The announcer introduces my opponent and me, giving us an opportunity to speak our thoughts once more.

  The demon across from me, one Kathiclis, says, “Though the venerable duke and I have conflicting motivations, we do agree that His Majesty was wrong. And that he is still making the wrong decisions. But do not misunderstand, I will demonstrate why I think myself worthy to stand here.” He gives me a knowing smile and prompts me with a motion of his hand.

  “Would you like to know how I came to this world? As some of you might have noticed already, the public information concerning that particular event is sparse.” A deep breath in, slowly let out, centers me back. “When I finally realized the enormity of my mistake, I took the selfish way out. But death rejected me. Instead, I was given a chance at redemption.” I laugh, only to bring confusion to the audience. “I thought myself your savior. No, it was I that was saved. By you. By my friends. Without them, I could have never stood here before you.” My gaze turns to the balcony, meeting Xyll’s perfectly, despite the distance. “They’ve only grown stronger and stronger. As have I, together with them.”

  Kathiclis’ voice goes back to normal volume. “Beautifully said.” I give him a small nod in reply.

  “May the fifteenth match of the first round... commence.”

  “Standstill.” “Nexen the Bulwark.”

  Great chains of rusted iron wrap themselves around my limbs, digging into my tender flesh, dragging me down with the weight of my everything. Waning strength pulls at the constricting implements. I look toward my hands, closed around the chains, tying them tighter around myself, afraid that if I let go, I’ll lose my everything. A soft crack is followed by a splitting explosion of metal shattering. Now unbridled, the weight is gone, and the strength I hold within soars high, as free as me.

  The world is frozen. Forces no longer acting as they should. Except for one man.

  Kathiclis moves through space, closing the distance between us like it’s shorter than it actually is.

  He strikes at my head. There’s a second exception.

  I dodge and tap his side.

  A blade of force slices into my barrier, stuck in place. A deep crimson needle freezes in its flight.

  Solid transparency splits in two when it crashes against my form. Another tap finds his arm.

  I strike at the air. Force pushes my needle forward. Both spells bend around my opponent, redirected by reality itself, answering to his whims.

  Opposing forces act upon the demon, caused by my two previous hits. Only a precise film of magic stops his body from being sheared in two.

  A layered barrier forms between us.

  As I shatter the last, Kathiclis finishes, “Impetus.”

  Motion returns to the world.

  Two blurring figures are locked in an exchange so fast, not a single person watching is able to track it perfectly. Even a fully buffed Elisa struggles.

  I suppress a yawn as a glacial fist is rippling through the air and aiming to take my head. Ooh, that molecule is moving weird. What should I make for dinner tonight? Something from the Demon Kingdom, perhaps? I could go for spicy. Is there a sweet and spicy combination? Yeah, that looks amazing. I’ll send a message to Elisa, see what she thinks. Right, is the fist here yet? Barely a micrometer closer. I guess I’ll go back to watching air molecules being displaced weirdly again.

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  “It appears Kathiclis can no longer continue and has surrendered,” the announcer’s enhanced voice announces. “What an amazing display from both contenders.” Tepid no more, the cheers shake the stadium.

  I offer a hand. The kneeling demon, barely enough strength left to keep himself from collapsing, weakly grabs it. I help him stand.

  My voice betrays my own exhaustion. “Good fight.”

  He exhales a tired snicker. “Good fight.”

  An official whisks Kathiclis away, his battered body quite in need of healing.

  A warp drops me in my balcony chair, my own bruises and cuts already looking better.

  “You’re grinning,” Elisa says.

  “Can you blame me? Nothing beats a good beating.”

  The elf shakes her head, her hand gently running along my good as new arm. “I hate seeing you get hurt.”

  “Likewise.”

  Elisa sighs and smiles. “Duly noted. Now, mind telling me why this message about—of all things—dinner was sent while you were engaged?”

  “Multitasking is my passion. Think you can replicate the interaction, though?”

  A few pulses of mana move the air. “Weird.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  ***

  “And there’s how many of those?”

  “What do you offer in exchange?”

  “Xyll, my pride and joy, is a wine snob. Half the cellars in the castle are of the gluggy variety.”

  “Not surprised. He has that look to him. As for your question, at least three figures.”

  “...Would you like to visit sometime? There’s a thousand-year bottle with your name on it.”

  My eyes slowly open. While stretching after my pleasant nap, I say, “Elisa doesn’t drink anything with alcohol content below eighty.”

  “We also have brandy.”

  “Rested?” Elisa asks.

  “And ready to go.”

  “Should we tell him about the thing?”

  “What thing?”

  “The thing...” I tap a finger against my chin. “Should we? No, we shouldn’t. But... maybe.”

  “I don’t think I want to know anymore.”

  I shrug and stand, starting to limber up. “Share the intel you collected so far?”

  “Yup. Falrilliat might have flipped, but I can never be sure of what he’s thinking. Yil is... as conflicted as ever. Cassmus doesn’t care either way. Auhellis will do whatever Xyll does.”

  “And you?”

  “I’ll see you again tomorrow.” He loses form, collapsing into a thin ribbon of shadow that is pulled under the divider.

  A warp places me in the arena. My arrival rouses the crowd. It seems I gained some fans. Or they gained the courage to back me outwardly too.

  My opponent is looking like she wants to kill me. Thinking it too. Kind of a bummer. She’s one of the zealots I tastelessly taunted Xyll with, more so than the duke. Stuck in the past, when military might had to be constantly proven. And clawing herself to the future, when power is all she wants to have.

  The announcer’s voice signals the start of the match.

  My form shimmers, overlapping with that of Erysis, everyone watching impossibly seeing two people where there is only one.

  My body ignites, flesh turning into ash instantly. The sand under my feet burning. The enclosing barrier melting.

  Four demons and a dragon appear on the outside of the protective magic, adding their support to the multiple other mages maintaining the grand spell.

  The fires before me are but a tiny flicker, a small patch of an inferno consuming everything. I take a deep breath in, heat incinerating me away from within.

  The flames are me, as much as I am the flames.

  I let the breath out, scorching heat following, as a cone of fire washes over my opponent. The attack bends around her form, hitting the barrier and creeping in all directions, nearly returning back to me.

  A screaming white fireball impacts my body. The flames are consumed and made a part of me. I unleash another unfocused attack, orange flames burning away her supply.

  The demon, hidden behind layers and flames, levels an arm and directs a constant ray my way. More fuel to burn.

  I blink next to my opponent. A fist as big as her crashes against her defenses, melting through but failing to connect.

  Fire around rages harder, twisting and twirling, like taken up by unfelt winds. Her magic starts spinning, accelerating. Instead of calmness in the center, there is only chaos, hellish motion concentrated in a single point.

  My body grows bigger and bigger, greedily drawing in what is meant to destroy.

  A stomp flings away molten sand. Another hits solid earth. A third puts a crack in the enclosing barrier, instantly closed.

  Blinding glow radiates out, obscuring everything within the arena, leaving the roar of flames and the rumble of strikes as the sole indication of what is happening inside.

  In an instant, the fire is extinguished, revealing a blazing pit of white, barely distinguishable from the warping haze still lingering.

  I am standing on a small platform of force, not wanting to get my feet wet.

  My opponent is collapsed on a larger platform I am also maintaining, looking crispy around the edges but still gooey on the inside. A couple of officials make sure she doesn’t get cooked through.

  While the fight was far from enjoyable, the burning pride I feel in my chest is more than enough.