground.

Dellen pushed himself to one knee and thought of his fight with Glover, Glover had been all but impossible to touch. He could do the same, though not for long in this thin air. He placed both hands on his knee and pushed himself most of the way to standing, the tortured skin on his right hand complaining with the strain, then he dropped back down.

Percival circled behind him, and Dellen flared Electrical Aether over his entire body.

A fist connected with the back of his ribcage on his right side. Electrical Aether passed into Percival’s arm, and sent his body into a series of twitches and spasms.

Fatigue fighting his every movement, Dellen spun and grabbed Percival’s outstretched, spasming, limb.

Dellen’s fingers crackled with Electrical Aether.

Percival’s mouth snapped shut with a click.

Breeze rushed past Dellen on all sides, air was rushing back in. Dellen breathed in, taking long deep breaths. He blinked the fatigue from his eyes and kept pumping Electrical Aether into Percival.

He waited for a bell or any signal that the match was over. Scanning the crowd he saw Ardentus moving his hand in a straight horizontal line. With a frown, Dellen kept a grip on Percival but stopped the flow of Electrical Aether. Percival dropped like a cut puppet.

The bell rang.

Dellen’s Spark Core felt sluggish, there was more than enough Aether around him, but he had used a lot of Aether in a short time, he felt that he was reaching his limits, both physically and as an Aetherforged. Panting, he waited by Percival until he was able to sit up, then extended a hand and helped him to his feet. Percival’s arms still twitched moving his robes about.

He began his walk back to the Lightning banner and saw Tiberius waiting for him.