by M E Robinson
Glancing over at Soren, Eric shuddered. The man’s glare was intense, his stare seemed to pierce right through him as he scraped the blade of his sword across the top of his shield.
Magic, definitely using magic, Eric decided, attempting to figure out a plan as the referee walked to the center of the stage.
“Fighters, are you ready?” the referee asked, glancing at both fighters.
Nodding to the referee, Eric gripped his bow, an arrow resting loosely in the palm of his right hand.
“Let the fight begin!” the referee thundered, his arm swinging down to signal the beginning of the fight.
Soren charged forward, letting out a loud warcry as he held his shield high in front of him. Bringing his bow up, Eric nocked the arrow and activated Charged Shot, aiming for the fighter’s exposed leg. With a piercing sound, the arrow leapt from the bow, speeding forward to meet the charging fighter.
Thunk, the arrow embedded itself in Soren’s upper leg, burying itself deep in his thigh. With an angry yell, Soren stumbled, catching himself as he continued his charge forward.
He’s already covered more than half the stage, Eric realized with a jolt as he reached for another arrow. Hastily grabbing an arrow, Eric nocked it and let it fly, aiming once more for Soren’s exposed legs. This time, Soren was ready for the arrow. Lowering his shield, he caught it on the rim, not breaking his stride as he closed in on Eric.
Soren’s charge was lightning fast, almost unhindered by Eric’s shots. No time for another shot, Eric judged, abandoning his bow and drawing his falchion as he rushed forward to meet Soren’s charge. Dodging the fighter’s opening swing, Eric swung his falchion, aiming for Soren’s head. With a clang, Eric’s blade slammed into Soren’s shield, skating off the iron edge in a shower of sparks.
“Shit,” Eric swore, jumping backwards as Soren’s sword grazed past his ribs. Exchanging blows with his opponent, the two fought their way across the stage, Soren’s shield continuously appearing in the path of Eric’s falchion, stymying his attempts at offense.
For his part, Soren was frustrated at Eric’s agility. No matter how he swung his sword, his blade failed to strike the agile half-elf, striking grazing blows or inflicting minor cuts as he attempted to cut off Eric’s path of retreat.
Eric watched carefully as Soren dropped his guard, lowering his shield to send another blow his way. Bending backwards, Soren’s blade filled Eric’s vision as it flew just overhead. As the blade passed by within a hair’s width of his face, Eric kicked outwards, catching Soren in the stomach, and sending him stumbling backwards. As the fighter stumbled backwards, Eric took his falchion in both hands, leaping forward and swinging it hard in an overhead strike.
Raising his sword, Soren met Eric’s blade with his own, grimacing as the half-elf bore down upon him, pushing Soren’s sword downwards and forcing him to one knee. Just before Eric’s falchion could cut into Soren’s shoulder, the man’s shield slammed into Eric’s ribs, sending him flying backwards as Soren surged back to his feet, rushing forward to press his advantage.
Eric rolled to his feet, grimacing as he lashed out with his falchion to force Soren back, the fighter’s hasty dodge just barely allowing him to avoid the half-elf’s strike.
It appeared that he really couldn’t get through this fight without using magic, Eric thought to himself, twisting slightly to avoid another blow as he contemplated how best to use his magic to bring this fight to a close as quickly as possible. As Soren struck forth once more, Eric ducked underneath Soren’s sword. Sidestepping the follow up shield bash, Eric slammed the pommel of his sword into Soren’s ribs. Soren winced in pain and stumbled backwards, bringing his shield up to absorb Eric’s follow up strike as he did so.
Smiling grimly, Eric’s lashed out with his right leg, catching Soren in the thigh and driving the embedded arrow deeper into the man’s flesh. With an agonized cry, Soren lost his footing, catching himself with his sword hand as he fell to the ground.
Raising his shield, Soren hunkered down, prepared to receive Eric’s blade even from one knee. However, to his surprise, no blows came. Peering out from under his shield, Soren searched desperately for the fighter, but Eric seemed to have disappeared from his sight. Eyes widening, Soren’s instincts screamed as he brought his shield over his head, covering the back of his neck just in time to catch Eric’s falchion as it descended. Letting out a sigh of relief, Soren was suddenly gripped with terror, as a hand came to rest on the side of his head.
“Sorry,” Eric said simply, firing the prepared Wind Dart point blank into the side of Soren’s skull.
With a scream, Soren was blasted to the side, rolling across the stage like a ragdoll. Not giving his opponent a chance to recover, Eric dashed forwards, hacking crazily at the defenseless fighter, inflicting wound after wound upon the man as he turtled up, desperately blocking whatever strikes he could.
With a flash of light, Soren disappeared, leaving a panting Eric standing alone on the stage, his bloody falchion resting where Soren’s heart had been only seconds before, the tip trembling violently as Eric struggled to breathe.
“Erick Kystfyr wins! Soren Gunnarson is eliminated!” Halfthur announced, pointing to the tired half-elf.
Damn, what a fight, Eric thought to himself, exhaling slowly as he sheathed his sword. His stamina bar was blinking red, warning him that he was almost out of stamina. Any more, and he would have been forced to stand in place and hope that his magic was enough to finish off the wounded Soren. Probably something I should pay more careful attention to in the future, Eric thought ruefully to himself.
With a tired smile, Eric waved to the fans, stumbling slightly as he made his way down the stairs, briefly allowing the healer to replenish his health back to full before heading back to the stands.
“Damn, I can’t believe Gunnarson lost,” Halfthur said dejectedly.
“Why would you bet on two fighters in the same group anyways?” Wavesun asked curiously.
“Well they weren’t placed in groups when I bet on them. Plus eight fighters make it out from each division. The odds were good that most of the high levels would make it out,” Halfthur responded dejectedly.
“Serves you right,” Alistair remarked. “There’s only going to be one winner anyways, why would you bid on multiple fighters?”
Exchanging a look, Halfthur and Wavesun broke into laughter.
“Have ye really never made a bet before, Alistair?” Halfthur asked incredulously.
“He didn’t bet that they’d win the entire tournament. He bet that they’d make it into the top thirty-two,” Wavesun explained. “He can make a bet on the winner once the top thirty-two is decided.”
“Tch. You’d be better off just commentating on the tournament like you’re paid to do, Halfthur,” Alistair grumbled, glaring at the dwarf.
Halfthur laughed. “No need to worry, Alistair. I’m taking my duties seriously. I’ve been doing my best to study the fighters who might make it into the top thirty-two. I’m ready to commentate the individual matches as soon as this round finishes up.”
“Anything you need us to do for that?” Wavesun asked.
“There’s going to be an intermission once this round ends. We’ll explain the format of the top thirty-two to those who made it in, give them a bit of time to prepare themselves, and then we’ll resume the tournament. I’ll need you two to stand there and look pretty as I explain the rules. Oh and Wavesun, I’ll need you to show off some of those fancy prizes you’ve brought from the capital. Give these fighters something to fight for,” Halfthur explained slyly.
Wavesun grinned. “Something like this?” he asked, taking a glowing sword out from a bracelet on his arm.
Halfthur’s eyes widened. “Exactly.”
“The kingdom was willing to provide the militia with enchanted weapons?” Alistair asked in surprise.
“Well I wouldn’t exactly say they were willing…” Wavesun replied awkwardly.
Giving Wavesun a hard look, Alis
tair sighed. “We’ll discuss this later, Korin.”
Laughing awkwardly, Wavesun looked stoically ahead, feigning interest in one of the ongoing matches as Alistair’s piercing gaze bore holes in his back.
Chapter 30
Fortunately, the rest of the group made it through their fifth round matches without too much issue. Griffin struggled slightly, but managed to eke out a win after a grueling battle, making him the final member of the group to make it into the top thirty-two.
“And Boreik Griffinwing wins! With that the top thirty-two has been decided!” Halfthur announced. “There will be a brief intermission as we set up for the final rounds. Please feel free to grab some snacks, stretch your legs, and maybe check out the gift shop here in the arena. Matches will resume in half an hour. Fighters who have been eliminated can see Grea Grasdottir for their prizes. To those fighters who have made it this far, please join me down here to discuss the final rounds.”
Rising from their seats, the group made their way down to the arena floor, with Gio tagging along as the audience began to stand up. Looking around, Eric recognized quite a few of the fighters who’d made it to the top thirty-two. Their group was by far the biggest, with six members still standing, but there were several other groups of two or three who’d all made it as well. Among those that Eric recognized were Seryllia, Astrid, two of the stronger NPC adventurers that they’d observed, a member of Ryan’s swordplay group, a trio of fighters who Jun had pointed out, and Turk and Aria.
Grinning widely, Eric strode over towards where the pair stood. “Turk! Aria! Good to see you two again.”
“Kyp! Sorry, I saw you earlier, but I just couldn’t find a good time to head over and see you. Turk kept telling me that we needed to focus on preparing for our matches,” Aria replied.
Eric laughed. “No worries. I had the same problem. Did both of you manage to make it into the top thirty-two as well?”
“I did, but Aria lost in the final round,” Turk said with a sigh.
“Ah that’s too bad,” Eric replied, turning to Aria with a consoling look on his face.
Aria giggled. “I messed up. It’s hard to use magic on such a small stage.”
“Speaking of which, I caught a few of your matches. Why aren’t you using magic? Did you give up on being a mage?” Turk asked curiously.
Making a hushing motion, Eric leaned in closely, drawing the pair in to a huddle. “I’m hiding my magic for now. I’ll reveal it when I need to surprise my opponent to win,” he said conspiratorially.
Turk regarded Eric strangely. “Why are you telling us this? Aren’t you worried you might face me?”
“You already know about my magic. Plus I’m fairly sure that I don’t need the element of surprise to beat you Turk, no offense,” Eric quipped.
“None taken,” Turk said through gritted teeth, as Aria collapsed into a fit of giggles.
“I’ve got to get back to my friends, add me?” Eric asked, sending them each a friend request. With a happy look on her face, Aria accepted, while Turk did so with a slightly more begrudging look, clearly still miffed over Eric’s teasing.
Saying goodbye to the pair, Eric rejoined his friend’s circle, where they were discussing the abilities of those who’d made it into the final rounds.
“Fighters!” Halfthur yelled, his voice no longer magically amplified. “Thank you for joining us. First off, congratulations on making it this far. Out of more than a thousand participants, you are the last thirty-two fighters standing. Give yourselves a round of applause!” Clapping their hands, the fifty-odd people standing in the middle of the arena gave themselves a polite round of applause.
Seeing this, Halfthur grinned and continued, “Now then. The final rounds will be conducted slightly differently than the previous rounds were. There will only be a single stage, meaning that only one match will occur at a time. I will be providing live commentary for the matches, and each match will be broadcasted to local towns and villages. This is your chance to become famous, so I hope that each fighter will do their best to put on a good show. And if fame isn’t enough, then Lord Korin Wavesun here has a few items you might be interested in.”
Bowing to Wavesun, Halfthur moved aside, allowing the tall noble to stride to the front of the dais.
“Thank you, Halfthur. My name is Korin Wavesun - I will be in charge of the strategic planning for tomorrow’s expedition, and I am also the man who is providing the prizes for today’s tournament. Now obviously, each and every one of you will be given admission into the elite platoon. However, the kingdom has also generously donated some valuable items in recognition of your skills and devotion to the wellbeing of Novanalba. Items such as these,” Wavesun said with a flourish, producing the glowing sword he’d shown Halfthur earlier, as well as a spellbook and a shining breastplate.
A collective “Oooh!” sound rang through the gathered fighters. Wavesun smiled at this, stowing the items back in his storage bracelet.
“There are sixteen such items that have been provided by the kingdom, as well as sixteen lesser magical items for those who are eliminated in the first round of the top thirty-two. First place will have the first choice of item, followed by second place, and so forth. Hopefully, this encourages you to give it your all,” Wavesun said, giving the assembled fighters a knowing wink.
Hooting loudly, the players cheered. Each person who’d made it this far was an exceptional fighter. While there may have been one or two fighters who’d made it this far on luck alone, every fighter gathered here had the abilities and the courage required to win the entire tournament. As such, the thoughts of the gathered players were all the same, one of those items would belong to them!
Seeing the enthusiastic response from the fighters, Wavesun smiled, backing off to allow Halfthur to address them once more. “Now then, the tournament will resume in roughly twenty minutes. Please be back here at centrestage in twenty minutes to begin the individual matches. If you are absent, it will be assessed as a forfeit, so make sure to be back on time!” Halfthur warned, dismissing the players.
As the gathered players dispersed, Halfthur turned back to Alistair and Wavesun. “We should leave too. Novarena needs to prepare the new stage and they can’t do that with us up here,” he explained.
Nodding, Alistair and Wavesun followed Halfthur, jumping down from atop the dais they’d been standing on for the last few hours. As they left the arena, a rumbling sound announced the return of the four stages to the earth, descending below the arena floor.
In the audience, the players watched wide-eyed as a brand new stage rose from the ground in the center of the arena, engulfing the dais where Halfthur had previously stood. As the rumbling came to a halt, a brand new stage now stood in the middle of the arena. Far larger than the four stages used for the first five rounds, the stage was roughly a hundred metres in diameter. A large tunnel had also appeared, leading from one end of the stage, all the way to the arena entrance.
“Damn, the top thirty-two is going to be way more impressive than the first few rounds were,” Eric whistled.
“You planning to start using magic anytime soon, Eric? Not that it wouldn’t be hilarious if you were eliminated before you could. But you probably should use your real skills soon,” Mark commented.
“Oh you guys noticed?”
“No, we’re all idiots,” Mark said sarcastically. “Of course we noticed, we literally go questing with you every day.”
“I actually used magic last match. I just managed to hide it a little,” Eric replied with a grin.
“Wait. Was that how you managed to send the viking dude flying last round?” Ryan asked curiously.
“Yeah, it’s a modified version of the technique I was telling you about. Of course, I still haven’t perfected the real technique, but if I can, then winning this tournament should be a piece of cake,” Eric replied, giving Ryan a wink.
“Yeah? Well, mine’s a real skill, so good luck,” Ryan retorted.
“Neither of y
ou have any real skills,” said Jun incisively.
Ignoring the squabbling trio, Mark was craning his head to look at the dormant projection above the stage,
“We’ve all been pretty lucky to avoid fighting each other so far, hopefully that trend continues,” Mark muttered as he looked at the pairings.
Checking the time, the group left Gio behind in the stands, making their way back down to the brand new stage where they regrouped with Halfthur, Alistair, Wavesun, and the other fighters.
Beckoning for them to follow, Halfthur led them down the tunnel, where they emerged into a large, well decorated room. Couches were everywhere, providing comfortable seating to watch the enormous projection on the wall, which was currently showing the empty stage in the middle of the arena.
“This is the participant lounge. While you’re not fighting, feel free to relax in here. There are servers on hand to provide you with food or drink, though I don’t recommend overindulging - it would be terrible to lose after you’ve come this far just because you stuffed yourself right before the fight,” Halfthur said, causing a wave of laughter to sweep through the room.
As Halfthur spoke, the projection on the wall suddenly blurred, the stage disappearing as a bracket appeared. Seeing this, Halfthur smiled. “Here’s the tournament bracket. We’ll be conducting fights in order from left to right along the bottom. As such, could I get Gorin Greatarm and Mary Cloudsov to accompany me to the stage for the first fight?” said Halfthur, pointing to an enormous, giant of a fighter with a thick beard, and a petite woman with long black hair.
Seeing the two step forward, Halfthur nodded, pointing towards two more fighters, “Hydrus Mortang and Tanix Reveil, you two are on deck so be ready.”
Turning to look at the two fighters up next, Eric was surprised to see that he recognized one of the fighters: it was the tall man from Doreen’s leather shop. Looking up, he caught Eric’s eye and smiled, making his way over to where Eric was standing, accompanied by two other men.