The second tournament began on Friday morning, and Kestevere felt ready. Since his fight with Liadin a few days before, he'd been training after his regular classes with his mentor. Sven had helped Kestevere grow by leaps and bounds, creating a new fighting style when ordinary means wouldn't do. Kest knew his style was rigid, as he'd taken after his father. His father hadn't warned him about the necessity of fighting outside the box.
Kestevere felt bitter towards his father. It was as if his father purposefully left gaps in his knowledge. Everything for leading a territory was known to Kestevere, whether it was laws or economics. His father didn't teach him about fighting in unexpected ways or how to maneuver when fighting someone faster. His father had taken him and given him the bare basics—a foundation on which everything else could be built without building any structure. Kestevere huffed, pulling himself from his thoughts as there was no use thinking of his frustration towards someone who wasn't around. He looked around and saw that the other contenders were in different states of mind. Dismay, excitement, anger towards those they'd lost to last time. Everyone was in their heads, and Kestevere walked over to Trysta so that he could get out of his.
"Think they'll let the top eight fight this weekend?" Kest asked her as he noticed she was pulsing her mana in an aura. A new technique?
"No, they won't allow any fighting between the top eight until the end of the semester. Even then, I've seen different situations. Continuations of the tournament, fighting against an insurmountable force, and dungeons that they had to overcome as a group," Trysta said as her mana settled back within her. Kestevere had been trying to get used to circulating his mana throughout his body without stopping. It was something that, he was told, would separate him from the rest.
"I see. So, I need to get to the fifth round next month. Does it even matter this month?" Kest asked, but it wasn't Trysta who answered.
"It doesn't. Not unless you like the nutrient shakes, that is," Gerold said, coming over and wrapping an arm around Kestevere's shoulders. "Look, it doesn't matter. Fight with all you've got, and you won't have too many regrets. You're a newbie, so relax and give it your all."
"Whatever you say, Mr.' My family can afford training me for a year,'" Kestevere teased as a blush began appearing on Gerold's face, and he looked towards Trysta.
"Look, it wasn't my choice," Gerold began as he saw Trysta's body start shaking with barely-contained laughter, "I told them I wanted to be fair and attend the academy without training. I can't control what a Duke decides," he trailed off, lowering his head.
"And yet you're still not in the top three. That must disappoint your father," someone said near the tunnel leading to the arena.
"Who was it? Who said that?" Gerold said with a growl. The instigator walked over, cloaked in black and covering most of his face.
"What's wrong, Voltin? Can't take a bit of constructive criticism?" The boy said. Kestevere got the feeling that this person was dangerous. He couldn't feel the slightest bit of mana from him, and the boy moved in a way that most used his cloak.
"Ricard. As always, lovely to see you here. Surely you have someone else to talk into forfeiting, right?" Gerold said, his voice sounding like he was taunting but his face showing nothing but pure malice.
"It's fine that you can't understand how strong I am. After all, you would have to be able to perceive my strength first to begin understanding it," Ricard said before turning to Kestevere and sending a small wave of mana his way. Kestevere dropped to his knees upon feeling the mana. It was darkness incarnate, and he knew he wouldn't stand a ghost of a chance against someone like Ricard. He was the embodiment of dark mana.
"Hey, are you okay? Did you eat today?" Gerold asked, helping Kestevere to his feet. Kestevere couldn't respond because he needed to catch his breath. The waves of terror didn't stop even as he calmed his breathing. Ricard Noct was someone to be wary of.
"I'm fine. No problems here," Kestevere lied, hoping that he sounded at least a little normal. His breathing had stabilized, but the fear he felt had yet to subside.
"I'll let you help that baby. I hope he won't have to face me, for his sake," Ricard said, his false smile slipping as he walked away.
"Ricard," Trysta began, her mana swelling around her, "Intimidation is against the rules outside of a match. Don't make me remind you again."
"Whatever you say, Miss Genius," Ricard said, sending a spike of his mana against hers as he walked away. The force between the two seemed even to Kestevere, but he was again too weak to begin understanding how to face either. Even Gerold wasn't a match, and Kestevere knew he was strong. After two years as part of the system and having trained, Kestevere couldn't see Gerold winning.
Kestevere recovered as Trysta and Gerold spoke about Ricard. He was a loner who was given special treatment due to his unique disposition. No one knew about his past, but it was rumored that he was the illegitimate son of a lord from somewhere on the border of Chasmyn. They say that the lord allegedly had relations with someone, or something, from across the border. His son traveled from across the chasm to search for his father before being apprehended and sent to the most remote academy, fearing the lord being ousted as his father. It was all rumor and speculation, but Kest supposed every rumor had a kernel of truth.
The last students filed into the waiting room, and soon, the lots were being drawn. Kest looked like the board was filled, and he realized where he would place this tournament. He was up against Brondin in the fifth round, so he knew he would fall there. Kest walked away from the tournament board, sighing but knowing he wasn't the least lucky person. Anyone facing Brondin, Ricard, Liadin, or Trysta within their first three rounds was unlucky. The tournament had intimidated Kestevere the first time. He didn't know where to get gear, how to select what he needed or request any available specialty items. Now, he was prepared and going to make the best of it. He put all the armor he would typically wear on, hoping it would provide some defense. Along with his usual shortsword, he also selected to have two daggers in case he was disarmed. Looking around, it was clear what someone's style of combat was by their appearance.
The first round began, and Kestevere went up to the seats above. The stadium was large enough that multiple matches coincided, with referees standing in each fighting area. Despite how strict the school tended to be, these tournaments had a festive feeling. The arena was within a shaded stadium where people could watch from above. Kestevere watched as Trysta entered the ring with another student he realized wasn't in their first semester. He grinned, hoping to glean some knowledge of Trysta's abilities. Last month, he'd been far too nervous to watch the other matches, opting to focus on his own. This time, he'd watch others to learn new strategies while waiting for his match. Kestevere learned that the second tournament begins once the announcer for the event arrives at the center of the stadium and stands in the middle of the area below.
The announcer for this month was none other than the Dean of the academy, Leeroy Berns. He was often too busy to attend, but he had made arrangements to be able to participate in this tournament. Naturally, he would also be at the tournament at the end of the semester. He began by reciting the rules of combat. The teachers had all learned to project their voices using magic, which was understandable considering the rowdiness of students who were all young and new to the system that bestowed magic.
"Before we begin, as all of you know, these are not fights to the death. If you are incapacitated, unable, or unwilling to fight, you will be deemed the loser of the match. Anything is legal, and you will be forced to stop if the fight appears to be getting out of hand. Medics are on standby for any major injuries, and recovery potions are available if you have injuries that are not life-threatening. Wide-area magic is in place to lower the chances of dismemberment, but rest assured that you will be taken care of with the utmost urgency when losing a limb," the Dean chirped. Kestevere couldn't help but feel uneasy. He hadn't lost a limb in the last tournament, but he saw what happened to those who did, and it was not pretty. You'd think that people wouldn't force children to fight in such harsh conditions, or at all, but war was one of the forces that could change policy in an instant. Kest knew that they were preparing for the worst-case scenario and that child soldiers were a last resort.
The battles began shortly after when all of the professors gave the signal. Kestevere kept his eyes on Trysta's fighting platform, hoping to see what she could do. Her opponent was defensive and taut with tension, but Kestevere couldn't see any with Trysta. She strolled toward the opponent, who was much taller than her. Kestevere could tell he was a late bloomer because he appeared to be a few years older than they were. The older boy raised his shield and launched the spear he'd been holding, coating it with flames that Kestevere could see were ready to explode upon impact of the spear. To Kestevere's surprise, instead of dodging, Trysta raised her shield. It appeared as if her shield was drawing in ambient mana, and instead of the spear exploding in flames upon hitting the shield, the momentum was stopped, and the fire was drained into the spear. A look of relief appeared for a fraction of a moment on Trysta's face before she lifted the spear and launched it back at her opponent. The spear soared toward the boy, and instead of his shield stopping the attack, the spear pierced the shield and the boy all at once, carrying him into the arena's walls and pinning him until the medics helped him down. Trysta walked off her platform with a look of satisfaction, and Kestevere realized that a cold sweat had covered him. He exited his seat and walked back beneath the arena to talk to Trysta.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Kestevere walked over to the earthen bench on which Trysta had sat. He waited for her to lift her helmet off her head before speaking to her.
"What was that skill you used? The mana draining one?" Kestevere asked, the words tumbling out of his mouth quickly.
"Mana drain, like you said," she laughed lightly, "it's a skill that takes a lot of practice and is not easy. You have to open your mana paths up to receive the mana, and it isn't without risks. If I'd failed, I would've lost my arm!" She said as the weight of the risk she'd taken fell upon Kestevere. Potentially losing a match to try something new wasn't something Kestevere would have considered.
"Why take the risk then? Wouldn't it benefit you more to simply dodge?" Kestevere asked. He didn't understand the purpose of risking a win for something that held little benefit.
"If I'd dodged the attack, I would've still won. It isn't about winning now, though. It's about future battles. It's about keeping your mana reserves as close to full as possible," Trysta answered with a low voice. "If you run out of mana on the battlefield, you lose your life. If you take from those you're fighting, you can maintain your strength for far longer."
"I see. Maybe I'll need to learn that ability one day then," Kestevere said lightly, but he knew it would be a long time before he could learn that skill level. He felt intimidated by the fact that she was thinking years ahead, and he realized he was considering being a soldier as a temporary occupation. Keeping that mindset could very well get him killed.
The two went up the stairs to the stadium seats to watch the matches continue. Kestevere saw that plenty of students had put in a lot of work since last month while others that had done well allowed themselves a reprieve from training. He realized the mentality of being good enough wasn't something that Kestevere could allow himself to fall into. Trysta was only as strong as she was because she'd put in the work. The same was true of the other strong students; right now, he was one of many trying to obtain that strength.
As the two watched the matches continue, Kestevere got a gauge of his own strength. He was stronger than most students when it came to mana release, but his control was lacking compared to some on the same level. He was drawn to the fights between the students with the most mana. His eyes wouldn't miss a single detail, and as he watched them, he found that he could follow the flow of mana and watch as they changed their nature. From pure mana to flames, they pulled from the atmosphere's heat. Waves of water were drawn from deep beneath the arena, and the earth was even drawn from the arena itself. The air around everyone was easily accessible. The most plentiful element was earth by a mile, while water was the least accessible and thus the least used. Kestevere found himself most drawn to the combination of magic, though. Ice hardly appeared within the area at any time due to the lack of water, but plenty of people turned the floor into molten shards of piercing earth.
"What are you watching so intensely?" Trysta asked, placing a hand on Kestevere's shoulder. He was pulled from his focus as a blush rose to his cheeks that had nothing to do with the heat.
"I was just watching people use intertwining elements to forge new attacks! It's interesting to me, and I can see the elemental availability. I can see the elements beginning to forge the bond with the pure mana. It's like a connection forged by a handshake, and it becomes a symbiotic force," Kestevere explained in a rush, only to receive a look of confusion from Trysta.
"You can see all of that?" She asked him, doubt creeping into the question.
"Yeah, can't you? Isn't it just a matter of strengthening the magical senses we have after releasing our ocular mana point?"
"No, that sounds different. I can see mana movement, sure, but I can't see the elements just naturally floating." She made a motion like throwing something up into the air, making Kestevere laugh. She began to frown because she thought Kestevere wasn't taking her seriously.
"Wait, give me a second," Kestevere said, throwing his hands up defensively as he tried to stop laughing. "It's not just like everything is thrown into the air. Look here," Kestevere said as he lifted a finger. A trickle of mana streamed out, and he began connecting to the air near his finger.
"You can see that, right? The mana connecting with the air around my finger?" he asked her, to which she shook her head. Kestevere's eyebrows knitted in confusion. " You can't see the mana connecting to the air? As I expand the mana, it connects to more of the air element and expands."
"No, the only thing I see is the movement of the mana, but not the elements or connections you're talking about," she groaned. Kestevere realized that this was rare. There was something different about his connection to mana, and that sent excitement running through him like electricity.
"I'll have to ask my mentor about it. Maybe she'll know something," Trysta said, leaning forward and placing her chin in her hands. Kestevere could understand her frustration at not knowing. Still, he also hoped that this would be something that would help him elevate himself. He'd heard about students naturally blessed by the world but also listened to those people who were few and far between. He'd never hoped that he'd be one of the select few. Perhaps this was an ability that would be an equalizer for him.
Kestevere continued watching the matches as they continued, trying to further his ability to see into the way people use magic and to try to awaken this new ability. The fights seemed to be more of the same until he saw Ricard take the stage. He still couldn't see anything magical about Ricard. Still, as his opponent took the stage, Kestevere could see something begin billowing out of Ricard. The girl in front of Ricard was obviously a noble with plenty of financial support. He could see that her staff was a catalyst to enhance magic based on the jewels that drew in ambient magic like flies to vinegar. The match began, and it ended nearly faster than Kestevere could perceive. Ricard sent out a wave of malice-coated mana towards the girl, and she was unconscious and shaking at the next moment. He walked off the platform with an unpleasant look of joy before disappearing into the tunnel that led into the waiting area. Knowing what occurred scared Kestevere more than not knowing, and he shook lightly.
"Looks like you could see it that time," Trysta said, disgust dripping off every word.
"What was that," Kestevere asked shakily.
"That was what most would call bloodlust. The use of magic is all about intent, as you know. That's how healers can heal or how I can draw in the magic when using magic drain. He doesn't even have to attack because he sends messages through his mana. Some don't consider it to be magic due to being pure mana.
In contrast, others consider anything related to mana to be magical. It's what makes Ricard dangerous. His ability to send these messages is why we're taught how to shield with mana, usually at the higher-level academies," Trysta sighed.
"Why isn't that basic knowledge? Isn't defense more important than knowing how to attack?" Kestevere questioned.
"You would think. There were two counterpoints to this, though. One was that defense doesn't matter if the enemy is dead. The other is that it's easier to teach how to hit than to take a hit," Trysta said with a sardonic smirk.
"I… suppose that's a fair assessment," Kestevere said as he placed his face into his hands. The helplessness he felt against Ricard's mana when it was used on him was infuriating and terrifying. He had a lot to learn from Sven before he could hope to graduate at the end of the semester.
After a few more rounds, Kestevere got up from his seat and prepared to go downstairs. He wanted to get into the right mindset before facing his first opponent. He walked down the stairs as he saw Brondin walking out for his first match. He walked over to a corner and sat down, only to be joined by Liadin a few moments later.
"Well, it looks like I will get my rematch this month! I'll take that guy down a few levels this time," Liadin said with a smirk playing across his lips.
"Yeah, you say that. Ricard's a monster. I saw and felt his mana first-hand. Can you form a mana shield?" Kestevere found himself asking shyly out of concern.
"Yeah, I asked around to learn how after what happened last month. This time isn't going to go the same. I'll rip him apart," Liadin said, the smile disappearing from his face. "Just focus on your matches this time. You've got to fight Brondin in the fifth round, and I'm not jealous. Fighting the alleged 'Lord of Lightning' isn't something I would want to have to do."
"Better that nickname than the 'Bloodlust Beast,'" Kestevere said jokingly, getting up from his spot. He was going to be fighting with the next batch of fighters, and he decided that he was going to try to use his new talent. He waved farewell to Liadin and walked through the tunnel to the arena. It wasn't loud, but that was because of the intermission between fights. Kestevere experienced how loud it got during the later matches when more students were in the stadium seats. He'd heard plenty of students shouting complaints over losing their allowance from the school over bets gone wrong. Kestevere slowed his breathing as he approached his fighting platform. He closed his eyes, clearing his mind as the referee repeated the rules from before, and he opened his eyes to see all the elements around him. It was time to test his new ability.