In the end, Tykes had endured too much without inflicting much damage on Paolo. Although both he and Paolo had been marred by Kayle’s slashes, what the Donnyton duo had said earlier was accurate; no one could endure each other’s blows as well as they could. In terms of practice, none could even come close.

Now that the duo had shed the pretense of using each other's weapons, they were truly standing near the pinnacle of Earth.

That, combined with the way that Paolo’s image was strengthened by the crowd's cheers, meant that Tykes was eventually crushed into the marble beneath Paolo’s foot. The crowd went wild and Paolo’s image turned practically blinding under the influence of the approval and triumph. The first ticket to the finals of the duo’s tournament had been sold, paid for in blood.

Randidly glanced down at Tykes and Dinesh as the two helped each other off the arena. Neither of you are totally there quite yet… your image is too vague. If you find your truth, your combination likely won’t lose next time.

Then Randidly felt a headache coming on. It would probably be good to encourage these sorts of tournaments to happen every year or so… or maybe like every other year to demonstrate weaknesses like this. Something like the System version of the Olympics… but picturing Tatiana’s face as I suggest that she arrange it…

Shaking his head, Randidly set those thoughts aside. Likely he wasn’t the only person who was interested in continuing to host such tournaments on Earth. In addition, he would likely say a few words when the final winner was determined. He could plant the seed of the idea in the populace then… purple-black Revelation energy flared to life at the corners of his eyes as he considered those options.

Congratulations! Your Skill Revelations of the Atramentous Threshold (T) has grown to Level 325!

Very quickly, he allowed that energy to fade; those concerns could wait for now. After finally producing a weave of Nether that he was satisfied with, Randidly reeled in the finished product to inspect the result. The Nether Nebula in his chest spun in a clockwise direction, pulling all the weight and significance into his core.

Gradually, Randidly began to smile. Truly, I’m glad I decided to host this tournament.

*****

It’s time. Alana’s eyes flicked open. She picked up a glass of water and took a long sip. Then she walked to the door and out into the hallway. It was time for her match; it was time to see how much Hank Howard had grown.

But Alana frowned as she stepped into the dimly lit hallway from the waiting room to the participant’s entrance and saw that someone was waiting there for her. “Are you unsatisfied?”

Lucifer folded his arms across his chest and studied Alana closely. “Yes. Which is why I’m here to ask you the same question that I asked you before: Do you intend to win everything?”

Tilting her head to the side, Alana considered the well-muscled man in front of her. His image was certainly strong, but part of that strength was simplicity. It was easy for her to read his emotions from it. After following the web, she sighed. “Your pride is certainly important to you, huh?”

“I would be greatly reassured if you would just tell me that you mean to win it all. Losing to the eventual champion would have been my honor,” Lucifer spoke quietly, seeming to become a part of the shadowy corridor that would lead Alana to the arena. The only portion of him that had any presence was his piercing gaze as he weighed her.

I’ll give him this, at least he’s earnest, Alana eventually decided.

And now that she thought about it, this was probably the most words he had ever spoken to her. When she continued to contemplate this strange behavior, Lucifer then spoke again. “I’ll also say this; Hank Howard is not a man you can defeat without craving victory. Do not let your image embarrass you-”

“You sound a bit obscene when you speak of victory, Lucifer,” Alana said lightly as she stepped passed him. But she patted him lightly on his shoulder before she starting walking at a brisk pace toward the end of the hall. Already, she could feel the cheers of the crowd through the soles of her feet; the entire building was rumbling with their excitement. “But I will win. Don’t you worry about that.”

Due to her height and impressive wingspan, Wivanya could only wait for Alana in an antechamber right before the open air of the arena. But because of their connection, she was looking at Alana with interest after her interaction with Lucifer. “So, this match isn’t just training? We mean to win?”

Alana shot a sour glance at her companion and Wivanya snorted out two bouts of air that produced large patches of frost on the nearby stone wall. Rolling her shoulders, Alana produced her spear from her interspatial ring and inspected it closely. She rubbed the blade with her thumb and then flicked it; it hummed perfectly. “We always meant to win… but yes. This is a match… we should win.”

“You have finally agreed we must rename the world Ghostworld?” Wivanya’s tail flicked back and forth in her excitement.

Alana could only roll her eyes and pat the scales of Wivanya’s neck. “...I still don’t think that’s the name we should choose. But… Lucifer has a point. Just because… so much of my new image is based on Randidly doesn’t mean I should be embarrassed. It… it’s a demonstration. That there are various types of images that are possible. I have a responsibility...”

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“You are blushing,” Wivanya teased, blowing a small amount of freezing air on the back of Alana’s neck. Alana punched the dragon in the chest with a good deal of force and then walked haughtily away from the chortling lizard. The rumbling grew louder. Soon the duo began to near the light at the end of the tunnel.

When they finally walked out into the daylight, Wivanya spread her wings wide after being cramped for so long in the tunnel and the crowd went wild. Stretched out, Wivanya’s wingspan was almost twenty meters long. Meanwhile, Alana looked across at Hank, who was already passing Ancho’s reins to the referee. When he spotted her, he grinned and said something that was lost in the noise of the crowd.

But Alana knew him too well. Even if she hadn’t been able to read his lips, she could guess what he was saying: “It’s a good day for a duel.”

Your enthusiasm is your greatest virtue, Hank. Alana reflected. She wondered if he knew it. Then she continued forward to the raised marble platform. After they moved into their positions opposite each other on the arena, the crowd gradually quieted down. The referee looked back and forth. “Are both sides ready?”

Wivanya snorted. Alana nodded. Hank smiled and flexed his fingers. Ancho whinnied and sniffed at the referee’s pockets for snacks.

Ignoring the horse, the referee raised his hand. “The let the second semi-final match of the duos tournament… begin!”

Alana raised her spear and released her tight control over her image. Orange-golden flames flickered to life along her limbs. She flexed her hand and a winged helmet grew on top of her head. But it was Wivanya who took the first step forward. The Frostdragon Broodmother raised her head and roared. Her frigid image exploded outward to seep into the surrounding air and drag down the temperature. The heavy grey clouds that were already hanging above the arena darkened. From the look of them, it would only be a short amount of time until it began to snow.

Hank just chuckled and drew his repeater. Rather casually, he spun the gun in his hand and popped out the magazine. After flicking away a minuscule speck of dust, he snapped the clip back into place and raised the gun to point at Alana.

Bang!

Claaaannnnnggggg!

Alana boldly stood in position and slashed the bullet out of the air with the head of her spear. Hank’s homemade bullets were quite strong, but Alana was just as overwhelming. Besides, that bullet hadn’t contained much of his image at all. In old-style westerns, the first bullet was never the one that would finish the bad guy. It wasn’t until the end of the fight that the gunslinger could make the perfect shot that turned everything around.

In a way, your image makes you predictable.

Alana casually strolled forward. There was no need to rush right now. As someone who had traveled and fought quite a bit with Hank Howard, she was quite familiar with his strengths and weaknesses. Which was why she felt confident that she and Wivanya would be able to defeat him even before she had made a decision regarding her image. Now that she had finally decided to put everything on the line… To put it bluntly, there were two methods to defeat the man, and Alana and Wivanya possessed both.

As Alana walked forward, Wivanya rose into the air and unleashed a blast of sleet and ice from her fanged maw. Hank flashed a grin and Dodge Rolled to the side so fast that he briefly seemed to vanish. It was almost impossible for a human eye to follow as his body hunched over and tumbled. But then he was suddenly back on his feet, unleashing a barrage of bullets up toward Wivanya.

Most of them deflected harmlessly off the thickening layer of ice on Wivanya’s body, but one happened to strike the soft tissue at the corner of her left eye as she hovered in the air. Wivanya roared in fury and flapped her wings; with a few powerful wingbeats, her bulk was suddenly propelled forward with powerful winds gathering behind her.

The cold of Wivanya’s image began to clash very directly with the subtle touch of Hank Howard’s image. Steam hissed off of Wivanya’s body. Despite the fact that the Wild West could accept cold at night, the days were hot and dry. In this way, it was surprisingly delicate.

Alana walked forward with her spear raised, watching the interaction. Attacking the image directly was the first way that Wivanya could defeat Hank. After all, he was just a man. He had invested quite a few Stat points into his precious Focus, but even he had limits. If you could push Hank toward exhaustion, his razor-sharp Focus would naturally decline. He would miss the opportunity to take a shot to turn everything around.

Images that clashed directly with Hank’s like Wivanya’s chill were rather rare. If they pushed it, they could use this opportunity to take him down.

As the dragon continued to glide forward, a veritable blizzard formed around Wivanya. Although you could barely see the tips of her wings peeking out of the white maelstrom, the rest was screened by ice and wind. The result took up about a tenth of the massive marble arena, likely blocking the vision of quite a few people in the audience. Despite the fact that such a monster was bearing down on him, Hank didn’t panic at all. He spun his repeater and then holstered it. With light fingers, he pulled out his revolver.

Alana’s eyes narrowed. Of course, exhausting Hank was a slow game. And the man had survived for this long in the System governed world, so it was clear that he possessed plenty of tricks. The process would not be as easy as it seemed. There was, of course, a more reliable way to defeat Hank Howard. Her fingers on her spear tightened and the orange-golden flames grew higher.

“Crippling Shot,” Hank announced. His revolver bucked and a piercing bullet ripped forward and blew a hole in Wivanya’s blizzard. Alana didn’t need her high Perception to know that the bullet would impact Wivanya’s wing joint. Even with the dragon’s high Physical Defense Stats, that bullet would do significant damage.

In the short term, further flying would be almost impossible.

A split second later, Wivanya roared and the blizzard crashed into the ground a good twenty meters short of Hank. Ice snaked outward in deadly slashes, but the man Dodge Roll’d again and drew his repeater to fire a dozen shots in quick succession. Wivanya responded with a blast of ice that Hank continued to duck and weave between. When he ran out of bullets in his first clip, he professionally ejected the empty and snapped another into place.

Above them, the sky was perfectly split as Hank’s insidious Wild West image caused the sun to peek through the clouds. Opposite that bashful sun, the grey clouds continued to darken toward a snowstorm.

Gradually, Alana began to spin her spear as she walked. Hank Howard’s image was undoubtedly strong and served as a way to emphasize Hank’s capability. But its hardiness and constant spread came at a cost; it didn’t really attack the opponent’s image. Hank’s victory was premised on the fact that when all the chips were down, his best was better than yours.

So the second method to beat Hank was simple: just overpower him directly.

Alana raised her spear. The wings on her helmet shivered and then began to grow. The feathers transformed into a pearlescent white. “The First Book of Revelations: Advance!”