Ten minutes after the start of the tournament, three quarters of the fights were already over. When it came to awakened battles, time was viewed differently. Even after being requested to be “as slow as possible,” a battle reached its natural end in about ten minutes. Some of the veterans knew better, deliberately extending the fights longer, but even they didn’t go past fifteen-twenty minutes. Back on Earth, no one would allow any form of entertainment to last for such a short amount of time. Here, though, the common people were used to the intensity of the experience, remaining on the edge of their seats for a very intense half hour, while the awakened had the perception to enjoy the whole thing blow by blow.

According to the event organizers, once the first round of fighting concluded, the Lord Mayor was going to congratulate the winners, after which the grind would be readjusted and three rounds of exhibition battles would commence. All that had lost the round would face one another every two hours for the crowd’s amusement, and in between the various opera and theatre troupes would perform for the chance of getting noticed.

Meanwhile, the battle between Mord and Dallion continued. The intensity of the fight had exhausted both of them, which only made them go at it more. With each minute, Mord’s advantage shrank until it was no more.

“You found a way, didn’t you?” The Flameforger smiled, as he twisted through the air, evading the whip blade as it slashed through the air.

The attacks would have allowed him to complete a few guards, and acrobatic sequences, if Dallion didn’t make a point to interrupt them as often as possible. An intricate game of living chess was taking place in which each of the contestants engaged in pre-set sequences that could be changed freely depending on the other’s reaction. Yet despite the help Dallion was getting from his familiar, he was still lacking in the weapons and techniques compartment. If Dallion had brought a lot of exotic weapons to the fight, Mord had twice as many, all of them of sky silver, and most of them indestructible. It didn’t help that Dallion’s dagger was kicked out of his hand at one point, making him having to rely on more conventional things.

Several times during the fight, he felt the harpsisword’s eagerness to join in, but he dared not draw her out.. not yet, at least.

“You’re a good rival. But you’ve still green.” Without warning, Mord split into two instances. Dallion saw them clearly, but there was nothing he could do: he didn’t have the mental fortitude to respond with instances of his own, not the reflexes to break the splitting as it occurred. Thus, he did the only remaining option: take the hit in such a way so as to limit the damage taken.

Based on the pain received, it was questionable whether he had succeeded. Leaping away from his opponent, Dallion reassembled the whip blade. The action made his opponent pause. Being tired as he was, he had to evaluate every attack far more precisely than before. That gave Dallion time to compose a plan.

You can’t drag this on, dear boy, Nil said.

He’s in a worse state than I am, Dallion replied. Dragging on only helps me.

Not at this stage. Letting him form a viable plan is more dangerous than gaining a bit of strength. I’d strongly suggest finishing it in one go.

That was pretty much the same conclusion Dallion had come to. Leaning against the separator, he placed the heel of his right boot on the wooden surface.

Is it fair for you to be giving me advice like this? Dallion asked. He didn’t want to get disqualified for some technicality.

The echo just laughed.

Dear boy, do you think you’re the only one receiving advice? I wouldn’t be surprised if he has a ring with Sky Fire giving him instructions during the fight. Some have more than one echo advisor. Rest assured, the only way you’d be disqualified would be if you lose.

That was enough for Dallion to know. With a brisk action, he drew the harpsisword with his left hand. The presence of the armadil shield made it difficult, though not impossible. In a way that worked to Dallion’s advantage—someone of Mord’s level had no doubt attempted fighting in this fashion at some point in his past, so he knew just how uncomfortable it had to be. Dallion felt a faint air of sympathy coming from his opponent.. just before Mord dashed at him.

Let’s go crazy, Dallion thought. He was going to gamble it all. Lux, boost me!

A bright flame burst through Dallion’s boot, giving him a tremendous boost forward. Any normal flame would have burned his entire leg off, but a healing flame only damaged part of his boot. Of course, given that Eury was observing the fight, there might be additional pain afterwards.

The sudden boost in speed caught Mord completely by surprise, making him reflectively attempt to shield himself. And that was when Dallion performed a vertical chop with the armadil shield. And that was not all. Letting go of the whip blade, he played a chord, making the weapon vibrate with weight.

“Darude,” Dallion whispered as a strike, with the weight of a sledgehammer, crashed upon Mord’s block. The shock alone drove his boots a quarter of an inch into the ground. That was only the beginning—as the harpsisword vibrated, Mord’s entire body was filled with weight. Unnoticeable at first, the force became greater and greater with every instant.

Dallion had no mind of leaving anything to chance. Fastening his grip round the hilt, he played another chord, adding exhaustion to the mix.

All chatter from the noble section of the stands abruptly stopped. All eyes were on Dallion’s fight. Not only was it one of the few dozen remaining, any awakened above average skill could recognize exactly what skill he was using. Music itself was considered rare. Music that raised above ten, let alone twenty, was viewed almost exclusively as a noble’s skill.

Hidden conversations ensued, as nobles inquired about Dallion and his skill from the many echoes serving them in their awakened realms. All in all, the only person not enamored by the performance was the mage. His eyes narrowed as it was starting to look as if Dallion would win his fight.

“Who’s that?” The imperial guest turned to the countess.

“A wildcard from the Icepicker guild,” the woman replied, conveying the information that her subservient echoes gave. “And a seer. Quite the rising star. It seems that the city’s overseer has already shown interest in him, as have a few others. I’ll give you an echo with all the information on him, if you like.”

“Hardly necessary, your grace,” the mage interrupted. His status as a member of the Academy gave him that right, even if he had to tread lightly. “The young master is perfectly capable of obtaining the information on his own. Above all, let us first see whether he reaches the next round. The encounter hasn’t ended yet, and there’s still a lot that—"

“You’re wrong.” Countess Priscord leaned back in her seat, eyes closed. “The fight is already over.”

Give up, give up, give up! Dallion shouted in his mind. The weight alone was supposed to be enough to crash a truck, and somehow Mord still was able to handle it. After all the tricks Dallion had used, the effects of the Nox dagger, and the harpsisword’s music, it still wasn’t certain whether he’d win this fight. This had become a clash of wills—the person with the greater conviction would win.

More chords were played, adding weight, confusion, exhaustion, and sleep. Dallion himself was starting to have trouble holding the weapon.

One look into Mord’s eyes made it clear that he wasn’t willing to give up. Dallion felt him split several times in three instances each. Thankfully, none of them ended up being successful, since no changes occurred. Then, finally, Mord’s strength abandoned him. Pressing on, the harpsisword pushed him facedown in the ground. Dallion felt the thud shake the ground for a split second. Just to be on the safe side, though, he played another chord and placed the harpsisword on the back of his opponent.

It’s over, Nil said. You’ve won this one.

Dallion ignored the echo, remaining on guard as if expecting Mord to pull out some surprise and suddenly jump up to snatch the victory from him. After a minute, however, the sound of trumpets indicated that the round was over.

Cheers filled the air. People celebrated the first event of the tournament. Some were happy that the fighters they had bet on managed to win the round. The general was probably among them as well, watching the fight from some section of the arena, and taking whatever artifacts Dallion had procured him through his victory.

“Challengers,” the Lord Mayor’s voice echoed above all the noise, making it clear that he was the owner of the city’s domain. “The first day is off to a good start. Over a thousand of you came here in the hope to be named champion, and now half of you are one step closer to achieving that. As for the rest, the Moons were not on your side today. Learn from your mistakes, train hard, and next year they might be.”

Roars of cheer erupted, deafening everything out.

“Quite a few promising candidates,” the countess said. It seemed that she was addressing the imperial, but in truth her words were meant for the mage close to him.

“You do this every year?” the guest asked, clearly enjoying himself.

“Indeed, it has a rustic charm to it.” The mage wasn’t overly impressed. “You should have your Imperial uncle take you to see one of the Academy’s tournaments, young master. I am confident you’ll find the performance far more sophisticated and satisfying.”

“The Academy tournament is for those who want to admire what they cannot have.” The countess was having none of that attitude. “But since you are here, maybe you can give us all a taste? I’m sure that we’ll all agree that if the participants are healed faster, they’ll provide a far more interesting experience in the battles to come.”

The power play was made. There was no way the mage could refuse, especially since it was him that breached the subject. It was somewhat ironic that his attempts to belittle the festival had forced him to make it even grander. With an over-amplified sigh, the old man reached out and started moving his hands through the air. Invisible lines and patterns were drawn, stacking up layer after layer, until in the end a bright pattern emerged.

All noise stopped. Even the fighters who were still conscious turned around to witness the work of a mage. Having one cast in public was rare enough. To have a master mass cast was nothing short of extraordinary.

In the blink of the eye, the pattern grew twice in size, then twice more. In a matter of seconds, it filled the entire sky. And once it did, it moved down to the ground of the arena, like a giant coin of aether.

Dallion felt a pleasant lightness surround his body. In a way, it was similar to Lux’s healing flame, but also very different. If the firebird felt like being rubbed with alcohol, this felt like being wrapped in warm velvet. All pain and fatigue were drained away, along with any wound. Dallion watched as the visible scars and bruises on Mord’s body disappeared into the air like burning wax.

Done its job, the purple pattern faded away a few seconds later.

Show off, Nil grumbled. That’s the problem with mages—they always think they are twice better than the things they do.

So, he’s strong? Dallion asked.

Dear boy, compared to you all mages are incredibly strong. The only thing that protects you from them is the law of the Moons. Be mindful, though. The moment you pass your next barrier, the Moons won’t protect you anymore.

That was good to know. It means that I’ll have to think of a way to deal with him....

Before Dallion could say more, two green rectangles appeared in front of Dallion.

CROSS REALM MASTERY!

(+1 ???)

You’ve fully grasped the ability to have your familiars affect the real world and be affected by it. You asked for this, so better not complain!

EMPATHY ATTRIBUTE GRANTED!

The power of the GREEN MOON now flows through you, allowing you to hear and converse with guardians at will.