Having a flock of handmaidens do all the knots and fastenings on Mattiew’s armor for him was a strange experience. Though wearing such expensive equipment in the first place was even stranger.

They tied bronze bracers to his arms and greaves to his legs while a form-fitting lamellar chestplate was draped over his shoulders. Shoulder guards and pauldrons of bronze plates were secured around his arms, kept from chafing his skin with linen wrappings.

A small round shield was strapped to his left forearm as Mattiew was handed a one handed short sword made of iron, meant to be tucked under the shield. He hung a curved iron sickle sword, earned in battle during his Scourger days, at his hip. After that, he took up a spear with a long leaf blade in traditional Gozari style. Last, a recurve bow and an accompanying quiver was secured to his back.

Despite Mattiew’s lack of options beyond conventional weaponry, he’d never owned iron weapons before. Few smiths cared for the metal or even learned how to work with it, but many duelists attested to iron’s superiority over bronze.

“Everyone out!” Adriana burst through the doors. The handmaidens obeyed without hesitation, flooding out of the room.

Once Mattiew got his equipment comfortable, Adriana walked up to him and kissed him on the cheek.

“If it didn’t leave such an obvious trail, I’d give you a good luck charm. Though I might get away with a little casting from the stands.” Adriana smiled, though her heart wasn’t in it. Mattiew couldn’t say he was excited for today either. “How’re you feeling?” Her voice had a softness today that he wanted to fall into.

“As well as I can feel, considering the nerves.=,” he chuckled. “I feel like I’d be doing much better if I could say I was fighting because I wanted to. But beggars can’t be choosers, I suppose.”

“I thought I should make you a Bog Brew. As a parting gift.” Adriana pulled a flask from the folds of her dress.

Mattiew smoldered. “Sending me off with that? Do you want me to die?”

Adriana slapped his arm. “Idiot!” The anger left her face as quickly as it came. “I’ll give you something that tastes better when you come back.”

“Who’s recipe?” Mattiew took the flask.

“Oh, quit being a baby.” Adriana scoffed. “It’s my own, and I think I made it taste bearable.”

He pinched his nose and downed the foul contents of the flask as fast as he could. Pulling away from the empty vessel, he shuddered.

A sea of golden strands revealed themselves to him before fading into his subconscious.

“Was it that bad?”

“It was actually better than Sedis’s recipe. It’s just been a while.” Mattiew said. “Still tastes like horse shit, though.”

“I wish I could do more...I can’t stand the thought of just watching you.”

“You’re already doing all you can. Plus, I’ve no doubt you’ve started coordinating our...contingency.”

“It’s not coming together as quickly as I’d like. My reputation’s been sullied a bit from running off with you.” Adriana frowned. “But I’ll bring them to our side soon enough.”

Mattiew kissed her. “Just don't get stuck in your head. It’ll make you worry.”

“I’ll be reliably distressed until this damn tournament is over…” Adriana muttered, breaking eye contact with him.

Mattiew had been fretting himself this whole time and understood her fear. By Irkalla, she was probably more afraid for him than he was for himself. As a leader and as someone she could rely on, it was his job to keep her spirits up.

He tilted her chin up, making her look at him.

“Why don’t we play a little game, my heart?” Mattiew put on a playful grin.

Adriana’s stare was a mixture of confusion and concern. “What game?”

“For every person I’m responsible for knocking out, you have to grant me one wish. And I promise they’ll be exclusively weird.”

A half smile spread onto her face. “Weird, like letting you call me ‘Mommy’?”

“It doesn’t count if you like it more than I do.” Mattiew chuckled. “Maybe I’ll ask for something foot related.”

Adriana groaned, but maintained her grin. “Ew...but fine. Idiot.” She hugged him as tightly as she could. “Stay safe. Don’t do anything stupid.”.

“Nikoliades!”

Mattiew looked up at Alo’aharu standing in the doorway, dressed in their black robes with a bit of bronze armor here and there.

“Twenty minutes. We need to leave.”

“I’ll be right there.” Mattiew looked back at Adriana, “Don’t get caught,” he whispered before kissing her one last time, “I love you.”

Adriana offered him a still worried, but genuine smile this time. “Love you more.”

***

As Mattiew and Alo’aharu arrived at the Gridiron, he swore the sheer noise created by the cheering people in the arena was causing the earth to shake.

The contestants were directed by organizers in white robes and clay masks down a staircase under the seating area. That led into a series of dark stone tunnels lit only by dim torchlight that led into the arena proper. The entrance to the sandpit was blocked off by a metal cage door.

Mattiew and Alo’aharu took seats on an empty bench along the sides of the tunnel as contestants and Kingmakers continued to file in.

This was one of eight entrances to the arena. And this one alone was packed full with a hundred or so pairs of contestants and Kingmakers. How much did they want to cull the numbers? How many would Mattiew have to compete with for a spot in the real tournament?

The contestants were from every imaginable place occupied by civilization, from the western coast of Syrytos to the eastern steppes of Saryngolia.

The mana density in this one tunnel was enough to make Mattiew wish he hadn’t taken that Bog Brew. He wanted to vomit more than he did when he drank it.

The other contestants were surveying the competition. He’d gotten a few looks, but most of the attention his pair received was on Alo’aharu. Having an Arcane Elemental for a Kingmaker seemed to be a rare sight. But no one questioned it.

“Welcome, honored contestants!”

Mattiew glanced towards the back of the tunnel, away from the pit, where a masked man in colorful, traditional Veyshtari garb was standing.

“Welcome to Tiamat’s Gullet, the first among the eight tunnels. You stand right where legends, like Hayani the Virtuous and Ishtar, the Goddess of Victory, once stood before their first Bellirex. But of course, you have not yet earned the honor of competing for the Ouroboros of Tiamat. Today, we’ll be hosting the Bellirex Preliminaries!”

Contestants and Kingmakers clapped and cheered. Mattiew decided to quietly clap with them, while Alo’aharu chose to do nothing.

“Ever since the Eight Empires swore never to wage war, the inevitable need for change birthed the Bellirex, the tournament of all tournaments,” The man continued. “The Bellirex will test you on your politicking, your character, your intellect, and of course, your strength. It will push you to the very limits of what you can achieve and bring about the most powerful versions of yourselves.”

Mattiew was going to split his head open if every organizer insisted on these theatrics. He wasn’t keen on letting his anxieties fester while the organizers got their kicks out of being showmen.

“Those of you who participated in, watched, or studied the last Bellirex know that the Preliminary was a round of votes from the crowd to pick their favorite competitors. The tournament before that was a simple puzzle. Prior to that were a series of duels. This time, we at the Bellirex committee have decided to bring the tournament back to its roots in being an alternative for war. This Bellirex, we’re having a free for all!”

Mattiew felt right at home with the wave of mixed reactions throughout the tunnel. Some sighed with reliefs, others cursed under their breaths. Some were completely silent in shock.

“Is this good or bad for us?” Alo’aharu asked.

“I don’t know.” Mattiew shrugged as he whispered. On the one hand, a free for all meant chaos. Chaos that he couldn’t plan around or outwit. But there were some advantages. Sorcerers were raised as duelists. They wouldn’t naturally think to gang up on one another. And he was free to let the powerful busy themselves with more appropriate matchups.

“All of you will fight until there are one hundred contestants remaining.” the man explained. “There is only one rule. Don’t endanger the audience. Though, if it gives them a good show, don’t be afraid to bend that a little. Additionally, avoid lethal blows whenever possible and try not to show disrespect or cruelty to the dead or unconscious. Understand?”

As everyone nodded in affirmation, Mattiew’s gulped. These seemingly obvious codes of conduct were...little more than suggestions. By Irkalla, if the organizers deemed it good entertainment, a contestant could probably threaten a loved one of another contestant.

Mattiew made the effort to beat back his fears before they could spiral any further.

“Good. Now get out there and make yourself a king!”

Mattiew turned as clanking of the cage door revealed blinding light from the arena.

He barely stood up before another contestant ran past him and slammed her elbow into his face. Collapsing to the dirt, Mattiew was helpless as the competitors either ran around him or over him.

Mattiew staggered to his feet once they’d all passed, his face leaking blood like a punctured waterskin. He wiped the red from his face and whirled around in confusion.

“You’d best get in there before it’s too late.”The organizer left the tunnel.

The door to the arena was starting to close.

Drawing on drops of adrenaline, Mattiew burst into a wild sprint. He dove under the thinning space between the door and the ground, sliding into the sandpit with a cloud of dust.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Mattiew got to his feet, coughing through a disturbed of sand and ignoring the blood dripping from his chin.

The world embodied pandemonium. Competitors and Kingmakers refused to fight as pairs and wailed on one another with sword and sorcery. Explosions of fire, energy, and smoke burst in the air as the earth refused to remain still due to the abilities of multiple sorcerers.

Mattiew thought to enter the fray until he found his spear missing. He glanced back through the cage door. It was lying on the ground of Tiamat’s Gullet.

“Shit.”

A moment of focus on the ambient mana around him was all that stood between Mattiew and incineration as the strands clued him in on an incoming attack. He ducked under a stream of white-hot flames and staggered to regain his balance.

He spotted a pale-skinned Syrytite man with burning eyes approaching him.

Mattiew drew his bow and started running.

He caught sight of the pyromancer making signs with his hands and fired an arrow to disrupt the casting. The pyromancer leaned out of the arrow’s path and continued the casting. He unleashed a hail of twenty or so flaming bolts from his fingertips.

Mattiew rolled out of the way and discovered on his way up that the bolts were following him.

Two different abilities. Just my luck. Mattiew’s mind instinctively rushed to divine a weakness from just two attacks as he allowed the fire bolts to disperse harmlessly against his shield.

But there was no point in trying to be all clever with a pyromancer. Mattiew fired another arrow at his enemy, landing a shot right in his leg.

The man screamed as he collapsed, allowing Mattiew to move on.

With a few moments of respite, Mattiew’s adrenaline began to wear off. He forgot how electrifying the thrill of battle was.

A mass of brown scales and armor crashed into him. Mattiew was tossed in the air like a ragdoll as the wind vacated his lungs.

Another contestant broke his fall. A tad bit of cosmic favor thanks to Adriana, no doubt. With so much casting and mana being used, it was probably easier for her to get away with little bits of assistance.

While the other contestant was disoriented, Mattiew slammed his fist into the back of her neck. He didn’t want an additional problem to deal with while facing the scaled behemoth.

His opponent was a woman encased in a partially open sphere made from bronze reptilian scales, each a creation of pure mana.

The mana strands making up each scale were loose. But they were tightening as the sorceress was taking time to focus.

There was the weakness.

Mattiew planned out his next moves and cradled his bruised side as he drew the crescent-shaped blade from his hip.

A rush of adrenaline surged his legs as he pounced towards the sorceress. Her scales closed up and she charged at him in turn.

Mattiew slammed his shield into the bottom of the ball of scales, redirecting the charge up and over him. She crashed in the sand. He whirled around and stabbed her in the back.

He took a breath to settle himself. But he was pleasantly surprised that he was still used to killing. Well, maybe not pleasantly.

Mattiew turned around only to find himself face to face with three sorcerers.

“Oh, you guys are the smart ones, huh?” Mattiew’s mouth turned upwards into a nervous smile, “But this is overdoing it.”

The sand beneath the feet lurched upwards as if alive, spraying itself into the eyes of his opponents. They staggered and yelped as Khemti Sett leapt into the fray and beat them down with the flat of a large battleaxe.

“So, what? Are you some kind of battlemage?” Khemti asked, wiping sweat from his forehead.

“No.” Mattiew dismissed the sorcerer’s presence.

“All I’ve seen from you is swordplay. Come on, if there’s a time to show off your sorcery, it’s now.”

Mattiew ignored Sett, drawing his bow before dodging a volley of ice shards from a nearby cryomancer and catching the sorcerer in her leg with an arrow.

“And that’s all you’ll get from me. So quit prying.” Mattiew muttered. “Unless you’d like a bloody calf to match hers.” Mattiew nodded towards the enemy he just took down.

“Fine. Have it your way.”

Mattiew was half expecting Sett to come running after him for a kill, but the Alazarite jumped away, propelled by a tendril made of sand.

“Ancient Kings, it’s impossible to find anyone in this chaos.” Alo’aharu emerged from the chaos. They tossed the shriveled and drained form of a siren Kingmaker at Mattiew’s feet, wisps of azure energy smoking off her.

Mattiew tore his gaze away from the disturbing result of the elemental’s power. “Thanks for leaving me in the tunnel to rot.”

“You’re welcome. It’s your fault for not having your head in the game sooner.”

“Oh, I had my head in the game.” Mattiew huffed, fingers brushing the dry blood on his face, “Two behind you.”

Alo’aharu, without looking, grappled one of the incoming opponents and forced him to the ground before draining a significant amount of mana from him. The elemental was a surprisingly adept fighter for their slight frame.

Mattiew shot the other in the shoulder.

“So what’s our plan?” Alo’aharu stood. They were remarkably calm, given the daunting situation before them. That serenity appeared to be contagious with Mattiew, as his breath slowed to a decent, un-panicked pace.

“Stay alive. Take down anyone who comes after us and avoid anyone too powerful.” Mattiew said.

“And just wait for the powerful ones to gang up on us?” Alo’aharu asked, “We’re not winning that spot by waiting. If we want it, we have to take it.”

He hesitated a moment to consider. “I...I guess you have a point.”

“Let’s hunt someone who’s a match for us. We want the greatest amount of weak sorcerers as we can get to make it in. Better odds and all.” Alo’aharu said. They pointed behind him. “Hey. There’s one on his way towards you right now.”

Mattiew scanned his surroundings, coming upon a Veyshtari man that lashed twin chains of golden light out at him. Alo’aharu, meanwhile, engaged in their own battle with a Kingmaker.

Mattiew missed a shot with his bow, dropped the weapon, and drew his blade as the sorcerer approached.

The chains wrapped around his shield arm. Mattiew resisted chainmage’s attempts to pull him off balance and did the reverse, yanking his opponent off his feet. He rushed in, attempting to strike the chainmage in the head with his blade. The sorcerer rolled out of the weapon’s path and swept Mattiew’s feet out from under him.

His opponent wrapped chains around his throat and started throttling him. Mattiew struggled and fought against the bindings to no avail.

Something outside of Mattiew’s field of vision caused the chains to vanish. He scrambled to his feet to find the chainmage being attacked by two ghastly phantoms. The phantoms vanished, leaving his opponent unconscious and revealing the perpetrator.

It was the necromancer. Maera Diamedes.

Despite being dressed in armor, with a bad gash on her shoulder, she still held an ethereal elegance as she turned away from him.

“Nikoliades!” Mattiew snapped his gaze over to Alo’aharu, who was struggling against the sharp claws of a Nightborn woman who resembled a kind of Nightdweller people seldom forgot from the stories of their childhood: A dragon.

Mattiew rushed over to help, but received a heavy blow from her tail to his gut. He stumbled a bit, but dodged the next swipe and threw his body weight into her, pushing her off Alo’aharu.

The dragon got to her feet and snarled before letting loose a small azure bolt of energy from her maw.

Caught with his guard down, Mattiew froze.

Alo’aharu sent a bolt of energy to intercept the attack just in time. The two sorcerous missiles exploded, creating a giant sphere of flickering light that air had to rush in and replace as though the spell had erased the wind itself.

“Shamura. Stop using your powerful spells so flagrantly. You’ll get us disqualified.” A sheer presence of dread filled Mattiew’s body upon hearing the voice.

Silver hair. Emerald eyes. The Sun Killer. Semiramis stepped up to the dragon woman’s side, a scolding glare on her face.

“Apologies, my queen.” Shamura bowed to the Sun Killer.

Mattiew looked back at Alo’aharu for support, but they struggled to even stand. What had happened? Was it the Sun Killer?

“I’ll handle this deceiver.” Semiramis said, “You finish his false Kingmaker.”

Mattiew wanted to run. But what kind of sorcery would she unleash if he did?

Semiramis brandished two curved Alazarite khopeshes. But his attention was on the impossibly gargantuan well of mana streaming off the Sunkiller’s body.

“You wanna fight iron on iron? Why? Couldn’t you eviscerate me with one word? Especially considering you think I’m a liar.” Mattiew muttered.

“I would be wasting my sorcerous talents on dispatching you. I am confident that my blades shall do more than enough.” Semiramis said, “However, if you prove a coward, I may think twice about not calling on the heavens to smite you.”

Mattiew sighed, but lowered into a fighting stance. He hoped—hoped to the Ancient Kings and Gods, whoever would hear his prayers—that this...something deep in Mattiew’s soul wouldn’t let him call her human. He hoped she abided by some code of honor. If he fought, she might not unleash her sorcery if he started winning.

With little choice and his hopes sent to the sky, he closed the distance in an instant with a kick off the ground. He swung his sickle sword overhead, but the hook shapes in Semiramis’s khopeshes caught his weapon.

The Sunkiller reversed her grip on one of the swords and twisted the sickle blade out of Mattiew’s hands before shoving her boot into his chest.

He staggered, but caught himself before he fell.

Semiramis advanced with a flurry of sword swings. Mattiew’s shield bore the brunt of the onslaught before he saw an opportunity to hook his ankle around her heel. He displaced the Sun Killer’s stance, giving him the opening he needed. Mattiew’s fist flew for her abdomen, but he hit a solid wall of muscle. His knuckles might as well have hit stone.

Semiramis’s hand grabbed his face and, with a sweep at his legs, slammed his head into the sand before backing off.

He stumbled through the vertigo and redness in his vision, back to his feet. He was being toyed with. Mattiew gritted his teeth in impotence.

Out of the corner of Mattiew’s eye he was Shamura’s gullet glowing as if about to spit up some kind of disastrous spell.

He didn’t have time to see if Alo’aharu managed to push themselves off the ground before Semiramis nearly cleaved his head off by throwing one of her swords.

“It’s not fair if you’re unarmed.” Semiramis said.

Mattiew frowned. “Don’t act like it was fair in the first place.”

He grabbed the khopesh, but kicked up a cloud of sand into Semiramis’s eyes. He used the opportunity to strike with the blade.

But she caught the blade between two fingers before opening her eyes wide. His gambit hadn’t even blinded her. The abyss in his stomach grew larger as Semiramis threw him to the sand.

“You have a baseline sense of ingenuity common in most sentient beings. I’ll give you that, deceiver.” Semiramis said, maintaining an apathetic expression.

Her eyes flickered to the right as one particularly well-equipped sorcerer attempted to catch her off guard. She fired a white bolt of energy from her pointer finger.

The air warped around it as the bolt shot through the attacker’s elbow, relieving his body of his forearm and continued, taking out at least three other contestants and Kingmakers as it followed through. Everybody it touched fell dead, their flesh charred black, if not into ash.

Heat like a thousand bonfires seared Mattiew’s face as the light left a trail of glass in the sand and burned into his retinas.

“They call me the Sun Killer for a reason. If I wished, I could destroy the sun, the moon and every other celestial body in our observable universe.” Semiramis muttered, “Do you believe a mere man can hope to stand against the force of nature that gives and takes all life? You provided some meager entertainment, but don’t be so brazen as to believe you are more than that to this world.”

He couldn’t respond. He couldn’t even open his fucking mouthor stop his every muscle from trembling long enough to belt out a noise.

Mattiew’s hand had an iron grip around the hilt of the shortsword stashed under his shield, but couldn’t bring himself to draw it. If he fought, he died. If he gave up, he died. There was no answer here. Nothing that could come to terms with the most potent sorcery he’d ever seen in a woman with no feeling or predictability to her.

What possible weakness could counterbalance the ability to burn through four people along with every bit of matter at the flick of your wrist?

What possible chance did he stand against someone who was not only a sorcerer, but even a better warrior than himself?

“Bloodless monkey,” Semiramis scoffed.

Semiramis held up her finger, a glowing white orb at its tip. The heat made his sweat hiss as it evaporated off his skin. And yet he was frozen, unable to do anything.

“Drop your weapons!” a booming voice resonated throughout the arena, “The preliminaries are over!”

Mattiew blinked. For one, he could blink again. Semiramis lowered her hand, looking no more displeased or satisfied than she had at any other point in time.

It was over. The fighting had come to an end.

“Ladies and gentlemen, these are your hundred competitors for the Bellirex! Get a good look at them!”

Mattiew collapsed to his knees, waves of relief, terror, and shame washing over him. Never before had his life been so hopelessly in danger. Never before had his fate been so set in stone. How was it acceptable for any one person to be granted that much power?

It was as though the Traitor Gods themselves lived within the Sun Killer. Nature bent to her will. How was anyone, sorcerer or not, supposed to beat that?

How was Mattiew expected to win the crown from her?