Elisa and the other one are locked in a heated discussion about which species of penguin is cutest. Elisa’s stance is all of them. He is sticking by his favorite.
“Have you come to dissuade me?” Xyll asks.
“I am now.”
He sighs out a tired exhale. “What were you here for?”
“Checking up on my patient.”
Said patient yawns, shiny black hair laying upon his shoulders, youthful face adorned by a forgotten smile, marred only by dark circles under his eyes.
“Looking good, Cassy.”
“One down, four to go,” Elisa ominously says.
“Don’t listen to her,” I say. Then I turn to Cassmus. “Everything in order?”
The general answers, “Yes. Where’s my sword?”
A weapon warps in my hand. I walk up and offer it to him but pull back when he reaches for it. “In the many, many pages of medical information you were meant to read, where did it state that sleep was no longer necessary?”
“Spent all night reading your excessive instructions.”
“Might there have been other materials you read?”
“No,” he dryly answers, subtext stating that I am pushing it.
“Ahem. One checkup.” I draw a tick in the air with an invisible pen. “One sword.” I pass him the delivery and draw another tick.
Cassmus partially unsheathes the weapon, checking out the blade. He nods once and sheathes it back in. “Send my appreciation to the madame responsible.” I hum an affirmative.
Elisa and Xyll’s shadow have dizzyingly shifted to the intricacies of hydroponics. I’ll leave them alone for now, or I’ll definitely be late for my match if we get into it.
Guess I’ll try my luck with Xyll. “About dissuading you?”
“Make it to the end, and then I’ll be inclined to listen.”
Eyes seek our attention. Yilivin is silently prompting her king to entertain my attempt. He does not. The dragon stops herself from protesting. Instead, she moves her gaze to me. An unsaid thanks reaches its target.
From Falrilliat’s empty seat, a voice says, “Should you not be getting ready?”
“I’m always ready.”
The demon materializes from where his voice came. “We’ll see.” A step places him down in the arena.
Alright, I can’t listen to this anymore. I interject into Elisa and the other one’s argument, “First of all—” Elisa looking at me interrupts my correction about the efficiency of hydroponics compared to my recommended soil-based farming. Instead, I say, “You can’t be throwing conjectures like that. The data collected from nature mages is still woefully inadequate.”
“Such a stickler for stats,” Elisa says with a smile. “Even when the results fit your predictions.”
“As many people have said—”
She finishes for me, “Beat the data enough, and it will fit into anything.”
“You two are so cute.”
“Shut up,” Elisa says to him. “Go already,” she says to me.
I walk up to her and bend down, eagerly awaiting. The elf grumbles a little but presents a cheek.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
As I warp away, the other one adds, “So cute.”
[
[
[
[
Falrilliat is barely looking at me, more concerned with a particular cloud lazily moving from one side of the sky to the other. To be fair, it is a nice cloud. Some of the audience traces the direction of our gazes, confused about what we are studying so intently.
But the silence is soon broken. “You are not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“The inscrutable. A being beyond understanding and beyond logic.”
“Seeing as you can confidently say what I am not, what do you think I am?”
“The one that can write our destiny. No matter if we like it or not. Are our decisions real when you are choosing them?”
“Between you and me, I have a bad track record with making decisions.”
Falrilliat waits for me to add to my statement. When I don’t, he takes a slightly louder breath, not in the mood for an actual sigh. “Comforting.”
“Right? There’s a ‘but’, though. ...But by listening to others around me, I could make more informed decisions.” The demon across from me has probably shifted his description of me to something way less baleful. “Basic stuff, right? For an advanced AI to realize that so late is quite embarrassing, I admit. Funny story, it was myself that told me to be true to my feelings. I didn’t listen and had to spend a bit of time in you-know-where. Then I came back to a world only seen in my most optimistic of projections. Because the people I trusted, and who trusted me in turn, improved what I gave them so much more than I could have ever imagined.”
“Did they? Or was it all part of your vision.”
“Both. Don’t you have a vision for your people?”
“I do,” Falrilliat says, “The difference is, can you negotiate with a god?”
“What are we doing right now?”
There is an imperceptible pause of hesitation before his answer. “Waiting.”
We both turn to the sky again, marveling its simple beauty.
Not a minute later, the word is said.
The enclosing barrier of the arena is filled with fine deep crimson swarf. There is no physical nor magical sign of my opponent.
An arrow passes through my chest. Shot at a downward angle, it buries itself halfway in the sand. An ethereal tether pulls at me when I try to move. Another impacts my back, a second tether locking me further in place. Two more pierce metal plates at my sides and complete the four points.
The concealing swarf rotates ninety degrees. No sign of my opponent still.
I grab the translucent tether sprouting off my chest and pull with all my might. No effect.
A sphere of glass, filled with clear liquid, thumps to the sand next to me. Before I can react to the enchanted item that seemingly appeared out of thin air, the glass cracks. Protective metal takes the brunt of the explosion, but the other dozen dangerous baubles also require a response.
The concealing swarf rotates another ninety degrees. The dozen explosions are accompanied by a detonation that drowns them out. Each crimson flake shears itself into tiny pieces, that when combined with the numerous others, simulate a particularly efficient blender. My mana senses catch something. A needle takes a closer look. It finds nothing but crumbling remains. Presumably, an enchanted defensive item that did its job.
Lightning discharges out of me, arcing to every single flake of floating deep crimson. The inside of the arena turns into an angry thundercloud of metal. A needle comes upon the next patch of crumbs.
As my electric spell winds down, metal flakes rain toward the sky, collecting against the invisible dome that protects the audience. The enclosing barrier is plated with a not-so-thin sheet of red. A barbed arrow lodges itself in my stomach, sapping my mana. The sheet nearly instantaneously falls to the ground, flowing around me.
A white streak connects my right hand to an abnormality in the metal covering. My left hand pulls out the arrow sticking out of me. I feel my magic fail to penetrate.
Leather brushes past my right calf, and a strip of it fastens itself around my leg. Strength drains but not enough to stop me from using conjured metal to cut the enchanted restraint.
One barbed arrow is in my head. The other is in my chest. Electricity flows through the arrows, their straight path, and when it reaches the points the arrows were shot from, curves suddenly to the exact same location.
The dart forming by my side hits at the same time. I dispel the projectile before it can pass through the enclosing barrier.
My mana senses hone in on a deep crimson, spilling out of an undetectable Falrilliat. Needles impact barriers. My projectiles destroy one, only to find another has taken its place.
As four more arrows appear, embedded in the metal-covered ground around me, the tethers holding me get an influx of energy.
A needle hits armor. Intent floods the red sheet of metal. It rises at the edges, as if preparing to tangle itself into a ball. I do just that. Deep crimson flows around me and wraps itself around my invisible opponent. Layers and layers of metal envelop the demon, soft and flexible, like red fabric.
He tries to teleport out, but the interference from the lingering effects and the constricting spell prove too much. An explosion blows out a section of the metal, but it is quickly repaired.
Falrilliat is in the center of a perfect sphere twice his size, constantly compressing.
As he struggles to free himself, I pour more and more power, reinforcing my spell. A contest of endurance.
Twenty-eight seconds later, sphere unravels back to mana, releasing a fully armored demon that promptly collapses to the sand.
Two officials take him away to plug the hole I made.
Five additional officials blink next to me. Four start working on a tether, still holding me in place. The fifth winces as I pull an arrow out of my skull.
My victory is belatedly announced.