Cadmus watched as Ardea and Arthur switched opponents. He had been keeping a close eye on both their battles the entire duration of the match, a feat only made possible due to Heroic Possession’s unique properties. The spell essentially handed the reins of his body to Sigurd’s muscle memory, and so allowed his own mind to focus on whatever else he wanted. As long as his opponent was in view his body would fight on its own, without any focus required from him.
It was this very freedom which allowed Cadmus to continue watching as Arthur slowly closed in on Gale Holland, little by little.
“Where are you looking?” Mark hissed angrily as he made another valiant attempt at an attack.
Cadmus did not answer as he batted Mark’s Magic Sword aside. In all honesty, this battle was as good as won; they had both pitted their best against each other, and Cadmus had proven to be the better. Now all that remained was the decisive moment when Mark’s guard was ground down to the point where he made one final mistake.
One overstep, one overreach, and Mark’s defeat would be complete.
Cadmus felt his insides thrum in anticipation. It was uncomfortable to say the least, this strange new feeling which had gripped his organs and compressed them together. The way he had snapped at Mark, the promise he had made to the Vinari family, the promise he had made to Alice… these were not things he would have done before, and they had all been spurred on by this foreign rush of anger.
Something told him that if he fulfilled his promise, if he got revenge for Candice and Oliver and struck down Mark Tempor, this feeling may leave him yet.
“ANSWER ME!” Mark screamed.
He launched another series of swings with his Magic Sword, but rage had dulled his skill. Even Cadmus could tell that Sigurd’s muscle memory was having an easier time of dealing with this attack. He even took advantage of it by launching a blisteringly fast counterthrust right after, and for one amazing moment, he thought his victory had finally come.
But then, at the very last second, Mark’s overextended blade snapped back up to him like a magnet and managed to deflect Cadmus’ thrust quickly enough to only get off with a scratch on his shoulder.
Cadmus’ eyes narrowed.
Once again, that Time Acceleration…
Calling Time Acceleration the final thread preventing Mark’s defeat would be a massive understatement. Without it, Mark’s mediocre swordplay would have seen him on his knees several times over. Then again, the only reason Cadmus was able to outstrip Mark’s swordsmanship to such a significant degree was because of his own Heroic Possession…
They clashed once more, and Mark’s face twisted in an ugly manner.
“SAY SOMETHING, DAMN IT!”
“There’s nothing worth saying to you anymore,” Cadmus said coldly, “Surely you’ve realized already: you’re just a distraction at this point.”
Mark seemed to almost flinch, his expression snapping to shock and the driven glint in his eye suddenly snuffed. It was as though these were words he had never expected to hear in his lifetime.
But then the fire in his eyes roared back to life, and he gritted his teeth angrily.
“You…”
But Cadmus was barely looking at him anymore. To their left, Arthur was nearing dangerously close to Gale, their elemental spells still flying at each other with great force and speed. Their battle was clearly approaching its end.
Behind them, Ardea Regis and Ito Shin seemed to be stuck at an impasse of sorts. Shin seemed to not be able to approach Ardea due to the sheer number and power of her flame spells (which comprised of the entire range of the Flame Beast Series, from Flame Tigers to a Flame Dragon), but he was still nimble enough to avoid taking damage. It was obvious though that the advantage lay on Ardea’s side.
And then, it finally occurred: the decisive moment. Mark, in his rage, reached too far with his thrust, and Sigurd’s muscle memories did not miss this sudden opportunity. As quick as a whip, Cadmus’ blade left a deep red gash on Mark’s chest.
Cadmus, having been too focused on watching the others’ battles, took a moment to catch up to what was happening with his own body—such were the speed of events. Cadmus’ blade came in for the second, killing stroke, but before he could even think to shatter the circle and spare Mark’s life, Mark himself somehow managed to bring his Magic Sword back in time to block it.
It seemed to have taken Mark every ounce of effort left in his body to pull off that defense, and though it had managed to save him from almost certain death, he was still toppled off his feet and onto the ground. He would recover quickly, but not quickly enough to prevent his defeat. All that was needed was one final blow, and as ever, Sigurd’s muscle memories were ready to deliver.
Cadmus had already begun advancing for the final charge and thrust, when he noticed something of Arthur’s battle. Coincidentally, Arthur too was beginning his leap for the final attack, his miraculous Caliburn raised over his head for an overhand swing to cut down Gale Holland before he could complete his own swing to activate the Raijuu’s Strike.
And suddenly, Cadmus knew what would happen before it did. The echo of his first encounter with the Raijuu’s Strike played out before him, of Gawain Le Fay leaping towards Connor Holland with his blade held high just like Arthur.
Gawain had not made it. Neither would Arthur.
Time slowed to a crawl, and Cadmus’ thoughts raced forwards. He could stop this, stop the Raijuu’s Strike from reaching Arthur. He’d learnt from his mistake in Ipsum forest, with the faulty counter he had developed for Zane Brycen’s vine spell.
Back then he had only seen Zane’s circle once before trying to design a circle to counter it, which had led to its failure. But with the Raijuu’s Strike, he had witnessed its circle in action multiple times, spent almost every waking second researching it after getting back from Ipsum forest, and had focused his efforts on only one specific part of the circle instead of its entirety.
Cadmus could say with almost one hundred percent certainty that this time his counter would not fail. But that still begged the question, should he use it? To help Arthur he would have to shatter Heroic Possession; Mark Tempor had fallen to the ground, but he wouldn’t stay there. If Cadmus chose to let this chance go, Mark would stand up again ready to fight, and Cadmus would no longer have Heroic Possession to defend himself.
It would essentially spell his defeat.
However, it was also this option that would win his team the match as a whole. Arthur would defeat Gale Holland, and then would come here to defeat Mark as well. It was doubtful that Mark would last even five seconds against Arthur, even with Time Acceleration.
On the other hand, if Cadmus chose to allow the Raijuu’s Strike to reach Arthur and defeated Mark here, he doubted he could take on Gale Holland after, even with the counter he had developed for the Raijuu’s Strike. The difference between their fundamental combat abilities was simply too vast.
The correct decision here was undoubtedly to help Arthur at the cost of his own personal victory. This was obvious, and yet…
“I will personally defeat Mark Tempor, as revenge for what he did to Oliver. I promise.”
Those were the words Cadmus had uttered to Oliver’s family, fully intent on carrying them out. Alice’s wide blue eyes flashed within his mind next, mingling with the echo of his promise. He’d said to her that he would avenge Candice too…
And the battlefield transformed, leaving only the figures of two beaten mages kneeling upon it: Oliver and Candice. Their spirits cruelly and deliberately broken beneath a cheering crowd, they stayed there, sunken into the ground. Cadmus was unsure if they would ever stand up again.
His heart seemed to pound in his ears as his blood threatened to rip through his veins. Mark Tempor, the perpetrator of all this, was right here, ready to be struck down with the simple completion of his thrust. Blood would flow, and Mark would be sorry, as Cadmus had promised to personally make happen. In doing so, he had the inkling that this cold tightness within him would finally vanish as well.
What was that compared to mere victory?
But it wasn’t just a mere victory, was it? A familiar, raucous laughter rang over the mess of thoughts and emotions his head had devolved into. It was throaty, it was cheerful, it was radiant… and it was perfect. It was a laughter he hadn’t heard for a long time now, but one he could recall with flawless clarity.
Ember…
The hollow pain that always followed him like a shadow suddenly threatened to consume him right then and there; how he longed to hear that laughter again…
And, with that, his decision was made. After all, between Oliver and Candice or Ember, the choice was obvious, wasn’t it?
The world sped up again, and Cadmus shattered Heroic Possession with a burst of mana. At the start of the battle, he’d drawn two magic circles, just the same as Mark, and with Heroic Possession now gone, only that final circle remained in Cadmus’ possession.
He lobbed his arming sword at Arthur and Gale, and as it arced through the air, flailing ungracefully, he fired his circle at it. The circle flashed, indicating its activation, but no beams or projectiles left it. This was fine, since the spell was designed on purpose to have no visual effect.
Gale’s swing had already been completed by now, and Arthur was now in the air, Caliburn held high above his head, ready to strike his foe down from above. The horror of realization dawned upon him quickly during the Raijuu’s Strike’s signature beat of silence, and his body continued to fly forward, powered more by inertia and muscle memory than any intent of his own.
It was then that Cadmus’ arming sword suddenly dropped between them. Time seemed to drag to a still at that moment, as both Gale and Arthur simply stared at the out of place weapon separating them.
And then, quicker than even a split-second right after, a blinding bolt of lightning pierced the air and struck the sword dead on. The sword looked flimsy in comparison to the titanic force of lightning that had crashed against it; it shouldn’t have stood a chance, and indeed it didn’t, with the sword shattering instantly into a shower of molten metal. And it was only through sheer reflex that Arthur managed to bring his gauntleted hand down from Caliburn to his face in time to stop any burning shrapnel from striking it—his armour doing the same for the rest of his body.
However, somehow, that burning shrapnel was the only faint remnant of Gale Holland’s Raijuu Strike: that flimsy little sword had managed to stop a bolt of pure lightning in its tracks with only its own life as the cost.
“WHAT—!”
Gale stumbled back in disbelief, but that was all he could do before Arthur landed while swinging Caliburn down victoriously, splitting his circle for the Raijuu’s Strike in two, and nearly doing the same for his torso behind. Gale stifled a torturous scream as he fell to the ground and clutched his gaping wound. Dark red blood gushed from his body like a water spell and pooled beneath him as he looked around dazedly, trying to figure out what had just occurred.
“What…?” He muttered weakly, “Th—the Necromancer…?”
Arthur stood there, panting, taking a few moments to come to terms with all the events that had occurred in such quick succession himself.
“Yes…” he finally said, almost unsurely, “Without him, you’d have caught me with your spell.”
Gale was losing consciousness rapidly now, Arthur could see it in his eyes.
“Some comfort…”
Gale made one final heaving attempt to stand up again, but the wound was so grievous, he wasn’t even able to lift his body off the ground. His arms gave out under him, and as his back touched the concrete below, the referee announced,
“GALE HOLLAND, DEFEATED!”
Arthur would have loved to rest for a bit and recover—he could still scarcely believe that he had passed the hurdle that had loomed over him so menacingly just a short while ago—but he could see Mark Tempor jump to his feet, ready to battle Cadmus once more. Cadmus had, impressively enough, managed to draw a new circle for Magic Sword in record time; however, whatever ability had allowed him to fight like a veteran swordsman had deserted him completely.
Now he was just flailing around, not even managing to last a single exchange before Mark roughly cut through Cadmus’ circle and buried his own Magic Sword deep into his shoulder. Cadmus cried in pain as he fell like a sack of potatoes and curled up into a ball on the ground, his hand pressed hard against his wound. As his blood slowly pooled under him, Mark raised his sword again, a feverish look in his eye—
“CADMUS GUILES, DEFEATED!” Immediately came the declaration.
Mark stopped. He was simply standing there now, his Magic Sword still held high, looking as though he could scarcely believe what had just happened.
“I… won?” A giddy chuckle suddenly burst through, slowly devolving into loud, manic laughter. Something seemed to have unhinged in him, something fundamental and primal, “I won! I WON! I WON! I was the better mage! MY SPELLS WERE BETTER THAN YOURS! YOU WERE WRONG! THE WORLD WAS WRONG! I AM SUPERIOR!”
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The words seemed to be tearing out of Mark’s throat, guttural and raw; and through it all, Cadmus quivered on the ground, moaning in pain.
“EVERYONE SAW IT! EVERYONE! NOW NO ONE CAN—”
Suddenly, he snapped out of his crazed episode when he spotted Arthur’s Caliburn swinging at his face, and he stumbled back, barely avoiding taking a wound. That had been a calculated move on Arthur’s part to separate Mark and Cadmus: he did not trust the state Mark was currently in.
Mark stared, looking as though he simply couldn’t grasp what was happening. The strange happiness that had possessed his body so suddenly seemed to have left him just as quickly.
“You… what are you doing here?” He turned to look at where Arthur had been battling Gale, and his eyes caught Gale’s wounded, limp form. “Why…?”
Arthur silently readied his blade as confusion ran through his mind. Had Mark really not noticed the referee declaring Gale’s defeat? Had he been so absorbed in his battle with Cadmus?
For better or worse, Mark seemed to be the clever sort. Understanding dawned quickly upon him, and his face twisted in horror. He turned to Cadmus and whispered, “You… this is what you were doing? Helping your teammate?”
The only answer he received was yet another moan of pain.
“Is this why you didn’t land the final blow? Is this why your circle’s gone?” Mark’s breathing grew increasingly erratic as his whole body trembled with a sort of unstable fury, “Is this how you’re going to deny me my victory? How dare you? HOW DARE YOU, YOU BASTARD!”
Mark charged at the prone Cadmus, and Arthur protectively stepped in between. Mark was quick, unnaturally so owing to his time spell, but he didn’t possess the skill or the stability to present himself as a true threat. Their blades clashed merely twice before Arthur cut through his circle for Magic Sword and kicked him back.
Mark fell on his butt, but then instantly scrambled to his feet, charging towards him once more like a man possessed. He seemed to have forgotten that he didn’t even have a weapon anymore.
“GET OUT OF MY WAY!”
This time, Arthur smoothly cut through Mark’s circle for Time Acceleration. And with that, Mark suddenly slowed to the natural speed of the world; compared to before, it looked as though he was crawling through the air now.
It was almost pitiful, and Arthur felt like a bully tripping Mark, halting his mad rush once more. Caliburn descended along with Mark, and once on the ground, the tip of the blade pointed at his throat.
The referee did not miss this.
“MARK TEMPOR, DEFEATED!”
Mark seemed not to hear the referee anymore though. Like a rabid dog, he kept trying to claw past Caliburn, and even Arthur had trouble keeping him pinned without injuring him.
Thankfully, two members of the Academy staff quickly took the problem off his hands. They efficiently restrained Mark through physical force, and dragged him off the battlefield. Two more Academy staff members carried off the injured Cadmus as well, but they did not extend the same courtesy to Gale: he was too close to Ardea and Shin’s battle.
Those two were still duking it out, with Ardea throwing out massive fire spells like they were nothing, and Shin dodging them with fluidity and grace. But Arthur could tell that the end was approaching. Shin had been at a disadvantage against Ardea from the very beginning, and now that very fact was catching up to him.
Countless beasts built of fire had surrounded him and were biting at him, the most dangerous of which being the Flame Dragon lazily circling him overhead. Every time Shin slipped up even a tiny bit, the Flame Dragon charged, and every time Shin was barely able to escape certain defeat by a hair’s breadth.
Arthur was about to lend Ardea his help in finally finishing off Shin by providing ranged support with any number of Caliburn’s powerful spells. However, before he could, Shin himself came to a stop and raised his hands. He was panting, and was more scorch and soot than anything else now.
“I surrender!”
Ardea immediately twisted her circle, bringing all of her numerous beasts made of flame to a stop at once. It was almost eerie how they waited silently, when just a second ago they had all been in a chaotic frenzy. Now their only sign of movement was the flicker and roar of the flames that made them up.
“That was not a battle I could have won,” Shin said, smiling pleasantly at Ardea’s questioning look, “Continuing to struggle would have yielded me nothing.”
“ITO SHIN, DEFEATED!” The referee announced, “ALL THREE FINALISTS OF THE CARMENIAN INSTITUTE OF SORCERY HAVE BEEN DEFEATED! IN OTHER WORDS, THE VICTORS OF THIS YEAR’S TWIN PEAKS MAGICAL TOURNAMENT—FIRST YEAR DIVISION—ARE ARDEA REGIS, ARTHUR PENDRAGON, AND CADMUS GUILES OF THE LAURUCIAN ACADEMY OF MAGIC!”
And, as the Academy staff flooded the field, the crowd went wild.
----------------------------------------
Cadmus awoke slowly to a strange sensation upon his shoulder: it throbbed and tingled wildly, and a weirdly comforting warmth flooded it. When had he lost consciousness, he wondered? All he remembered was being struck by Mark Tempor, and then Mark screaming something before everything collapsed in a sea of haziness. Had it been the blood loss?
Cadmus looked around, and saw that he was in the Coliseum’s medical room; the clean white walls, and similarly clean white beds were unmistakable. Hovering above him was Gwen, her curly red hair damp with sweat and her pretty face scrunched up with exertion. She was using the Lady of the Lake’s healing spell on him.
“Oh, you’re awake!” She noticed. She maintained her spell for a little while longer before finally letting go and wiping the sweat off her face. “I was asked to heal you in time for the awards ceremony. I mended your cut, but it’s too severe to fully heal in one session, so make sure to move it slowly and carefully.”
Cadmus nodded, “Understood, thank you. I assume we won?”
Gwen giggled daintily, “Indeed! Ardea Regis struck down Ito Shin, and Arthur defeated both Gale Holland and Mark Tempor—with your help of course!”
“I see. That’s good to hear.”
Gwen tilted her head curiously at his subdued tone of voice. He should feel happy for having won, he knew this, he had earned the points he had needed after all. However, it felt as though something had poisoned his insides. All he could feel right now was a sense of worn-out emptiness, as though things were still unfulfilled.
“Cadmus!”
Cadmus looked round to see Alice looking worried from within Professor Mackenzie’s breast pocket as they entered the medical room. The sight of her sent a burst of shame travelling down his body, and he averted his eyes, turning to Professor Mackenzie instead.
“How’re you doing, brat?” Professor Mackenzie asked, “Can you stand yet, or do you need more time to rest?”
Cadmus experimentally rotated his newly-healed shoulder. Pain still accompanied every movement, but it was a far cry from the excruciating agony it had been just a while ago.
“I should be fine.”
Professor Mackenzie grinned, “Good! That was quite the battle you fought out there—really impressive stuff! And now you’ll receive your reward for it!”
“Yes, if you could just add in the points to my total now—”
“Not that!” Professor Mackenzie said, “Well, that too—but I’m talking about the Twin Peaks First Year Division trophy! You’ll have the world celebrating your victory as you’re handed it.”
“Exciting.”
Professor Mackenzie rolled her eyes, “You could at least try to act it.” She smiled thoughtfully, “Maybe not today, but I hope you’ll one day realize the weight of that trophy; after all, hundreds of students fought and struggled to try and win it for a reason. Including your sister.”
Cadmus did not respond.
“Well, in any case, see you out there soon,” Professor Mackenzie said, depositing Alice on his bedside table and waving, “Until then, sit tight. And try not to reopen your wound.”
“She seems to care for you,” Gwen said as she watched Professor Mackenzie go.
Cadmus made a noncommittal sound.
Perhaps sensing that he wasn’t in the mood to talk, Gwen fell silent. He was grateful, but unfortunately that silence did not last, for both Ardea and Arthur walked in through the doors next.
“You’re awake! Arthur said brightly. Ardea, from beside him, gave a simple nod in greeting.
“Indeed,” Cadmus said, “I heard you defeated both Holland and Tempor?”
“Yes,” Arthur smiled, “Exactly as you planned, no?”
Something dark and acrid stirred within him, and he did his best to stop it from showing on his face.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry about your injury, I regret that you received it for my sake. And your sword as well; it seemed like a good blade,” Arthur said, “Speaking of, may I ask how you used it to stop the Raijuu’s Strike from reaching me? The lightning struck the blade, but instead of barreling through as it should have, it was stopped dead in its tracks. How?”
Cadmus smiled, now here was a topic that he understood well.
“The Raijuu’s Strike, at its most surface level, is comprised of three separate parts: the targeting, the build-up, and the discharge. After seeing it in use so many times, I can say this conclusively,” he explained, “However, I simply didn’t have enough time to break the whole thing down to its finest details before the actual tournament started. So, I chose to focus on only its initial phase: the targeting.”
“Because it was the simplest,” Ardea said.
“That too, but also because I saw the Raijuu’s Strike in action in the second qualifier round—and there I noticed something strange,” Cadmus said, “Connor Holland used the spell twice against Gelida Olvo, but both times, it behaved inconsistently. The first time he used it against Gelida’s ice stalagmite cluster spell, Ice Spikes. The stalagmites were destroyed, but the Raijuu’s Strike didn’t pierce through. The second time Holland used it directly on Gelida. Gelida put another cluster of Ice Spikes up as a defense, but this time the Raijuu’s Strike pierced through and reached Gelida.
“I had my suspicions then, but it was only when the name, the Raijuu’s Strike, was revealed to me that I could come up with a solid theory. You see, Raijuu’s are rare and elusive creatures said to mainly live in the Isle of Dawn; they’re apparently composed entirely of lightning, and more importantly, it is claimed that, during a storm, wherever their claws leave their mark, lightning strikes.”
“They sound like fearsome beasts,” Arthur said.
“They are.” The words had come from a bed nearby. Though Cadmus had not noticed him before, Gale Holland lay upon it, and he looked immensely weak, with his skin pale and clammy and his breathing shallow. Even his voice seemed faint and wavering. “Raijuus… they’re portrayed as such powerful, magnificent creatures… my master said he encountered one once, and the mesmerisation in his voice when he spoke of it… if you knew my master, you would realise what a truly glowing endorsement that was.”
“Wait, I’ll heal you! Then you can talk—” Gwen leapt to her feet, but then faltered as her legs gave out underneath her. Arthur caught her and gently set her down on her chair again.
Gale chuckled, though it more resembled a painful set of wheezes, “I’d gladly accept, but it seems you’re out of mana.” He turned to Cadmus, “In any case, that’s how you figured it out, huh? Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut…”
Cadmus nodded, “Yes, with that knowledge I was able to hypothesize that the Raijuu’s Strike functions similarly: when you first activate your circle, you shoot an invisible, near-instantaneous tag. The second of pause after is the circle taking time to charge up the lightning, and then that lightning goes to strike the tagged area. Targeting, build-up, and discharge.”
“‘The swing is an obfuscation of sorts,’” Ardea remembered, “That’s what you said. I was curious as to how you could be so sure of that, but now it all makes sense.”
“Of course, understanding the Raijuu’s Strike was only half the problem,” Cadmus said, “I still had to create a method to stop it. I figured if I could just use its targeting system to have it strike elsewhere, I could circumvent it. However, I was worried about how to copy a tag with a unique signature. To do that, I would need to recreate the initial portion of your circle exactly, which was impossible.
“But then I approached the problem from the perspective of a spell inventor, and I realized: it was far more likely that your master would have chosen not to make the Raijuu’s Strike’s tag unique—mainly because few spells use such a system in the first place. It would just add to the complexity of the circle, thereby making it harder to remember and making it take longer to draw. Once I understood that, I knew exactly what to look for in your circle to recreate.
“And that was it. With no unique signature, my tagged blade and your tag on Arthur both took equal precedence. But because my blade was closer, the lightning aimed for that instead and stopped there.”
Gale looked down at his ragged body, “And Pendragon made sure not to miss the opportunity.”
No one said anything. There seemed to be something in Gale’s voice that pleaded for a moment of silence. Then, after a moment, his lips curled upwards into an almost cynical smile.
“Don’t expect me to take back my words though, Necromancer,” he said, his voice firmer now, “ My statement still stands. If you’d been chosen as my enemy, I would have easily defeated you—even with your counter. The only reason you managed to use it as you did was because of Pendragon.” He looked away, seeming to struggle with something, “However… I’ll admit it. Maybe I underestimated you somewhat.”
Cadmus scratched his head unsurely, “Thank you?”
Gale laughed slightly, “Yeah, I wouldn’t know how to respond to that either,” He turned to look Arthur in the eyes, “You better watch out. All of you. Because I won’t lose next time.”
Arthur steadily gazed back, “I’ll gladly welcome your challenge anytime.”
Gale seemed satisfied with that, and he lay his head back on the pillow, fading away into sleep almost instantly. The doors to the medical room opened once more, letting the chattering from the crowd outside and the announcer’s excited proclamations leak in, and an Academy Staff member entered.
“It’s almost time.”
Cadmus tiredly got to his feet and placed Alice in her usual spot in his breast pocket. As he, alongside Arthur and Ardea made his way to the doors, he spotted Candice. She had been placed on the bed beside Oliver, and was resting just the same as him. There was a peacefulness to them, and once again, Cadmus couldn’t help but think how sharply it contrasted to the pained looks that had twisted their expressions right before on the battlefield.
Something twinged within Cadmus, and he felt his sour mood return with a vengeance. To spare himself from any more confusing thoughts, he turned away and walked on.
The three were held at the door, and Gwen quickly arrived to join them, swaying on her feet though she was. Arthur helpfully supported her as they waited and let the announcer’s words wash over them.
“We’ve had a fine time these past two days, ladies and gentlemen! And in that time, we have witnessed the first steps of many a legend in the making! And, standing at the top of them all are the three students from the Laurucian Academy of Magic! Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in welcoming the Dragon Princess, Ardea Regis; the Golden Prince of Victory, Arthur Pendragon; and the Necromancer, Cadmus Guiles!”
The staff member motioned for them to walk forward (while carefully taking Gwen off Arthur’s hands). The three stepped onto the battlefield as one, and the coliseum was rocked with noise. Overhead, the display orbs all filled with their visage, and from even higher above, they were accompanied by a giant flaming sigil of the Laurucian Academy of Magic.
Professor Mackenzie awaited them in the middle of the battle-scarred field, a small grin on her face and an ornate golden trophy the size of her torso in her hands.
“Congratulations,” she said, “You fought your battles magnificently and your reward is well-deserved. Treasure it with pride.”
She held out the trophy to them, and Cadmus numbly grasped it with Arthur and Ardea. This whole show seemed like a play to him, something he was watching from far away, something he wanted to be over with now.
As screams and cheers rained down upon them, Professor Mackenzie whispered to him, “You may not care much about the trophy, but at least try to act a little happy—if not for your sake, then for the sake of those who struggled so hard to try and obtain it.”
And so Cadmus smiled, even though all he could taste upon his tongue was a deep bitterness.
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When Oliver awoke, night had already fallen. Or at least he assumed it had: there were no windows in the Coliseum medical room, but the lights had all been put out (save for a single lantern near the door), dousing the room in still darkness, and everyone was resting peacefully.
The thing that hit Oliver hardest was the silence. Whenever he’d awoken, the distant sound of the crowd had constantly rung in his ears, but now… it almost felt as though someone had plugged his hearing up with earplugs. At best, all he could hear were quiet snores and even breathing echoing throughout the room.
He looked to the side and, in the dim light of the sole lantern, could make out Candice Regis on the bed next to him. She was blankly staring up the ceiling, awake just the same as him.
“Did you lose as well?” Oliver asked.
“Yes.” Her voice was soft. Even the silence seemed louder than her right now.
“To who?”
“…Mark Tempor.”
Oliver almost felt like laughing, though this was a wildly inappropriate time to do so.
“I see.”
And with that their uneasy conversation faded to silence. What were they to say? Too many thoughts filled air in between them, and Oliver could not think of the words to erase them. All he seemed capable of right now was letting his mind run in circles.
A sea of frustration roiled within him, and suddenly, his voice leapt from his throat without his instruction.
“I knew I wouldn’t win.”
“I’m sorry?”
It was too late to stop now, so he let the emotions he had wrestled with since yesterday continue to spring forth.
“I knew I wouldn’t win.” He repeated, “I talked big when I decided to join, but I already knew that I wouldn’t win, no matter how much I struggled. I knew it was impossible. But, even so… I hoped…” And his voice was shaking now, and he felt a warm prickling in his eyes, “It’s just—this small part of me just wouldn’t stop imagining me standing out there, people cheering me on, trophy in hand.”
“…Yes, I felt similarly,” Candice said quietly.
Oliver looked at the white ceiling, watching his battle with Mark Tempor play upon it again and again.
“Despite everything, I… I wanted to win!”
“Yes…” Candice’s voice was trembling and watery now, “I did as well.”
And finally, boiling hot tears began pouring down Oliver’s cheeks, and he could barely choke out his final, greatest thought. The one idea which had haunted him ever since his loss.
“If… if we had started training earlier… if we’d been more dedicated from the very beginning, do you think we could have won?”
Candice did not answer.