45th of Season of Air, 80th year of the 32nd cycle

  Newt’s taunt worked. The wielder of the slender sword lashed out. Newt thrust his glaive towards the center of their chest, but they sidestepped. With a twist of his wrist, Newt turned the blade and slashed towards the charging silhouette while stepping back.

  They did not block as Newt had expected. Their body bent at an impossible angle, and the blade swept above them so fast Newt failed to change its direction again. They were within his reach, their sword stabbing towards his heart.

  He kicked and leaned back. The shadow allowed his kick to land, swiping their sword down, flowing from stab to a slash with ease, but then made a mistake. The shadow had underestimated Newt’s physical strength. Newt’s foot landed first. He hit their abdomen, the shield wetting his foot, and the shadow flew straight up towards the ceiling.

  They twisted mid-air, but still slammed against the white bone of the ceiling. Newt ran for them as they fell, sweeping his glaive to cut them in half, but a black tendril struck his spear. It tugged at his spear, hardly moving it, then the flowing black tendril became solid, and Newt’s opponent used it the spring away from him.

  Newt smiled. His opponent had used their mana twice, while he had used no techniques at all. I will drain them slowly, make them use up all of their mana and then capitalize on my physical advantage.

  Newt stayed true to his plan, fighting conservatively, while he failed the attack, but drew the opponent into his pace.

  ***

  Maelstrom was furious. She had less than a tenth of her mana remaining. Her group had eliminated the Firesahuns by the skin of their teeth. Then, she alone lost her battle, and she was exhausted.

  Is there a lower floor? She wondered as she faced the black spearman. I should conserve strength if there is, but I should go all out if there isn’t.

  She regarded the spearman, who just stood there, waiting for her to make a move. His technique was poor. He was a long way away from mastering his weapon, but he was strong, and good enough to use his body to make up for the lack of skill. Probably less than two years of dedicated training with the weapon.

  The problem was he was rated black. Like her, like all the other forty-year-olds from the royal families, like Firesahuns’ Granite the Bonebreaker, whom she had defeated after exhausting herself.

  “Pumpkin, is that you?” she muttered, but her opponent remained silent. The secret realm prevented any form of communication between teams to prevent cheating and bribery.

  The black silhouette had the same general body-shape. Frail, stick-like arms, a messy bun, and a thin face. But if her opponent really was Pumpkin, his looks deceived to the extreme. He hit like a drunken trihorn.

  “Come on, you have double fire and earth affinities, show me some sign of your skills, Pumpkin,” she muttered, then lunged at him again, thinking how she would have defeated him in five moves, if only she had all of her mana at her disposal.

  The silhouette jerked back, signaling the diagonal sweep. He was fast, faster than Maelstrom, despite her body tempering. She had to give him that much credit, but revealing his attacks the way he did removed the speed advantage. As for physical strength, Maelstrom could not and did not try to contend after her first attempt.

  She was freakishly strong, enhanced by potions and tonics she had started drinking even before she started drawing mana some thirty years ago, and yet she was like a child before him.

  “Your tactic is obvious, Pumpkin,” she muttered. “You want to exhaust me and finish me off in a purely physical contest. Are you doing this because your reserve is full or empty? How many royals and dukes have you fought so far? Two? Or are we the first? No, no, you don’t have to speak. I’m guessing I’m your first? Right?”

  Maelstrom smirked. She guessed her opponent would watch the recording of the battle, and, assuming she really was fighting Pumpkin, she wanted him embarrassed.

  She had a great time last night teasing the young man. She never would have guessed he would receive a black rating of all people.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  How did he do it? With hardly any skill with his weapon, and techniques which are probably just as poor as his weapon skill, yet he still scored black. I mean, sure, his body is freakishly strong, but it can’t be just that.

  Pumpkin got bored of waiting and started attacking. His spear flashed forth, striking like a viper, but Maelstrom blocked and backed away with practiced ease. Suddenly, her vision turned white; a horrible explosion deafened her. She stood there, frozen. Light pressure tapped against her chest, then the world once more had color, and she stood surrounded by her teammates, which had fallen in the previous battles.

  “Your Royal Highness,” Brightflowers said, her voice laden with sorrow. “Are we getting eliminated?”

  Maelstrom shrugged. “It seems there will be one more round for us, possibly more.”

  ***

  Newt made a frustrated snort. In the end, his opponent’s skill forced him to resort to spells again. Coupled with reinforcing his body with mana, he had wasted around three percent of his mana on them.

  He eliminated the two remaining reds with minor expenditure of mana, but learned from the experience. Each of the reds outclassed him in weapon skills. With neither side using their techniques, Newt should have dominated, and yet he merely won after lengthy exchanges.

  “Good job, Senior!”

  Newt shook his head at Redleaf. “I need to dedicate a year or two to mastering the glaive as soon as I reach the fifth realm. My skills are horrible.”

  He could still see how the black silhouette just flowed around his attacks. The only reason I’m winning is Confuse Senses and the fact that mindcores don’t work.

  The group continued in silence towards their next opponents.

  ***

  “Dandelion, the champion of the elimination rounds, is doing remarkably well, but what will he do about the Diamondsoul, the royal family focused on production of talismans, spell seals, and enchanted weapons?” Hardy’s voice still irked Woodhopper.

  The main broadcast had changed focus in the middle of Newt’s fight with Maelstrom. She monitored Newt’s battle with mana sense while nine youths entered the battle-room within which Dandelion awaited, leaning on his staff, holding a carefully schooled neutral expression.

  A full group this late in the tournament was impossible, but the Diamondsouls and their retainers held themselves remarkably well. Even the weakest members of the team punched above their weight, relying on spell seals, which only needed additional power against exceptional or skilled opponents.

  A youth walked towards the center, where Dandelion stood, to prove he wasn’t meditating. Woodhopper had to admit, the man’s skill and staying power were impressive. He defeated a pair of enemies, black rated mageknights more often than not, in two to three exchanges, and right from the start, all his opponents seemed to have at least one black rated combatant, as if the realm was forcing him down the toughest path possible.

  Maelstrom on a different broadcast called Newt pumpkin, and it annoyed Woodhopper to no end. Everyone in the tavern laughed at him, but they stopped laughing when he pierced her heart.

  Good riddance.

  On another broadcast, the voice of the grandmaster who had created the challenge called for a start and Dandelion charged forth. When fighting a seal scribe, everyone knew the first priority was to take them out as soon as possible, if they set up a spell seal, the battle was as good as over.

  The simple contest of speed is how others had culled the Diamondsoul group’s numbers. Not Dandelion.

  The Diamondsoul kingdom’s contestant infused the spell seal flags with mana, and threw them, guiding them to make a spell seal. Dandelion changed direction. In a sudden burst of fire, he stood before a flag flying through the air. He swung his staff, shattering the enchanted wood.

  The other flags landed into position and did nothing.

  “What a counter!” Sleek roared over the broadcast as half the tavern applauded. “How skilled do you have to be to do something like that?”

  Very. Woodhopper considered the implications. Dandelion knew which spell seal his opponent would use and where they would place the flags all based on a flick of a wrist. The amount of information he needed to process was immense, the clues almost nonexistent.

  “I don’t know who could do this? He has to be a grandmaster scribe—” Hardy stammered. “Wait, we just got confirmation from the scribes’ guild that Dandelion is a grandmaster, an honorary exalt, in fact, since his realm is too low for the real title.”

  Hardy went silent, and Sleek picked up where he stopped.

  “And Softline Diamondsoul’s moment of stunned silence cost him the victory.” The man said as Dandelion smashed Softline’s head with his staff.

  The other students stared in confusion, and Sleek spoke jokingly, trying to ease the awkward moment. “If Dandelion is a member of any other guilds, let us know, I bet a lot of people are interested in—”

  “He’s an honorary exalt of the blacksmiths’ guild.” Hardy gulped, then started laughing heartily. “Every guild is sending us information that he is an honorary exalt, which is complete nonsense, the man is not even a hundred years old, ninety-seven based on his registration information. Look, the herbalists even sent a message claiming he is a full exalt and an honorary saint in their association, since realm doesn’t matter as much for herbalists. Maybe they all just wanted a piece of the action after seeing his performance—”

  Hardy’s voice was suddenly cut silent, replaced by a formal, mellow voice.

  “The Fleeting Dream Association deeply apologies to all the guilds for our former member’s careless remarks. Sleek Jade will continue the broadcast alone until his new partner arrives. If you don’t mind, Sleek, the next duel is about to start.”

  The man’s threat was undisguised, and the whole tavern would have laughed, if not for the revelation of Dandelion’s associations and titles.