Chapter 147
Rayne had always known there was a good chance he would end up clashing against Atticus during the tournament.
The moment he learned that the Crimson Guard was participating, the possibility had become obvious. Still, seeing their names directly beneath his own on the rooster board made the situation feel far more real than before. If both parties won their opening matches, then they would face each other in the second round.
On the very first day.
It felt as though things were moving far faster than he had expected. Of course, before any of that happened, they still had to get through their first battle.
The Three Bears—That was the name of the adventurer party they had been matched against.
Bran spent most of the hour before their match gathering information on them, and what he discovered was reassuring. The party wasn't new to Valers.
They had apparently spent nearly a year working in and around the capital, mostly taking merchant escort contracts and caravan protection jobs. That gave them some experience, but not enough to make Rayne particularly worried.
All three members were somewhere between level twenty-five and twenty-seven and, more importantly, none of them were spellswords.
On paper, it should have been an easy victory. Rayne wasn't foolish enough to trust paper.
Statistics could be useful, but battles weren't won through statistics. People made mistakes. People got lucky. Sometimes one wrong decision was enough to lose an entire fight.
Because of that, he treated the Three Bears seriously despite their levels.
The battle itself took place almost two hours after Albert's opening speech. Before their turn arrived, the crowd was treated to two other matches.
The first involved the group from Astra Academy.
The three students Albert had introduced earlier entered the arena against an eastern mercenary band that had apparently traveled all the way to Valers specifically for the tournament. The mercenaries even possessed a spellsword amongst their ranks, which initially earned them a decent amount of attention from the audience.
It didn't help them.
The academy students dismantled the entire party in less than five minutes.
Two of the mages worked together to control the battlefield while the third focused entirely on the enemy spellsword. Fire spells rained down one after another, forcing the man onto the defensive from the beginning of the fight.
Every attempt to advance was met with another explosion of flame, and before long the rest of his party was struggling just as badly.
Watching the fire mage reminded Rayne a little too much of Casper, and once the spellsword fell, the battle was effectively over.
The crowd loved every second of it.
The second battle was much less impressive by comparison.
Neither side possessed spells. Neither side had academy students or noble bloodlines in their midst. It was simply two adventurer parties doing everything they could to survive another round.
In a strange way, that made the fight more entertaining.
Everyone knew that whoever won would probably be crushed by the academy students in the next round, but neither side seemed willing to accept that. The battle became increasingly messy as both parties exhausted themselves.
At one point two heavily built warriors somehow lost their weapons during the chaos and ended up settling the matter with their fists instead.
The crowd erupted at that. By the time the winner was finally declared, even Rayne found himself slightly entertained.
Then it was their turn.
The moment Bran led them toward the tunnel, Rayne could feel the atmosphere changing. The sounds of the crowd echoed through the stone passageway ahead, growing louder with every step until they emerged into the sunlight.
Immediately, thousands of voices crashed into him. Unfortunately, very few of them were cheering.
Boos rolled down from every section of the arena. Some people openly shouted insults while others simply glared at him from their seats. A few weren't even trying to hide their hatred.
Several spectators loudly wished for his death. Others openly called him a traitor.
As Rayne glanced around the stands, he even noticed Nate and Kesh several sections above getting into what looked like a fistfight with members of the crowd. He guessed that somebody had decided to insult him a little too venomously.
The sight made him grin despite himself.
“I sure am popular.”
Bran barked out a laugh beside him. “Let's see if they keep wishing for your death after we win.”
Rayne nodded, and the crowd's hostility only disappeared when the Three Bears finally entered the arena from the opposite side.
Suddenly the boos became cheers.
People shouted encouragement. Others yelled for the adventurers to kill him. The entire arena seemed determined to support anyone who wasn't named a Frayser.
Ironically, the Three Bears didn't look particularly comfortable with that support.
The swordsman leading the party appeared overwhelmed. The archer kept glancing toward the stands while the staff user looked as though he wasn't entirely sure how to react to thousands of people chanting his name.
All three looked young, and nervous, completely unprepared for the amount of attention they were receiving.
Before any of them could say anything, a referee stepped into the centre of the arena and raised a hand for silence.
The crowd gradually settled.
As the official began explaining the rules, Rayne rested a hand on his sword and studied the opponents standing across from him.
The boos, the cheers, and the whispers slowly faded into the background. None of it mattered now.
The only thing that mattered was the battle ahead of him, but as it turned out, he didn't really have to worry too much.
Rayne had no idea if it was the pressure from the crowd or the bears were simply bad in duels, but they folded in less than two minutes.
As soon as the referee yelled to start the battle, Bran aimed two arrows straight at the archer who had barely nocked one. The staff user next to him moved to protect, but only found an arrow knocking him back on the sand.
It was clear that whatever strategy the Three Bears had prepared before entering the arena had fallen apart in that single instant.
Bran's opening attack had completely disrupted them.
The archer was forced onto the defensive before he could even loose a proper shot. The moment that happened, their formation collapsed.
Jason wasted no time taking advantage of it.
The large soldier charged straight toward the pair like a bull released from a pen. The archer managed to fire several hurried arrows in his direction, but Jason simply lowered his shield and kept moving forward.
The arrows struck wood and iron before bouncing away harmlessly. Nothing slowed him down.
Rayne didn't remain standing still either. The moment Jason moved, he charged directly toward the swordsman leading the Three Bears.
To the man's credit, he didn't panic.
Even after watching Bran disrupt his party and Jason rush his companions, the swordsman remained focused. He stepped forward and met Rayne's attack head-on, raising his own blade in time to intercept the strike.
Steel clashed against each other. For a brief moment, the two weapons locked together.
Then the difference between them became obvious.
The swordsman might have possessed some experience, but Rayne possessed superior strength, superior stats, and far more battlefield experience than somebody who spent most of his time escorting merchants.
The man was easily driven backward. Surprise flashed across his face as he struggled against the pressure.
Realizing he couldn't win the contest of strength, he immediately tried to pull his sword free and create distance.
Rayne didn't give him the opportunity. The instant the pressure vanished, he surged forward.
A desperate swing came toward him.
Rayne sidestepped it. Before the swordsman could recover, he hooked his leg behind the man's ankle and swept.
The adventurer lost his balance immediately. A second later he crashed onto his back in the sand.
Before he could even think about getting up, Rayne stepped forward and planted a boot firmly against his stomach.
His sword descended immediately afterward. The tip stopped directly in front of the man's throat.
“Give up,” Rayne said calmly. “I don't want to hurt you.”
The swordsman's eyes widened. For a moment, he simply stared at him. Then Rayne glanced around the arena.
The staff user was already unconscious several meters away. Jason stood over him like a victorious giant while the archer remained on his knees nearby, looking as though he wasn't entirely sure whether running away was allowed.
The battle was already over.
Before the swordsman could even respond, the referee raised a hand. A familiar spell matrix appeared near his mouth.
“The Three Bears can no longer continue!” the man announced, his amplified voice spreading throughout the arena. “The Valerian soldiers are victorious!”
The declaration echoed across the arena.
Rayne immediately withdrew his sword and stepped away from the fallen adventurer. Then he offered the man a small nod before turning toward his party.
There were very few cheers waiting for them. Rayne didn't particularly care. More surprisingly, there were barely any boos either.
The crowd simply seemed stunned.
After all, the entire battle had ended too quickly.
Many of them probably expected a drawn-out fight or Rayne to at least get pushed back a little. Instead, the Three Bears had been dismantled in less than two minutes.
By the time most spectators fully understood what had happened, the battle was already over.
A minute later, Rayne, Bran, and Jason were already making their way back toward the waiting rooms.
Jason frowned as they walked. “That wasn't fun.”
Bran snorted. “You should be glad it ended quickly. Anything longer and we might have needed health potions before the second battle.”
The large soldier grumbled something under his breath.
Rayne couldn't help smiling. “Don't worry,” he said. “You'll get all the fun you want during the battle against the Crimson Guard.”
Even as he said that, Rayne didn't feel any excitement.
Jason clearly looked forward to the battle, but all Rayne could think about was how exactly he was supposed to deal with Atticus. He didn't even know his battle style.
Maybe Bran noticed where his thoughts were heading because he suddenly placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Don't worry too much,” he said. “We have plenty of strategies prepared, and we'll get to see how the Crimson Guard fights soon enough. That's going to help more than anything else.”
Rayne nodded but didn't say anything. At this point there wasn't much to say. The battle was coming whether he worried about it or not.
And in just the next hour, his party watched as the Crimson Guard entered the arena.
Atticus walked at the front with only a longsword in his hand while the other two guards—Darius and Mikel—followed behind him. Their opponents were another adventurer party that actually looked fairly capable.
According to some of the conversations around the waiting room, they had been operating around Valers for several years and even possessed a spellsword amongst their ranks.
On paper, they should have been able to put up a fight.
Unfortunately, the battle somehow ended even faster than Rayne's own. It barely lasted a minute.
The moment the referee signaled the beginning of the match, lightning exploded around Atticus's blade. Mana crackled across the weapon while the crowd erupted into cheers.
Then Atticus moved. The distance separating the two parties disappeared almost instantly.
Rayne narrowed his eyes as he watched the noble rush forward. The speed didn't look natural. It was the result of both his physical abilities and the lightning mana flowing through his body.
The two ordinary adventurers barely had time to react.
Atticus's blade flashed once, then again. Both men were immediately sent crashing into the sand.
Their armour split apart where the strikes landed, and arcs of lightning danced across the metal as they rolled across the ground in pain. Less than ten seconds into the battle, only the spellsword remained standing.
To his credit, the man didn't panic.
His aspect appeared to be earth. Walls of stone immediately rose from the arena floor while layers of rock wrapped themselves around his body. It was obvious he understood exactly what would happen if Atticus reached him.
The problem was that none of it mattered. Every wall shattered beneath Atticus's attacks. Every attempt to slow him failed.
The earth-aspected spellsword fought desperately to create distance, but Atticus simply kept advancing. Lightning flowed around his blade with every strike, cutting through stone as though it were little more than hardened mud.
Eventually the inevitable happened.
Atticus reached him. A few seconds later, the spellsword surrendered before things could become any worse.
The entire battle had been so one-sided that the other two Crimson Guards hadn't even needed to move from their original positions. Darius and Mikel spent most of the match watching while Atticus dismantled the opposing party alone.
The moment the referee declared the Crimson Guard victorious, the arena exploded with cheers.
Thousands of spectators rose to their feet while chants broke out across several sections of the crowd. The noise became so loud that Rayne actually had to cover his ears for a moment.
Even then, his eyes never left Atticus.
The noble seemed to sense his attention because he slowly lifted his head towards the stands where he stood.
Their gazes met across the arena. For a few seconds neither looked away.
Then Atticus smiled.
It was the same confident grin Rayne remembered from the day the man had dragged him to the Magister's office. A grin that seemed to say the outcome of their battle had already been decided.
Rayne felt his stomach tighten slightly.
A moment later, Atticus turned and walked toward the tunnel, leaving the arena behind him while the crowd continued cheering his name.
Rayne watched him disappear from sight before finally looking away, and only one question remained in his mind.
How exactly was he supposed to defeat him?