Megan, Rachel, and Jordan filed into the first row of seats, those reserved specifically for the Tyrman students. The other participants from the College were there as well, save for two of their number who were participating in this event. Michael was off mentally preparing away from the noise. He was scheduled to be in the second fight of the day, and so was doing his best to avoid stress. His friends had left him to it, and trooped off to watch the first match.
It was one of the Zaban wild mages against a Mage Officer from Attos. The difference in appearance between the two magic students couldn’t have been more different, Megan thought with a chuckle. The Zaban mage was clean, but his robes were obviously worn in places, and his hair was hanging in loose tangles over his rather bony face. He was holding a short and stubby wand with a ham-fisted group, more like a dagger than a fine instrument of magic.
The candidate from Attos, meanwhile, was prompt in appearance. His long hair was combed and gelled back on his head, where it ended in a short bun. His tunic was spotless, and had obviously been pressed recently. His stance spoke volumes of the strict military code enforced in Attos, whether students or soldiers. Though there wasn’t really a difference, Megan reminded herself. Attos allowed permanent residence only to those who were actively enlisted in his army, save for a few decorated generals. So this student was also a soldier, which was represented well by the way he carried himself.
An unbiased mage had been selected to serve as referee, and he took several steps forward, eyeing both combatants as if checking for too much hostility. “I will now give a refresher on the rules. You are to limit yourself to short-range magic, and use no more than debilitating force. If I deem that your attack is purposely lethal, I will stop the fight, and you will be disqualified. Do you understand?”
The two nodded, and he took two steps back, lifting his hand into the air. “Very well. Then, upon my next word, you will begin.”
The crowd all seemed to lean forward slightly, their eyes locked onto the referee. It was the same for every honorable duel in the world. If the combatants attacked before he gave the word, they would be disqualified at once. After a brief pause that seemed to stretch across several tension-charged minutes, his hand sliced down through the air. At the same time, he jumped back, clearing himself from the possibility of dangerous splashes of power.
“Fight!”
Surprisingly, it was the Zaban mage who got his spell off first. Without speaking a single word, he flourished the wand in his right hand in three rapid circles. A gust of powerful wind swirled into the arena and formed a sort of sideways tornado that hurled itself at the Attosian mage. The soldier stood firm, only dropping into a defensive stance at the last possible second. The tornado shattered harmlessly against his shield, not moving its target an inch. The watching crowd muttered in approval at the strength shown.
Undaunted, the Zaban student launched a flurry of attack spells, switching effortlessly between the elements as he bombarded his opponent. Each shot was resoundingly blocked with ease by a single shield. The crowd was getting louder now, cheering the unbroken stance of the Attosian student. Megan was watching, eyes wide and jaw clenched, as she witnessed the ferocious display of ferocity and defense. She couldn’t imagine being able to cast magic as fast as this.
Just as the Zaban student finally paused in his flurry of spells, the Attosian student dropped his shield and moved for the first time since the duel began. He dropped into an even lower stance, then brought his hands up in a short, savage move. Two walls of stone shot up from the ground on either side of the Zaban student and attempted to pin him in place. Not to be bested just yet, the Zaban student put his hands out and shattered the walls, sending rubble flying to the side.
Then the Zaban student let out a grunt of pain, and his body immediately went limp. At first, the crowd didn’t notice what had hit him due to the cloud of dust created by the shattering walls. Then it cleared, and they could see. In that lightning-fast counterattack, the Attosian student had made one extra move. Just as his opponent had spread his energy outwards to deal with the walls, a small pillar of stone had shot up out of the ground, slamming into his stomach. The shock was enough to render him comatose.
The crowd let out a gasp of surprise that turned to a roar of approval as the Attosian student departed the large dueling circle. Healers hurried out to tend to the fallen combatant, reviving him with a quick spell and supporting him back to his teacher. He wasn’t weak by any means, the crowd could tell. They had just witnessed the impressive strength and rigid discipline instilled in a truly gifted mage by his military overseers. Megan was one of many who leaned forward to get a better look at the victor, wondering just who the man was.
It wasn’t until she saw Michael enter the makeshift arena that she realized about ten minutes had passed. She’d sat still and silent while the crowd muttered, going over that single image in her mind. The Attosian mage had maintained a single barrier during that entire barrage. She wasn’t sure if anyone else noticed that the sheet of mana had barely managed to survive, as it if were made with a specific level of strength. It was almost as if the Attosian mage had known exactly how long the flurry would last, and spent the bare minimum amount of mana needed to ensure that he could weather the storm.
Michael stood, feet slightly apart, one hand on the hilt of his sword, the other on his waist. There were some absurd catcalls from their upperclassmen, but the rest of the crowd didn’t react. He was an unknown quantity in the eyes of the other teachers and their students. And as he hadn’t shown an inkling of what magic he preferred, they knew next to nothing about him.
His opponent for this duel was a different story. A tall, graceful woman with olive skin and sleek black hair tied into a ponytail, she was well-known even to those who had never been to an Exchange. Kanora Tokugawa, bedecked in robes of light blue, bore no livery of any school. The only crest she wore was that of her divine ancestor, The God of War. She came from the Nihon-Jan Sanctuary, where she was being taught by the illustrious - not to mention mysterious - master known as Raveonic.
Megan had learned about her, in her very first week in Ahya. She was the apprentice to the old Paragon of Ahya, lent out to the College of Nihon-Ja to further improve her magical talents. Megan had actually met her once, for a brief moment, and could still remember the sense of quiet awe she’d felt, wondering what it was like to shoulder such an impressive sense of destiny. It was only now, with her situations having changed so drastically, that she thought they might be kindred spirits.
Kanora offered Michael a deep, respectful bow. He returned it without complaint or sarcasm. This must be a tough fight for him to face, Megan thought, glancing at her friend. She knew of his immense respect for Issho-Ni and Shigeru Tokugawa by now. Facing one of his descendants in battle, even a mock battle, wasn’t something to consider lightly. Though she also knew that he was eagerly awaiting the chance to test his skills.
“Same rules apply as before,” the referee said crisply. After raising his hand and glancing sideways to ensure both were ready, he brought his hand down. “Fight!”
To Megan’s surprise, Michael immediately jumped back, drawing his blade and raising it defensively. Then, a moment later, his reasoning became clear. An invisible force seemed to slam into the blade, held in place only by sheer strength and force of will. Michael bared his teeth in a growl of impatience, even as his free hand reached through the invisible barrier and fired off two quick blasts of solidified air.
The first shot went wide, aimed poorly with his exertions, but the second flew true. But to everyone’s surprise, it seemed to pass right through her. She also made no move to attack, and for a moment, the crowd seemed lost for words. Was this some elaborate prank the duelists were pulling? But then a few of them gave cries of shock. The word flashed across the crowd. Projection.
Furious with herself for not figuring this out more quickly, Rachel quickly funneled mana into her eyes. Her view shifted at once, and, quite apart from being able to see through illusionary magic that made her classmate seem more attractive, she could, at last, see what was truly happening between Kanora and Michael. Kanora had projected. It was one of the most basic techniques in spiritual magic, which projected a person’s soul outside of their body. Their strength and experience showed itself in the passive power of their soul.
Kanora’s soul was striking at Michael, who parried each blow with careful caution. His blade, being intensely magical, could easily fend off her attacks, but countering was a different matter. Any damage done to her projected form was only temporary and could be repaired within minutes. If he wanted a decisive victory, he had to get past it to her actual body. But she was too fast, and there was just enough casual power of her strikes that staggered him, keeping him in place.
Michael funneled mana into his hand and grabbed the forearm as it flashed past his face. Then he spun on the spot and threw the projection several feet to the side. Having no physical form to weigh it down, it simply floated in place, recovering from the shock of electricity he’d put into it. Ignoring it, Michael lunged for Kanora’s core body. Megan could understand his reasoning. Someone so skilled in spiritual magic would likely lack the physical strength needed to keep up with him.
Kanora finally moved as Michael stepped into striking distance, and dropped low with one cat-like move. Michael’s shockwave of mana knocked her back and down, catching her off-guard. She’d clearly expected for him to swing his weapon. He was grinning now as he noticed the movement. It never paid to expect anything of Michael in a fight, as Megan had learned over the past year.
“Not so fast,” Michael said. Kanora had vaulted back to her feet, and he advanced, giving her no time to recover or project again. As long as he cramped her for space, he seemed confident that he could easily win this match. The shift in the fight was obvious to everyone watching, and they could all tell that this fight would only have one outcome. Kanora’s starting trick had been disarmed. She moved well, showing some physical skill, but her real prowess was obviously in spiritual magic, not physical. Michael, an early prodigy of both physical and arcane magicks, would disable her soon.
But that wasn’t right, Megan thought, as she heard members of the crowd muttering this. When she’d Kanora, the girl had been significantly gifted with spiritual magic, but also considerably weaker than expected. Most mages she knew, herself included, were physically weak. But Kanora was especially so. Almost as if to compensate for this flaw, she’d become rather good at spiritual magic. Then Megan realized what was wrong with the situation.
The crowd caught up to the situation quickly when spinning away from Michael’s most recent strike, Kanora dove back in, her body shining with faint blue-white energy. Her knee came up where he wasn’t guarding, and slammed into his gut. Much like the Zaban student, he grunted in pain but kept moving. Surprised anger on his face, he brought the hilt of his blade slicing through the air to slam into the side of her head. Except that it wasn’t there.
Kanora, Megan remembered, was the official Paragon Apprentice of Ahya. Her master, Raveonic, was rumored to be a master in physical, spiritual, and arcane magicks. So of course she was strong enough to compete in all three categories. It just wasn’t until her second blow, a vicious roundhouse kick to Michaell’s head, that she realized what that truly meant. Michael was unconscious before he even hit the packed earth floor of the sparring arena.
