The arena portion of the Grand Tournament began tomorrow. The time for training was over, and Ethan still couldn’t make his Spirit do what it needed to do. He’d given up on the chain sickle; its attacks were too complex, too much designed to disarm or disrupt. He needed fury, and focus, and had switched to a curved sword, similar to the katanas Tomo used in their sparring.
It helped. The intensity of his sparring with the prince had been brought to a whole new level, and his Spirit followed suit. His Dusk rank control, and his training with Tomo helped as well, to the point that Ethan’s Astral reflection was actually doing far better than Ethan himself…which was part of the problem.
Ethan’s gaze shifted naturally into the Astral, which barely affected his attacks at this point. What he saw made his heart feel like it was being squeezed by a cold fist. His Spirit was there, doing exactly as it should, attacking Calevaro’s reflection with the exact blend of intensity and precision required. It likewise used a sword, but was so fast that the other glowing figure was barely able to react.
Ethan had gotten this far before, and it wasn’t a surprise. It was the other behavior that made him flinch and recoil. Whenever the Spirit found an opening to strike at its opponent’s Bond runes, the sword would disappear, and it would instead lash out with its bare hands. The burning scars–always aflame in the Astral–would roar to life and crash into the prince’s Spirit, the terrible fire like a blowtorch, searing and melting its way through the enemy.
It was too much. It was always too much, and when Ethan’s mind recoiled, so too did his Spirit. It retreated, seeming confused, like it was unable to understand its own actions. It no longer mattered that Ethan could maintain the fighting in the physical world, his Spirit was lost and defeated, purposeless and adrift.
Calevaro sensed this as well, and quickly disengaged. “The problem persists,” he said simply.
Ethan backed away, throwing his practice sword into the sand and swearing. “Yes! It persists,” he said, unable to hide his own fury.
The ever-patient prince shrugged. “We are out of time. In the duel, you will simply need to devote yourself more fully to the physical side of combat, and leave the Astral to me.”
Ethan let out a frustrated breath. “Won’t that leave me open to Astral attacks myself?”
Calevaro shook his head. “Defense has never been your issue, and your Spirit Familiar is more than capable of protecting you. You simply won’t be as effective in an offensive role.”
“But why?” Ethan asked, partly of the prince, and partly of himself. “I’m so close! I can feel it; I can see it! But as soon as my Spirit is ready to do any kind of real damage, it falters. I falter! What the hell is holding me back?”
“That is not for me to know, Bishop. Search within, if you’re looking for answers. But our time is up. Tomorrow, many of the top teams will begin fighting in the arena, against monsters, and one another. In two days, we’ll face Thavin. I’m sorry I failed to adequately prepare you, but I’m not overly worried.”
As he always did when their practice was complete, the prince moved to his favorite window, dismissing his armor and staring out at his future. Ethan picked up his sword and put it away, regretting his childish outburst, then joined the prince.
“I’m grateful for your training,” he said. “I’m sorry if it feels like a waste.”
“Hardly. Your Spirit wants this, Ethan, we can both see that. It has the drive, and unquestionably has the power, but something is holding it back. You are the only ‘something’ capable of that. Think on it, but do not let it consume you. The day has almost arrived, and we both know the duel won’t be simple.”
Ethan nodded. “They’re cheats. They’re going to cheat, even if they can’t do it in the same way they wanted to. We’ll have to be prepared–though that’s not easy with so many unknowns.”
“Then focus on what we do know. The terrain will be a thick jungle, and the ground beneath us the hazard.” The prince had informed him of the special circumstances the dice had chosen for the duel on the night Ethan infiltrated the Dunebreaker. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was something to consider at least.
The ‘hazard’ was the complicated part. Apparently the landscape was fairly standard, the only twist being its random nature. The hazard, on the other hand, was something determined by the magic of the arena itself. All they would know ahead of time was a clue–in this case ‘the ground beneath us’, what that meant wouldn’t be revealed to anyone until the moment the match began.
“I have duties,” the prince said suddenly. “My family must preside over the matches in the arena, and there are preparations to be made.” He turned to look Ethan directly in the eyes. “Remember our plan, and be careful in its execution. This hazard is a poor fit for you.”
“I’ll make it work, one way or another,” Ethan said. After that he gave the prince a nod–the best show of respect he could muster for a royal–and went home.
***
He was sitting on Valanor’s roof once again, this time with a drink. A few drinks really. A bottle. It didn’t matter. He was angry, and frustrated with himself, and unused to failing at something he’d truly strived for, especially when the pressure was on. He’d come to rely on his own ability to get things done when it counted, and this was a poor time for that to fail.
The worst part was that he was fairly certain he did know what was holding him back, regardless of the doubt he’d expressed to the prince. Ethan scratched at the burn scar on his hand. His lost healing was part of it, but a small part, really. He genuinely believed he’d made progress in restoring himself, and that hope buoyed him more than anything.
He’d managed to do as he’d planned, and somehow use the instinctual understanding of Potentia he’d gained to integrate the power into the rune’s Astral reflection. That itself was a monumental achievement, and sometimes he simply stared at it with pride. The energies blending, almost braiding together in something approaching harmony.
It still didn’t do anything though, but he had a reasonable theory as to why. Still, that was for another day. Today was for self-loathing, and alcohol-fueled introspection.
The truth was irritating, and complicated, and Ethan hated it. Hated it because it wasn’t something he could solve in a couple of days, possibly something he’d never solve. It was also utterly human, in a world where he’d increasingly grown to rely on magic.
His Spirit burned. From what he could tell, that was unique. Most others just reflected what their physical counterpart did. But Ethan’s Spirit took that terrible fiery energy that erupted from it, and pressed it into his enemy. That itself wasn’t really the problem, that was magic, and metaphor, and possibly even an advantage.
Unfortunately it was something he’d seen before, at Shawarma village. It was how his first, and only serious Astral attack had occurred. He’d wanted only to scare the bandits away as he’d seen Valanor do, instead his Spirit had tortured and assaulted them, almost killing one through pain alone.
That would have been bad enough, but he couldn’t think of bandits or that village without thinking of the day it had all fallen apart. Of his killing spree, and everything he’d lost because of it. It was all one big, psychological ball of yarn, wrapped together and weighing him down like an anchor.
“Shit,” he said out loud, before taking another drink. “Why can’t I just ignore my demons until they go away?”
“That is a very passive aggressive thing to say,” Tomo responded, sitting next to him on the roof.
Ethan laughed aloud. “You’re the exception, my scaly friend.” He looked down at the blinking system rune. “I was saving this; I knew I’d need some good news later. Time to see where all this training has gotten me.”
Ethan Bishop [Assassin] (3rd Dawn: 4%)
Ruin Affinity: (3/4)
- Knife in the Dark (8th Dawn: 31%)
- Fleeting Shadow (7th Dawn: 21%)
- Assassination (5th Dawn: 42%)
- Gain 2 more abilities to unlock!
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Devee [Mind of the Devourer] (9th Dawn: 69%)
Dimension Affinity (3/4)
- Rift (8th Dawn: 21%)
- Dimensional Mantle (6th Dawn: 21%)
- Hydra's Reflection (7th Dawn: 65%)
- Locked
Revan [Body of the Guardian] (9th Dawn: 23%)
Flare Affinity (4/4):
- Volatile Infusion (7th Dawn: 48%)
- Internal Combustion (8th Dawn: 17%)
- Volcanic Bolt (3rd Dawn: 31%)
- Nova (2nd Dawn: 11%)
Onitomo [Soul of the Mystic] (First Dusk: 0%)
Mystic: (3/4)
- Trick of the Light (8th Dawn: 9%)
- Many-Faced Blade (First Dusk: 0%)
- Ghost in the Reeds (6th Dawn: 34%)
- Locked
Additional Status
Skills: (3)
- Wall Climbing (8th Dawn: 54%)
- Predator’s Gaze (4th Dawn: 87%)
- Hand of Apollo (Locked/Broken)
Titles
- Fools Rush In
- Checkmate
- Flaw Seeker
- Synergist
“I can sense that it finally crossed the threshold,” Tomo said. “The training has paid off.”
“It was a lot slower without monsters and actual danger, but polishing my swordsmanship was more important.” Ethan smiled. “My first Dusk rank ability, here we go…”
He and Tomo concentrated together. An ability was only ready to evolve when the Bonded had achieved true mastery of its current level. At that point, his Familiar would be able to guide him toward an evolution, granting more power, and often new effects. Tomo had helped him understand that all of his abilities were essentially in a fledgling state, simplified to such a degree that his soul could use them. Each evolution would bring them closer to their ultimate ‘true’ state.
Ethan could feel the power of Many-Faced Blade inside him. It had really just begun as a template, though he didn’t realize that at the time. His training with Selina had helped him understand that abilities and Rune Circles were based on the same principles. The Familiar used their power, or the power of a defeated monster to effectively carve a series of runes on the soul. The Bonded would then draw mana from his Familiar, and through the runes to activate that ability.
Now he could feel that pattern, that collection of unseen runes growing, and becoming more elaborate as Tomo brought it closer to its final state. Reaching First Dusk effectively meant his soul had ‘memorized’ the first section, and could now handle something new. He would spend all of Dusk rank mastering just the new portion.
The process didn’t take long, and soon Ethan felt a surge of power within him, and turned to grin at Tomo.
“Surprise,” the demon said with a smile.
Ability Evolution!
Ability: [Many-Faced Blade] (First Dusk: 0%)
Type: Mystic, Persistent, Conjuration
For a low mana cost, conjure one of several Mystic weapons. Available forms are determined by ability rank. Available Conjurations:
Wakizashi (Dual): Short blades, well suited to slashing and stabbing attacks.
Kusarigama: Sickle, chain, and weight, a highly versatile weapon.
Odachi: A curved greatsword, designed to be wielded in two hands.
Dusk Evolution: For a small ongoing mana cost, activate [Mystic Echo]. This special effect will create after-images of your strikes, which deal Mystic damage. For an increased mana cost, the after-images can be made to extend beyond the length of the weapon.
“A great sword?” Ethan said, his genuine–and tipsy–surprise seeming to delight the demon. With a thought, he summoned the weapon’s new form, something that looked like a katana on steroids appearing in his hands. The blade was broad, and had to be nearly five feet long. “What kind of Assassin uses a sword this big?”
Tomo shrugged, letting out his rumbling laugh. “The kind that must occasionally Assassinate very large monsters. Were you not complaining about exactly this problem when attacking the cancrorum’s legs?”
Ethan considered. “Okay, true. It just doesn’t fit what I picture when I think ‘Assassin’.”
“As opposed to explosions emulating dying stars,” Tomo said dryly.
Ethan laughed out loud. “Okay, I concede the point. I suppose I just need to embrace the reality of the situation. Or the magic of it?” With another thought, he activated [Mystic Echo], and the enormous sword was suddenly bathed in a red-pink glow, tickling some memory.
He put that aside as he slowly swung the sword, causing the energy to trail an instant behind it. “So this will effectively make my attacks strike twice?”
“Indeed, though the echo’s strike will be Mystic in nature. In some cases this will be highly beneficial, such as against tough armor, but less so if the monster is resistant to my Affinity. The touch of the blade itself will be more effective on demons, for instance.”
“What in the Goddess’s name is that?” a deep voice called out. Ethan turned in surprise as Valanor leaped onto the roof, wearing nothing but a dangerously billowing robe. “I was trying to sleep in my own damned bed for a change, and suddenly I felt Dusk rank power above me. Now I find you with a sword as big as you are.”
Ethan let the blade disappear as he turned to regard the knight. “First of all, you’re not really one to talk about being ‘armed’ on the roof. The whole city can see your short sword right now.” Valanor glanced down in confusion, then hastily closed and tied his robe as Ethan shook his head. “Second of all, I haven’t seen you in weeks and you didn’t even tell me you’re home?”
“You weren’t here, and I was tired,” the gruff man said.
“Can you at least tell me what the hell you’ve been doing?” Ethan asked, not able to keep the irritation out of his voice.
Valanor sighed, then slowly pulled his unusable arm from his robe. Ethan had another comment ready, but swallowed as he realized the arm had moved.
It wasn’t healed, instead there was some kind of contraption attached to it, starting at the shoulder, and strapped around the torso. It was absolutely covered in runes, including on the metal braces that went from his chest to under his bicep.
“The king offered to have something like this done after…after what happened,” Valanor said. “But I turned him down. I told myself I didn’t need or want it, but the truth is that it was penance. A meaningless penance I no longer have time for.”
“How much mobility does it give you?” Ethan asked, fascinated by the magic device.
“In truth? Little. I know with time they could make something more elaborate, but it wouldn’t work for my shield arm. A few good hits and anything fancy will be shattered. This will let me adjust my shield in combat, and shouldn’t break doing it. It’s enough.”
Ethan didn’t know what to say, understanding his perpetually grumpy friend was especially sensitive when it came to his arm. Not to mention that he’d no doubt done this because he felt he was holding back the team. After a moment’s hesitation Ethan did the only logical thing.
“Drink?” he asked, holding out a bottle.
Valanor barked a laugh, then moved to sit on the roof, quick-equipping some more reasonable clothes as he did so. “So, Dusk rank ability, eh? Will it help in the duel?”
“Possibly? Depends how strong Thavin’s armor is I suppose. Generally speaking I think it’ll be more useful against monsters.”
“You’ll likely see those in the duel as well,” Valanor said before taking a sip. “But you’ll have a better sense of things after tomorrow. There’ll be several team fights that should give you a clearer picture of what the arena is like when its magic is active.”
“Why isn’t it always active?” Ethan asked. “I’ve been there twice when it was just a big sand pit.”
“Because it’s expensive. Anything that runs on magic in Viridus tends to require magic coins. The Royal family only pays the bill during the tournament, so it’s a rare spectacle.”
“Fair enough. And you’re sure we shouldn’t be competing? I know it’s a risk with me fighting in the duel the next day, but we need that top slot.”
Valanor shook his head. “The undead we killed has kept us in the running. We’re still close to the top three, and we have a month to close the gap after the duel is done. Savilar isn’t worried, and that’s saying something.”
Ethan nodded, his mind turning back to the challenge ahead of him. Valanor seemed to notice his silence, and looked at him curiously. “Are you ready for this?” he asked in a sober tone.
“I have to be,” Ethan answered. It was almost time.