The Tournament - Round 2

"What were you thinking, trying to absorb that many magical particles?"

"What else was I supposed to do? Just stand there and let the fireball hit me?" Manyu retaliated, "Being a Demon King doesn't immunise me against being incinerated, Dorma. Plus, it made for a wonderful spectacle. Isn't that what this is all about?"

"You can put yourself in harm's way if it pleases you." Dorma replied, "I was only wondering what possessed you to do it."

"It was obvious from the very beginning that I was going to win. But a quick fight isn't what these people paid to see. Unfortunately, sorcerers are incapable of tolerating a battle any longer than they need to."

"Aren't you going to see to your wounds? You look like an eggplant with those bruises."

"Thank you for the compliment. And yes, I'll be seeing the priests as soon as they're finished rousing Yula from her slumber."

Dorma tilted her head, "You didn't kill her?"

"What would have been the point?"

"You just don't strike me as the type to care."

"Don't fool yourself into thinking that I stunned her out of the goodness of my heart. It's simply less trouble in the long run if I don't go around murdering whoever I please." Manyu paused, "-Don't you have a show to be catching?"

"In a moment. I just wanted to ask you one more thing." Dorma began, "What do you know about this 'Witilla' participating in our league?"

"What makes you think I know anything?"

"I haven't seen head nor tail of the girl since this tournament began, nor has the name ever graced the ears of anyone else I've spoken to." Dorma crossed her arms, "I don't mean to sound arrogant, but there are few others in the world who can match up to us. She must be a formidable warrior."

"And? Do you believe she's part of some wicked plan to assassinate Barion?"

"Would you think me a fool for assuming that much?"

"Hm. No." He considered her words, "It may be that her true identity is Lilith."

"Ah. I didn't want to bother you with pointless speculation, but it seems we've arrived at the same conclusion." She smiled, "I would expect nothing less from a Demon capable of changing its form so convincingly."

"I suppose it is about that time…." Manyu responded, "If I remember correctly, you defeated her in Anjima 500 years ago, correct?"

"Is she the same person as before?"

"Presumably." He answered, "Unlike her brethren, I didn't quite detest Lilith. With her aid, I had at least some control over the Demonic hordes. And it was pleasant having someone to speak to during my isolation."

"Becoming a little nostalgic, are we?"

"No doubt her plans remain the same as before. If she intends to impede our ongoing research into Black Luna, then she's as much my enemy as she is yours."

"Well, we'll see…" Dorma tempered her expectations, "Goddess willing, she's just another participant. Perhaps even a potential ally."

"If only things were always so simple."

"Wouldn't you be able to tell if she was a Demon? By speaking to her, for example?"

"If I had the slightest idea of where she was, certainly." He replied, "As I just said, very rarely are things so straightforward."

"I think I may give the next match a miss after all." She resolved, "The thought of it has me worrying that we may have left ourselves too vulnerable by starting this tournament."

"Very well. I doubt Shilahi is going to waste as much time as I did."

"Make sure to have those bruises looked at."

"What are you, my mother? Unlike a certain someone, I have no taste for being coddled like a babe."

-Is what he said, but in truth, Manyu was in a great deal of pain. As the two of them parted ways, they became lost in the crowd of fighters amassing within the room. The next bout--between Lotte and Shilahi, wouldn't occur for another hour still. In the meantime, the arena's spectators would be placated with smaller skirmishers participating in a bracket of their own.

Shilahi, who had entered the pits just moments prior, quickly set about making sure all was in order for her upcoming battle. As she examined her spear in a quieter corner of the room, a featureless shadow moved across the ground towards her, melding into a humanoid shape with empty, yellow eyes.

"Hello, Lady Shilahi." Fusala greeted properly.

"Oh, Fusala…" The Hermit muttered, "Please, call me anything but that. Being treated like a noble makes me want to gag."

"My apologies."

"We didn't speak much on our expedition to the Steppe, so consider this our first meeting." She continued, "Barion speaks very highly of you. Many moons have passed since his journey to Yamora's abode. I'm told the woman had a wicked tongue. It's pleasing to see that her daughter is more well-mannered."

"You did not meet my mother?"

"No. I believe that was almost a full year before I joined Barion and Dorma. At that point, I was still the only sailor in Fleecia who dared to cross Onaffor-Hen with Leviathan drowning every ship that dared enter its domain." Shilahi reminisced, "-But that was all so very long ago. I'm interested in seeing for myself how an alchemist does battle."

"Thank you for including me in the tournament." Fusala replied dryly, "I must confess that I have never heard of my opponent before, however."

"Ah, of course… Witilla. Nor have I." She admitted, "Never a dull moment in this place. To think a warrior of such repute has existed beneath our noses this entire time…"

"I believe you are being sarcastic."

"Hm. To call her inclusion 'suspicious' would be an understatement. I have lived for long enough to know that a warrior cares for their reputation before anything else. The situation reeks of something foul."

"Do you believe I am in danger?"

"You're in a tournament where even the most violent death will grant you nothing but rolling eyes from the crowd. But the girl cannot remain hidden forever. She will be attending your battle, presumably, so do try to get a bead on her."

"Understood."

"Now, if you will excuse me." She parted, "I have a bout of my own to be attending."

…

..

.

Shilahi's crimson cloak billowed in the sparse winds of the arena floor. Onda who had made the journey to witness her brilliance and those who were fortunate enough to find themselves in the city by circumstance cheered with frenzied voices as she made her appearance. The slayer of Leviathan herself had cultivated a reputation rivalling that of Dorma in the short time she had been reunited with the greater world. The rusted blue head of her spear flashed with a wicked glow.

Opposed to her, Sir Lotte was the most powerful sorcerer in Gria below Dorma. Having emerged from his studies as a young lad with an abnormal aptitude for manipulating magical particles, he quickly rose through the ranks of Gria's council to the position of King Granda's personal advisor--the youngest man in history to accomplish such a feat.

Honourably--or perhaps foolishly, he hadn't copied Yula's strategy of inscribing a magic circle before the match began, leaving him with nothing but the raw focusing power of his staff.

"To think I would one day be facing down a Hero…" He muttered, "If you don't mind, Lady Shilahi, I'd like to get this over with as quickly as possible. There's still plenty of research to be done back at the castle."

"I assume you've never faced an Onda before." She answered, "To toy with one's prey is an act of grave pride. Don't think for a moment that I'll be coming at you with anything short of my absolute best."

"Only promise that you won't leave me with too many scars."

His words were from the perspective of one who had already resigned himself to defeat. Lotte was a powerful spellcaster, to be sure, but the arena's confines left him less room to manoeuvre than he would have preferred, and Shilahi was perhaps the most competent fighter in the city.

Before he could begin to construct a strategy, the trumpets were sounded.

Immediately, the girl was upon him, sprinting across the arena floor with terrifying speed, levying her spear as if to run him through with a single motion. Abridging his incantation as much as possible, Lotte was only barely able to conjure a barrier in time to block the attack, instinctively retracting his gaze as the speartip burrowed into the concentration of magical particles with a seething sound.

Knowing full-well it wouldn't hold, he stepped to the side just as Shilahi pushed through the last of its resistance, returning to a fighting stance instantly when it became apparent that she hadn't found her mark. Lotte's mind continued to race with possibilities, his whispers already calling for the next miracle. Pointing his staff forward, a design of interlocking sigils appeared in the air--a ward designed to impair, rather than harm.

It was a spell of his own design. A trap created with paralysing foes in mind. Slayer of Leviathan or no, leaving oneself open to a barrage of magic was a poor decision indeed. Shilahi understood this, and immediately moved to approach Lotte from the side, rather than charging straight through his sigil, but the young sorcerer could just as easily retreat to the other side, using the crucial few seconds he had bought for himself to begin yet another incantation.

It was a cowardly way to fight, but such was a spellcaster's way. One lifetime was simply not enough to master both swordsmanship and spellcraft. Touching the staff's crystal to his chest, ethereal plates of cerulean metal manifested upon Lotte's body. So-called 'mage armour' would at least guarantee him some leeway when in close proximity to Shilahi.

Thoroughly bored by the prospect of chasing the lad around an idling sigil, Shilahi came to a stop just as the two finished rounding the ward for a second time, taking her spear in one hand before plunging it into the earth, sending waves of crackling sparks out from its entry point.

"Magic!?" Lotte exclaimed, "Is that Leviathan's power!?"

There was no helping it--he was forced to retreat from the safety of his ward to avoid the encroaching hazard, already beginning the incantation to spawn another. But that moment of weakness had been exactly what Shilahi was expecting. With vicious speed, she closed the gap between them, tactfully spinning her spear around in a dextrous display before sending the iron hilt of its length straight into Lotte's chest, eliciting a groan of pain from the poor sorcerer as the strike thoroughly winded him.

"Ah…" Loosing a cough, he fell to one knee, grasping at the spot where his ribs had been splintered, "Alright… I yield. No more of that…"

"Giving up already?" Shilahi sounded genuinely disappointed, "I barely touched you. Be a man about it. These people came all this way to enjoy a show, and you're yielding after the first strike?"

"Yes, well… some of us were never destined for the arena…"

"Did you enjoy my trick?" She asked, "Naturally, a spear tipped with the frozen blood of a Heavenly King is far from a mere length of metal."

"The impli… oh, I think you broke something…" He winced, "The implications of this are fascinating… if a spatter of blood can accomplish such feats, what else could be replicated?"

"A shame Leviathan rests at the bottom of the ocean." The girl had to lean down in order to offer her hand.

"Leviathan, certainly. But what of Tiamat?" Yanking himself up with a pained expression, Lotte nonetheless continued his line of thought, "Her body should still be somewhere in Branda. If we could obtain a sample of her flesh…"

The trumpets sounded once more, signalling that the match had come to an end. Though rather anticlimactic, plenty of cheers were heard from the stands. Even a mere glimpse of Shilahi's strength had sent the Onda viewership into a frenzy.

"Well, broken ribs aside, you've given me something quite interesting to think about." Lotte stated optimistically, "Thank you, Lady Shilahi."

"Hm." She huffed disappointingly, "Hopefully my next battle will be more invigorating."