The battle, which had been in its furious peak, stopped as all eyes turned to face the lean woman as she clambered to her feet. The wisps of mana that remained from her previous illusion drifted away in the faint morning breeze, no longer hiding her true form. She had curly hair the color of straw that was cut short and plastered to her face. Her entire body was lean and well-muscled, with a coiled sort of power etched into its lines. She wore full armor save for a helmet, and the metal plates all bore sturdy arcane runes.

“Beran!” There was the angry voice again. It was coming, Megan now knew, from the powerful elven man who led the Zaban team. His face was fiercely twisted in fury as he stared across the distance at the woman. Fire burst from his hands, licking up his arms in an instant and covering his torso like a tunic. The fire spread across his entire body, burning most brightly in his eyes.

Michael, thankfully, had the presence of mind to jump to the side as the elven man charge at Lana Beran, his hands raised to strike. The pale woman reacted instantly, dropping back into her defensive stance. The runes along her arm flared to life, and the barrier that sprang to life was much thicker than before. The elf struck as fast and hard as he could, slamming into the barrier with terrifying force, but causing no damage. It was different in function as well as appearance, Megan noticed. Instead of stopping the mana outright, it was deflecting it to the sides, dispelling each attack harmlessly.

“Lameran!” A deep voice shouted, making itself heard easily over the sound of the resumed fighting. “Stop!”

Just after the words rang through the air, the fire around Lameran’s frame vanished. Megan couldn’t tell if he’d ended the spell early in response to the Alpha’s voice, or if the referees had acted. Either way, earthen slabs came up to surround the elf, who was slumped in resigned defeat. His attack had clearly contained lethal force, and the referees had simply been slow in responding, shocked as they were by Lana Beran’s surprise appearance.

“Lameran Inaro and his team are disqualified!” The lead referee called, running over to add his authority. “Leave the field at once! Your leader will decide a fitting punishment, but you are hereby expelled from this Exchange!”

Lameran’s countrymen hunched their shoulders at the announcements but seemed to know better than to argue or try to continue their leader’s fight. They had broken the rules, and this was their punishment. Their main priority now, it seemed, was to get away from the fight before more regrettable actions were taken. They moved forward, two of them moving to support Lameran by the shoulders, and slowly exited the arena. The referee turned to Beran.

“Lana Beran,” he began, his voice still stern. “You know that the rules prohibit members of royal families from competing.”

“I am not royalty,” Lana countered at once. Her voice was deep and croaky, as though she were sick. “So I am not breaking a rule.”

“What a load of rubbish!” The referee exploded. “You are the blooded heir to Attos Beran, King of Attos!”

“I am the only child of Attos,” Lana agreed. “But he is not the King of Attos. He never was, as he never occupied a throne or wore a crown.”

The lead referee scowled and opened his mouth to argue at once, then hesitated. Megan knew what thoughts were going through his mind. Technically, Lana wasn’t wrong. While it was undeniable that Attos was, or at least had been, the undisputed leader of the nation of Attos, it could also be said that he was not a king. He’d earned the nickname “The Conqueror King” from his early exploits, but he always refused the title, calling himself nothing more than the commander. And commanders were certainly not prevented from taking part in the Exchange. They never did, but there was no rule against it.

Still, the referee was clearly against the idea of allowing her to participate. There was a moment of silent, angry consideration as he thought through the problem. He must be from Milagre, Megan thought. It was clear that if the decision were left to him, it would be affected by bias. He seemed to come to this realization as well, and took a heavy sigh.

“Lord Bragg, I cede to your decision on this matter,” he said, turning to where he knew the Prime Mage sat. “What is your verdict?”

Samuel rose slowly from his seat and walked to the edge of the sunken arena, his violet eyes glowing clearly even from this distance. “Are you in possession of Ironfang?”

“No,” Lana’s voice replied. “It is held by my father’s chancellor.”

Megan looked between Lana and Samuel, wondering what the decision would be. Here was a golden chance to expel Lana right away, and possibly forestall any attack that might come. But there was also a determined set to Samuel’s shoulder that she didn’t recognize at once. Then it clicked. It was stubborn pride. Samuel, a member of Tyrman, did not want to remove Lana and admit that he feared her participation. She saw her teacher’s eyes sweep over herself and her friends as if assessing their chances.

“So you are here seeking one of your own,” he said finally. “Well, that is only to be expected. I will allow it. Lana Beran may continue. All teams, combat will resume on the referee’s call.”

Megan quickly ran back to rejoin Michael and Rachel, and Jordan copied her movement. Their formation restored, they glared with undisguised hostility across the short distance between themselves and their target. Lana Beran looked between the two teams from Tyrman, her face politely befuddled as if wondering what her next step should be. Then she locked eyes with Megan, and her lips pulled back to reveal her teeth. Some might call the expression a smile, but Megan felt a chill of foreboding run down her spine.

“Fight!”

Beran was in Jordan’s face in an instant, faster than any of them could have expected, her elbow striking him squarely in the stomach. Then she struck again. Each time a blow landed, a small barrier appeared over the section of her body that made contact, quick flashes of golden light. Megan could see Jordan’s health plummet on her screen, and hastily threw up a barrier of her own. It blocked one blow, then was immediately shattered.

Michael stepped up to flank Beran, his sword already swinging. She lifted one arm to catch the blade on her forearm, stopping the blade with just one arm. Michael didn’t seem too surprised by this and swung again. Rachel supported him by firing a spell that curved around Jordan’s body and approached from her blind spot. Both came to nothing, however, as barriers came to life just in time to block both attacks. She was casting multiple barriers at once now? Megan couldn’t understand how this was possible.

Some expert mages, she knew, could cast two different spells simultaneously, which would certainly allow them to have two barrier spells active at the same time, but none of them attempted this. It was impractical, as one barrier would always be enough, as long as your resolve and strength were enough. The only limit to the lifespan of a barrier was your own mana reserves. But here was Lana Beran, conjuring multiple barriers at once, and putting an equal amount of power into each one. Megan could only surmise that it was her armor. Those runes must automatically cast Barrier to protect her.

“Keep hitting her!” She practically screamed at Michael, a useless instruction. With his speed and the casual power of her strikes, he could keep Beran occupied for a moment or two. Jordan, sensing what she had in mind, hopped back out of their enemy’s reach, retreating to where Megan could easily reach him. She placed both of her hands on his back, sending her mana through his clothing to repair the wounds he’d gotten from that first rush.

Michael fell back now, allowing Jordan to take the brunt of Beran’s attacks. Jordan wasted no effort in pushing her back, letting loose his typical dragon’s roar once more, and she jumped back under the onslaught of his flames. She took no damage from it, however, and Megan could just barely glimpse the barrier fading as she lowered her arms. The runes along her armor were still glowing. It had been a ferocious attack, no doubt, but she showed no sign of damage from the flurry of attacks she’d endured. Her teeth were still bared, and she looked past Jordan to Megan.

“Your companions are putting up a good fight,” she said, her voice unnaturally smooth given the pitched battle she was fighting. “Let’s see how long you can keep this up.”

Megan finished casting her spell on Michael and gave Beran a cold look. “Let’s see indeed. I wonder how long your barrier can last.”

Michael and Jordan rotated again, leaving the Spellblade facing their opponent. Just over her shoulder, Megan could see the other members of her team engaging in battle with the other team from Tyrman. Their battle was just as chaotic as theirs was, but it was obvious that without Beran, the Attosians were at a disadvantage. They relied on her for defense, Megan realized. This gave them a rare chance. If they could keep her occupied long enough, then her allies would fall, and it would be nine against one.

Still, Beran seemed unstoppable now that she was no longer committing mana to her illusory form. She weathered the rain of blows that Jordan and Michael provided with no sign of flagging or exhaustion. Even with the increased force of Michael’s attacks, Megan was unable to see any significant change in the tempo of the fight. She still gave as good as she got, and Megan and Rachel were forced to keep a constant flow of mana to their friends to keep them standing. It was as if they were fighting two groups at full strength.

This is getting us nowhere, Megan found herself thinking. They needed to, yet again, break through that seemingly impenetrable barrier spell that Beran used. When she’d had the illusion up it was not only possible but easy, as Michael simply had to beat away at the shield, keeping his mana reserved and tiring her out with normal blows. But now Michael and Jordan could no longer afford to take such a casual approach. They needed to augment their defense as well as their offense, and that was draining them at an alarming rate. By comparison, Beran still looked fresh.

Just when Megan felt her own mana reaching a critically low level, she finally noticed a change in the balance of the fight. It was the tiniest of shifts, a minuscule moment, but it changed the fight drastically. Beran, still fending off both Michael and Jordan single-handedly, shifted her weight back to avoid one strike, and her foot slipped an inch or two. Michael immediately landed a strong blow on her right elbow, denting the metal that covered that portion of her body. They could all see the wisps of mana that drifted off the metal as the rune was disabled.

Jordan came in from the right, his fist splitting the air and catching Beran a glancing blow. It had just enough force to stagger her, leaving Michael enough time to slam his sword down on the plate covering her collarbone. They heard a distinct crack under the sound of metal hitting metal, and knew that was a telling blow. It was confirmed a moment later as she jumped out of reach, summoning her personal barrier to keep them back.

“I guess we’ve figured out who will crack first,” Michael said, what little of his smile Megan could see looking just as mad as Beran’s. “If I were you, I’d surrender and rest up.”

Lana put a hand on her injured shoulder, and they saw the flare of mana as she attempted to heal the injury. Megan was surprised to see that she was skilled enough at Restoration magicks to tend to the wound. But then a perplexed expression came onto her face, quickly turning into outrage. She glared up at Michael, who laughed.

“Yes, I know what your ability is, Beran,” he said, a mocking tone in his voice. “I know people who faced you personally in the war. You won’t be able to undo that damage right away.”