The Tournament - Round 3

The twisting gnarls of Branda's treeline creaked in splintering choruses. A light which bobbed free of a lantern or torch floated gently along the waning crests and discoloured streams. What few creatures of the woodlands remained gave the duo a wide berth--skirting the undergrowth while watching a pair of stumbling travellers marching their way through the forest.

"Are you quite certain that we're headed the right way?" A feminine voice asked.

"Tiamat's final moments are branded upon my mind. Her tumble from the heavens is a moment I can pluck with so much clarity that it may as well have happened only yesterday."

"All very well and good, but why is it that we must do this today, as opposed to tomorrow?"

"Shortly after our duel concluded, Lady Shilahi said something to me that ignited a spark of inspiration in my heart. I haven't been able to think of anything else since then."

"I must continue to insist that whatever you've discovered, it can almost certainly wait until the two of us have enjoyed our well-earned rest…"

Lotte and Yula were far from home. The cursed peninsula of Branda seemed very much like the last place either of them would want to visit, especially considering the two of them had just been thoroughly defeated in the tournament. It was barely moments after his release from the arena that Lotte had taken Yula by the arm and dragged her along on an expedition he claimed was of the utmost importance, much to the girl's exhausted dismay.

"Over here." He beckoned, "Can you smell that?"

"Smell-" She repeated, but just as quickly pinched her nose, "Ugh… by the Goddess…"

"We're getting close."

The northeastern forests of the peninsula had once been host to a cluster of Elven enclaves, but the emergence of Tiamat and her Dragon horde had left naught but smouldering villages in their wake. Even the myriad beasts of the region's lush forests had been slaughtered to sate the Dragons' endless appetites. With Tiamat's death, it appeared that the fiends quickly lost cohesion in the absence of their mother, dispersing from the peninsula towards greener pastures. But as was known all too well at that point, the Dragon Queen yet lived, only in an unmoving stasis.

The stench of Tiamat's turgid uncorpse had attracted just about every insect on the peninsula, and as they drew closer to the creature's resting place, Lotte and Yula both found themselves swatting bloodflies and bluebottles from their vision--the droning hum of countless, miniscule wings beating in their ears.

As Tiamat's bloated corpse plummeted from the skies on that day, shards of bone and droplets of discoloured viscera descended like hail upon the forest, painting its soil and canopies a brilliant scarlet. Now, her coagulated blood had been washed away by the rains, and what remained of her cadaver had become polluted with parasites and maggots. As Lotte and Yula beheld the remainder of her sickly form, neither of them could believe for a moment that the Dragon Queen would rise again.

"It's unrecognisable…" Yula commented, "Just what are you planning on doing here?"

"Collecting samples of the beast's flesh and blood." Reaching into his satchel, Lotte retrieved a fine glass vial, "If my hypothesis holds water, then it may very well be just the thing we need to turn this war around."

"Instead of handing me hints like a child, why don't you tell me exactly what you're on about?"

"Lady Shilahi's spear is tainted with Leviathan's blood--a holdover from the battle she once fought over 500 years ago." He obliged, "During our short battle, she demonstrated its ability to channel lightning, much like the serpent itself is capable of doing. The legend of the Three Heroes grants each of the Four Heavenly Kings elemental affinities--wind for Tiamat, lightning for Leviathan, ice for Lilith, and fire for Atroma."

"-And you believe such power can be harnessed from their corpses." Yula finished, "I don't doubt that you may very well be right in your assumptions, but what would the soldiers of Gria have to say about employing the very forces they stand to oppose?"

"I could care less about what they think." Lotte defied, "It's no secret that we're in dire need of new strategies if we hope to win this war. Relying on sorcery and Heroes alone will not guide us to victory--not a true one, anyway. This is precisely the kind of breakthrough we could be doing with."

Handing his vial towards Yula, the girl took it in her hand without much thought.

"Now, get yourself into that ditch and bring me as many clean samples as you can. I'm in no condition to be padding about a Demon's corpse with this broken rib."

"That's the only reason you brought me along!?"

…

..

.

The evening sky was ablaze with brilliant colours as the trumpets called out once more. A frenzied crowd thoroughly invigorated by the sight of blood and death cheered openly as the hour dawned on another primary-league bout.

Dorma was quite the celebrity within Gria. Known among the gentry for her vicious tongue during council meetings and among the common folk as the world's most powerful spellcaster, there could be no doubts about who the crowd's allegiance strayed towards as the competitors made themselves known on the battlefield. It was the first time in her life that Pale had seen such a dense collection of like minds.

"I must confess that involving you in this frivolous competition bothers me ever-so-slightly." She could just about hear Dorma's voice over the roars of the crowd as they approached one-another, "No doubt your mind lies elsewhere with the Steppe being as it is."

"I've long since come to terms with reality." Pale replied, "I will not weep for those who have already passed. All I desire is the strength to see this war through to its end. And…"

"...And?"

"No… it's nothing." She shook her head, "Thank you for your concern, but fighting is all I can do. There's no better place for me at the moment than here."

"Exercise caution, Pale." Dorma warned, "Many have attained strength only to lose themselves in the process."

"I don't suppose you've ever said the same thing to Barion before, have you?"

"My, how did you know that?"

"He uses Senpo, doesn't he?" She asked, "I've never seen him fight--not directly, but I know that much."

"I would call it his greatest failing." Dorma frowned, "Pure rage is no way to channel one's inner strength. If only he would entertain the idea of training with a blade for even the slightest moment, then I'm sure he would be stronger still, and better off mentally for it."

"How do you know that's true?"

"...Excuse me?"

"Rage may be inelegant, and foolhardy, and dangerous… but if that's the path he's chosen, then why deny him his own strength?"

"I don't believe you understand…" Dorma began, "Barion is not himself whenever he channels that foul discipline. He becomes little else but a beast--hardly any different from the Demons he once tore to pieces gleefully. I'm quick to remind him that common folk are only terrified by such a spectacle, but he doesn't consider any other alternative. I'm not a fan of watching the man I love falling apart at the seams in such a tragic manner."

"Maybe that person is who he really is."

"What…" Dorma didn't try to hide her scowl, "What are you-"

"I can feel it too." Pale interrupted, "A tugging at my soul, telling me to cut loose and care about nothing else but my own satisfaction. It's been there like a spectre since I took Senpo in for myself. Giving in to that urge is what grants me the strength I desire."

"-Then what separates you from a common beast?"

"The fact that I can exist without it. There is no losing myself, only my inhibitions. I let go of whatever ails me and allow my instincts--my body, to carry me forward. Even when overcome with rage, I can still see the beauty in the world around me. I can tell friend from foe, and man from animal." She answered, "Bottling it up--allowing that urge to fester… it would only blind you to that beauty. Barion plays the part of an unflappable Hero rather convincingly… until you meet with him face-to-face, and see the anger boiling in his eyes."

"...That isn't true!" Dorma defied.

"You're the one holding him back. Someone he loves--who he wants to please." She accused, "-But if you truly loved him, you would allow him that release."

"He isn't that kind of man anymore!"

"Give him the word and watch." Pale recommended, "I'd like to see it for myself. The kind of man he really is."

The trumpets bellowed, and with nothing else to say, Pale returned to her side of the arena.

The Rabbitkin girl had triumphed over Demons with naught but her bare hands. She was strong--stronger than most could ever dream of becoming, but how would that strength measure up against the world's premiere sorceress? Her words had left a scathing impression on Dorma, but truthfully, Pale had never entertained the idea of winning.

Dorma was kind enough to wait for her to retreat before taking the initiative, brandishing a staff lent to her by the castle. It was hardly a replacement for her adamantite focus, but even the implement of an apprentice could perform miracles in the right hands. With barely a whisper, she conjured a magical barrier around herself, having mastered the art of abridging her incantations long ago.

Pale took a fighting stance and immediately closed the distance between them, throwing her silver arm against the barrier in a disgraceful, beastly display of power. As expected, the impact sent shivers through her body, as if she had just attempted to fell a mountain with a single punch. Unbothered, she landed a series of blows against the hexagonal shield, feeling magical particles reject her advances with every strike.

Touching her staff to the ground and taking a step back so as to force Pale forward, tremors shook the ground and kicked up dust from the arena floor, before jagged stalagmites of soil erupted from beneath her at a blistering speed. Twisting her body, Pale was only barely able to avoid being skewered as the spikes disintegrated almost as quickly as they appeared, dissolving into mundane lumps of sand.

Bracing herself against the ground as she fell, Pale launched herself into the air--higher than any soldier could possibly manage, just as beams of light flew from the tip of Dorma's staff to pierce through the thin air Pale was occupying a second ago. Diving from the skies, her prosthetic leg crashed against the barrier with a hideous sound, like blades screeching against one-another. A singular crack became like tendrils of lightning upon Dorma's barrier, and with a final push, Pale's kick broke through completely, sending the sorceress careening backwards from the impact.

"Hah…" Though most of the kick's strength was nullified by the barrier, Dorma was still winded by the attack, "You're certainly strong, Pale… but the clutch of Senpo blinds you."

"Hm?" As the Rabbitkin tilted her head in confusion, a sound lowered her attention to the arena floor, "...What-"

It was far too late to react. Pale's fate had been sealed long before her mind screamed to evade. As the ground roiled beneath her feet, a grand explosion of dirt soon sent her body skyward. The deafening sound left nothing but a dry ringing in her ears, adding to the disorientation of tumbling uselessly in the air.

Dorma wasted no time in securing her victory. A simple telekinetic incantation to cobble some of the arena's pebbles together into a vicious projectile of stone, lobbing it at the defenceless girl without a shred of apprehension. Pale could hear naught but the yells of the adoring crowd as she was sent flying through the air by the jagged stone, blood dazzling in the evening sundown as she plummeted to the earth in a defeated heap.

"A trap…?" With eyes held shut, she fought against the lull of unconsciousness.

"A force sigil." Dorma corrected, "Rudimentary, but even the youngest of sorcerers could cast such a spell in their sleep. If you had been paying attention, you may have noticed that I was incanting while you wasted time breaking down my barrier."

"Hah… fighting a spellcaster isn't any fun at all…" She complained.

"I take it you yield?" Dorma presumed, "We live in a world where even death cannot maintain its icy grasp for long, but I wouldn't take any pleasure in killing an ally."

She didn't receive an answer. As the seconds passed, it became clear that Pale had blacked out.

"Oh dear…" Dorma muttered.

As the trumpets sounded to signal a winner, she didn't feel particularly victorious. Pale was still a young woman in pursuit of meaning, and yet she had taken to Senpo better than a babe to the breast. Remnants of the duo's conversation before the beginning of the match ran their course in Dorma's head.

"Barion…" She whispered, "Are you really… holding back?"