Chapter 47: Proper Reasoning
DESPITE HER EARLIER PLANS, Emelyn was still an hour late on her trip to Klearon, and she had only herself to blame. The Waygates did cut the journey shorter, but that did not help when she had a multitude of tasks eating her time.
Rose was ecstatic to meet them again, even though it had barely been a few days for her. Well, she was the one who trained Arilyn for days leading up to the prefectural contest, and she was eager to see the result with her own eyes. Emelyn was more than peeved with herself for not being able to make time. It should have been her to teach Arilyn. She was not just his aunt, but his godmother too.
They had planned to meet before he went about his ways into the game, but now that they were delayed, they could only go straight to the Coliseum and hope that he was yet to make an appearance. It was merely 11 in the morning; the games had barely started. Hopefully, they were not too unlucky.
“Look, it seems Arilyn is already in a duel,” Rosalyn said as she returned, buying them a couple of passes.
In one section of the Hippodrome, Emelyn found her little nephew, who was not that little anymore, facing a rather gallant-looking young woman. “Quickly, let’s find Ash so we can watch it together.”
“Already did,” her sister said, pointing to the north. “They’re on that stand.”
Emelyn narrowed her eyes and could barely make out the familiar silhouette, but she had to take her sister’s word for it. Now that both of them were at prestigious class, Rosalyn had evened the gulf between them. Not to mention, in the contest of perception, her sister had her beat altogether.
Thankfully, Rose did not make a spectacle by flying up to the stand. A couple of years into adulthood, Rosalyn had grown into a fine woman, exhibiting the etiquette and decorum expected of her. She was as gorgeous as she had ever been, of course, but the years had carved away most of her haughtiness; now she was a respectable young lady whom people could depend on.
Well, as much as other people, Emelyn herself was surprised at how dependent she had become on her little sister. Although she was still more capable than her in spellcrafting, Rosalyn was the better fighter. And she was damnably good at dealing with people, where Emelyn faltered the most. Perhaps in a year or two, she would be able to leave all the household tasks and business entirely up to her.
By the time they reached the designated stand, Arilyn’s duel seemed to have reached a stalemate. Dozens of fiery spells exploded in the air as her nephew danced about to strike with his blade.
“Why is he playing around with a sword?” Rosalyn said when their sister finally seemed to notice their presence.
Despite the gown draped on her form, Rosalyn shot toward Ash to give her a beastly hug.
“Gosh, you are no goblin anymore,” Ash said, pinching her cheeks and kissing her head. “You have more elfin glamour now.”
Rose grinned, looking a little embarrassed. Ash dislodged from Rose to embrace Emelyn. The bump in her stomach became eerily apparent to Emelyn once they hugged.
“I have missed you, little sister.”
“I’m sorry for not coming sooner.” Emelyn smiled and greeted her brother-in-law and all the familiar and unfamiliar faces around them.
“Anyway, why is he wasting time with a sword when he can end the duel already?” Rosalyn enquired.
“He’s forging his blade,” their brother-in-law said, sounding both exasperated and proud at the same time.
Rose quirked an eyebrow, returning to the duel.
“Arilyn has only fought with a sword in all the duels,” said a blonde-haired girl. She was likely her sister’s apprentice. “And he has not lost any yet.”
Once everyone sat down, the stalemate in the duel seemed to tilt more toward Arilyn, despite him not even taking offence. With his strange perception, which was even more outrageous than Rosalyn’s, her nephew was able to remain completely out of range of the spells and even his opponent’s zone of Influence. A few more minutes like this, and his opponent would have no choice but to forfeit the battle, as her Will would not allow her to cast any more powerful spells.
But before victory came his way, something else unfolded on the stage. There was an exchange between them that froze Arilyn completely in his tracks. Since her perception was retracted, Emelyn could not catch what his opponent had said, but the next words did reach her ears.
Now Emelyn considered herself to be much more reserved than both of her sisters, but even hearing those treacherous words, a deep-seated anger rose in her chest.
“This is foolish,” Ash mumbled, shaking her head.
“Foolish or not,” Rose said with a level tone, her eyes fixed on the girl, “if I had my way, I would beat her senseless before deciding.”
For better or worse, her nephew seemed to share the same mind, radiating an overbearing aura of onslaught toward his opponent.
***
MARIE WAS EXASPERATED. This battle should have ended long ago with her victory, and yet she had already spent all her essence and still had not claimed a single advantage over the much younger boy—a boy whose father had crippled a cousin of hers. Not to mention the senseless beating her half-brother had received in his impetuous challenge to the fable-class swordsman. Even her grandfather had not fared well when he journeyed to the obscure town to demand an explanation.
Now, Marie had little love for her half-brother. As for the cousin, she only saw him as an eyesore. Despite being older than her by a year, he barely possessed a speck of her ability. But what he lacked in ability was made up for by his father’s position in the House. The house wanted to forge a matrimonial alliance, marrying him off to House Septimus. But all that was undone once he got himself crippled in some unknown backwater town that nobody had heard of.
He did regain half of what he had lost by ingesting invaluable elixirs, but his abilities were hardly anything to begin with. And the face he had lost for the family was irrecoverable—so much so that House Septimus had already begun reconsidering their alliance.
Now, Marie could not care less if it all ended there. Regrettably, the elders of her house deemed the alliance to be most necessary. They had decided that she would be a far better candidate for securing the alliance.
Enraged beyond reason, Marie went straight to find her cousin and beat the living blight out of him for his incompetence. He could have remained silent, lived in peace in the unknown town, and returned with the honour the family had paid for him. Instead, he came back crippled, disgracing the name of House Daenerys.
Why would Marie—the leading figure of the younger generation of House Daenerys—become a political piece to salvage an alliance with another house? Why had she worked so hard only to be used as a sacrifice? Of course, she knew the exact reason: once she managed to reach the prestigious class, her half-brother, who was to succeed as the Patriarch, could not match her power or esteem. Despite losing face, he still had a great hold over many of the elders.
And while Marie had great potential, she was still far from the prestigious class. It would take at least half a decade, if she were fortunate.
She could not wait that long. To change the minds of those old fossils, she needed something more immediate. Thus, she decided she would prove herself through the prefectural competition. Marie had demonstrated it in the group stage, defeating all her opponents with ruthless efficiency, except for that mind-controlling witch of House Solvyn. Meeting her had already foiled her plans. And now this outrageous boy.
If the witch was unnerving, then this red-haired boy was simply infuriating. For reasons unknown, he always seemed able to remain outside her Influence. And his aura—how had he trained it so that it already matched a centurion in the legion?
Marie told herself it was to be expected. Fallen or not, the boy was of high blood, and his abilities, though irritating, reflected that.
She considered challenging him to a sword duel, but she feared that was exactly what he wanted. From what she had gleaned, engaging him in close quarters would be her undoing. If only there were other ways. Her essence seed was already scorching in protest, twisting in her abdomen.
Hopefully, the defence of her suit would serve her well even in close quarters. If she managed to land a solid blow or two, there would still be a chance. Besides, aura tended to strain far quicker than essence.
So she decided to taunt him further. Her earlier words had already drawn a reaction. If she could taunt him into exhausting his aura, it would become much easier to secure her victory.
With her mind made, venomous words slipped from her mouth unbidden, as though they had long been waiting to be spoken.
She expected him to pounce like a rabid beast. Instead, her opponent became deathly still, hovering in the air as a formidable aura radiated from his form.
Marie ridiculed further, “It surely runs in the family. Good thing the Imperator seized all the—”
Abruptly, an oppressive aura locked onto her, freezing her tongue. It made her feel as though there were a hundred kilograms weighing down on her chest. Her breath caught, and even with her essence channelling in torrents, it took a moment to neutralise the coercive force.
Thankfully, it worked. Relieved, Marie hid a smile and finally unsheathed her blade as a searing flame emblazoned along its edge. The relic, although not of a higher grade, could shatter protective wards like brittle glass.
But of course, she did not engage him in swordsmanship. Marie was no fool. She had to wait for an opportunity—or create one.
Once more, she locked onto him with her Influence and poured all her essence into her most powerful display of fire shaping. A flood of gaseous flame ignited at her command, vaporising the little humidity present in the air. To her surprise, even her spell was somewhat suppressed by the auric weight. It took the last remains of her Will to flood it all his way.
Yet, before her spell could come to fruition, something locked onto it. Her weave unravelled like an overstrained rope.
Her enemy met her gaze; his eyes were glowing like smouldering emeralds.
Blighted Hell! Marie cursed. How had she forgotten that he was an enchanter?
Marie set her jaw, veins visible in her temples as she emboldened her Will and adjusted her weave. Yet his threads clutched onto hers in an iron grip. The force she had poured in, having no path to disperse, rebounded in a violent backlash.
Without warning, an excruciating agony tore through her core, throwing her entire system into upheaval. It was as if her essence thread was trying to pry out of her flesh.
Marie caught herself before coughing up blood. Though her feet were already unsteady, the levitation boots kept her afloat. Her vision darkened for a moment. When it cleared, she found her enemy swinging his blade.
All the kinetic thrusters in her suit buzzed to life, pushing her out of the way, when those terrible threads locked onto her, charging with kinetic force to keep her hung in the same spot.
Marie barely managed to reorient herself when his essence threads yanked in a violent kinetic pull. Regrettably, her Stormguard Armament did not come with a ward against telekinesis. It was her decision. She had chosen speed and defensive enhancements over it.
She believed she could defend against a shaper’s manipulation of her own. Now, with her Will dwindling, she could barely withstand the oppressive aura, much less push off his hold on her.
All she could try was using the sword to cut off the connection. Yet before she could even attempt it, the red-haired boy swung his blade, and an aura blade over three meters tall descended upon her like a bludgeoning ram.
Since she could not evade, Marie chose to defend, pouring all her remaining essence into the wards of her suit, even swinging her sword to meet his.
The blade aura surged stronger. It crashed into her mid-flight; her relic managed to disperse some of its force, yet the tearing force dug through layers of defence, leaving a crack across her breastplate. Two of the main ward formations faltered, while the rest still quivered in violent uproar.
A pain blazed through her chest, but Marie had endured worse. She focused, her arms still shaking as she took the blow head-on. Mustering all she could, she readjusted her wards for a second strike. To her utter dismay, his essence threads began to invade her suit. Through the crack created by his blade, his threads slipped into the runic formations of her armour, not only wrecking through them in a matter of moments. His wanton act of ruination indicated he knew the Stormguard Armament better than she did.
One by one, all fourteen remaining wards began to destabilise. The failure spread to the kinetic thrusters.
Marie rushed to defend with her own threads, but the speed of his manipulation far surpassed hers. Worse still, he seemed to wield more threads than she did. Half of his threads locked hers in place, while the rest tore through her prestigious armament as though it were brittle ore.
Before she realised it, every function of her suit had failed, and she was left suspended in the air solely by his power.
But more terrifying than the loss of her armour was the look in her opponent’s eyes.
They glowed like emerald orbs, bearing down upon her to edict the final judgment.
An unshakeable dread gripped her heart. It was raw, vicious, deeper even than what she had felt against Elsbeth and her mind-controlling coercion.
“I…” She had nearly admitted defeat, but her foe did not allow it.
Before the next word could leave her lips, her body slammed into the ground, erupting in a burst of rubble and debris. Her suit of armament was a mere husk of metal, only seeming to add to her torment.
Her enemy was not taking it easy. He could have driven his essence threads straight through her body and ended her then and there. Instead, he flung her about like a rag doll, smashing her repeatedly against the stone floor in utter humiliation.
Despite her physical conditioning, her flesh tore and cracked under the relentless assault. She ground her jaws to suppress the pain, for the humiliation was far worse than the physical suffering. Even the loss of a thousand-gold-leaf armament was little compared to the disgrace of being tossed about like a ragdoll before sixty thousand spectators.
Once his fury had finally ebbed, he left her in one of the craters, her frame lying in utter disarray, broken and battered.
Marie rolled over, coughing up a mouthful of blood. Her surroundings blurred, and she could not tell whether the referee had already declared her defeat. But when she saw the impetuous boy still staring down at her, she realised the duel had not yet ended.
He looked at her with cold arrogance, exuding an air that hinted that he stood far beyond her.
Drawing in a shaky breath, she forced herself upright. It took everything she had, and even then, her legs trembled violently. Even still, that only made her more resolute. She was not an utter disgrace like her cousin. If he wanted her surrender, she would not have it. She had endured enough humiliation for one lifetime. Marie would not add more to it.
“Kill me if you can!” she growled at him.
The cold blaze returned to his eyes, and for a moment, dread crawled up her heart. Then she remembered the referee would never allow it, even if he tried. With that realisation, she straightened, meeting his gaze in defiance.
Arilyn Arcis O’Ryon closed his eyes. When they opened again, the blazing intensity had faded, though the hostility remained.
Maintaining eye contact, he walked toward her in slow, deliberate steps. When he came within ten paces, Marie almost stepped back.
She opened her mouth, unsure what to say. Before she could form even a proper curse, he reached her and struck her across the face with a resounding slap.
The last of her strength faded as sizzling pain blazed through her cheek. Marie collapsed, the darkness claiming the last bit of her consciousness.
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Alternative title: Bitchslapping to Top 32
A little less than 3k words. I hope you like it... I'd be using more of these 3rd person povs to dramatise the scenes more. They also help a lot in worldbuilding and give different perspectives on the world. Of course, most of the story will follow after Arilyn, with the occasional interludes. For some reason, I thought I had to stick to 1st person as it's expected in traditional writing.