Chapter 30 - Finals

Arien loosened the drawstring again, listening to the coins clink inside the pouch before counting them for what had to be the fifth time. Three silver and eight copper. More money than Arien had ever carried at once.
The previous day’s adult eliminations had turned out far more interesting than he expected. There were fewer fights than in the children’s category, but they lasted longer, and every competitor clearly knew how to fight. Arien had never seen anyone on Earth move or fight like this, and these were supposedly only provincial fighters. Sometimes a blocked blow sent dust jumping from the arena floor several feet away.
The Skills had been even more impressive. Thanks to Mana Sense, Arien could see mana forming around the fighters whenever they activated techniques such as Dodge or Lunge, as well as Skills that enhanced speed or strength. Warriors powered them with Stamina rather than Mana, but the effects were still visible to him. His high Perception let him follow exchanges that Will could barely track, and after enough fights Arien discovered something even more useful: combined with Mana Sense, it gave him a decent chance of guessing which fighter had the stronger Skills.
Kreft had been happy to place the bets for him, though he insisted Arien’s success was nothing more than beginner’s luck.
By the time the final rounds began the next day, Arien had lost only two bets out of eight and was sitting contentedly with his winnings in his lap.
“Arien, what do you think? Old Joe or Yen from Two Bridges?” Kreft asked.
“I don’t know. I think I’ll skip this one,” he said.
The difference in emitted mana was too small for Arien to risk it. Old Joe was covered in scars, while Yen’s repeatedly broken nose suggested she had seen more than her share of fights as well.
“You shouldn’t be betting at all. Gambling is dishonorable, and it’s a sin,” Will said once again.
Kreft ignored him. “In that case, Old Joe.” Kreft decided. “He’s a bit slower, but more experienced. I’m off. They’ll be closing the bets soon.”
The fight reached full intensity from the moment the referee started it. Yen used a Skill to accelerate her first lunge, aiming for Joe’s hip. He blocked, but when he tried to follow with his shield, she had already slipped out of range and begun circling him, spinning both daggers in her hands.
She attacked again from the side. Joe deflected one dagger with his sword, while the other missed his stomach by barely an inch. When he swung his shield in response, Yen dropped low instead of retreating, let it pass over her head, and kicked his knee hard enough to buckle the leg.
Yen moved toward his exposed throat, then brought both daggers up at the last instant. Joe’s sword crashed into them with enough force to throw her several steps backward. Both fighters backed away and took a moment to recover.
The exchange had lasted barely half a minute, but the stands were already roaring, spectators shouting for their favorites and trying to outdo one another.
Arien was also impressed, but he preferred to focus on Mana Sense and observing Skill usage. From what he could see, Yen used a second Skill after her initial attack to speed herself up, then a third to dodge the shield, and two more simultaneously while blocking Joe’s attack. Joe, on the other hand, had used only one, when he was on the ground and Yen was about to strike.
“Well, I’ve already won,” Kreft said confidently. “See how hard Yen is breathing? She must have burned through a lot of Stamina in a short time. She went all in and almost pulled it off.”
“I don’t understand. I was sure she had him.”
“She probably thought so too. But the old fox had a trick he hadn’t shown yet in this tournament. Did you see how fast he struck? I’m guessing he used Sudden Counter or something similar. And a fairly high level one. Maybe even a second specialization. It’s a very useful and dangerous skill, though now everyone will be expecting it.”
Kreft was right. The duel ended quickly after that. Without her speed, Yen could barely block the older man’s attacks. Eventually, when he drove her to the edge of the line, Joe used his Skill a second time and rammed her with his shield so hard she flew several meters backward, landing very close to where they were sitting. Up close, Arien could see the sweat and dust streaking her face as she cradled one arm against her chest.
The Healers reached her moments later and began repairing the damage, giving him his clearest look yet at Life magic. They murmured spells while tracing gestures through the air, and the mana flowing from their hands formed two intertwined spirals before sinking into Yen’s body. The pattern looked extremely complex, yet neither Healer appeared to struggle with it.
The next fights allowed Arien to gain two more silver coins and a much better understanding of how warriors fought.
“Kreft?”
“Hm?”
“Why do the shield users keep losing here?”
The former soldier barked a laugh. “Because this is a tournament.”
Arien frowned. “That doesn’t answer anything.”

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“It answers everything. Look around. Nobody here is trying to survive a campaign, march for ten days, or clear a Monster nest. They’re trying to win one fight.”
He pointed toward a fighter carrying a massive two-handed axe. “See him? Strength build. Hit hard enough, and the other fellow stops being a problem.”
Then he nodded toward a lean swordsman who seemed to blur whenever he attacked. “And him? Speed. End the fight before your opponent can react.”
“What about the shield users?”
“They invest more in Endurance and defensive Skills. Makes them reliable soldiers. Harder to kill. Easier to trust on a battlefield.”
“But they lose.”
“Often.”
“Then why not specialize?”
“Because life isn’t a tournament.”
Kreft gestured toward the arena.
“Most of these people aren’t professional duelists. They’re guards, soldiers, caravan escorts. In a real fight, surviving matters more than putting on a show.”
Arien considered that.
“So the strongest duelist isn’t necessarily the strongest warrior.”
“Now you’re thinking.”
“Makes sense. So what does someone like Yen from Two Bridges or Fredrick Axe do?”
“She works as a caravan guard. He sometimes works as a guard, sometimes as personal protection for wealthier merchants. Oh, speak of the devil.”
Fredrick entered the arena carrying an enormous axe. At nearly seven feet tall, he looked like a giant from legend, and the crowd erupted the moment they saw him. He raised the weapon overhead and roared, drawing even louder applause.
His opponent looked painfully ordinary by comparison, with an average build and the sword and shield of a nameless guard destined to die first in every story. Only the red cloth tied around his arm distinguished him from the crowd. Despite all that, he had won all his matches, though several had been close, especially his quarterfinal bout against Old Joe.
“Are you sure, boy? I know Ulryk from Stone Mill has good technique, but Fredrick has handled worse.”
“All in on Ulryk. I think he’ll win,” Arien said firmly.
“Four to one for Fredrick… Hah. You need to know when to leave the table. I’m up thanks to you, so I’ll sit this one out.”
“As you wish.” Arien wasn’t entirely sure either, but in none of his fights had Ulryk used a single Skill. That meant either he had none, they weren’t useful in combat, or he was deliberately hiding them. Either Ulryk won and Arien made a fortune, or he lost and Arien still walked away roughly even. The trip had already been a huge success.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Here it is, the Finals of the Warriors’ Tournament of Ribenne!” the announcer declared, his voice carrying clearly over the noise, likely enhanced by some skill. The crowd rewarded him with applause.
“Today’s winner will be either Ulryk of Stone Mill, soldier of the 77th Infantry Regiment of His Royal Majesty…” He paused, but the reaction was weak.
“Or the champion of the last tournament, participant in the Werin Tournament, pride of Ribenne… FREDRICK AXE!”
“Axe! Axe! Axe! Axe!” the crowd began to chant.
“I love you, Fredrick!” shouted a somewhat tipsy woman.
Fredrick grinned triumphantly, revealing significant gaps in his teeth. While the crowd kept chanting, Fredrick approached Ulryk, who looked even smaller beside the towering giant, and said something to him.
Ulryk only shook his head and shrugged.
The giant spat at Ulryk’s feet and walked back to his place in the circle, which had been doubled in size since the semifinals.
“May the gods bless your blows, and may the better man earn the favor of the war goddess Werin!” the organizer thundered, quickly stepping off the arena.
Fredrick attacked immediately, taking several massive strides forward before swinging his axe in a wide horizontal arc at Ulryk’s waist. Ulryk simply stepped back twice and let it pass.
The next minute looked much the same. Fredrick chased him around the circle while Ulryk refused to engage, drawing increasingly loud boos from the crowd.
“If he plans to wear Fredrick down, it won’t work. A few have tried. He’s got quite a lot of Endurance,” Kreft commented.
As if he’d heard him, Ulryk changed tactics.
After Fredrick’s next swing, instead of retreating, he ducked, letting the axe pass over his head, and countered with a strike aimed at the giant’s chest.
Fredrick blocked it with the haft of his axe and shoved the soldier back, following up with a diagonal strike.
Ulryk deflected it with his shield, though the grimace on his face showed that even part of the blow’s force was far from pleasant.
He struck back, but once again, Fredrick absorbed it on the shaft of his weapon.
Another minute passed in a relentless exchange until Ulryk’s shield had been reduced to little more than splinters. Fredrick finally activated a Skill, and his next attack accelerated sharply. Ulryk had only two choices: trust what remained of his shield or try to parry the axe with his sword.
Then Arien saw magic flare around the smaller man. Ulryk’s movements accelerated, his whole body seeming to gather more power with each motion. The axe slammed into his ruined shield with terrifying force, but somehow failed to break through. Before Fredrick could recover, Ulryk roared.
His roar hit the front rows hard enough to make several spectators recoil. Fredrick froze, and Ulryk drove his sword into the giant’s chest with all his strength. A crack sounded across the arena. Fredrick dropped his axe and sank to his knees.
The stunned silence lasted only a moment before the stands erupted.
“The gods favor you, boy! I’ll remember this next time!” Kreft shouted.
“What a fight! Kreft, did you see that? What was that?!” the excited Will asked, clapping fervently.
“Unyielding to stop the axe, a War Cry to stun Fredrick, and probably another ability to enhance his body. A fairly standard set, but executed perfectly and timed flawlessly.”
“Amazing. Do you think I’ll be able to fight like that one day?”
“Of course, as long as you keep training hard.”
“I’ll train twice as hard! No—three times as hard!” the boy shouted, staring in admiration at Ulryk, who sat on the sand trying to catch his breath.
“What a fight!” the organizer’s voice rang out, still filled with awe. “Both fighters showed incredible skill! The reigning champion brought to his knees! But we have a new champion! RED ULRYK!”
“Ulryk! Ulryk! Ulryk!” the crowd chanted, already forgetting their fallen favorite as healers crowded around Fredrick.
The new champion rose unsteadily and untied the red strip of cloth from his arm, kissed it, and raised it above his head. His eyes were wet.
Arien watched the red cloth flutter above him while hundreds of spectators chanted Ulryk’s name.