The call to action echoed across the arena. Roland felt the energy of the crowd washing over him, bathing him in adoration. It was not a feeling he particularly enjoyed. He had not expected the attention reaching this point in the tournament would garner. Fame was not his goal, after all. He merely wanted an audience with the King to protect his home and find peace in his heart. Unbeknownst to him, his opponent shared a very similar goal.

Aldric frowned a little as the crowd cheered. He felt completely out of place with this many eyes on him. Making his way through the tournament’s ranks had proven to be much easier than he had expected. Isolating himself for so long had skewed his perception of the strength of those around him. Everyone seemed so much weaker than they were supposed to be, especially compared to someone as frail as himself. He could not realise yet that so many eyes were watching his every move because his strength was out of the ordinary, not that of everyone else.

Neither man moved at first, each sizing the other up. Both had ended their previous bouts just as quickly as they started, but neither let their success go to their heads. They studied each other, trying to gauge their respective strengths. Aldric had an easier time of this. Roland’s physical prowess made it clear what his preferred method of combat was. Aldric knew as long as he could keep his opponent at a distance, there was no way he could lose.

Roland was slightly slower in his discernment, but he had been trained well. He could tell from Aldric’s frailty that he would be no match in a physical confrontation. Given that they were facing each other in the finals, there was certainly more to him than meets the eye. Roland shifted his blade slightly. He would likely be attacked from a distance, but if he could close the gap the battle would be as good as done. He had faced strong magic wielders before. Few could compare to his strength.

The crowd’s cheers quickly lowered to a dead silence as they waited. Seconds moved by, nearing a ten-count after the announcer started the match. Aldric’s patience faltered first. He moved quickly, raising his right leg and stomping into the ground. A surge of power crossed into the ground, and in an instant, the earth beneath Roland’s feet shifted. The ground under his left foot shot upwards up to knee height, throwing him off balance. He reflexively swung his sword to the right, lifting his right foot and letting his momentum shift him away from the small pillar of earth. His feet met the ground in a solid stance, his knees bent. From high in the stands, four sets of eyes watched with unwavering attention.

“Incredible,” Eldrin said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“The boy’s balance is commendable,” Hadrian said. “That attack would have toppled some of our most well-trained knights.”

“I am not referring to that one,” Eldrin said. His eyes remained locked on Aldric.

Roland considered his options. The ability to alter the terrain was dangerous. He could not trust his footing at any moment. That left him with only one choice. He began running, sprinting directly towards Aldric. He put his full force behind each movement, ready to break cleanly through any attack.

Aldric staggered back slightly when the charge started. With little time to react, he simply dove to the side, sliding across the ground as Roland ran past. He spun on the ground, sweeping his hand across the floor towards his opponent. Shards of earth flew up, striking Roland in the side and back. He turned to face Aldric, an unexpected expression of concern on his face. Aldric wanted to capitalize on the moment, but Roland’s eyes prevented him. The two stared each other down for a moment, and then Roland stepped forward and extended his hand.

“You think I’d trust you?” Aldric asked, snapping out of his daze. He slammed his hand into the ground, sending another pulse of power out. A thin pillar of earth rose between the men, colliding with Roland’s chest and toppling him onto his back. He used the opportunity to get to his feet. His power ached to be let out. He could feel tingling all over his body as it threatened to burn him from the inside as the sun scorched him from the sky. The heat baked on his skin, casting ominous shadows across his face. His opponent was fast. Aldric could only hope he would be fast enough.

Roland quickly got to his feet, in time to see his opponent move his finger from his chest to the tip of his other hand, which was aimed squarely at Roland. With no time to think, he rolled to the side. He felt the heat behind him as a pillar of flame roared past. With wide eyes, he locked eyes with Aldric once more.

“I could feel that,” he muttered.

“That’s the idea!” Aldric shouted back, hoping to intimidate Roland. Another fireball formed in his hand. This time Roland raised his arms before his face, taking the blast head-on. To his shock, he felt stinging all across his arms and chest. He lowered his hands back to a combat stance, but instead of another attack to dodge, he found only horror written on Aldric’s face.

“Why didn’t you dodge!?” he asked, running closer. His steps slowed and his eyes widened when he saw that Roland was still standing. “How did you…”

Roland dashed forward, refusing to give Aldric time to finish. Aldric tried to attack again, but the blast was thrown far to the side as Roland knocked his hand away. He delivered an open palm strike to Aldric’s chest, throwing him backwards several feet. Aldric dropped like a corpse, rolling and choking on the ground.

“You are really strong, but you can not win without getting hurt!” Roland called out. “Please, yield and admit defeat.” Aldric coughed on dust as Roland's words settled in his mind. He was right. There was no way for him to win without getting hurt. His power ripped around inside him. The world around him felt sharp, almost cutting into him. The noise of the crowd, the gentle breeze, and something else, flowing beneath the earth.

He could hear the footsteps behind him approaching. His lungs burned, but he forced them back under his control and waited. When Roland was close, Aldric spun around, violently throwing his hands towards Roland. Roland took a step back and blocked with his arms, but nothing came. He lowered his guard just as the dust Aldric had kicked up settled.

“Thirsty?” Aldric asked, smirking as he clenched his left fist. A jet of water as wide as Aldric’s fist burst from the ground and slammed into his face, knocking him back significantly. He got back to his feet and prepared for another blow, but instead, Aldric stood before the new hole in the ground. He clutched his left arm and was clearly gritting his teeth. A slight movement of his legs brought another, gentler stream of water up, drenching Aldric’s back and legs. The crowd’s cheers shifted towards confusion.

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“Where did that water come from?” Hadrian asked.

“The arena is built above one of our aqueducts,” Cedric responded. “We thought it would be convenient to have a source nearby. The better question is: how did that boy know?” All eyes turned to Eldrin, who was far too absorbed in the fight to notice. The others turned back to see Roland just as confused as they were.

Roland tried to gather his bearings. Riva had taught him how to handle people who favoured magic when fighting. First, he had to determine what magics they could use. He studied the spectrum thoroughly, but his knowledge proved lacking. Every move his opponent made seemed to contradict the former. With so much uncertainty, he knew he could not afford to let this battle continue any longer. They were in the capitol, in an arena being observed by the King himself. He tried to reassure himself that there would be safeguards in place and healers available. He could only hope he was right.

Throwing caution to the wind he charged forward, rearing back with his sword. Aldric did not budge. He let the wind flow over him as the distance rapidly closed. When he was within striking distance Roland brought his sword down, and Aldric released a wave of power, drawing from the soaked rags that were his attire. Frost spread in every direction, covering most of the arena. Roland was stopped dead in his tracks as ice solidified around his legs.

His back cracked as his body whipped forward, painfully bending as his momentum carried his top half forward despite his locked legs. He quickly adapted, using this momentum to slam the hilt of his sword into the ice, splintering it. His feet fumbled as the ice fell away, but he kept pressing the attack, swinging haphazardly upwards. Aldric was no longer there, though. He had, as fluidly as the water that was his weapon, moved to Roland’s side, and as Roland swung wild Aldric’s right hand fell onto his shoulder. There was nothing Roland could do to counter. He could only hope he could withstand the attack.

Ice shot forth from Aldric’s hand, jagged blue spikes surrounding them. At the centre of it, Roland was encased, only his head was exposed. The cold stabbed into his chest, slowing down even his thoughts. He tried to struggle against the ice, glaring at his opponent, expecting to find a confident smile, a cocky grin, even a victorious shout. Instead, he saw Aldric stumbling away, holding his arms to his chest. Tears were forming in his eyes, and his breathing was unsteady. The ice began to give way as Roland grit his teeth, flexing every muscle in his body against the constraints. Loud cracks echoed across the deathly still arena, the ice shattering around him. His right arm was the first to break three, and with the aid of his blade, the rest of his body quickly followed. Aldric entered his view again, visibly shaking.

“You are hurting yourself,” Roland said, surprised at the tremble in his voice. “You have fought valiantly, there is no shame in admitting defeat.”

“I can’t,” Aldric wheezed, barely able to look up to meet Roland’s eyes. “I won’t yield.”

“I will not let you do this to yourself,” Roland insisted. He raised his sword one more time. The crowd shivered in unison, the cold and anticipation creeping up their spines.

“Should we stop them?” Aeliana asked, frantically looking between her three compatriots. “The small one is hurt!”

“No!” Eldrin insisted.

“You said we needed to be ready to intervene!” Aeliana insisted. “When, if not now?”

“Let them fight,” Hadrian said sternly. “Eldrin is right. We need to see this through.”

“Why?” Aeliana pleaded.

“To gauge their strength,” Cedric said. Aeliana wanted to protest more, but a gasp from the crowd quickly drew her attention back to the fight.

Roland bolted forward, crushing the ice under his feet with the force of his footfalls. Aldric leapt to the side, throwing another wild fireball in Roland’s direction. The shot missed, crashing against the magical wards that surrounded them. Up in the stands, Eldrin quickly signalled an adept to recast it, repeating what he had done several times.

Aldric tried to find a moment to regain his composure, but before he even had a chance to think Roland was on top of him again. His body ached, his power flowing along searing paths. He could not let up, despite his body’s protests. He grasped the gentle breeze that had been flowing around them and split it apart between him and Roland, a rush of air throwing them both back. Freezing the arena had barely hindered Roland, but it made navigation almost impossible for Aldric. Melting all of it was impossible, and running would only tire him out faster. No single attack could stop Roland. He could see that as clear as day. One more time he let his power surge, a cry escaping from his chest as it cut through his body.

“Eldrin, we have to do something!” Aeliana pleaded.

“Not yet!” Eldrin barked.

Roland dashed forward, closing the distance between them for the last time. His mountain of patience had finally worn down. Aldric was in pain and needed help. Roland hoped that, in some way, he could provide it. He would end this in one strike, trusting that the Court could save his opponent. Aldric watched him come, clenching his fist around every ounce of knowledge and experience with his power that he had.

A few feet away, watching from below, two golden eyes traced their movement. Their owner felt an incredible shift in the atmosphere. Immense power was concentrated in a relatively minuscule area, an area which shrunk rapidly as one combatant approached the other. She could see their hearts, both set in their intent to overcome their opponent. Her golden eyes grew wide, fear settling deep in her stomach.

Roland leapt into the air, lifting his sword. He aimed to bring it down onto Aldric, dealing a blow that, if untreated, would certainly be fatal. His vision blurred as he fought through tears, despising himself for not finding another way.

Aldric prepared his strike, aiming for Roland’s chest. He adjusted his aim as Roland leapt, ignoring the agonising pain wracking his body. His heart was harder to ignore. The power he was about to unleash was more than any one person could withstand, but his opponent had proven that he was strong. Aldric could only hope and pray that he was strong enough to survive to be healed.

The blade came down, and the fist came up. Both impacted, unleashing an unfathomable amount of power. Fire, ice, earth, water, and light surged from Aldric’s strike. His voice added to the attack, screaming past the blood that coated his mouth. Roland forced his blade down, demanding it cleave through anything in its way. The audience was momentarily blinded by the attack. A billowing mixture of dust, steam, and smoke obscured the combatants. Everyone was certain that had been the last blow of the battle, but no one knew who had won.

Aeliana no longer waited for permission. She leapt out of the King’s booth and ran down to the arena, Hadrian and Eldrin short on her heels. They quickly jumped over the wall surrounding the arena. The air cleared as they approached. Roland’s blade hovered inches above Aldric’s head, whose fist was equally close to Roland’s gut. Between them, holding them at bay, was a gentle translucent golden barrier, emanating from the lower stands, where its caster watched with wide eyes. Murmurs quickly shifted to frantic whispers as the commoners realised that, in their midst, the Saint had just stopped the battle dead in its tracks.

“Aeliana, Hadrian, tend to the combatants,” Eldrin said, running to the stands. They did not need to be told twice, quickly moving towards the two warriors.

“Are you both-” Aeliana began. Her words died in her throat when Aldric’s knees buckled, and he collapsed.