by Andrew Rowe
“So your point is that we can’t simplify combat ability down to one value.” Corin nodded, reached up to scratch his chin, then stopped himself and put his hand back down. “That makes sense.”
“I guess that’s true.” Patrick frowned. “I just...like having the levels, I guess. They’re comfortable. And I still think they’re useful, to a degree, even if they don’t cover everything.”
“Information always can be valuable, as long as you remember that it’s not the whole picture.” Keras chuckled. “I know a guy in the Unclaimed Lands who used to walk around with an item that generated a blue aura around him, just to spook people.”
“Wait. Blue? Like Sapphire?” Corin gawked. “Wait, that wasn’t Lars, was it?”
“No, but I absolutely could see him doing that.” Keras laughed, raising a hand to briefly cover his face.
Sera snorted. “Okay. That’s sincerely hilarious. I love it. I want an item that does that, now.”
Corin sighed. “I suppose I’ll add it to the list...” He made no move to actually write anything on a list.
“I think you’re scary enough as is, Sera,” Patrick offered.
“Why, thank you, Patrick. That may be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
“It definitely isn’t.” Corin shook his head.
“I’m actually with Patrick on this one,” Marissa folded her arms. “I like to know how hard I need to punch someone.”
Keras smiled. “Okay. I’ll tell you what — I’ll try to put together some kind of rating system later, when the story is over. Something a little broader than the attunement system, to give you some more useful context.”
Patrick and Marissa brightened at that.
“For now, I suppose I’ll give you a more basic answer to the original question. Without any equipment, I would have been a good match for most Citrine-level combatants at the start of the tournament. Again, with the caveat that my magic is hard to measure, and I’m much stronger offensively than defensively. Reika would have been more like what you’d call a Citrine-level floor guardian. She would have been capable of fighting a whole group of Citrines, mostly due to her resilience.”
There were a series of nods at that.
“How strong was Reika compared to someone like Mizuchi?” Patrick asked.
Sera visibly winced at Mizuchi’s name, and Corin looked somewhat discomforted as well.
Keras pondered how to answer. “In terms of raw mana, Mizuchi would have hundreds of times more. No, more like thousands.”
Patrick gawked. “You think Mizuchi is thousands of times stronger?”
“No, no. Just in terms of mana. More mana does mean more power, but it’s not that direct. Mizuchi can throw a lot more power into attacks, and she’ll tire more slowly. She’s also got her layered shrouds, which wouldn’t be possible without a bunch of mana. She’d probably be several times better at overall combat than Reika was at the start of the tournament, but not thousands.”
“But thousands of times more mana? How’s that possible?” Corin asked. “Each attunement level is six times more mana than the last. Thousands would mean a minimum of four attunement levels. Are you implying there are levels above Sapphire?”
“No. I mean, yes, sort of?” Keras shook his head. “Remember, Reika and Mizuchi aren’t attuned. They don’t follow the same rules. When I’m estimating Mizuchi’s mana pool, I’m speaking to the fact that she has Emerald or Sapphire level mana density...in the form of a serpent that is several stories tall. So, think of it this way. How many humans could you fit inside Mizuchi?”
“Well, I’m sure Mizuchi could eat Corin at least a few thousand times,” Sera offered.
Corin gave her a glare. “It had to be me, specifically, didn’t it?”
Keras cut them off. “She has thousands of people worth of mass, all at an Emerald or higher level of mana density. Now, I don’t actually know how Reika’s mana pool worked, because she didn’t have any attunements at all. But even if we assume she had Citrine level mana density, and that her dragon form is several times human size, she’d still end up having hundreds or thousands of times less than Mizuchi.”
“That’s...kind of scary, actually.” Corin took a breath. “I mean, Mizuchi was already terrifying, but that really reinforces how lucky we were to survive an encounter with her at all.”
Keras gave him a nod. “And you survived meeting a visage, too, even if he wasn’t trying to kill you. Katashi might not have Mizuchi’s mass, but think of it this way — visages have the equivalent of all the attunements, right? At least forty-eight of them, maybe more. And all at Sapphire or higher level. Higher, I’d suspect.”
“...And some people want to kill the visages.” Marissa shook her head. “Doesn’t seem like that’d be easy work.”
“No,” Keras gave Marissa a gesture of acknowledgment. “It wouldn’t be.”
“But you could do it, couldn’t you? With your current strength?” Corin asked. The question within his question was obvious — not just if Keras could kill a visage, but if he might, under the right circumstances, be willing to.
“Maybe.” Keras’ expression darkened. “But you wouldn’t like the results. No one would.”
Patrick seemed to sense the shift in Keras’ demeanor, and he quickly clapped his hands together and gained everyone’s attention. “Okay, we’ve gotten off track. Let’s get back to more fun things!” Patrick asked. “Who do you think was the strongest person in the tournament?”
“I’m not going to spoil that this early. If you want to hear about the really dangerous opponents,” Keras smiled, “I’ll need to get back to the story.”
Chapter IX – Destiny of an Emperor
Much like the preliminaries, the early rounds of the tournament took place over the course of several days. With thousands of contestants, there simply wasn’t room for everyone participate at the same time — and it would be too difficult for the judges and audience to follow what was happening with that many people.
Reika and I were assigned to one of the earliest possible slots in the first round, just about two hours after the opening ceremonies. Instead of sitting in the audience to watch the ceremonies, which risked us being late, we went with Grandmother Iron to one of those private viewing facilities that was located right across the street from our designated arena waiting room.
The line for the viewing room was mercifully short. Grandmother Iron exchanged a few words with the owner and passed over a handful of coins. Then, the owner gave Grandmother some instructions in Edrian that I didn’t catch.
“This way,” Iron instructed, heading toward another room at the back of the shop. “We should be just in time for things to get interesting.”
The back room had a set of chairs sitting around a raised basin of water. Even at a distance, I could hear sound coming from the water — an announcer’s voice speaking with power and authority.
“Now, join me in welcoming the ruler of our great nation…”
Iron’s jaw tightened, and she took a breath as she approached the water, turning her head toward it without sitting. “Come. There should be some entertainment after this farce.”
Reika and I required no further urging. I closed the door, then followed Reika over to the pool. When we leaned over it, we could see an image inside showing the main tournament stadium from a bird’s eye view. Reika’s let out a gasp of awe, which made me smile. I’d seen similar magic before, most notably in the form of magic mirrors used by my sometimes-ally Jonan Kestrian, but it was still impressive nonetheless.
As I peered into the water, I got a better look at the arena. The labyrinth I’d gone through was entirely missing. Instead, there was a huge, hexagonal platform, lit by colossal floating crystals above each edge and the center.
It was empty when I first looked down, but only for a moment. We’d arrived just in time to hear the ending of an introductory speech — and with it came an entrance. “…I present to the Slayer of Serpents, the Sentine
l of the South, the Impervious Wall Between Man and Beast, and Guardian of Kaldwyn — Emperor Edria Fang!”
The sounds of trumpets roared as red-armored soldiers carried a great palanquin through the doors of the arena into the center of the stage. Upon the palanquin sat an ancient grey-bearded man, with a gem-studded crown serving as his only ornamentation. Rather than royal robes, he wore heavy armor similar to that of his guards, distinct save only for the large crystals embedded in the shoulders and gauntlets that hummed with magical energy. He carried no scepter or ring to show his station — no, the only sign of authority he required was the sword that sat unsheathed on his lap.
I recognized it immediately from Reika’s books and stories. It was a dao, a kind of curved sword with a thick blade that was native to the country of Tyrenia, far across the sea. The blade was not steel, but rather formed from dark green crystals.
Dawn’s thought in my mind was interrupted by the sound of incomprehensible cheering from an audience of tens of thousands. I couldn’t just hear it coming from the pool — their shouting was so loud that I could hear the actual yelling from the arena itself across the street.
I’d been in loud arenas before, but the sheer scale of the Tournament of the Sacred Sword was mind-boggling. Tens, maybe hundreds of thousands of people were in those stands. All those people would be watching me fight just after the ceremony.
I felt my heart pounding and my lips sliding to a grin as I thought about it. This was going to be fun.
I wasn’t the only one who was looking forward to it. Reika was practically bouncing, and I thought I could see even a hint of excitement on the face of the emperor himself as he stood from his throne. He raised Diamantine toward the sky, seeming to admire the glint of the blade, and then set it tip-down against the palanquin, resting his hands on top of the pommel as he began to speak. “People of Edria and our honored guests, I greet you all!”
More cheering, which didn’t stop until the emperor raised a single hand to silence them. “I thank you all for coming to witness this historic day. For centuries, the Tournament of the Sacred Sword has served to unite the people of Kaldwyn in a single purpose — to delight in a contest of steel and spell. For over sixty years, I have had the privilege to fight against the greatest warriors of every nation—”
Iron audibly snorted, and her hands tightened into fists.
“—But today, I am proud to announce that the time has come for a change.”
The silence that fell in the aftermath of that statement was almost palpable.
In the span of a breath, several questions ran through my mind, but mercifully, he provided a swift answer.
“It is long been the tradition of our people to hold this tournament as a challenge for any that would seek to claim Diamantine, the Sacred Sword of Stone. It has been my greatest honor to protect this sword — and thus, safeguard our nation’s pride — for my entire adult life, through war and peace, turmoil and tranquility. But as so many of my children are keen to remind me,” the emperor smiled softly, showing deep wrinkles on his face and eyes, “I have gotten rather old.”
There was some scattered laughter and murmuring from the crowd, but that was quickly overwhelmed by a single word.
“No.” Grandmother Iron spoke seemingly without thought, her eyes burning with violent intent.
“Grandma, is something wrong?” Reika asked.
Grandmother took a sharp breath, then shook her head. “Everything is…but we will not speak of this now. Watch. Learn what you can. We will speak later.”
Reika maintained a look of concern, but turned her head back to the pool of water.
The emperor stood up a little straighter, raising his sword again. “Diamantine, your strength has fueled me through battle after battle. Though oft I believed that I would carry you until my last breath, it is your impervious power that has allowed me to live long enough to see the age when one has proven worthy to take my place at your side.”
Then, with a deep breath, he closed his eyes and released his hand from the sacred sword’s hilt.
Diamantine floated in mid-air in front of the emperor as the old man whispered something inaudible.
And then, after a heartbeat, the unarmed old man spoke again. “People of Edria…I give you my successor as wielder of Diamantine.”
A bolt of lightning flashed, cracking into the palanquin on the opposite side of the sword. No thunder accompanied it, just a burst of smoke that revealed a warrior in crimson armor.
She stood taller than the ancient emperor himself, her long black hair tied into a single tail. She wore no crown, only crystal-embedded armor like that of the emperor himself. She wore no gauntlets, which made it easier to see the two glittering attunement marks on the backs of her hands, which shined just as brightly as the one visible on her forehead.
The smoke from her appearance seemed to twist around her, swirling and coiling like a snake. And when she smiled at the emperor, her grin was as sharp as a knife.
With a look of great pride, the emperor reached out and brushed the side of the young woman’s face. “This belongs to you, now. Guard this sword as you would guard our nation.”
“I honor you as you have honored us all, Grandfather.” With a single hand, tentatively and with great care, she reached out and grasped the hilt of the sword that floated in front of her — and everything changed.
A flash of green enveloped the stadium, and I heard gasps from the crowd. I couldn’t see what was happening, but a heartbeat later, I felt the entire arena island begin to tremble.
Cracks appeared on the building’s floor and the dust rained from the roof. Reika shirked, said something about “ground should not move”, and jumped onto a chair.
Then the next pulse hit us. Not an earthquake, but pressure in the air. As the view of the arena cleared, I saw that most of the audience had fallen to their knees. The soldiers carrying the palanquin struggled to keep their feet, auras burning bright around them.
When the pressure hit me, I acted on instinct.
Body of Iron.
Metal mana flooded into my body, vastly reinforcing my strength. With it, I could stand easily even under the pressure. As I spun to check on Grandmother Iron, I saw her staring at me with surprise in her eyes.
And then I sensed it — metal mana flowing inside her body, too, almost identical to my own technique.
We blinked at each other. Then, the feeling of oppressive weight faded, the woman in the image lifted Diamantine toward the audience and spoke.
“People of Edria and our foreign visitors! Know that I am Edria Song, proud granddaughter of our great emperor. I am honored to have been chosen as the new wielder of this blade. I will strive to serve this nation as my grandfather has, with courage and dedication. I know that you came here not for words, but for battle. I hope you will forgive me for one brief indulgence before the tournament itself begins.”
Edria Song lowered Diamantine, though the blade still gleamed with a soft green light. “Though the chance to wield Diamantine is an honor without compare, I have been granted a second honor today — the chance to open the tournament with a demonstration. I am young yet, and unproven, and thus, some might rightfully feel that I am not yet suited to take my grandfather’s place by the side of this sword. And so, I have issued a challenge to six of the greatest challengers from the preliminary competition to join me on this stage — to face me in battle.”
There was a murmur of surprise from the audience.
I released my Body of Iron spell, then turned to Grandmother. “Not typical, I take it?”
“No. The girl is audacious. This is not our tradition. Judging from his expression, I do not believe the emperor himself was informed.” Iron laughed. “But with her having the sword and being right there, he can’t exactly refuse her, can he?”
“Ooh.” Reika hopped down from her chair. “Why wasn’t I in
vited? Didn’t I get a high score?”
Iron snorted. “You may have scored in the top fifty, dear, but not the top six. And I doubt these will be the people with the top point totals, anyway. She will have invited people that will be powerful, but that she is confident she can defeat. She does not know you.”
I nodded at Grandmother’s logic. “They’ll need to be people who can put up a good fight and look convincing. Shame I can’t be up there, though. It’d be good to get in a practice match against her if she’s the one who will be at the end of the tournament.”
“No. It’s best you don’t. You’re not ready yet.” Iron waved to the water. “Watch. You will soon see why.”
Edria Song jumped down from the palanquin, her hair fluttering in the air as she landed. With a broad grin, she waved to the audience.
The emperor nodded to her, then spoke one last time. “Very well. This tournament will begin with a demonstration from the newest wielder of Diamantine — our Crown Princess, Edria Song. Long may she battle!”
“Long may she battle!” The crowd echoed.
With that, the emperor clapped his hands with a sound like thunder, stilling the crowd. Then he sat on his throne and his soldiers carried him out of the arena, leaving Edria Song in the center of the arena, all alone.
“Well,” the crown princess said, “Let’s get this started, shall we? Bring out my opponents.”
***
While doors opened on each side of the hexagonal arena stage, I noted that Grandmother Iron was looking grim. I had a guess at the reason, but I wanted to confirm it. “Are you disappointed that the final opponent for the tournament will be different?”
“Disappointed? Perhaps a bit,” she mused aloud. “I would have preferred to see my candidate matched against the emperor, for reasons that you already know, and we will not discuss further in public.”
She gestured to the room around us, and I gave her a nod of acknowledgement.
Iron raised a finger. “That is not the primary issue, however. Edria Fang would have been a formidable opponent. The power of his attunements is unmatched…but they were a known quantity. I had decades to plan to counter each of his capabilities. And, as powerful as he is, his dueling abilities may have atrophied with age. Edria Song is in her prime and has different attunements. I will need to adjust my plans.”