14-44. The Tournament of the First Fang

For once, Elijah didn’t really enjoy his meal.

Which was quite the thing, considering how good it was. Every bite was a revelation, obviously using the finest ingredients prepared by high-level Chefs. The various flavors danced across his tongue like a ballet of flavor.

And yet, he ate mechanically, incapable of focusing on the treat it represented.

Instead, he lost himself in thought. He didn’t know much about the Tournament of the First Fang, but from what Kirlissa had described, it would be populated by the best the Empire of Scale had to offer. And given its size and history, that meant he would be up against some real monsters.

And most of them would be higher level than him.

After all, he’d only managed to get a handful of levels since reaching demi-god. Would that be enough? Maybe. It wasn’t as if Elijah was going to back down. However, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he would be stepping into a new arena against a host of threats of unknown power.

Thankfully, Sara proved to be quite a good distraction. Her manners didn’t really improve, but she continued to chatter on about cultivation, her class goals, and the downsides of having a non-combat archetype. For the most part, Elijah just nodded along, injecting his opinion from time to time. Sara didn’t seem to notice his distracted state.

Like that, a couple of hours passed, and Elijah gradually drifted away from his thoughts to enjoy the food a little more.

Then, at last, the meal came to a close, as announced by Kirlissa’s exit.

“Whew,” Sara said, wiping her hand across her forehead. “We can leave now.” Then, conspiratorially, she added, “Between you and me, I hate these things. The food is good, but the people…ugh.” She glanced at the man beside her. “No offense. You’re great, Sivan.”

That was clearly not his name.

Elijah didn’t remember who he was, but he knew that much. He just nodded graciously, probably wanting to avoid offending Kirlissa’s favored daughter.

“You want to go?” she asked Elijah. “I can show you around the city and –”

“He will need to decline, girl,” came Tura’s voice from behind Elijah. He’d felt her coming, but only just.

“Aww. Why?”

“Your mother wishes to speak to him.”

“Can I come?”

“No. You need your rest,” Tura stated. “Your education continues in the morning.”

Sara rolled her eyes. “I should get at least one day off. You know, to show him all the best –”

“Do you want to realize your potential? Or do you want to end up like everyone else?” Tura asked.

Sara’s eyes narrowed. “I hate you.”

“I said the same thing only a few hours ago,” Elijah remarked, remembering his reaction to Tura’s potion.

“She’s very hateable,” Sara agreed. “Buut…I guess she’s not wrong. I’ll come see you when I have some free time, okay? You really need someone to show you the city.”

“Sounds fun,” Elijah said.

Tura cleared her throat, sounding very much like Kirlissa. “Come, boy. We mustn’t keep your mother waiting.”

Elijah still wasn’t entirely comfortable thinking of Kirlissa in those terms. He had a mother, after all. She might’ve died long ago, but it felt dismissive of her memory to replace her, especially with someone he barely even knew.

But she was also a transcendent who’d been nothing but kind to him. He trusted her, but that was a wholly separate thing from acknowledging motherhood.

Regardless, Elijah pushed himself away from the table and let Tura escort him out of the banquet hall. As he went, Elijah felt like everyone – at least the ones left – was watching him. Maybe they were, given the announcement. Elijah had no idea what they might be thinking, but he could imagine it ranged from outrage to excitement, with everything in between.

The corridor outside the banquet hall was just as richly decorated as the rest of the palace might suggest, and it went on for what felt like miles. Every inch was gilded and well-carved, the walls sporting tapestries and paintings that seemed like they were alive. It felt like walking through the Sistine Chapel. Not that it looked similar, but the reverent vibe was the same.

Elijah would never have said it, but it all seemed a bit much to him. Too much gold. Too much silver. And way too much ornamentation. For his part, he preferred his grove.

Or Tura’s hut, if he was honest.

He understood the value of majesty. He just found that it was more impactful when it came from a tree or a pristine waterfall than a bunch of cluttered artwork.

Still, as a hobbyist-level architecture enthusiast, he couldn’t deny that it was all very impressive. Especially the intricately vaulted ceilings, which created an illusion of infinite space contained within the confines of those arching ribs.

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As Tura escorted him through the winding corridors – which seemed a lot more expansive than they should’ve been – Elijah played the part of the admiring tourist. The place was full of guards, most of which reminded him of Birk. Hulking drakes – either two- or four-legged – armed and armored for battle. None of the guards responded to their passage at all.

Every now and again, Elijah caught sight of what was going on in the many adjacent rooms, and those brief glimpses told him that the palace was more than a residence. It was an administrative office built on a scale that would have astounded most businesses back on Earth.

When he asked Tura about it, she told him that the Palace of Prosperity was the hub of Kirlissa’s domain. And considering that said domain stretched across an entire galaxy, with frontier worlds in other universes, it required quite a lot of administration.

One day, Sara would take up a position within that framework, though not until she matured. Or as Tura put it, “The girl needs to grow up before we give her responsibility over her own life, much less anyone else’s.”

From what Elijah had seen, that was an accurate assessment. Which was odd, given that they were close to the same age. Technically speaking, at least. But it had been blindingly obvious that his perception of age was very different from the reality of the situation.

In any case, Elijah followed Tura for nearly twenty minutes until, at last, they stopped before an elaborate door. The golden barrier was covered in dense, silver scrollwork that pulsed with the power of high-grade runecrafting.

“Very few people have the honor of entering this wing of the palace,” said Tura. “Be grateful.”

“Sure.”

Tura’s brow ridges wrinkled, as if she wanted to chide him for his nonchalance, but she thought better of it. Instead, she simply pushed through the door and stepped inside. Elijah followed.

The foyer was more like a hotel lobby, with dozens of uncomfortable-looking couches and multiple lithe attendants hovering nearby. Tura led Elijah through, ignoring the opulence on display. Their short journey took them through the foyer and to another hall, which then connected to a series of rooms.

It was less like an apartment, and more akin to a compound.

And it was even more richly decorated than the halls outside.

At last, their journey came to an end when Tura knocked on a comparatively simple-looking door. A voice called out, “Enter.”

She did, and Elijah followed the old drake into a parlor. Unlike the halls outside, the room was softly decorated. It reminded him of old ladies drinking tea, gossiping as they knitted blankets.

Of course, the woman sitting in the center of that room put that impression to rest.

Kirlissa was just as perfect as ever, with her artful golden scales and sharp features. She’d changed out of the elaborate robes, opting for something akin to a blue toga. She sat on one of the couches, her arm thrown languidly over the back with her legs crossed.

“Elijah,” she said, rising. Her arms went wide, and before he could react, she’d embraced him in a polite hug. He could feel the tingle of power the second she touched him. Like a jolt of electricity, but far less mundane. When she pulled away, she held him at arm’s length as she went on, “It is so good to see you in person. I regret that I have only been able to speak to you via a projection.”

“I’m happy to see you too,” he responded, unsure what else to say. “But I admit that I wasn’t expecting that announcement.”

“Permit an old woman her surprises,” she said with a tinkling laugh. “There are so few in this world, so take them for the joys they represent.”

Elijah didn’t know about that assessment. He found himself frequently surprised, and it was rarely joyful. But he didn’t point that out.

“I suppose you want to know more about the tournament,” she guessed, gesturing to one of the nearby chairs. “Sit. Can I offer you some refreshments?”

Elijah shook his head, “No, thank you. I may have stuffed myself at the banquet.”

She laughed again, filling the air with the sound of falling coins. “I noticed. You mustn’t overindulge.”

“Eh. I tend to take the opposite tactic. When it’s available, I take it and enjoy it. Because I know what it’s like when it’s not there,” Elijah explained as he sat.

“Fair enough. You have been through much during your young life,” she allowed, sitting. Tura remained standing, though separated from the conversation. “What did you think of the banquet?”

Elijah shrugged. “It was nice. I didn’t know anyone, though. Except Sara, and she’s…well, she’s sweet and excitable.”

“And very young.”

Elijah nodded.

“It is the curse of the awakening,” Kirlissa said. “She sees everything through new eyes. Full sapience comes on slowly, but when it fully arrives, it is quite a shock to most.”

“Reminds me of me when I was younger,” Elijah admitted. He’d been excitable too. Before his parents had died, at least. After that, things went down a different, more sedate road.

“You will be a good example for her.”

Elijah couldn’t help but laugh at that. “I don’t know that anyone’s ever said that about me before.”

“You underestimate yourself. When the Empire sees what you can do, they will all wish to emulate your methods,” she predicted. “But of course, some things are irreplicable.”

“How big of a deal is this tournament?” Elijah asked.

“The top million or so demi-gods from across the Empire will compete,” Kirlissa explained. “Twenty rounds, until we crown the victor.”

“That’s a lot of demi-gods.”

“Only the best of the best will participate,” she pointed out. “Young dragons who have been groomed since birth to become deities, at worst. A few may even have the chance to reach transcendence.”

“Do I have a real chance?” he asked. “I’m only two-ninety-one. I’m sure some of them will be much higher level.”

“Certainly,” she answered. Then, Kirlissa leaned forward, adding, “But they do not have what you have.”

“And what’s that?”

“Cultivation. Most will have reached the fourth stage in at least one aspect. Far fewer will have gotten to the fifth. No other demi-god in the entire empire will have attained the fifth stage in multiple aspects,” she stated. “In addition, your class will be much higher rarity than anyone else’s. However, that is not the reason I expect you to win.”

“What is the reason, then?” Elijah asked.

“Because you know what it means to struggle,” she answered. “To be pushed past the boundaries of what you thought was possible and to emerge not only alive, but stronger than ever. The things you have done are entirely unprecedented for someone so young. You have accomplished the impossible, and you have been rewarded for it.

“These children, they are soft. A generation of pampered scions from declining clans. Most know nothing of true struggle,” she admitted. “You do.”

“And you think that’s enough to ensure victory?” he asked.

“Victory? No. There is always the chance you will fail,” she pointed out. “There are some gems among the chaff. But I don’t just want you to win, Elijah. I want you to teach the Empire a lesson about resting on one’s laurels. I want you to show them that our heritage will not protect us. We are dragons, proud and strong. But we grow more vulnerable by the day. I need you to show them the error of complacency.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Do you think you can do that?” she asked.

Elijah only thought about it for a second before answering, “I think I can give it a shot.”