Raymund Ballast felt embarrassed, but he kept himself from rubbing his perky ears to ease his nerves. The two stood on one of the newly erected buildings on the final island, situated on a deck overlooking the sea. Tatiana slurped from her straw while she waited for him to speak. “...perhaps it a bit unprofessional- no, I cannot in good conscious say that this act is anything but unprofessional. However, I worry that the Vulpis Squad won’t be able to provide unbiased officiating to the preliminary portions of the tournament-”
“Oh, that?” Tatiana waved her hand, a dreamy smile on her face. Her tongue flicked out and licked some pink ice from her lips. “Don’t worry about it. The Order Ducis has the first week off as well- all of us do~. Randidly has agreed to handle the preliminaries himself, although obviously through intermediaries. So just relax and enjoy yourself.”
Raymund frowned. The thought of taking a vacation right now gave him a slight headache. Abruptly, he realized that Randidly Ghosthound might be rubbing off on him in more ways than just training methods. “Well, who will be handling the minutia?”
Tatiana sat up from her lounge chair and pointed along the curve of the beach. Raymund moved to the railing and looked out.
What he saw was a parade of murderous and sulfurous hellspawn lounging and chatting with one another. A figure with sparks jumping from the corner of his eyes sat atop a veritable war fortress of spikes and armored plates that left massive hoof prints in the sand as it ambled forward. Another cracked a whip of bone, riding atop a chittering spider with venom leaking enthusiastically from its fangs. Some weird variation on the Ghosthound’s Lancer transformed into a massive freight train, led by a powerful-looking slug mount but with progressively smaller and spikier shells in a long line.
“Apparently, they wish to test themselves in their social interactions. With Randidly’s help, what could go wrong?” Tatiana said breezily and took another sip of her drink. At this moment, it occurred to Raymund that the orchestrator of this entire event might be slightly tipsy.
And that she was doing it purposefully to avoid worrying too much.
*****
Illdan Thai stood with his back straight and his chin raised as the strange, hellish creature that had flown in on a massive eagle explained the rules of the competition. The rules were relatively simple. A dice would be rolled to determine starting distance between competitors, either five, twenty, or fifty meters. Touching the ground outside of the ring area was considered a forfeit. Hurting an opponent after they conceded would result in your participation in the tournament being revoked. Each individual would fight in fifty matches over the next four days. At the end of that time, the top third of participants would proceed to the main tournament.
It was a brutal schedule, one which the fighters of Tellus would approach with bloodthirsty grins.
Despite himself, Illdan felt a tickling along his ribs. Feeling the obvious power of the ghastly official, he felt genuine anticipation for the competition. The individuals chosen to run this preliminary were strong. And hopefully, the competitors would be strong enough that maybe Illdan would be able to let loose and test his own limits.
They were situated in a small series of four stages next to high cliffs above the ocean. The water, compared to that of Tellus, was so incredibly blue here that it almost looked like the sky had taken the day off and laid across the horizon in restful slumber. The smell of sweat, metal, and blood was thick but not as suffocating as a true battlefield. All of the Tellus hundred had come here, but they were dwarfed by the rest of the crowd. Humans, ogres, frogpeople, lizardpeople, strange plant beings, and warped monsters… the turnout was enormous.
At this preliminary, which was one of twenty.
Illdan looked around, trying to keep his gaze less direct than the sneering gazes of most of his fellow warriors from Tellus. Despite the few powerful individuals, most were weak. But it was admirable that so many sought to achieve glory in the tournament.
The Lancer folded its arms and spoke in a growling voice. “For now… amuse yourselves. The first matches will be up in an hour.”
Almost immediately, a heavy hand clapped down on Illdan’s shoulder. “Are you prepared, hope of Tellus? This is the opportunity we’ve been waiting for.”
Despite his discomfort at the nickname, Illdan executed a half turn and bowed to show deference. “Uncle. I am prepared. I will bring honor to Tellus and to my family in this tournament. We will prove ourselves as the dominant force in the Alpha Cosmos.”
Daemont Scythe pursed his lips. The older man wasn’t one for smiles or jokes. “Hum. Perhaps. Make sure you take some time to meditate and clear your mind of all distractions. This… Expira is quite different than Tellus. A riot of life and energy, blessings heaped upon lazy pigs. This is exactly why we must use this chance. Tellus has been deprived of this opportunity for far too long. These riches… they will be ours.”
Illdan knew that it would be pointless that Tellus had received these blessings- the past few years had been extremely prosperous for the warrior planet. Image diversity had sharply increased; Illdan had even heard rumors of blacksmiths making weapons other than spears as special orders. But for whatever reason, his people wanted to be angry. They seemed to believe it kept them sharp.
He was saved from having to speak further by Daemont’s son, Clayvo, shouldering his way over through the crowd and slamming his fist into his chest when he saw Illdan. “Spearman! I will watch for the matchups to discover your opponent’s Skills. It is perhaps overkill, but we cannot be lax in our preparations.”
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Until two years ago, when Illdan’s grandfather began spreading the rumor that he was the Spearman reborn, Illdan and Clayvo had been best friends. They had often snuck in late to training, covered in mud from swimming in the Hallat. They had stolen citrus pies left to cool on window sills. Even now, Illdan’s heart ached at the way their relationship had changed. The way that everything had changed.
Illdan tried to offer a reassuring smile. “You be careful yourself. You will have to fight as well.”
“But my foolish son doesn’t carry the weight of Tellus’ expectations,” Again, Daemont’s hands slapped Illdan’s shoulder. “Vigilance is key. Do not forget that all these other participants are enemies. Only by crushing them can Tellus be redeemed. Progress at any cost.”
Illdan smiled bitterly. He allowed himself to be led away, passing ninety-eight other Tellus warriors that slammed their fists against their chests, to find some space to meditate. But it was not from the distractions of Expira that he needed a break.
Soon, it was time for Illdan’s first match. Despite his confidence in his own Skills, his palms were sweaty as he gripped his spear. He stepped up onto the stage and could feel the eyes of so many strangers lock onto him. The stage hadn’t been cleaned between matches, so mud and a spattering of blood already dirtied the dueling ground. Opposite him, a human with some sort of spiked gloves walked forward and glared at Illdan. The massive Lancer looked back and forth between them, clearly disinterested. It rolled the dice. “...twenty meters. Take your positions.”
Illdan found his spot and released a breath. When the Lancer signaled the beginning of the match, he planted his foot and accelerated forward. He raised his eyes and the head of his spear followed. Stories of Tellus’s glory sang in his veins. A massive specter of a spear formed around his body. His opponent’s eyes widened, clearly overmatched.
Illdan executed a single thrust, the weapon ripping forward and shredding through the man’s shoulder joint. The limb tumbled slowly in the air, eventually bouncing off the ground and weakly spurting out blood.
“I concede.” The man seemed dazed by the developments but still forced the words out of his lips. By the time he had turned around and staggered back toward his arm, the contingent from Tellus erupted in a massive cheer. Despite their relatively small number, the noise was dominant as they hooted and slammed their spear butts onto the dirt ground. They started chanting his name.
“Illdan! Illdan! Illdan!”
Illdan felt embarrassed, but he only started blushing when other people began joining in the chant. Soon it spread through fully half of the crowd and it didn’t escape his notice that there were quite a few Expiran women who seemed especially shrill in their screams. Their eyes followed him even as he moved within the Tellus group.
“Hmph. I’ll say this of those Expirans,” Daemont squinted around. “At the very least, they can recognize talent when they see it. Perhaps there is some hope for them after all.”
Illdan winced, very aware of a group of three young women essentially gawking at him and whispering to each other behind their hands. He could hear them wondering if he was some sort of model. I don’t think it is my talent that captures their attention…
The scrutiny only grew more intense as more time passed and word of Illdan’s decisive victory spread to the other arenas. The Tellus contingent hadn’t paid attention much to the ancillary facilities, besides noting the area which offered food and baths, but soon they were a constant presence in the betting facilities, where Illdan had shot ahead to be the most favored contestant to make it to the final tournament.
If empathy couldn’t get them to coexist with Expirans, having their egos stroked might be able to bridge the gap.
It was a relief when Illdan’s next match rolled around. The whispers and attention were really getting under his skin. Stepping up onto the stage felt like moving to a different world. The air there was cool and he could focus. This time, his opponent was a girl with baggy clothes and thick glasses. Her messy blonde hair curled around her jaw as she rubbed her hands nervously and looked at him. The official rolled a dice and five meters came up.
Illdan almost felt bad for the girl, who didn’t seem to be using a weapon. He assumed a fighting stance and waited for the start signal. Aim to impact her skull with enough force to stun her. Then toss her outside the arena.
Progress… should not be pursued at any cost.
When the signal came, he accelerated forward once again. However, this girl at least had some Skills; she stomped her foot, her blonde hair fluttering, and released some sort of image pulse. The distance between them was short, so Illdan responded by unleashing a rumbling thrust with some of his inner ferocity. The ghost of a massive spear hummed through the air.
To Illdan’s surprise, his attack passed through the ripple without any notifiable effect. Just as Illdan began to frown, the girl’s image activated and kicked up from the ground. The effect wasn’t painful, but he was essentially bounced up a small distance from the arena. The girl thrust a palm forward and unleashed a blast of air.
Her movements were snappy; she might even have a similar amount of Stats to him.
Of course, he shouldn’t have been handled so easily. But in that moment of confusion, too much useless information filled his mind. The stress of being watched, the feeling of being on Expira, the vague fear he felt toward his increasingly extreme Tellus warriors…
His instincts got tangled up in that important moment. By the time he blinked back to wakefulness, he stretched his feet down and got only a scraping drag along the edge of the arena before he was sent tumbling off the platform. His twisting legs caught on a crack and the ground and he slammed face-first to the dirt.
The pain, more than anything, finally cleared his head. He sat up, dazed and shaken. As he pushed himself up and rolled over, Illdan couldn’t help but notice how silent the surroundings had become.
A squeal broke the silence. “Oh! Oh not your face, I’m so sorry! Are you alright?!?”
Illdan watched with a detached sort of horror as the blonde girl scurried to the edge of the platform and hopped down next to him. She seemed young, probably still a teenager, and pressed her glasses back into place with her thumb as she fretfully hovered above him. But when she did adjust the glasses, some of the glare from the sun went away and he saw how blueberry blue her eyes were.
“You beat me,” Illdan felt himself deflating like a balloon.
But the girl’s shy smile, the crinkling at the corner of those eyes, breathed life back into him. “Well, I cheated a tiny bit; I looked up your first match before we fought. If I know you are charging straight forward to finish it quickly, even someone like me can plan around that. It’s tough being the favorite, isn’t it?”