Sixth Realm

by Michael Chatfield

  Even Elder Mendes scoffed at the actions of the guild, sitting back to enjoy a good show.

  “Do they not care for face, accepting their position at the bottom of the boxes without complaint?” someone said in the crowd.

  “What do you expect, they are just a guild, while the Willful Institute is a group that has connections to the higher realms. There are rumors that they even have students that have reached into the Seventh Realm.”

  “It seems that they are finally realizing what kind of power they have slapped. It is too late for them to do anything but accept their fates.”

  “It is a shame that they were too bold and spat in the face of the Institute. I was thinking of joining them at one time.”

  Mendes let people talk and grow in their comments on the Adventurer's Guild’s fate.

  He indicated to the referee that was standing at the main stage to continue.

  “Thank you everyone for coming. On one side we have your Willful Institute's ten competitors!” The crowd roared and cheered as the referee raised his arm toward the Institute’s people who bowed as one to the crowd.

  Then the Referee’s face turned sour.

  “On the other side we have the guild of Adventurers,” he looked at the guild leader.

  “I must ask you to show that you have the resources placed on this match.”

  He wasn’t showing any face to the guild.

  One stepped forward and flicked something that shone at the referee.

  The referee grunted as the object impacted them and they took a half step backward to catch the object.

  Mendes’ eyes thinned, looking down at the group.

  “Make note of that one, we’ll have to make an example of them after this is all concluded.”

  His voice was quiet but it carried through the booth, the Elders nodding, their expressions cold toward the guild.

  “Assaulting the referee will lead to a loss,” the referee said in a cold voice.

  “Sorry guild leader, I guess I should have used a twentieth of my strength, a tenth was too much,” the man lamented to the leader.

  He smirked and rolled his eyes.

  “Try not to break too much, the buildings around here are weak enough that leaning on them might make them fall. Their foundations are so corrupted.”

  Mendes felt an itch, an old forgotten instinct that had regressed into the back of his mind. He ignored it.

  “I would ask, your Institute has our resources right?” the guild leader’s eyes moved to the referee.

  “You are too arrogant,” the referee said. “Of course our guild has the required resources!”

  With a flourish a box’s curtains were opened and inside one could see a mountain of resources.”

  “Good,” the guild leader sat back. “Shall we begin?”

  “I must make sure of your own wager,” the referee didn’t even look in the ring and waved it, emptying it, wanting to show the lack of wealth to the people in the arena.

  Pill bottles, potions, ingredients and mana stones dropped to the ground.

  A wave of refined mana passed over the arena, the pile was a fifth the size of the pile in the box.

  A hush fell over the arena, as the face slapping that was expected was reversed.

  “Why is it that I feel the items the guild brought are more powerful than the ones supplied by the Institute?”

  “Quiet, do you want to lose your head?”

  “The items that the Institute brought are many, but the Guild brought refined potions, pills and powders, they’re much more effective and their value is higher.”

  “Those Mana stones, are they from the Earth Realm?”

  “That can’t be, you can only get those in the Fourth Realm and higher.”

  Mendes had seen Earth mana stones before, they were a resource that he had used himself to increase his cultivation. Seeing the resources that were casually dropped on the ground, he wanted to hit the stunned referee who had wanted to show off the difference between the groups, He had, but not in a way that he or anyone else had been expecting.

  Mendes himself wanted those resources, being from the Third Ream he and the others had a faint idea of the power of the different concoctions.

  They must’ve brought their guild’s wealth. If we can take this then we will have three times the resources that we would be usually given in a year.

  “Make sure that there are no issues,” He said to one of his aides. “Have our elites ready incase we need to make a substitution. They might have hired others to fight for them.”

  “Yes, Grand Elder Mendes,” they moved off to the side, passing the message on.

  “Good enough?” the Guild leader’s voice seemed amused, there was a small smile on his face, making Mendes grip his fists together in anger.

  “I think it will suffice,” the referee said; moving the materials back into the storage ring with a swipe of his hand. And then placed the storage ring on an altar next to the stage.

  Mendes looked over to the people in black cloaks that were to represent the guild.

  “We will start with the first fight!” the referee said, standing back on the stage.

  “Isn’t that the Storm witch?” someone said as the first person from the Institute stepped up and the first person wearing a black cloak.

  “She is one of the younger students but she has already shown promise. Her temper is something to behold, if there is anyone that challenges her, or she thinks is slighting her, she will go all out to destroy them.”

  “Maybe the guild has brought a hidden expert?”

  The two reached the top of the stage, looking at one another.

  “You will need to remove your cloak,” the referee said.

  The person pulled their cloak into their storage ring, revealing a man wearing a sword on his hip.

  “A knight, their fate is too bad, the storm witch has a high agility and is able to double cast spells. They won’t be able to even get close to her.”

  “Why do I feel like they are a beast in human form? Isn’t that just one of the people from the guild? I think that I have seen them before.”

  “Yeah, that is one of the guild’s group leaders, they take on a lot of trader protection details.”

  “Being a caravan guard he has good fighting experience but his cultivation will be nothing compared to the Storm witch who has the support of the Institute.”

  “Alright, let the fight begin!”

  the referee said.

  There was a shift of air on the stage, the storm witch gathering her power.

  Then there was a crunching noise and a scream, before something hit a solid object and the screaming person was silenced.

  People’s eyes adjusted. To a new scene.

  The guild member was holding his hand and looked meekly at the guild leader who had a suffering look on his face.

  “I am sorry guild leader,” he bowed as people’s eyes moved to where the noise had ended.

  The Storm witch had been struck, flying off the stage and hitting the wall.

  Mendes felt a chill run through him.

  Was that a combat technique? No, it can’t be for someone at such a low level, only geniuses are able to understand those and there is no way that a guild would pass those things around freely to the lower ranks, they are trump cards for their strongest fighters. It has to be something that they are using, maybe they are using something to hide the appearance of the fighter?

  “Make sure that it is really a person from the guild,” He hissed, feeling like they had already been too many surprises for the day.

  “We will need to confirm your identity,” the referee said.

  “Confirm my identity?” The man was already leaving the stage, it was clear who had won as people were feeding the Storm Witch concoctions to help her recover.

  “I am Lennaert Breukink, level Twenty-six member of the Adventurer's Guild, I swear on the Ten Realms.”

  Light descended around him and nothing happ
ened as he stared at the judge.

  “That should be all,” The referee said, looking haggard.

  “They are even a lower level? How is this possible? Only someone that is a higher level should overwhelm the storm witch, right?”

  “I thought that they were the weaker group?”

  “Did you hear about what happened at the gate, that there was one man who was able to bend the pauldrons of the gate guard’s armor with just his strength.”

  “How strong must they be, do you think that they have reached Body like Stone?”

  “It could be Iron?”

  “There is no way, there are people in the Sixth Realm and Seventh that are unable to reach that level of body cultivation. The cost in resources is high and it is many times more painful that it would be to increase your mana cultivation.”

  The second fight started, it was an archer on the side of the Institute and a sword user on the guild’s side.

  The fight started, the archer got off one arrow that the swordsman cut down with their blade, showing an incredible agility speed.

  They hit the archer with the flat of their blade, but the referee didn’t call out the loss as the archer got distance and prepared to fire again.

  The swordsman glowed green their attack made the air shift around their blade, they hit the archer with the side of their blade and pushed them back. The archer’s hair was thrown to the side with the breeze and they yelled out as there was a crunch from their arm.

  Their arrow dropped to the ground as the swordsman looked at the referee.

  They didn’t step forward an awkward look on his face.

  The swordsman frowned and ran towards the pale Archer who switched out her bow for a blade.

  The swordsman stepped past her, punching the archer in the back with a free hand, then didn’t call it again.

  Then, like a machine the swordsman, dodged around the woman and started hitting her from all sides. There was a cruel look on the swordsman’s face.

  He hit her knee cap from the side, buckling her knee and then let out a vicious kick that struck the archer in the head, sending them rolling and leaving them sprawling on the ground.

  “What are you doing!” the referee said in alarm.

  “I thought you were telling me they could take more hits,” the swordsman put his sword away. “Should’ve just fought with my legs, might’ve killed something so weak with my sword.”

  “Excessive use of force!” the referee said “You’re disqualified!”

  “Disqualified, he was the clear winner, what is this, a contest of a fraud?” People started to complain in the stands.

  The third fight ended in just three moves with the Institute’s member laying on the ground with a broken nose.

  The fourth fight went the same way before there was a change along the sidelines of the arena's floor.

  A group of five people stepped out of the tunnel and five of the Institute's fighters left.

  “What is happening?” the Guild leader asked, his voice booming through the arena.

  “Those people were placeholders, the real combatants were preparing,” the referee said.

  “The Willful Institute, a bunch of con artists and fools.”

  “Watch your tone!” an Elder warned.

  The guild leader chuckled and didn’t even look at the Elder, completely relaxed as the group around him bristled.

  The fifth fight was the same as the first four.

  “That is the young mistress blue, it is rumored that she will soon reach the Fourth Realm because of her own power!”

  The woman stepped onto the stage from the Institute’s side, she was wearing a blue set of armor and held a spear.

  Her opponent was an assassin.

  “Are they too confident, they haven’t tried to change their fighters or their line up?” one of the Elders said.

  “Silence,” Grand Elder Mendes said, to get the resources on the altar he had already thrown away a part of his face that will be hard to recover. There would be people bringing it up for years to come, if others in the Institute learned then it could severely affect his standing. Though all of that would be forgotten with the powerful members he could raise out of the resources earned.

  The two combatants took their positions.

  Mistress Blue drew on her power, making the air stir around her as a faint blue glow covered her body and her spear.

  “She is really going all out, starting to use one of her half-learned combat techniques to start. They don’t stand a chance!”

  The referee started the round with a wave of his hand.

  Mistress blue charged forward, her spear shot out like a snake.

  The assassin shed their cloak and threw it. Mistress Blue’s spear hit the cloak and punched through it, it blocked her sight, the assassin turned their body along Mistress Blue’s spear shaft.

  As Mistress Blue caught sight of them, they were within arm’s reach.

  She tried to jump away but the assassin’s hand was clamped onto her arm and flowed with her, circling around to her back.

  Mistress Blue stilled as the assassin’s left blade was against her neck his right blade against her ribs.

  Mendes grit his teeth, the enemy had played him along. Mistress Blue had been raised without any issues, but she was someone that had been raised within the institute, the assassin from their use of environment they were no orchid in a greenhouse, they had been through life and death battles. They were a veteran fighter.

  Skill and power had been on the side of the Willful Institute but suddenly their opponents had increased in power, with their power on the same level it was clear that the Adventurer's Guild Skill wasn’t lacking.

  We have to win the next fight and the next four after to at least get a tie, or else we will not only lose our face we will lose the resources needed to raise our students.

  “You have pushed me this far so don’t blame me for being ruthless,” a cold light shone in his eye as he called over his aide, passing a few quiet words to them.

  Their expression turned colder with each word.

  Once Mendes was finished they bowed and left the box to carry out his orders.

  ***

  Blaze watched the fights, he nodded to the different fighters as they stepped down from the stage.

  He didn’t care about where his seats were, he didn’t care if people looked down on him. He had been looked down on before. He silently smiled looking around, wondering what expressions people would show if they knew the truth.

  He coughed to himself, trying to hide his amusement. He had a great confidence in Alva, Erik and Rugrat had shown again that one should play the pig or dog. To have others underestimate, then at the time of their choosing, when the odds were in their favor, that, that was when they struck.

  Mistress Blue had murder in her eyes as she looked at the back of the assassin, turning and strutting away.

  Blaze’s expression was remorseful.

  Arrogance is the greatest weapon we can use against our enemy. Thinking that we should just roll over and open our necks for them. Are we not people as well?

  “Seems that our hosts are anxious,” Derrick said in a low voice, using his communication device so others couldn’t hear them.

  “Are they moving?” Blaze asked, trying to not look up at the booth of Willful Institute Elders.

  “They are,” Derrick said.

  Blaze sat there, watching a swordsman step up from the Willful Institute. The man had a proud and arrogant air, even with all the defeats before, he looked down on the Adventurer's Guild.

  Sok Young-Min stepped up on the side of the Guild. There were faint streamers of white behind him.

  He reached the stage and he took off his cloak.

  He was wearing the complete Ice Knight Set, a chilling air surrounded it, cold white wisps of air flowed around his body.

  His opponent stared at him.

  The referee stepped forward.

  The two swordsmen drew
their weapons and prepared themselves for the coming fight.

  Sok Young-Min lowered himself, his eyes locked on the other swordsman.

  “Begin!”

  The Willful Institute swordsman threw his hand forward, a purple and pink powder shot out in a stream, hitting Sok Young-Min.

  “Poison,” Derrick hissed.

  In competitions poison would only be used in life and death duels, it was rare to be seen in smaller competitions.

  “Using poison right away. I have heard that young master Ilwu is highly competent with poisons, but isn’t this too much?”

  “Truly the Willful Institute doesn’t care about their face. Shameless to the extreme!”

  “They have the power the Adventurer's Guild might have some powerful people but how can a small guild compared to the entire Willful Institute, see how they haven’t raised any objections if they did then it would allow the Willful Institute to strike out at them.”

  “I have seen the truth. The Willful Institute is a group of black-hearted cheats. Even the referee is on their side. See how he isn’t covering his face, they must’ve given him the antidote ahead of time.”

  Sok Young-Min didn’t turn away from the poison instead he ran forward, he deflected his prey’s slash, they frowned as their blade rand and some frost appeared on their hand.

  The two swordsmen clashed, their blades rang out Sok Young-Min’s opponent started to falter and slow.

  He took an opening and kicked the man’s knee, with a cry they dropped to the ground as Sok Young-Min punched them in the face.

  The man raised his sword to awkwardly defend himself.

  Sok Young-Min hit the man repeatedly but he was like an iron turtle, he was unable to get up but he defended himself well, his speed decreased again and again as more frost could be seen on his body.

  Sok Young-Min staggered and coughed, blood appeared around his helmet as he stared at the referee.

  He stared at Sok Young-Min with vicious eyes.

  “Is he going to wait until Sok Young-Min dies to announce the winner?” Derrick hissed.

  “A poison for a poison,” Blaze’s voice cut through the arena which had grown quiet through the fights, everyone having given up on the farce.

  “A poison for a poison,” Sok Young-Min said and looked to the referee. “This is upon you.”