Zalan felt profoundly anxious as Nold floated him down to the arena. The audience members he passed by were cheering him on and patting him on the back. Every time they touched him, he flinched and winced in pain. He asked them to stop, but they were too raucous to hear him over the sound of their own congratulations and support. When they wouldn’t relent, Nold created a barrier of sand between them to keep everyone from even being able to see Zalan. He was met with scorn, but Nold couldn’t care less for their criticisms. The only important thing to him was Zalan and his upcoming show of power.

“Any advice?” Zalan asked Nold.

“More lightning from the sky would be a great way to catch him off guard,” Nold said a little too quickly. Zalan began to notice that Nold cared more about him mastering the ability to summon lightning from the sky than he was about winning the fight.

“And if I can’t do that? I told you I didn’t know how I did it the first time,” Zalan said.

“Dimak uses Earth. Lightning won’t travel very well through its material. Your imbuing will do you no good if he attacks with his rocks. Keep your distance. But so long as you keep a distance away, he will shield himself. Your best plan would be to redirect lightning to strike him where he is not protected by earth,” Nold said.

Zalan was surprised by how quickly he came up with that plan.

“Okay, yeah. That makes sense,” Zalan nodded to himself. “But I’m not very good at redirecting lightning.”

“You could always overpower him in hand to hand combat,” Nold offered.

“I don’t think I’m really up for that either,” Zalan flexed his limbs slowly, assessing himself. He would be able to stand and move once on stage. But just barely.

“Well, then you may just want to yield,” Nold shrugged, failing to sound nonchalant.

“I thought you said I would lose your respect if I yielded?”

“That was when you were able-bodied. You may want to save yourself the humiliation of the battle and immediately get moving on Hikma’s quests. That is not so shameful,” Nold suggested.

Again, Zalan realized that there were ulterior motives in Nold’s words.

“I’m not yielding,” Zalan said firmly.

“Then any of my other suggestions will do fine,” Nold said.

They had arrived at the base of the stairs to the arena. Umdarr nodded to Zalan and Nold in acknowledgement. Once again, they were cleaning the arena of Trentor’s water before continuing the tournament. Zalan wouldn’t be able to rely on that for any clever plays against Dimak. He rubbed his hands together nervously and looked up to his mentor.

“I think he’s going to destroy me. He’s got way more power,” Zalan said.

“Not at all,” Nold said confidently. “He is weak.”

“Based on what?”

“In his previous fight, he struck Trentor with a fully imbued hand of earth and did minimal damage,” Nold replied.

“Minimal? Trentor was bleeding! He yielded immediately!”

“But the power difference between them should have been much more immense. A single full-powered blow from a Level 9 Earth-imbued man could kill a Level 3 fighter. Either that, or put a hole in him he would have to have a healing rest for.”

“Level 9? I thought he was Level 8?”

“Whoever told you that was mistaken.”

“So, maybe he held back against Trentor for the sake of the tournament,” Zalan ventured.

“Perhaps. But I am in doubt. Even if he were holding back, he should have had enough energy to strike his opponent with enough force to knock him unconscious,” Nold replied.

Zalan tried to remember how Dimak looked as he struck Trentor. He couldn’t remember it very well. He was hardly paying attention to the fight because of the uncanny experience of watching with Slauson, of all people. He was too distracted. That was probably what made Nold such a powerful fighter and instructor. He read people as they were fighting. He wouldn’t get distracted by something like a massive change in Slauson’s constitution. Zalan breathed nervously.

“Nold… Do you think I have a chance against someone 4 Levels higher than me? That’s almost double my Level,” Zalan said.

“Of course I think you have a chance. You trained with me, and I have a much higher Level than you or Dimak. I would not train you to fail,” Nold said.

“So you think I’ll win?”

“I said you have a chance. Do not put words in my mouth,” Nold said seriously. Zalan felt worse.

Umdarr inhaled powerfully.

“Who is ready for the finals?” he exploded, a showcaster’s smile on his face.

The crowd went wild, an ocean of cheers drowning the uncertain thoughts from Zalan’s mind. He couldn’t hear himself think among the earth rumbling shouts surrounding him on all sides. They were enthused enough to excite Zalan as well. He wanted to get in the arena and battle it out.

“Closing out the Level 10 and Under Elemental Rage Tournament comes two incredible fighters! On this end is a fighter with a positively shocking Elemental Power! Someone who has been battling in unorthodox ways and somehow knows enough about his enemies to get in their heads!”

Zalan felt a cold chill of embarrassment. Everyone knew how terrible of a person he was when he went up against Slauson. Everyone heard his verbal tirade. Apparently, they thought it was a fighting strategy because the audience cheered on Umdarr’s words. Zalan would have to carry the shame. There were too many people who knew about it for it to be swept under the rug.

“A man who has dealt death to a dragon at only a Level of Five! Here comes Zalan!” Umdarr said, jumping and punching the air excitedly as he said each word of the final sentence.

Zalan felt the sand drip away from beneath him, leaving him on his own two feet. He wobbled slightly, but was able to hold himself up fine. He looked back at Nold one last time as the audience chanted for him.

“Fight as well as your power deserves,” Nold said profoundly.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“Sure,” Zalan said, not able to tell whether those words were supposed to be encouraging.

He took the steps slowly, as putting weight on his legs took a serious toll on him. The audience cheered the whole while, calling a mix of all the different names he was called throughout the tournament. He felt elated that he heard them chant “Zalan” at least once between chants of “Ziyard” and “Zoltan.” It took until the end of the tournament, but at least a few people knew his name.

When he finally made it to the top step, he found that he was catching his breath. He only needed to take five steps, but apparently that was enough for him to feel completely winded.

“And on this end. An immovable fighter in this tournament bashing through all of his competition. A powerful contender with a razor sharp knack for fighting. The Rock Solid fighter at Level 9… Dimak!” Umdar said, presenting him. The audience boomed at their finalist.

Dimak strained and groaned as he climbed each step. His face was beet red from the effort and his mouth tight with concentration. He sighed loudly with relief when he reached the top step. Now that they were closer, Zalan could see he was exhausted. He heaved deep breaths and had drops of sweat peppered across his body. His bruised body shook profusely and he shivered every few seconds. He looked a lot like Zalan felt.

“Fighters! Show your respect to your fellow finalist!” Umdarr said.

Both Zalan and Dimak stumbled to get their hands in the right shape. It was clear that neither of them would fight at full capacity.

“Fighters! Begin!” Umdarr jumped off the stage.

The crowd let out a deep, prolonged cheer as Zalan and Dimak stared one another down. Dimak blinked sweat out his eyes and Zalan stumbled in place. His knees were buckling and his balance was tenuous at best. Zalan wondered how pathetic he looked to the crowd. By the way they cheered for their every twitch and stumble, he would have guessed that the fighters looked great.

Zalan swallowed hard and took a single step forward, his teeth held tightly together. Dimak, in kind, took a step forward, wincing at the movement. Neither of them were holding arms up toward one another, and Zalan took it as a good sign that neither fighter was going to throw Elemental Power at the other. Zalan wasn’t sure how much he would be able to produce. He guessed a spark at most. His vision was swimming with faint black clouds, threatening to take over and blind him. His head swayed dreamily as he walked, ready to sleep the moment he lay down. Dimak looked equally dazed, constantly wiping his brow to bring sweat out from his eyes.

Dimak and Zalan were close now, easily in range of either one of them sending out an Elemental attack. Zalan stopped, because he felt he could go no further without tripping and landing on his face. Dimak stopped because he thought it was a mind game. Zalan’s entire body was stinging consistently, constantly peppered with tiny reminders of his dozens of wounds. He looked at Dimak. Dimak stared back. Zalan really didn’t want to take serious hits at the moment and decided to try and stall.

“Hey,” Zalan croaked, only loud enough for Dimak to hear.

“Yes?”

“What uhhh… What are you fighting for?” Zalan asked.

Dimak’s eyebrows furled in confusion. He scrutinized Zalan’s stance closely, making sure he wasn’t a threat. Zalan wobbled and gripped his fists as he caught himself from falling.

“It is a tournament. It calls for us to fight,” Dimak answered.

“No, yeah, I got that. I mean, what are you going to do with the prize if you win?”

“When I win.”

“Sure, yeah, whatever. What are you gonna do with it?” Zalan asked.

Dimak lips shifted thoughtfully, gauging Zalan’s question for sincerity. He, too, enjoyed the fact that the fighting between them was being delayed. The cuts on his arm had only recently stopped bleeding and he was woozy from lack of blood.

“I wish to speak to Madam Hikma,” Dimak finally answered.

Zalan waited for him to continue. He didn’t, but he also didn’t move in to attack. Zalan took it as a good sign. His guard was already down, but Dimak looked like he was in no shape to let out a fast sneak attack.

“What do you want to talk to her about?”

Again, Dimak looked him over. This time to see whether Zalan was someone worth giving the information he was asking for.

“I wish to ask her the best way to deliver revenge.”

Zalan blinked. He didn’t expect such a serious answer. And for it to be so relatable. He had entered the tournament for the exact same reason. He wanted to see Madam Hikma for the purpose of revenge. But he had learned that it was a terrible plan. He didn’t expect anyone else to have the same idea in mind.

Zalan wasn’t stalling anymore. Dimak was like he was not long ago. Intent on revenge. His shoulders slouched at weird angles. The shaking in his eyes may not have been fatigue, but mania. Or maybe both emotions were battling it out in Dimak’s mind and bolstered one another. Zalan wanted to try and pull him back in some way. Let him see the world was more than a place of anger and revenge, as he had recently learned. He couldn’t think of anything smart. He desperately tried to claw his mind for something that Rep might say.

“I think that is unwise. You should consider the long term consequences. It could be more dire than you think. Consider that the path of revenge may end up with two graves instead of one.” Zalan hated his delivery. It felt clunky and insincere. He wondered how Rep sounded so knowledgeable all the time.

“Graves? When I am done, there will be a massive crater where we stood,” Dimak replied severely.

“Oh,” Zalan said, thrown off. He couldn’t think of any advice to stop that from happening, so he tried to pull more on the thread of conversation. “Who do you want to get revenge on?”

“Why are you trying to discuss this right now?” Dimak snapped.

“Come on, seriously? If you were strong enough to finish the fight, you would have done it by now. I don’t think I’m gonna win, so I wanna know why you’re so interested in winning,” Zalan replied.

“You do not think you will win? Will you yield, then?” Dimak sounded doubtful.

“Give me a few answers and maybe I will,” Zalan offered.

Dimak narrowed his eyes. The way his arms trembled at his sides, Zalan guessed that he didn’t want to get hit with any lightning. But more than that, Dimak looked out of sorts. It was an uncomfortable mirror to look at. Dimak exhibited all the behavior that Zalan had just escaped. His body was rife with wild emotions. Zalan felt like he had to save Dimak before he did whatever the equivalent to him shooting himself with lightning was. If he did that, he could try and convince himself that there was some good to come out of his hate-fueled remarks. Saving someone from his past mistakes.

Dimak breathed shakily and continued.

“I was betrayed. I convinced friends and family to trust a young man with their money. And he swindled us all and fled with the money. I have lost any goodwill I had with my family because of my foolishness. I must find the man, exact revenge, and return home with the lost funds,” Dimak said.

“Oh, is it just a money thing?” Zalan asked.

“Just a money thing?” Dimak repeated in sharp offense. “Clearly you have never experienced real betrayal before!”

“Well, I—”

“Do you have any idea what it is like to have everyone you know look down upon you? To think less of you because you guaranteed their investments before some swindler… swindled away with their savings! They held onto that money for so long before I came along and got them to burn it all in a pyre of faulty promises!” Dimak was gripping his fists tightly and Zalan was worried that he would throw a punch at him.

“No,” Zalan answered sincerely. “I don’t know what that’s like. How much money did you lose exactly?”

“In total?” Dimak hesitated, then answered in a low voice. “Forty gold coins.”

Zalan’s eyebrow raised a tad in surprise. It was supposedly a massive amount of money in this realm. But more importantly, he had that kind of money on him. The dragon’s hoard at Castle Docrun supplied Rep and Zalan with fortunes when they left. Forty coins would only put a small dent in the money they left with.

“That’s a lot of money,” Zalan said, trying to sound compassionate.

“Now you see why I must win this,” Dimak said, raising two weak, limp fists. Rage danced in his eyes as he recalled his lost honor. He tried to imbue his fists, but the pebbles formed and crumbled away onto the arena floor. He ignored his display of fatigue and continued, “The prize money I will win is nothing in comparison to the damage I wrought. Ten gold coins is substantial, but not enough to repay those who are now near-destitute because of my actions.”

Zalan’s vision was going blurry. Standing up was taking its toll on him. He took deep breaths to try and remain upright.

“What if I cover the rest of the lost money?” Zalan asked.

Dimak’s trembling arms lowered a fraction. The blaze in his eyes settled in his hesitation.

“What was that?” Dimak asked.

“I’ll give you the rest of the gold coins you need. And you drop the revenge thing,” Zalan said.