by Liandra Jake
Arend laughed. "Yeah, but it's expanded a great deal since back then. I've got my own store now."
Tom chuckled. "I know. Your uncle's a little boaster." He pulled out a small box of Korvan. "I've been collecting them from the first few things to use Korvan. They're faded, but still kinda neat." Tom explained.
Arend poked around. "Not that one. It's too pure, but only by a few percentages."
"You sure?" Tom asked; a little disappointed.
"It's a skill I managed to pick up. Want me to take it off your hands?" Arend asked.
"Yeah, sure." Tom replied half-heartily.
Arend left a few Ere on the counter as he left with Corenden. "See ya later!" Arend called.
Corenden was about to ask what the Korvan did when Arend popped it into his mouth and began to chew. "What are you doing?" Corenden asked, remembering him doing that with the cracked Sereph Korvan.
"Enjoying a snack." Arend replied.
"Why not buy some Orenth fruit or something? Why eat a Korvan?" Corenden asked.
"Orenth fruit is nice and all, but Korvan are more interesting to eat and are more easily digested." Arend replied. "So what's with the book?"
Corenden glanced at the cardboard book in his hands. "Berry grew up with one just like this. Before she lost it, her mother would read it to her every night."
Arend smiled. "Maybe you should buy some wrapping paper?"
Corenden shrugged. "I'd rather go home and buy it later." He replied as he pulled out his phone.
Berry answered immediately. "NO. I don't want you back until the sun goes down. I you're done shopping, there's a tournament starting later today. Your friend Kyrel is participating."
Corenden groaned as he shut his phone. Arend poked his side. "She sounds like she wants you to have a full day of fun. We can check the tournament out after I'm done shopping. We should be good for a few hours. They don't start early in the morning." Corenden didn't say anything as he drifted behind Arend, barely aware of what he was buying from the stores he visited.
A Korvan scanner for his uncle, a set of large brushes for King, Fanscaro's newest book on Monsters for Kronth, and gifts for Iode's little clan: matching silver and cobalt ribbons for 'Ro and Rose, and ties for Iode, Mar and Mysh. A metallic black for Iode, a dark blue for Mar, and a metallic blue for Mysh.
"You just want to see them in ties don't you?" Corenden asked after Arend bought the three ties.
"Don't you?" Arend replied.
[X]
The High-Soar tournament was a Joint-Title tournament that always had a High vs. Soar showdown as the last fight. One of the restrictions was the primary use of Air, and naturally, to have a Title that included High or Soar in the name. And as Arend and Corenden found out, Kyrel wasn't participation directly as he was the reigning champion and would fight to keep that title.
They bought two lower-box seats and sat off to the side away from the others sharing the box. As the announcer was hyping up the crowd, Arend was showing Corenden how to effectively bet on who wins with the help of a small tablet.
"It has nothing to do with the simplified stats they throw out to make it easier to understand, experience of both the fighters and his equipment is important."
Arend poked one of the participants who was using a Korvan-powered crossbow. "What's wrong with this guy?" Arend asked.
Corenden stared at the tablet and poked the screen. "His weapon is largely unused." Corenden replied.
Arend nodded. "He may be a good shot, but if he's modified it without proper testing, it may malfunction in the fight."
"Even though his opponent isn't as experienced, he is more likely to lose" Corenden asked, checking the matching lineup.
"Exactly. But with anything, there's always an exception, so try to limit the bets to 200 Ere." Arend replied.
Corenden nodded. "And use winnings when you've made enough?"
Arend nodded once. "You go it."
The first eight matches went well for Corenden and Arend. Betting 200 Ere every time, they turned 1,600 Ere into 5,000. Because of their successes, the game officials had to switch up the second round to test their luck. Nonetheless, the winning streak didn't stop, adding their total up to 7200 Ere. At that point, the head bookie visited the two.
The box grew quiet as he and a pair of security guards marched towards Arend and Corenden. "Fun's over boys. Are you bribing the competitors?" The bookie asked. Arend simply turned around and flashed a confident smile. The bookie groaned. "Not you again…" He waved at the security guards. "You can go; you aren't needed. This bastard can just read these people like a book." They exchanged confused glances as they slowly walked back out.
"How long have you been doing this Arend?" Corenden asked.
"Since I was sixteen." Arend replied.
"And he's cleaned us out every time. If I recall, the last time you did this you won 160,000 and bought your uncle a new…"
"Korvan Condenser." Arend finished.
"Yeah, but at least this time you aren't betting like you used to."
"And how was that?" Corenden asked.
"All his winnings on the rookies." The bookie replied as he stepped back out.
After a brief intermission, the final four competitors were brought out for a discussion with tall the referees. "There's a lot more than before." Arend remarked.
"That's because of what happened at the Hunter tournament." Corenden replied. The announcer's voice boomed across the stadium.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I have some exciting news. The competitors have learned about a very special member of the audience, and want to forgo the Semi-finals and finals for a battle royale and the chance to exchange a few blows with him. All that's left, is if he' wants to agree to it. So kid, you up to showing them how much stronger you got since the Hunter tournament?"
Corenden and Arend glanced at each other. The bookie poked his head in. "Well, Arend, you forced our hands."
Arend shook his head as he stood up. "Let them know it will have to be 4v1. And to prepare better, more balanced lineups." Arend left his bag and hat with Corenden.
"Good luck Arend!" Corenden called. "These guys won't fool around!"
As soon as Arend' grey hair could be seen, the audience broke into cheers. Arend gave a mock salute to the camera. "By his request, it will instead be a 4v1 fight, with Arend handicapped by a lack of weapon."
There were a few calls of disappointment. Arend waved his hand to silence them as he met the four he would be fighting. He heard Kyrel call out from across the field. "Try not to kill anyone!" Arend offered his hand to each in turn. The announcer called out their names as Arend shook their hands.
"Avía Clark hails from Golden Fogg, and she specializes in air-born maneuvers."
Arend could feel the strength in her grip and her small frame. Avía was purpose built for mid-air acrobatics, with narrow shoulders and a long torso well as a general dexterity about her form. Her clothes were tight, but didn't ride up or show off anything she would be embarrassed of. Arend noticed a few tears in her shorts as he moved on.
"Chen Soo was born far to the East, and moved this way after a few years training in the monks of a difficult-to-find temple in a mountain range. As an independent, he works for Syndicates he trusts."
Chen shook Arend' hand awkwardly and half-bowed. Arend replied by doing a full bow. Chen smiled and returned the gesture. His black hair was in a neat braid that fell down to the middle of his shoulders. His chosen attire was traditional robe of white and blue with a silver dragon embroidered on each sleeve. A pair of simple shoes of the same style could be seen when Arend bowed.
"Manuel Prime is an ace pilot who has already lost to Kyrel in a race last month. A member of Free's Gym, He's well versed in kickboxing, Muay Thai, and boxing."
Manual tried to crush Arend' hand, only succeeding in hurting his own hand. He was shirtless and wore a pair of faded red and blue boxing shorts with its fair share of bloodstains. His feet were bare save for the tourname
nt anklets and wraps around his ankles. His brown hair was cleanly shaved on the sides, with a little bit left on the top of his head. A headband was loosely tied, waiting for the final tug closed.
"Israphel Vouk is a cousin to the BluZephs, and more accurately, Kyrel. His mother is Erasur's sister. He holds no allegiance with any Guild, but has shown skill in Air manipulation."
Israphel didn't shake Arend' hand. He was a few inches taller than Arend and his short black hair was the same messy look Kyrel had. Unlike Chen's robes, Israphel's were a bland shade of brown and modified to have extra pockets on the outside. It fell past his ankles, but Arend could see bare feet when the wind blew.
Arend stepped back and began a few warm ups as the other fur spread out around him. "And now… Arend Myshcell hails from Dragon's Den. He's a specially ranked Double S, renowned for his Korvan skills and his shop, Shifted Tilt, as well as his unusual powers. Hailed as an angel for the miracle he and his inner Pendragon did. Currently dating Kronth Shichland, Dragon's Den's Guildmaster, and is wielder of a next-generation Legendary Weapon. He has defeated the Black Monster and Death's Ring, flown in an airship, liberated a Sereph Fortress, and met a dragon. The question on everyone's mind is this: Can these four handle themselves?"
Arend raised a hand, counting down from five. The crowd joined in on three. "Two! ONE! Let's do this!" The announcer was up out of his seat, cheering with the rest of the crowd as another sinister grin spread onto Arend' face.
Before anyone else could twitch, Arend found a blast of exploding hair headed his way. He dispersed it with a lighting fast punch. Israphel now stepped back, his normally blue eyes burning crimson.
Manuel snuck in from the left, getting in a jab that had enough force to calibrate Arend' Tournament stats. "Holy fucking shit." The announcer went unscolded as he slowly read out the stats. "60,645 Endurance, 673 Attack, and Defense at 2,312." He failed to hide the fear in his voice. Arend frowned and glanced at his armlets. He whistled a ref over.
After a short discussion, the ref gave Arend a weak punch in the shoulder to recalibrate it properly. The announcer was speechless. "I-I-I-it would seem Arend' equipment was a little buggy. His real stats are as follows, and trust me, I can barely believe it. 606,450 Endurance, 6,756 Attack, and 5,620 Defense."
Corenden was laughing like a maniac since he already bet on Arend when the odds were 1:6 before the stat readout, with 8,000 Ere riding the line. Arend simply cracked his knuckles.
"Ladies and gentle men, the other stats added to each other don't scratch this, this, this monster. And remember, this is without the Dragon Drive. Four X Ranked would have a tough time with him like this."
Arend flicked his fingers at his four rattled opponents, asking them to continue. Israphel and Chen combined power to send blinding jet of fire at Arend, who easily side-stepped it. Avía dropped down with a lethal kick that came to a stop in a mass of Stick. Manuel flew through the jet of fire with a surprise punch that made Arend slide back a dozen feet. Arend was then thrown across the field by a blast of rock and air surrounding a flat-headed arrow. Grasping the air with clenched Stick, Arend stopped before hitting the wall. Kyrel glanced over Aero Fìra with a grin.
Arend simply nodded at the announcer. "Seems Arend understands why we included Kyrel in this."
Israphel flashed a look at his cousin before pulling out a silver coated vial. As Kyrel laid down some cover fire, Chen, Manuel, and Avía rushed Arend. Arend easily defended himself, mostly ignoring Kyrel's arrows by deflecting them with Slick. A flash of silver was the only warning as Israphel's vial shattered at Arend's feet.
An explosion of razor sharp steel spikes grew out form the broken vial. Arend acted faster than he thought possible. He spun Manuel around and collected Avía and Chen in a flash of movement no-one could follow. Arend wasn't fast enough to prevent the trio's shields from defaulting, bringing them out of the fight, but he did succeed in preventing their premature death.
Aenfel brought him close to Kyrel and spoke. "That was exceedingly dangerous. In a one-on-one fight, Israphel's attack would be benign, but with Arend and I stirring up the Orenth in these systems, those shards of Metal Orenth would have at least maimed them for life."
"…Aenfel?" Kyrel asked with a confused look at Arend.
"Trust him." Arend replied. "That wasn't fully me acting back there." Arend raised his arm to show Kyrel his wrist. A charred black line was what was left of the bracelet. "We shorted out the system, so it's just you two now; my part's done."
Arend explained this again to the refs and the others who had gathered in the middle of the field. They judged that Arend won a technical victory in that he could have easily destroyed them if he wanted. Corenden was happy to accept the 48,000 Ere in return. Corenden called Berry as Arend hurried back to the box.
"Were you watching the tournament?" Corenden asked.
"No, why? Did someone die?" Berry asked.
"Three people almost did, and Arend was a riot of course." Corenden replied.
"What? Was Arend in it?" Berry asked.
"The semi-finals and finals were scrapped for a chance to fight him. Arend fried his tournament gear when he rescuing the three of them from a forth's attack. Kyrel's currently prepared to face him, who happens to be his cousin." Corenden explained.
"…Maybe I should be watching…" Berry said.
"I'll be headed home when I'm done here. I've made a few bets and need to do some paperwork for the winnings." Corenden said.
"I love you." Berry said happily.
"I love you too."Corenden replied before shutting his phone.
Arend walked into the box to find his seat occupied by a small case of money. Corenden picked it up and placed it under him. "How much?" Arend asked as he sat.
"48 Grand." Corenden replied with a smug grin.
Arend whistled. "Does Berry know?"
"Not yet. She knows I won some, but not just how much." Corenden replied.
"I suggest putting some on Kyrel. Israphel may have a few tricks, but Kyrel has had some intense training. Plus Earth beats Air and Fire." Arend said as he picked up the tablet.
Arend and Corenden both put 2,000 on Kyrel at 1:3. The originally speculated 1:1.5 changed with the fight. "Israphel's show-off of power had shifted the odds." As the announcer put it. Kyrel faced Israphel without Aero Fìra. Arend checked the time on his phone: 2:29pm.
- - - Half Past - - -
They clashed at 2:30, Fire and Earth billowing up in a whirlwind. Israphel barely moved as Kyrel danced around him, trying to break a circle at Israphel's feet. The small ring of crushed Korvan and Mithril prevented Kyrel from knocking Israphel off his feet, and the wizard easily staved him off from his position, controlling wind and fire with a wave of his hand.
As a last-ditch effort, Kyrel pulled power from the Air and Earth, making his own Orenth expand past his body as it combined with the natural Orenth. As always, Israphel's face was unchanged as Kyrel rushed him with air cloaked arms and Earth coated legs. In a simultaneous motion, Kyrel dropped one leg through the wall of fire and air, sinking to his ankle in the earth. His opposing arm pieced the veil and his palm collided with Israphel's raised forearm.
The air snapped as Israphel's whirlwind of flame curled around Kyrel in a brief instant before Kyrel's other leg scattered the ring tripped Israphel off his anchor. Kyrel wasted no time in launching him skyward with a chunk of rock pushed up with a blast of compressed air. Israphel righted himself mid-air, prepping for the landing. Kyrel caught his bottle of crushed Korvan-Mithril mixture with a surprise javelin, making the contents explode in a puff of rainbow smoke.
Israphel rose from his knee and wiped off the dust from his robe. "I can see how you faced Franken without issues. Your control of Orenth is better than my own I many regards." Israphel popped the lid to a canteen and chugged the contents.
"Although you to have quite an advantage as well." Kyrel replied. "The use of Metal and blocking my use of Orenth isn't something to ignore."
Israphel pulled a small, marble-sized object from one of his pockets. Without forewarning, he flicked it from his hand and it collided with the ground where Kyrel had just jumped from. A splash of water cut into the soil before freezing. Kyrel landed as Israphel readied a second shot. The small spiked silver ball arced as it cut Kyrel's cheek as he charged at Israphel. Kyrel veered off as Israphel suddenly produced a grenade and threw it at him, all the while with the same nonchalant face.
The grenade bounced twice and exploded in a shower of light and blades of shadow. Kyrel regarded the blast zone with wide eyes. The light drilled into the soil where it landed, and the darkness cut whatever it touched. Israphel was now juggling a few of the special-made grenades.
"You have to be fucking kidding me." Kyrel groaned.