Disqualified

"How unsurprising. If this were to reach His Majesty's ears, then the Ironhoofs would be done for… or?" Cykrus fell into thought, those that challenged the King's authority, namely the act of harming those that were escorted under his name, should be put to death, beheaded, and displayed for all to see their transgressions, to learn from their mistakes.

Yet he couldn't shrug off this bad feeling… the Ironhoofs had become a major force over the last years, producing one rank two mage after the other, not to mention rank one.

His Majesty seemed intent on pushing the overall strength of humanity along, would he truly sacrifice that, based on the words of a Lord, and whatever this boy in front of him was?

Cykrus shook his head, his enemy was unaware that he had unveiled their assassination attempt, but for now there was nothing he could do without taking risks, he turned around, then eyed the many artefacts that lay before him, their auras ranged from rank one to rank three, "Can I borrow another artefact, and do you have any rank four artefacts?" some sort of insurance for when the competition ended might yet turn the tides in Aventia's favour, so long as it was only rank two mages they were up against.

"No! No! No way! Absolutely not! Never! Not until you return the Aura-Smith first!" the boy quickly refused, not even mentioning the higher-ranked artefacts.

"I gave that one to my disciple and won't get it back for a while, can't you make an exception?"

"No exceptions! Aster taught me that lesson already! But I will accept a trade. I can sense an artefact on you. Give me that one, and I will agree." the boy's words made Cykrus back off, he lowered his head to look downwards.

"I can't. That one is rather important for now." Cykrus placed his hand onto his chest.

"But if I may ask, who or what exactly are you?" he asked.

"I do not have a name to give as my Master never bestowed one upon me, but I am the caretaker of this place. I have served the previous five generations of kings and provided them with artefacts and knowledge of older times, though every such thing was acquired through a fair trade."

"Other families and individuals have also come to make use of my services, but the frequency of visits has greatly declined. The last visitor was the current king, Lysander Van Tale, or at least I think that he is still your ruler, it's not like I can go and check. He brought along another man, who I was tasked with equipping with suitable armour to survive the dangers of another plane." the boy explained.

"So, you are bound to this place?" Cykrus questioned.

"Correct, but everything that I need is in here. I take pride and joy in my collection, enough that it has lasted me this long." the boy gestured around himself.

"Anyways, you mentioned chaos magic, what is that?" Cykrus changed the topic, seeing that the illusory boy would not relent so easily on giving up any artefacts.

"Hmph. I don't remember taking in any students. Why should I be teaching you about such things?" the boy crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"You look like a human, and humans go crazy if they lack social interactions for too long. I was just looking out for you." Cykrus' glib tongue began to do its work, trying to pry into the boy's secrets.

"You are a lot nicer than your ancestor it seems. Fine. I will humour you." the boy gave in.

A dark red rune appeared in the air, replacing the image of the Aura-Smith, unlike regular runes, it held no fixed form, the lines twisted and warped with time, making it completely unpredictable, but oddly pleasant to view, "Chaos magic is my Master's creation, and though I know many things, he never spoke about the secrets of his greatest achievement. From a young age he had little interest in magic pertaining the regular elements, he was gifted, capable of wielding several of them at once, rune crafting became natural for him. Unlike fellow mages of his time, he put no effort into wielding magic, making full use of its potential as it was, but instead he held a vision, something only he could see… he wanted to create his own."

"Admittedly, he wasn't the first to attempt such a feat, many before him had started, and stopped after failing all their life. They left behind their insights, their learnings, and nearly all of them arrived at the same conclusion, the same final hurdle none of them could pass."

"The essence of magic was beyond humanity's grasp, altering it meant altering the nature of this world, and exactly that was a necessity to Master Calamor's breakthrough."

"Hm, perhaps I am overreaching a little bit, you won't understand this yet, but maybe it will benefit you in the future, just repay me by returning with one artefact or the other every once in a while: low ranking magic simply makes use of what it is offered, of natural resources, and those particles you find everywhere… but not every plane is like ours. In his travels, my Master realised that beyond the human plane, there were countless others that differed, some just slightly but others greatly."

"Although there were points of similarity between others, and our own, the fundamentals tended to alter greatly. There even were worlds entirely devoid of life, and of these particles you all require to cast your spells. Master then reached enlightenment. If rank three mages can change their spells, who's to say that even higher ranked mages can't change even more intrinsic parts?"

"That's right, Master altered not just one element, but four, enough to merge them into one. A feat that had been unthinkable up until that point. Along with his passion for craftsmanship, an entirely new element was unleashed upon the world!" the boy spoke with fervour, his eyes had long since lost their focus and looked right through Cykrus, beyond him at the memories buried deep within himself.

Cykrus squinted his eyes, he was scouring through his own memories, but something did not add up correctly, "You say a new element appeared all over the world? Then why have I never seen it? Except for on the Aura-Smith of course."

The boy fell silent, all colour drained from his illusory face, "That cannot be… the only way the circulation of his element could stop would be if something happened to-" the words got stuck in his throat, "You… you said that you had never heard of my Master's name before… 500 years may have passed, but such a feat wouldn't just disappear, much less not even be mentioned in the history of humanity…"

"Forgive me… I-… I must be confusing some sort of information. Am I also starting to deteriorate? Like the Aura-Smith?" a chair appeared behind the boy, which he sat down on shortly after.

"Thank you for sharing these things with me. It looks like you need some time alone. I will return once I have the artefact I owe you." Cykrus turned to leave.

"Wait. Descendant of Aster, what is your name?" the boy raised his head again, calling out with a light note of loneliness.

"My name is Cykrus. Cykrus Aventia."

"…Cykrus? I do hope you will show by once in a while." he lowered his head again.

… …

Sweat ran down Marv's face and back, his cheeks were red from sheer exertion, and each of his breaths caused his ribcage to heave up and down.

His legs moved erratically, he was running, sprinting even, his gaze shot back behind him every few seconds, to make sure that those in his pursuit did not get too close, or give up following him.

Four Treemen, each of them with a massive frame, tall, equipped with four legs and two arms each, were on Marv's tail, surprisingly fast for their size.

Roots twisted all around their bodies, making them look fortified, yet each of them made little sound as their spiky legs hit the ground.

Leaves were plastered on their body, and vines hung down from their heads, they moved like they had a mind of their own.

All of them were of rank one, but Marv wasn't about to risk his life just so he could get a few points on his own.

Running on the slippery roots and mostly uneven ground had proved dangerous at the start, but enough practice and the surge of adrenaline managed to counteract much of that.

Marv finally arrived at a small clearing, a rarity in this swamp-infested plane, he glanced back one more time at his prey, then lifted his head into the air, "Frey!" he called out with a hint of desperation.

The four Treemen crawled onto the clearing, their legs moved like spiders', and once they passed through the centre, the ground began to tremble; several earthen spikes shot out of the ground, blocking the path ahead of them, and soon after all around the four.

The hair-like vines lashed out, striking the spikes.

Though it took several hits to break them, but in the end, they were forced to give way to the massive locals, but none of them moved forward to continue their pursuit, by now their legs had already sunk too deeply into the ground below!

Tiny blood red darts shot at the stationary Treemen from Marv's direction, their impact dealt no visible damage, but after some moments the red liquid formed into the shape of a flower-bud.

Low screeching escaped the Treemen's orifices, their arms scratched their own bodies, clawing and ripping off the buds, some before they managed to bloom, but for others they were too late.

Colour began to drain from their tree bark, their bodies dried, and though they managed to remove several buds from themselves, new ones grew in their place, sapping the locals' life.

Their movement became slower and slower, the green of their vines lost all of its lustre.

The buds blossomed into beautiful red flower-heads.

"Hit them!" Marv shouted as he moved his hand through his sweat-drenched hair, fixing its posture.

Right after his outburst another wave of spikes hit the Treemen, this time targeting their actual bodies instead of their path.

With their legs stuck in the ground, and their armour brittle from the blood-flowers, the spikes effortlessly pierced the Treemen, riddling them with holes and turning them into perfectly sized firewood.

Their eerie green eyes went dark, and Marv slumped to the ground, he finally got to relax, he was thoroughly exhausted from all of the running, and the toll the pursuit took on his mind.

Frey appeared from behind a line of inanimate trees, he carefully eyed the dead Treemen while he approached, still warry of their foes.

"Great job... we are a good team." Marv turned towards him and spoke while wiping his sweat using the sleeve of his clothes.

Frey nodded, he heard Marv, but his focus was elsewhere, "Something on your mind?" his ally inquired.

"We have used this same bait and attack strategy several times now, but we haven't seen any other contestants while we were outside of the camp since the start... I am just worried that they have a better way, or maybe even found something that gives them a significant advantage already." Frey sighed, Marv appeared more and more trustworthy the longer they acted together, he no longer felt as anxious after revealing his thoughts so openly.

Marv got up and patted his shoulder, "The competition won't end anytime soon, don't worry about that for now. You are a smart boy, who knows, maybe you will be the first to discover some piece of information to catapult us ahead."

"And we haven't even seen the current ranking, we might not be as far behind as you are thinking." he added.

"Okay... You are exhausted, let's go back to the camp." Frey sighed, then suggested that they return, picking fights while not at their peak could cause unexpected events to occur, so the two agreed rather quickly to head back to the human settlement.

The watchful eyes of their observers were ever present, they were especially noticeable during fights, both scrutinizing the utilised spells, their strength and effectiveness, as well as the participation during the fights.

Frey and Marv both preferred using a strategy to deal with the locals over a straight up battle using their full force.

Although this allowed them to safe up on energy, they had to invest much more time than with a head-on approach: the scouting of suitable areas for traps, locating targets, luring them, and finally using their separate areas of expertise to make the killing blow.

The way back to the camp caused them some headaches, the trees mostly looked the same, paired with the fog and the still water of the swamp itself there wasn't much to go off of, but the Delightful Death's they left hanging made for a good guiding system, their glow managed to pierce quite a distance into the fog, allowing them to be seen even from afar.

Their colour appeared similar to that of Flyers from further away, but with a careful approach they managed to evade all of them.

Almost an entire day passed since they first entered the Sunless Mire through the portal, but without an actual way to tell time, due to the absence of the sun itself, the participants' bodies had yet to adjust to a new sleeping schedule.

Frey wasn't tired yet, but he felt his muscles become sorer; sleep is a necessity to stay healthy and sane, to stay in peak condition, but there no longer was a real indicator when it should take place.

The closer they got to the border, the clearer this fact became; the fog lessened, and the number of trees on the horizon fell drastically, all the way until they arrived at the open landscape, plastered with rocks, that lead to the camp.

Warriors of the church patrolled the surroundings in intervals, and once they noticed the human figures in the distance, they dropped all hostility and wariness as they approached, "You four are part of the new guys, right? Got anything to report?" one of warriors asked.

Frey and Marv turned around, they hadn't even noticed Marquis Gomon and Winny get this close to them, "Nothing out of the ordinary, just a bunch of Flyers and Treemen less than before." Winny answered in a calm and patient manner, though the members of the church were not their actual superiors, they still had every right to ask for information regarding sudden changes in the plane or behaviour of the locals.

"Heh, good riddance. Noone is going to miss them, it's just a shame that they keep popping back up like they have an infinite supply. Anyways, on you go." the warrior smiled as they continued their round.

Frey and Marv headed for the part of the camp where the competitors' tents had been built.

Among them stood a lone, white obelisk.

The structure itself was a rank one artefact, and upon closer inspection one could see black engravings.

The obelisk held words, names to be precise, of all the competitors and their current ranking.

Frey's eyes were first drawn to the very top, the peak of the ranking: 'Starhelm 1240 points'.

He slowly blinked upon seeing the first place, he had never seen or heard of that family, the value of the points was still foreign to him, all he knew was that this person must be really strong to attain the first place.

"I wonder how many points we are behind him... where are we..." his index finger slowly trailed down the obelisk, along the way he found another name he recognised: 'Ironhoof 980 points'.

Surpassing the Ironhoof's contestant was Frey's greatest desire, it would allow him, and Aventia, to remain untouched from any invasions, 980 points placed them in third place, another three places behind them was another name Frey knew: 'Whitewood: 620 points'.

Marv then pointed his finger at the obelisk, his expression alone made him look unhappy, but the slight tremor in his voice made it only seem worse, "Down here..."

Frey skipped over the others between and looked pretty much at the bottom of the ranking: 'Beckett 230 points'...and 'Aventia 110 points'.

"Alright, I take it back, this looks bad for us." Marv then turned to Marquis Gomon, "What is the basis for the point distribution?"

Marquis Gomon then smiled, slightly amused, "10 points for every Treeman, and 20 points for every Flyer. How many of those points you get depends on how high we deem your participation on the kill. There are other actions that can grant you points as well, but we do not get to grade those. We forward them back to Astafor, and there their worth is decided."

"Your tactic is good. It just cannot measure up to sheer power it seems." he added, then he scoffed and broke out into actual laughter a moment later.

"What's so funny geezer?" Winny raised her eyebrow, she followed his gaze, all the way to the very bottom of the obelisk.

Indeed, it wasn't Frey, who represented Aventia, at the lowest place in the ranking, instead there was a different family's name: 'Sparrowbrook 340 points', this competitor's points were the same as Frey's and Marv's combined, but for some reason the entire line was crossed out and placed at the bottom.

"Disqualified...?" Frey mumbled, but he involuntarily shivered as Marquis Gomon's words creeped into his ears, "No. Dead."