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Chapter 65: The Fifth Round

“Fifth round,” Tiberius said to him, “Why weren’t you slowed as much by the thin air?”

“I’ve been First Trinity about a week, it made me feel about how I did before my last forging. I just pretended to be slower than I was to conserve strength, then I waited for Percival to attack.”

“Percival?”

“The Aero Initiate,” Dellen said, “I introduce myself before the bouts.”

“An unnecessary nicety.”

Dellen knew better than to argue.

“Can you manage three more matches?”

Dellen felt tired. He couldn’t remember ever having used this much Aether, and his fist hurt. “I don’t know.” He wanted to manage three more matches, he wanted the opportunity to forge.

As before Tiberius looked displeased with the answer. “It has been years since we have had an initiate place in the sixth round, or win. Be that initiate.”

Dellen hid a grimace, he didn’t think of himself as an initiate for the order, he was still biding his time to see when the loop might reset, or when an opportunity might present itself to escape. “I’ll do my best.”

Tiberius gave a dissatisfied grunt, “Rest before your next match.”

Dellen sat in the sand, closed his eyes, and tried to recuperate. Perhaps fifteen minutes later he was interrupted when buckets of cool water were distributed amongst the banners. Cool liquid bathed his tongue and slid down his throat. He allowed himself two cups before stopping.

The bell rang and two banners showed, a lightning bolt and a boulder.

A Terra Aetherforged. Dellen cataloged what he’d seen from them already in the exhibition, greater strength, greater durability, and some rock throwing. He had seen this Aetherforged fight four times already. Doubtless, they had seen him fight as well. Dellen tried to think of anything new he could try that would work against superior strength and enhanced durability.

He knew that the Terra Aetherforged needed to use his Aether to take full advantage of his durability. Perhaps he could distract him the same way he had distracted Glover, with thunder.

They came face to face and nodded. “Dellen,” he said, and stared at the other initiate who didn’t bother to respond before the bell.

The Terra Initiate strode toward him, his skin turned rockier, somehow picking up hard planes, and looking more like something that had been hewn from a boulder rather than birthed. Dellen threw ball lightning to see what would happen. The initiate brushed it away, in much the same way that he had when Gilbert had thrown ball lightning before being overwhelmed. Dellen nodded to himself, ball lightning was not going to be a useful tool in this match.

Despite this thought, Dellen threw ball lighting at his opponent’s face and watched him swat it away. The man looked annoyed. Dellen did it again, and again and the Terra Initiate adjusted his pace from a plodding advance to a thunderous charge, booted feet crashing into the sand.

Dellen ducked to the side and punched his ribs as he went by.

It felt like his hand would break, the blister on his knuckles split open, and a wave of burning pain spread across his fist. Dellen cradled his fist and backed up, sand piling against his heels. To attack the initiate’s ears with thunder was going to require he stay close, which was only going to favour a close-quarters brawler.

Dellen threw lightning at his opponent’s head again.

The man twitched, like he was avoiding an annoying fly.

Dellen kept up his barrage of lightning and the initiate charged him again. Dellen sidestepped, extending his leg and hooking it around the initiate’s ankle. With a well-executed tripping maneuver, he sent him sprawling to the ground.

An angry snarl on his lips, the initiate regained his footing and charged at Dellen once again. As the initiate closed in, Dellen executed the same tripping maneuver with even more finesse, causing him to crash to the ground for a second time.

His opponent’s frustration was palpable as he rose to his feet, eyes narrowing behind his mask. Dellen watched him, waiting for another charge, or a new attack.

The Terra Initiate kicked sand into the air, forming a heavy cloud, and disappearing from sight.

Dellen stumbled backward, eyes darting across this desert mist, attempting to find any sign of the other’s whereabouts. He felt that his only hope was constant movement.

A tremor shook the ground beneath his feet, and before he could react, he was attacked.

The initiate’s fist burst through the sandcover, a fist then an arm appearing like a nightmarish desert predator.

Dellen didn’t aim for the hand, he bathed the sand around the initiate’s arm in lightning. The sand glowed and Dellen pushed as much Aether as he could muster into the loose grains. They clumped together and Dellen kept an uninterrupted stream of lightning pouring into the sand. The initiate emerged from the cloud, molten sand spreading on him like a layer of tar.

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A sand-coated hand wrapped around Dellen’s left arm and jerked it sideways, snapping his forearm.

A rough, primal scream ripped free of Dellen’s throat. His Spark Core slowed and the lightning from his right hand sputtered and died.

Dellen fell back. The impact jarred his injured arm, causing fresh agony.

The molten sand on the Terra Initiate lost its glow and hardened.

The initiate loomed over him, locked in place. Cracks spread over the fulgurite, and the Terra Initiate fell onto the sand next to Dellen, his skin had lost its jagged rocky look, and his eyes flickered open and shut.

Dellen clutched his broken left arm to his chest before he struggled to his feet and put his boot on the initiates throat, but kept his weight on his back heel.

The bell rang.

Dellen took his boot off of the man and collapsed to his knees on the sand.

A minute later, he realized that Albrecht and Gilbert were helping him stand, and walking him back to the lightning banner.

Dellen stumbled, pitching forward only to feel Gilbert pull him back up before he hit the ground. The stumble sent a jolt of pain through his arm, keeping him conscious.

Ardentus greeted him with his head cocked to the side in thought.

“You’ve made it to the sixth round,” Tiberius said, “But I don’t think you’re in any shape to continue today.”

Dellen nodded, feeling too exhausted to talk, and took a seat, “Can I have a splint for my arm?” It was hard to focus on anything except the pain.

“Your next match will be in half an hour at most.”

Half an hour, he would not be ready if he was given half a month.

“We’ll have to withdraw him,” Ardentus said.

Tiberius looked at Dellen, “You say he forged silver on the first try?” He turned to Dellen, “Let me see that arm.”

Members of the order arrived with a splint and bandages. Tiberius examined Dellen’s broken arm, while Dellen gritted his teeth and tried not to scream. “It was a clean break,” Tiberius said, “Your skin is barely damaged.”

It did not feel ‘Barely damaged.’

“If we splint this, could you continue?”

Dellen held out his right hand, sparks sputtered and died amongst his fingers. “No.”

“Withdrawing in the sixth round is still an excellent result,” Ardentus said.

“He can go further.”

“We have tens of minutes before he’s called again, he can’t go like this,” Ardentus argued.

“I have a plan,” Tiberius said, and vanished, moving at a furious clip.

Dellen closed his eyes for what felt like a moment, before he was prodded awake, “Initiate, wake up.”

Tiberius was back, in his hands he held twelve ingots.

Dellen stared at them, feeling numb.

“Titanium, gold, and palladium.”

It was just sitting there, in front of him, free for the taking. He blinked his eyes several times and looked up at Tiberius. “Is this for reaching the sixth round?”

“No, this will let you fight in the sixth round.”

Dellen looked at the ingots, and back at Tiberius, “I don’t understand.”

“You’re going to forge them, right now.”

Ardentus let out a strangled sound but was otherwise silent.

“My Spark Core is all but dry right now.”

“That doesn’t matter if you’re getting Aether from an outside source.”

“What about the broken bones?”

“Forge around them, leave any severed soft tissues alone.”

Dellen closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“You don’t have much time to decide.”

Dellen opened his eyes, “If you have the Aether, I have the will.”

Tiberius nodded, “I don’t have enough Aether to help you forge everything at once, we’re going to use outside assistance.” He lay the ingots in Dellen’s lap.

A crease wrinkled Dellen’s forehead.

“Goggles on,” Tiberius said to Ardentus and the others. “Prepare to forge on three. One, two, three.”

A lightning bolt tore its way out of the sky, and the world went white.

Aether flooded into Dellen’s body and his Spark Core spun.

He felt like an overstuffed bag. There was too much Aether, he needed to use it.

He felt Electrical Aether permeating every fiber of his being, from the bottom of his feet, up his legs, along his spine, throughout his arms, even into his hair. His perception of time had slowed, the bolt was still attached to his chest, still pumping Aether into his body. The cradle of moonstone and whisper steel woke up. Time dilated further.

Dellen pushed Electrical Aether into the ingots on his lap, all twelve of them.

The titanium ingots became dense clouds of vapour, followed by gold, and then by palladium.

The gaseous metal flooded into his body.

First came the pain. It was welcome, after the agony of his arm this was a familiar pain, almost friendly, burning into his thighs, seeking his feet. Titanium led the way, marvelous threads winding down his legs, strengthening bone and reinforcing muscle, burning away impurities and weakness. Gold followed, flowing in thinner bands, creating denser paths for his Aether, finally, the palladium coated both, amalgamating them into a single coherent alloy. Completing bone and muscles, the metals breached the soles of his feet and wreaked changes upon his steelskin. Fern-like scars burned a path into his skin, traveling from his feet to his ankles.

New threads of metal wove paths up his legs, creating a stronger, more durable mesh that covered his legs up to his waist, before continuing up his chest, spreading down his arms and onto his face. Metal burned into his hair, creating silver, white, and gold strands. Scars crept up with the metals and the Aether, running up onto his face.

The changes turned inward, Dellen could feel pain burning across his skull, searing his eye sockets, burrowing into his eyes, running lines of fire over his jaw. Metal wove down his neck and onto his left arm. His awareness spread to the broken metal of his left forearm, copper, iron and silver had snapped along with bone, the splint had re-aligned his forearm bones, but it was an imperfect matching, leaving the metal lacing just off from where it needed to be. Electrical Aether flooded the gap, patching it with the mixture of gold, titanium, and palladium.

Aether flared over the bridge, and new streams of metal cascaded around the existing lacework further strengthening it, pulling the bones back into place. Metal continued to flow through him, reinforcing his ribs and his right arm. The muscles across his back, torso and arms were threaded through with a strengthening weave.

Gaseous metal swirled in his torso, jumping from organ to organ, before taking the journey into his Spark Core.

Dellen’s Spark Core spun anew, drinking in the new metals, welcoming them, and integrating them. Aether arced across his chest, tucking behind his right lung to find the cradle holding the alloy of time. The cradle shone with power, drinking in Electrical Aether before pulsing. The clock formed in Dellen’s mind, second hand frozen between the ticks. Metal formed a cyclone around the moonstone and whisper steel before rising up and exiting his body through his fingertips. Excess Electrical Aether swam through him, more than he could have ever drawn unaided. Without metals to forge the Aether was dangerous, he could feel it running through his body, looking for an outlet, his muscles began to spasm.

The lightning bolt attached to his chest faded, the clock ticked.

Dellen shoved his fingers into the sand and vented Electrical Aether.

Sand melted and bubbled, stretching from his fingers in unpredictable patterns, sometimes exploding up from the ground.

Thunder roared around him.

Then all was still.