[Making a Spectacle]
News of the coming events spread across the city like wildfire. By the end of the night, there wasn’t a single soul in Orario that didn’t know about the upcoming duel between the Apollo Familia and the young girl without a Falna or Familia to speak of.
Rumors spread like wildfire, people wondering what could have driven the God to challenge a girl like this. Others speculated, wondering if the girl had done some great slight against him and this was his revenge. Some called her brave, others called her stupid, most pitied her.
And in the basement of a rundown church, a goddess was furious.
Hestia paced the length of her home, her small fists clenched at her sides. She thought the only low of tonight would be finding out she hadn’t been invited to yet another banquet, but this! This was horrible!
She knew Apollo, though not by choice. They shared a pantheon in the Upper World, and he seemed to take that as an invitation to pester her relentlessly with flirtatious remarks that could be construed as borderline sexual harassment. Still, this was a new low, even for him!
To engineer such an elaborate farce just to claim a single girl for his Familia? It was despicable. It was predatory. It was, unfortunately, exactly the sort of thing Apollo would do.
The door to the church creaked open, and Hestia’s head snapped toward the sound. A familiar head of white hair appeared in the doorway, followed by the rest of Bell as he stepped inside.
“Goddess?” he called out, his red eyes finding her immediately. “Is everything alright?”
“Alright?” Hestia scoffed, throwing her hands up. “No, Bell, everything is not alright! Have you heard the news?”
Bell shook his head, closing the door behind him. “I just got back from the Dungeon. What’s going on?”
Hestia explained the situation, fuming all the while. Bell quickly joined her, a deep frown marring his face as he heard the news.
“That’s terrible,” Bell said, his fists clenching at his sides. “Is there anything we can do for her?”
Hestia’s heart swelled at the offer. This was why she loved her child. Bell heard this terrible story, and his first instinct was always to help. It was a rare quality, one that she cherished deeply.
But she couldn’t let him get involved in this.
“No,” she said firmly, shaking her head. “There’s nothing we can do.”
“But—” Bell started.
“But nothing,” Hestia interrupted, her voice firm. “If we offered her a place in our Familia, it would just turn Apollo’s attention onto us instead.”
In truth, Hestia would like nothing more than to offer the poor girl a place in her Familia. She wouldn’t ever pass up the chance to grow her family, and it would give Bell someone to help him in the Dungeon so that she wouldn’t have a heart attack every time he came back injured. As it stood though...
Hestia sighed, forcing herself to set aside her frustration. There was nothing she could do for the girl now, at least not directly. Worrying about it would only drive her mad.
“But enough about that,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “How did things go today? You mentioned you had a new supporter?”
Bell’s expression brightened immediately, the concerns of the evening seemingly forgotten in the face of the topic change. “Oh, Lille? We worked together for the first time today! She was a big help. I didn’t realize how much energy I was wasting carrying all those stones around, and now we can carry more!”
Bell was practically glowing as he espoused about the Pallum’s skills when it came to lugging materials and avoiding monster spawns. Hestia suppressed the surge of jealousy that wanted to emerge, happy that he was so animated about this.
“So things are going well, then?” She said as he took a breath.
Bell nodded enthusiastically. “She’s great!”
He’s growing so fast, Hestia thought, a soft smile tugging at her lips as Bell sang the praises of his new supporter.
But even as she listened to Bell’s excited chatter, her mind kept drifting back to the girl whose destiny culminated tomorrow. The little slip of a girl who defied a god, and the consequences that came with that.
Be safe, Hestia thought, her heart aching for a child that wasn’t hers.
~~~
“ARE YOU INSANE!?”
Syr’s outburst was almost deafening, but Tanya barely glanced up from the food on her lap. It had been a few scant hours since her challenge at the Apollo Familia’s estate, and she had sequestered herself in her room to prepare for tomorrow’s duel. Word of mouth had already ensured that practically every ear in Orario had heard of the upcoming spectacle, and she had no intention of being harassed with so little time to prepare.
Presently, she was dearly regretting having her lunch brought to her. It seemed that Syr had some opinions of the debacle that Tanya had found herself at the center of.
“A duel against a Level Two!” Syr’s voice was frantic. “Tanya, you aren’t really thinking of going through with this, are you?”
“You’re acting like I actively sought this outcome,” Tanya said mildly as she speared a roasted potato with her fork. She held it to her face, examining it. “I was backed into a corner. It was either this, or leave myself at the whims of Apollo’s little game. At least this way I have some control over my fate.”
Syr stared at her, clearly not reassured in the slightest. Her hands fretted at the edge of her uniform, her face seeming frantic. “You don’t have a Falna, Tanya. An experienced Level One wouldn’t stand a chance against most Level Twos, and you don’t even have that much going for you.”
“A fact that I am well aware of, thank you,” Tanya replied, popping the potato into her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully, savoring the buttery flavor before swallowing. “But consider the alternative. Apollo had arranged the entire affair to corner me into joining his Familia. If I had let that whole charade continue as he planned, the debt would have been the least of my concerns.”
“That doesn’t mean you had to challenge one of his people to a duel!” Syr insisted, her voice rising. “There had to be another way. The Guild, maybe, or—”
“The Guild has no jurisdiction over disputes such as this; Believe me, I’ve checked,” Tanya interrupted, setting her fork down. “And before you suggest it, fleeing the city would only delay the inevitable. Apollo has resources and reach. I would spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder.”
Syr opened her mouth to argue, then closed it, her expression shifting into something more defeated. She sank onto the edge of Tanya’s bed, her hands still fidgeting with the hem of her uniform. “I still think this is crazy,” she muttered.
“You’re entitled to your opinion,” Tanya said amiably, returning to her meal. “Though I would appreciate it if you kept your voice down. I’m trying to formulate a strategy, and your shrieking is rather distracting.”
Syr’s expression flattened. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“I’ve been told.” Tanya took a sip of her water, her mind already turning over the possibilities. The duel was set for dawn, which gave her roughly eighteen hours to prepare. Not ideal, but workable. She had faced worse odds with less time.
Though this is quite a bit less stressful than mobilizing an entire battalion with only a few hours notice, she thought wryly. Sometimes I wonder if the higher ups got a thrill from sending under rested men into battle against superior odds. Or maybe they just enjoyed the circus for what it was.
Would that make her the ringleader? Or the beast tamer? It was quite a chore keeping the 203rd whipped into proper shape, overly patriotic men and women that they were. She almost missed it. Almost.
Syr’s frown deepened, but she didn’t argue further. Instead, she sat in silence for a long moment, watching Tanya eat with an expression that was equal parts frustration and concern. It was almost touching, in a way, though Tanya wasn’t exactly sure what she’d done to earn such fretting from the woman.
A kind soul, this one, Tanya mused as she took another bite of her quickly cooling meal.
“Do you at least have a plan?” Syr asked finally. “For the duel, I mean.”
Tanya paused mid-chew, considering the question. She swallowed before responding. “I have several, actually. Though their viability depends largely on what Asterin brings to the table.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Asterin is a known quantity,” Tanya explained, setting her fork down and reaching for her water glass. “I’ve seen him fight, down in the Dungeon. He clearly prefers speed over power, and his skill with that rapier is nothing to be scoffed at. The question is whether he’ll fight conservatively or aggressively.”
Syr tilted her head. “Does it matter?”
“It matters a great deal,” Tanya said. “A conservative opponent is predictable. They’ll hang back, test my defenses, and look for openings. An aggressive one will press the attack from the start, hoping to overwhelm me before I can mount a proper response.” She took a sip of her water. “Given the circumstances, I expect Asterin to be the latter. He has an audience to play to, and a god to impress so I imagine he’ll want to end this quickly to show me the disparity between our powers.”
“That doesn’t sound good for you,” Syr pointed out.
“It isn’t,” Tanya agreed readily. “But an aggressive approach has its own drawbacks. Fighters who press to end things quickly often find themselves floundering when their stratagem fails, leaving themselves vulnerable to counterattacks. If I can survive the initial assault and force him into making a mistake, I might have a chance.”
“Might” was the operative word. Syr’s expression tightened as she caught that, but she didn’t comment on it.
A sharp knock at the door cut through the conversation, and both women turned toward the sound. Tanya set her fork down, her brow furrowing.
“Miss Degurechaff?” a voice called from the other side, soft but intent. One of the staff. “There’s someone here to see you.”
Tanya exchanged a glance with Syr. “Did she give a name?”
“Licia, miss.”
Syr’s eyes widened, and Tanya felt her own surprise mirror the other woman’s expression. She hadn’t expected to hear from the newly-leveled adventurer so soon, if at all. What in the world could she want?
“Send her up,” Tanya called out, then turned to Syr. “Would you mind giving us a moment?”
Syr nodded hesitantly and slipped out of the room with one last concerned glance toward Tanya. Licia appeared in the doorway only a scant minute or two later. She looked exhausted, her eyes shadowed with dark circles and her skin paler than Tanya remembered. She was dressed simply, bereft of any armor or weapon or in fact anything that would mark her as an adventurer.
Licia’s hands fidgeted at her sides, and she hovered at the threshold as if uncertain whether she was welcome.
“May I come in?” She asked quietly.
Tanya gestured to the chair near her desk. “Please.”
Licia entered hesitantly, her eyes flickering around the small room before settling on the chair Tanya had indicated. She moved to it with ginger steps, as if she was scared the floor might give out beneath her. When she sat, it was on the very edge of the seat, her back rigid and her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Licia’s mouth opened and closed several times, as if the words she wanted to say were fighting to get out but kept losing the battle. Tanya watched her patiently, allowing the silence to stretch as she finished her dinner.
“I’m sorry,” Licia finally blurted out, the words tumbling from her mouth as if she had been holding them in for days. “I should have said something at the banquet. I should have told everyone the truth about what happened in the Dungeon, but I just... I couldn’t.”
Tanya studied the woman for a moment, noting the way her shoulders hunched and her eyes refused to meet hers. The guilt was written plainly across her face, in the tight press of her lips and the redness around her eyes.
“You were in a difficult position,” Tanya said, waving a hand dismissively. “Dorian’s death put you in an impossible situation and Apollo used your grief to manipulate the narrative. I don’t blame you for keeping quiet when speaking out would have likely done more harm than good.”
Licia’s expression crumpled, a small whine escaping her throat. “That doesn’t make it right! I should have—”
“You did what was necessary,” Tanya interrupted the pity party. “Apollo is your god, and defying him publicly would have accomplished nothing except drawing his ire. I understand your position, and I’m glad that you answered my question when prompted. It was more than most would have done.”
Licia stared at her for a long moment, her expression shifting. She let out a slow breath that seemed to release some of the tension that was holding her upright. Tanya waited for her to gather herself.
Licia’s hands tightened in her lap, her knuckles whitening as she gripped her own fingers. The relief that had briefly softened her features faded, replaced by something harder, more resolute. She met Tanya’s gaze directly for the first time since entering the room.
“I... I need to tell you something,” Licia said slowly. It was clear from the tremor in her voice that she wasn’t sure of herself here, yet she continued regardless. “I should have told you yesterday but I couldn’t or else... I couldn’t. But I can now. You need to know.”
Tanya leaned back in her chair, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Go on.”
Licia swallowed hard, her throat bobbing visibly. “It’s about Dorian.”
Tanya listened to Licia’s confession, her eyebrows growing higher with every word. Licia spilled her heart, barely able to contain her guilt as she spoke, and when it was over, she fell silent, clearly awaiting judgment.
But Tanya gave her no such thing. No, the young soldier was much more preoccupied with processing the valuable information that had been given to her.
So that’s how it is.... A vicious smile slowly spread across Tanya’s face. It seems you’ve overplayed your hand yet again, Apollo. Now it’s my turn.
It wasn’t exactly a world shattering revelation, and Tanya had admittedly already had a suspicion, but the confirmation was worth its weight in gold.
And she intended to leverage every ounce.
~~~
The coliseum stood in the plains surrounding Orario, a relic of a bygone era when such exhibitions were more common. It was a massive structure of weathered stone and crumbling arches, its ancient seats stretching toward the morning sky in concentric rings. Once, it had hosted grand spectacles—War Games and tournament bouts that drew crowds from across the continent. Now, it mostly sat empty, a monument to forgotten glory.
But not today.
Today, it felt as if the entire city had descended upon the old arena. Gods and mortals alike streamed through the gates, filling the seats until not a single spot remained empty. The noise was tremendous—a cacophony of excited chatter, heated arguments, and the general hubbub of thousands of people packed into too small a space. Hawkers moved through the crowd hawking food and drink, while opportunistic bookmakers called out odds from makeshift stations set up along the walls.
Loki lounged in her seat with her feet propped up on the chair in front of her. Nobody was sitting there, allowing an unobstructed view of the arena floor and more than enough room to stretch out as she wished.
“This place sure is lively,” she said to the Pallum to her right. Her foot ticked from side to side like a metronome as she listened to the roar of the spectators around them. “You’d think they were giving away free booze the way these people are acting.”
Finn sat beside her, straight-backed as he stared down at the arena floor.
“It’s been quite a while since we’ve had an event like this,” he pointed out. “Of course people are excited. It’s not every day one girl challenges a god and his entire familia.”
“True, true.” Loki’s grin widened as she spotted a pair of gods she recognized in the crowd below. “And you know how we love our drama. Half of these people probably don’t even care who wins. Though the other half are probably chewing nails over their bets.”
“Are you hedging your own bets?” Tiona asked, leaning over Loki’s right shoulder.
“I’ve got a bit of action going on,” Loki said noncommittally. “I get the feeling there’s gonna be a lot of sour gods by the time everything is said and done.”
Loki’s eyes drifted toward the arena floor, where a small figure could be seen standing alone at one end. Even from this distance, Loki could make out the blonde hair and diminutive stature of the girl who had captured Apollo’s attention.
“Ooh, that’s some fancy armor,” she said, noting the shiny pieces attached to the girl’s torso and arms. The entire ensemble was on the lighter side, made of mostly leather with some metal interspersed here and there. It was clearly built for speed rather than complete protection.
“Psh, looks pretty flimsy to me,” Tione snorted from behind them, her arms crossed over her chest. “One good hit and she’s done.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Finn murmured, his sharp blue eyes fixed on the arena floor. “That girl has a way of surprising people.”
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
The voice came from off to the side, dripping with distaste. Loki turned to find Hestia standing in the aisle, her arms crossed over her chest and a scowl marring her pretty features. Beside her stood a white-haired boy with red eyes that seemed to take in everything around him with wide-eyed wonder.
“Well, well,” Loki drawled, a grin spreading across her face. “If it isn’t the Hestia. Didn’t think this was your kind of scene.”
“It isn’t,” Hestia sniffed, lifting her chin. “I’m here because someone has to show support for that poor girl.”
Loki snorted at the perceived insult. “What kind of support can you offer miss homeless? You don’t even have enough members to field a proper Familia.”
Her eyes slid to the side where a boy with white hair was trembling just behind Hestia. He hovered near her almost protectively, though it was clear that he had no idea what to do in this situation.
“Who’s this? Did you finally go and knab yourself some poor kid off the street?”
“Bell is a member of my Familia!” Hestia puffed up her chest, and Loki had to refrain from twitching. “He’s my first child, and a million times more impressive than any of yours!”
“Ho?” Loki’s grin widened as she leaned forward in her seat, propping her chin on her hand. “Looks like someone got a big head. Don’t let success get to you, Hestia. You’ll be even more lopsided.”
Hestia’s cheeks puffed with anger and she looked about ready to launch herself at Loki. Beside her, rabbit boy’s eyes had shifted away from the spectacle to a spot just to Loki’s right where Ais was sitting.
Another star-struck rookie, Loki snorted mentally even as she carried on the argument with Hestia.
It was almost pathetic how every male adventurer within a hundred-meter radius seemed to lose their minds the moment Ais entered the picture. This Bell kid was no different, judging by the way he was practically vibrating just at the sight of her.
“Bell?,” Hestia noticed her child’s attention and waved a hand in front of his face irritably. “Hello? What are you staring at?”
Bell blinked, seemingly coming back to himself. “O-oh! Uh, nothing, Goddess!”
Hestia’s eyes narrowed and she followed his gaze, but before she could set her sights on Ais, a voice boomed through the coliseum, cutting through the chatter of the crowd like a knife.
“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! GODS AND MORTALS ALIKE!”
“It’s starting,” Ais said as the crowd cried and cheered.
Hestia grabbed her child’s arm and pulled him away. “Come on, Bell! Let’s find somewhere with better company and less empty chests.”
Loki and Hestia glared at one another as the latter goddess stomped away with her protesting Familia in tow.
~~~
The roar of the crowd washed over Tanya, thousands of voices blending into a single wall of sound that rumbled the ground beneath her feet and shook dirt from the walls around her. She stood at the edge of the arena, her eyes sweeping across the sea of faces that filled the stands above. There were at least a few thousand of them, each and every one of them waiting to see her flounder against impossible odds.
Quite the spectacle, she thought dryly. Just as Apollo wanted. It feels as if the entire city is here to watch the end of our little drama play out.
Tanya shifted her shoulders, feeling the unfamiliar weight of her new equipment settle against her body. The armor fit strangely, covering far more than the scavenged pieces she had grown accustomed to over the past few weeks. Since the circumstances of her debt had changed rather dramatically, she had seen fit to redirect every cent of the hundred thousand Valis toward gearing up for this duel. If she won, her debt would be absolved. If she lost, it wouldn’t matter how much money she had anyway.
Her battered cuirass had been replaced with a fresh one of similar make, the metal polished to a dull sheen and fitted properly to her petite frame. Beneath it, the simple shirt she normally wore had been swapped for leather armor, while gloves and vambraces covered her hands and forearms, providing protection in case she overextended during an exchange. A hooded cloak had been thrown over the whole ensemble, serving the dual purpose of additional protection while also disguising her silhouette in battle.
Her Luger was strapped to her thigh, hidden beneath the fold of her cloak where it wouldn’t be immediately visible to her opponent or the crowd. Both her saber and knife were holstered at her waist, both maintained and sharpened for the occasion.
A small knot of anxiety sat in her chest, cold and tight, but she forced it down with ease. She had faced worse odds than this, in another life and another world. The pressure of imminent death, the chaos of battle, the crushing weight of responsibility for the lives under her command—these were familiar companions.
I always work best under pressure, she thought wryly. What greater pressure could there be than the threat of indentured servitude?
She rolled her neck, feeling the vertebrae pop softly, and settled into a relaxed stance as a gate began to open across the arena.
Asterin emerged from the gate across the arena with measured steps, his rapier already drawn and held loosely at his side. The morning light caught his blonde hair, held in a neat braid, and glinted off the polished metal of his armor. He looked every bit the confident warrior—relaxed, assured, and entirely at ease in the face of what the crowd clearly believed would be a one-sided slaughter.
He stopped at the center of the arena, his eyes finding Tanya’s immediately. That pleasant smile was firmly in place, though Tanya was beginning to wonder if he was capable of forming another expression.
“Miss Degurechaff,” he greeted, his voice smooth and carrying easily across the distance between them. “I must admit, I didn’t expect you to actually go through with this. Most would have simply accepted Lord Apollo’s generous offer.”
“I’ve found that few things labeled ‘generous’ from gods are ever truly so,” Tanya replied, her own voice flat.
Asterin’s smile didn’t waver. “You have a strange way of looking at the world. Such vitriol makes me wonder what could have happened in your short life to make you so capable of hate on par with the most grizzled veteran.”
Tanya’s lips curled into a thin smile. “I could ask you the same thing. You wear that pleasant mask so well, Asterin. One might almost believe you actually care about the people around you.”
The comment landed, though Asterin’s expression didn’t shift by so much as a fraction. His green eyes remained fixed on her face, watchful and assessing.
“I cared deeply for Dorian,” he said, his tone still pleasant but carrying an edge now. “He was a good man, and his death weighs heavily upon me.”
“Does it?” Tanya tilted her head, letting her smile widen slightly. “Strange. You didn’t seem particularly weighed down when you were spinning your little tale at the banquet. Are you so used to your comrades falling that you can’t even afford to shed tears for a dear friend?”
Asterin’s smile tightened almost imperceptibly, the muscles around his eyes bunching in a way that most would miss entirely. But Tanya had spent lifetimes reading the faces of men who thought themselves far more clever than they actually were.
“I grieve in my own way,” Asterin said smoothly. “Not everyone wears their heart on their sleeve like a fool.”
“No,” Tanya agreed. “But you’re certainly wearing something.”
Before Asterin could respond, a new voice cut through the roar of the crowd.
“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!”
Apollo’s voice rang out across the coliseum, amplified by some means that Tanya didn’t care to understand. The crowd’s roar intensified as the god appeared at the commentator’s box overlooking the arena, his arms spread wide in a gesture of welcome. He was dressed in flowing robes of white and gold, his red hair styled to perfection, every inch the benevolent deity welcoming his subjects to a grand spectacle.
“Welcome to this morning’s entertainment!” Apollo called out, his golden eyes sweeping across the assembled crowd. “Today, we shall witness justice served! A duel to settle a matter of honor and debt!”
Tanya kept her expression neutral as the crowd cheered. Apollo was playing to his audience, crafting a narrative that cast him as the wronged party seeking fair restitution. The truth, of course, was considerably more sordid.
“In this corner, representing the honor of the Apollo Familia, I present Asterin Hanthor! Level Two adventurer, skilled swordsman, and loyal servant of the sun!”
Asterin raised his rapier in acknowledgment, drawing a fresh wave of applause from the crowd.
“And in the opposite corner, the challenger! Tanya Degurechaff, solo adventurer, unaffiliated and unblessed!”
The response to Tanya’s introduction was considerably more muted. A few scattered cheers, some boos, and a great deal of murmuring. She stood motionless, letting the crowd’s reaction wash over her without response.
“The rules are simple!” Apollo continued, his voice carrying across the arena. “The duel ends when one combatant is rendered unable to continue, either through surrender or incapacitation. No killing blows—this is a matter of honor, not execution. Any questions?”
Both fighters remained silent.
“Then let the duel begin!”
The declaration hung in the air for a single heartbeat. Then Asterin moved.
He was even faster than Tanya had expected, even accounting for the enhanced abilities granted by his Falna. One moment he was standing at the center of the arena, and the next he was closing the distance between them with rapier extended. The blade gleamed in the morning light as it lashed out in a thrust so straight, it may as well have been laser guided.
Tanya twisted to the side just in time, feeling the wind of the rapier’s passage brush against her cheek. The attack had been aimed at her shoulder, a probing strike designed to test her reflexes rather than end the fight outright. She countered with a slash of her saber, but Asterin was already retreating, dancing back out of range just as she got her wits about her.
Fast, Tanya noted, rolling her shoulders as she settled into a defensive stance. And cautious. He’s not committing to any attacks.
“A quick little thing, aren’t you?” Asterin observed, his pleasant smile never faltering. “I can see why you’ve survived this long in the Dungeon.”
“Proper preparation can make up for many shortcomings,” Tanya said pointedly. Asterin’s eyes narrowed and he shifted his foot, and that was the only indication Tanya was given before he was upon her again.
Tanya thought herself prepared, but still she had trouble keeping up with the resulting onslaught of blows raining down upon her. She parried the first strike with the sound of ringing steel, stepped once to the side and turned to let the second blow her cloak aside, and brought a hand to her face to hastily deflect a third with her vambrace.
The metal rang and her much smaller arm was pushed aside with the force of Asterin’s blow, yet he did press the advantage and skewer her through the opening in her guard. Instead, his movements seemed to become a mite slower as she rallied and brought her saber back up in a retaliatory posture. Only then, did he begin to move at speed again, slipping past her blade as it whistled through the air.
Tanya’s eyes narrowed as she saw this. She pivoted on her heel, her boots kicking up a cloud of dust as she turned and threw the bulk of her cloak in his direction like a matador blinding a bull. Asterin stepped just out of range of the fabric, eyes widening a mere fraction as Tanya came up from below, clutching her knife in one hand and her saber in the other.
“Dual wielding?” He sounded a bit surprised as he ducked to the side, letting her knife whisper past his jaw. Tanya stepped and lunged, bringing her sword towards his side and grimacing as he caught the edge on his rapier like it was nothing. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”
“A spirited exchange!” Apollo’s voice rang out across the arena, his tone carrying a mixture of surprise and amusement. “Who would have thought an unblessed girl could hold her own against a Level Two? Perhaps there’s more to our young challenger than meets the eye!”
Tanya’s jaw tightened even as the crowd roared in response to his commentary. Apollo’s words were meant just as much for Asterin as they were for the spectators—a reminder to drag things out, to make a show of this rather than ending it quickly. The god wanted her humiliated, wanted to draw out her defeat until the entire city could watch her squirm.
As if I’d make it that easy for you, Tanya thought viciously.
As if on cue, Asterin’s movements slowed by the barest fraction. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but Tanya had been watching for it. When he attacked her this time, his attacks were flashier, his footwork more elaborate, each motion designed to showcase his skill rather than actually press his advantage.
And in doing so, he left an opening.
Tanya lunged forward, her saber slashing at a speed that Asterin could have easily dodged with his abilities. But his deliberate deceleration cost him, and the blade caught the edge of his chestplate with a shriek of metal against metal. Sparks flew as the steel skittered across the polished surface, leaving a long scratch that was ultimately cosmetic, but might as well have been a mortal wound for the way the crowd reacted.
The spectators roared with excitement, their voices rising in a crescendo of shock and delight. Asterin danced back, his green eyes dropping to the scratch on his armor before rising back to meet Tanya’s gaze. His smile remained firmly in place, but there was something colder beneath it now.
“Impressive,” he complimented. “You’ve drawn first blood—or would have, had that been flesh instead of steel.”
“Thank your footwork,” Tanya replied, rolling her shoulders as she settled back into her stance, knife hand behind her back and the other pointing her sword at the center of his chest. “You’re overconfident.”
“Perhaps I’m simply savoring the moment. After all, it’s not every day one gets to perform before such an appreciative audience.”
He gestured broadly to the crowd, drawing a fresh wave of cheers. The man was playing to them, just as his god desired.
Good, Tanya thought, feeling a tendril of satisfaction curl in her chest.
Tanya circled slowly, keeping Asterin at the edge of her range. The crowd wanted drama. They wanted surprise. They wanted an underdog story worth telling.
She intended to give them all a show they wouldn’t soon forget.