14-61. Pressure

“The crowd is bigger this time,” Elijah remarked, looking around as he descended the steps. The Praesidium was packed with spectators who collectively created mountains of anxious fans.

“Additional seating,” said Sara, who sat beside him, happily munching on some sort of fried meatballs she’d bought in the surrounding city. “For most people, this is where the real tournament begins.”

Elijah nodded, then stole one of her meatballs.

“Hey!”

She tried to stop him, but she was far too slow. He popped it into his mouth, then chewed exaggeratedly. “So good.”

“I know. That’s why I bought them,” she muttered, slumping into a faux pout.

Elijah just nudged her with his shoulder. “Alrhok is first up, right?” he asked.

“I’m not talking to you.”

To that statement, Elijah just shrugged and turned his attention back to the crowd. There were so many different types of people present, with scales in every color of the rainbow. Seated closest to him were mostly deities, with a sprinkling of demi-gods. Likely, because of the expense attached to the seats, which were supposed to be some of the best in the entire arena. As such, only the richest could afford them.

Elijah didn’t miss that there were only a handful of drakes among the mostly-dragon crowd. And no serpentors, save for the attendants who worked for the arena.

“Fine. I’ll talk,” Sara blurted. “But don’t eat anymore of my tapi bites, or I’ll stick you with something sharp.”

“Like a knife?”

“Sharper,” was her icy response.

“Fair enough. So, is Alrhok up first?”

She nodded. “He’s fighting some Sorcerer who made it all the way through the qualifiers. No backing at all. Imal na Rosi. A serpentor.”

“Damn. Must be impressive.”

“She is,” confirmed Sara. “But there’s also a lot of data on the way she fights, and I’m sure Alrhok is ready for it. There’s no way he’s going into this blind.”

“Don’t be so sure,” came Kaelari’s familiar voice. Elijah turned to see her shuffling past the other spectators. Then, she sat next to him in the seat he’d saved for her. “Alrhok is not on speaking terms with our parents, and they’ve responded by withdrawing most of their support. He would be living in the Reach if I hadn’t given him a room.”

Elijah already knew there was a rift between Alrhok and his family, but he’d had no idea it had gotten so serious. Not that living in the Reach was so bad. Elijah had lived in much worse accommodations, and for years at a time. However, for someone like Alrhok, who’d lived in the lap of luxury for most of his life, that would’ve felt extremely punishing.

Such was the danger of too much comfort.

“Seems counterproductive to me,” Elijah pointed out. In his limited experience, a better route would have been to support Alrhok as much as possible and hope that the thrill of victory would steer him in the preferred direction. But he was self-aware enough to recognize that he didn’t have all the information.

She shrugged. “I thought so too, but they don’t listen to me. Not about him, at least.”

Sara reached across Elijah’s lap, offering Kaela the carton of snacks. “Have a tapi bite. It’ll make you feel better.”

“What about me?” Elijah complained as Kaela took one. “I’m sad too.”

“You are a thief and a villain,” Sara said, her voice haughty.

“Ouch.”

“Don’t steal, and people won’t call you a scoundrel.”

Before Elijah could respond, the Curator appeared hovering a few hundred feet above the arena floor. Due to the Praesidium’s enchantment, Elijah could see the silver dragon as if he was only a few feet away.

And he wasn’t impressed.

Certainly, the man was beautiful, but so were most dragons. Even the ones who’d chosen gnomish or dwarven humanoid forms appeared as the very pinnacle of those races. But Elijah did have to admit that the Curator was good at his job.

His voice boomed across the arena, clear as a bell and much, much louder.

“Today, we gather to begin the second phase of the Tournament of the First Fang,” he began. “More than a thousand contestants – the best the Empire of Scale can muster – will do battle for the right to cultivate in the presence of the First Fang. A relic of history, power, and meaning to all dragons.”

After that, he went on about the importance of the tournament before finally introducing the two fighters. The crowd cheered wildly when Imal na Rosi stepped out from her tunnel. To Elijah’s surprise, she was a human, little different from one born on Earth, with black hair, pale skin, and piercing blue eyes. A mantle of water danced across her shoulders, and ice-blue armor covered her body. In one hand, she carried a simple mace. On the other arm was a round shield that rippled like a puddle of clear water.

Stolen story; please report.

Elijah didn’t miss that the cheers had come primarily from the upper reaches of the Praesidium, where most of the serpentors and drakes were seated. Though there was some polite clapping coming from nearby.

Then, Alrhok ak Unar stepped out.

His hulking form was covered in rocky protrusions, and he carried a massive axe whose head looked more like a calved boulder than any purpose-made weapon. When he strode ahead, he was accompanied by the sound of an avalanche.

The Curator spent a little extra time on Alrhok’s introduction, specifying his parentage and the illustriousness of his family’s reputation. The lower levels of the Praesidium seemed much more impressed by that than the upper reaches.

For Elijah’s part, he studied the two combatants.

“This isn’t going to be an easy fight for him,” he pointed out.

For all that Alrhok looked imposing, Elijah recognized the slight slump in the dragon’s shoulders. The hesitation in his posture. To some, his stern expression might be interpreted as focus, but Elijah saw it for what it was. Alrhok didn’t want to be there.

“He’ll win,” Sara insisted, leaning forward. “He has to.”

Before seeing the two contestants across from one another, Elijah would have said something similar. But now? If he was a betting man, he would have placed a wager on Imal.

He felt a bit guilty about admitting that to himself, but there it was all the same.

Like Sara, he leaned forward. And as the Curator announced the beginning of the battle, Kaela took his hand. He gave it a reassuring squeeze.

A second later, the two fighters moved.

Alrhok stomped, sending a linear earthquake tearing across the arena. Huge stalagmites erupted from the ground, growing larger with every passing foot. He threw himself forward in its wake, raising his massive axe. His footsteps rattled the entire Praesidium.

Meanwhile, Imal stepped into a graceful maneuver that looked like nothing so much as tai chi. But every movement trailed a stream of water vapor that soon coalesced into a localized fog. It clung to her like a cloak, obscuring her from view.

Then, Alrhok’s earthen spikes arrived.

She danced around them, swaying back and forth.

But the big Warrior’s true attack came a second later when he reached her. His axe fell like a guillotine, and with enough force to cleave the arena in two.

Imal clearly hadn’t expected his fury, either.

The axe bit into her, splitting her in two.

The crowd let out a collective gasp at the quick end to the battle. Or that was what they thought they saw. So did Elijah – at first. But then he realized what was missing. There was no blood.

Just water.

Her two halves fell to either side of Alrhok’s axe, then splashed against the ground. Before the big dragon could react, the resulting puddles expanded underfoot. Then, he slipped beneath the surface.

The last thing Elijah saw was his grasping fingers, reaching for a handhold that just wasn’t there.

Elsewhere in the rapidly expanding puddle, Imal slowly grew out of the water. At first, her form was entirely featureless, but within a few seconds, she looked just as detailed as ever.

“A clone ability?” gasped Sara, her fingers digging into Elijah’s forearm. Kaela’s grip tightened as well. “At her level?!”

“No. It’s reformation,” he said.

Kaela breathed, “The timing…”

Elijah could only nod. If he was reading the battlefield correctly, Imal had used some sort of ability just before the arrival of Alrhok’s axe. It had turned her body to water, spreading the puddle before she reconstituted herself nearby.

The only reason he recognized it was because it wasn’t that different from what he did with Flames of Renewal. Not as destructive, certainly. And there were other differences as well. But there were enough similarities to give Elijah some hints as to how it all worked together.

It was impressive.

But Elijah was much more worried about his friend’s chances of winning the fight. So, he kept his thoughts to himself.

And he was rewarded when Alrhok suddenly erupted from the small pond. Gasping for air, he clung to a massive pillar of rock. He swung his axe in Imal’s direction, and a thousand stone spears exploded from the pond beneath her feet.

Miraculously, she dodged every single one of them. Twisting and turning, as sinuous as any snake, she managed to avoid even being nicked.

Instead, she used the spears as a ladder, leaping from one tip to the next before turning into a stream of water. It tore across the arena in Alrhok’s direction. However, before it hit, Imal reemerged and slammed into the rock Warrior, shield first.

The sound of the collision echoed through the arena, filling the Praesidium with the sound of crunching rock and scraping metal. Clouds of pulverized rock exploded into the air all around the two combatants, briefly obscuring the crowd’s view.

They held their collective breath as a furious and unseen battle unfolded. Hundreds of impacts sent jets of water and pebbles to scatter across the arena. Brief glimpses told a story of two battered but committed combatants.

And then, Alrhok got a good shot in.

Imal flew from the cloud of dust and debris, hit the sandy ground, then skipped across the arena floor until she slammed into the surrounding wall.

Alrhok leaped after her.

Much of his rocky armor had been worn smooth, as if each jagged piece had been subjected to millions of years of erosion. He also sported more than a few wounds, and as he flew across the arena, he left a trail of blood in his wake.

But he was still going strong.

Meanwhile, Imal hadn’t moved. She wasn’t defeated, though. If that had been the case, the fight would’ve already ended.

It was obviously a trap.

But Alrhok wasn’t thinking. He just saw a fallen opponent he needed to finish.

When he drew closer, Imal flipped around and raised her hand.

Alrhok stopped, mid-flight. Blood exploded from Imal’s nose. Red tears fell down her cheeks as water poured from Alrhok’s body. At first, it only came in a trickle, but soon, it became a torrent.

Alrhok struggled, trying to win his freedom. But Imal had completely stopped his momentum, probably by manipulating the water in the big dragon’s body. And now, she was draining him.

Rocky spears exploded all around her. Some even managed to impale the human fighter. But she didn’t let them distract her.

Alrhok shrank in on himself, shriveling like a raisin even as a globe of water surrounded him. He held on for a little while. A few minutes, at least. And during that time, he used every trick he had up his sleeve. The arena erupted into massive earthquakes, Imal took hundreds of wounds, and pillars of stone slammed into her.

But she dodged the attacks she couldn’t endure, and she took the ones she could survive.

Meanwhile, Alrhok grew increasingly frantic. His attacks lost all precision. And gradually, he drowned in the water from his own body.

When it was all done, and Imal released him, he was unrecognizable, his corpse desiccated and mummified.

Imal slumped, succumbing to her own wounds only a few seconds after Alrhok died.

But that was enough to secure victory.

It also gave Elijah something to think about. Clearly, this phase wasn’t going to be as easily won as the last.

Then, he felt Kaela’s hand go limp. Not surprising. She’d just watched her brother die. Did it matter that it wasn’t permanent? That the Chronomancer would activate his anchor and take him back to before the fight? Not at that moment. Not for her.

Elijah wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

“He’ll be okay.”

“I…I know. But our parents won’t take this well.”

That confirmed that the tournament wasn’t just about the fights themselves. The true effect of the tournament had nothing to do with access to cultivation aids or a few extra levels. It was all about politics.