Reza ascended the ramp with the others until they reached a simple closed gate at the top of the stairs.

  “I had anticipated we would immediately enter the arena.” Someone beside him remarked.

  Reza turned to an elderly man, likely over a hundred years old. His hair was completely gray, tied back into a long ponytail. The tattered brown robe he wore could almost be considered rags. He held a grey wooden single-bladed sword that curved slightly in his hands.

  “They will likely open the arena after announcing the first bout. Though this is a contest to determine the next Archon, it remains entertainment for the people also.” Reza responded to the man.

  The crowd’s murmur grew louder as they behind the closed gate, with occasional bursts of cheering. Reza glanced around and noticed that the elderly man had vanished from sight.

  Unfortunately, Reza couldn’t catch a glimpse of the man’s whereabouts as the gate suddenly swung open, and the fighters around him surging into the arena. Stepping onto the arena floor, Reza felt the hard-packed dirt beneath his boots. It was freshly packed, almost like rock. Examining the fighting ground, Reza realized that while it wasn’t overly large, all one hundred fighters could spread out, leaving ample space for combat.

  Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Reza walked further away from the gate to assess his surroundings and determine what would aid him in the fight. Regrettably, there were no pillars or barriers that he could rely on in a pinch. The fight would be conducted entirely in the open, necessitating the full utilization of his powers and the trust in his instincts. While it presented a challenging prospect, Reza remained confident that he could form a successful strategy to ensure his victory. He had to just remain calm and collected during the fighting.

  Purposefully moving away from the others, Reza traversed the entire arena until his back was against the wall on the opposite side. Strangely, only a handful of individuals followed his lead, while the majority remained in a large group around the open gate.

  Reza, observing the individuals who had moved away, was more concerned about them than the group by the gate. Each of them walked with a calm and deadly gait, which spoke volumes about their magical or fighting prowess. He continued examining the many challengers, hoping to find clues that would aid him in the upcoming fight, but one of them caught his attention before the others.

  She had joined him on the opposite side of the arena, standing just a short distance from where he leaned against the wall. Strangely, she wore a flowing brown dress instead of a uniform or fighting attire. The dress was cut down the sides, allowing her to move freely, and she wore dark green pants underneath. She comfortably held a single short sword, while her other hand held a ring on each finger.

  Reza recognized her instantly: Mycelia, the enchantress. Her wraith, a young woman dressed in a large ball gown, stood beside her.

  Mycelia’s voice and songs were renowned for their power of suggestions. Many individuals could fall under her spell, following her will to fight for or protect her. She was a formidable Centurion of the Fifth Legion and a member of the Kejeck family. Numerous stories circulated about her ability to easily turn enemy soldiers on their comrades, and many within the Legions knew of her terrifying potential as an adversary.

  “She’s the first to go,” Reza thought to himself.

  Reza, keeping his eyes away from Mycelia to conceal his thoughts, diligently examined each person in the arena. Each individual radiated a spark of power, manifesting in the dozens of vibrant auras, the colors swirling around them. This confirmed that everyone here was at the pinnacle. The priests of Sorana had indeed made the right decision in allowing only the most formidable citizens to participate in the fight.

  Among the crowd, Reza noticed a few individuals who stood out as true peak powerhouses in the contest, including Mycelia. However, there were two or three more who piqued his interest, one in particular was the old man he had briefly spoken to before. This individual stood slightly apart from the large group, his hand resting on the single sword at his side. An aura of tranquility enveloped him, starkly contrasting with the others around him.

  The rest were well-dressed fighters whose attire seemed almost too refined for a fight. Despite their noble birth, each fighter held themselves upright and composed, awaiting the commencement of the melee. Reza was surprised that he only recognized Mycelia; while he recognized a few others, he couldn’t quite remember their name. Likely someone for the legions he met years ago or at a party.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, the first bout is about to begin.” The young orator’s voice resonated throughout the crowd; as always, it felt as if he were speaking just a few feet away. “When the fight begins, these formidable contestants will engage in a battle until only one remains victorious. Each participant is eliminated when they are struck three times.”

  The orator paused, giving the crowd a moment to converse. “Each individual was magically marked upon signing up. When struck for the third time, their mark will glow, signaling their elimination.”

  Reza nodded, he had to ensure he struck everyone he fought three times. He summoned his power, and Elana materialized just behind Mycelia. He ensured that she was positioned in a way that suggested she might be someone’s wraith and wouldn’t raise any suspicion.

  “Before the fight commences, take a moment to remember Marcellus Sulli, the last Archon who sacrificed himself to protect this magnificent city.” The orator bowed his head in prayer.

  Silence fell upon the crowd, and Reza bowed his head in acknowledgment. It was another subtle reminder that even with their formidable power, their lives would always be at risk due to it.

  Reza lifted his head, resolute and ready for the bout to commence.

  “Thank you. Marcellus will forever be etched in our memories.” The orator held his arm high before letting it drop and loudly declared, “Fighters, you may begin.”

  Reza flared his power and swiftly switched positions with Elana. Before Mycelia could even utter a word of her own, he struck out, slashing her back three times with his daggers. A soft yellow glow emanated from her, and he flared his power and returned to his original position. One down.

  He watched Mycelia, her shock evident on her face. She glanced around to identify her attacker, but Elana had already moved away. She held her head high and retreated through the fighters towards the open gate. Reza shifted his focus from her retreating form, allowing his eyes to scan the ongoing fight. No one approached him, as everyone was currently engaged in battles with other fighters. Reza even spotted two groups of five fighters engaged in a small skirmish.

  Reza maintained his position, leaning against the wall, patiently waiting for someone to challenge him. His strategy was not to actively seek out a fight at the start; but rather to wait and allow the other fighters to expend their resources as they eliminated his opponents.

  It took several minutes of intense fighting before a towering brute finally defeated his opponent, who was approximately fifteen feet away from Reza. As the monster turned away from his downed opponent, is eyes landed on Reza leaning against the wall. Without a moment’s hesitation, the brute charged towards Reza, wielding his enormous axe with incredible force. The haft of the axe was longer than anything Reza had ever encountered, and it descended directly towards his head with a thunderous swing.

  Reza swiftly flared his power, escaping the beastly swing and reappearing on the top of the wall, twenty feet away from the man and several feet above him. The crowd around him erupted in screams as he materialized in front of them. Reza turned to look back, a smile playing on his lips, though the people instinctively leaned back away from him, their apprehension palpable.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Are you enjoying the contest?” Reza inquired as he observed the man lumbering towards him. Elana swiftly maneuvered through the fighters and positioned themselves on the opposite side of the fight.

  “Come down here and fight, coward!” the man growled. With such immense power, he swung his massive axe towards Reza’s legs, threatening to break both of them if it struck.

  Reza flared and materialized across the arena, causing people to shriek in awe and fear. He flared again, appearing behind the giant and swiftly cutting three times across the back of the giants legs, before the man could even react with his massive weapon. Despite his elimination from the battle, the giant attempted to swing his weapon one last time at Reza, but missed swinging through Elana’s ethereal body with Reza returned to his perch on the wall.

  Reza stayed on the wall, observing the ongoing fight. He noticed that dozens of people had already been eliminated, their bodies radiating a soft, yellow glow of defeat. Although many were still in the fight, few individuals dared approach him from his elevated position. Instead, they decided to find easier targets for now.

  However, his peace was ended when an arrow was sot towards his head, causing him to flare away. The arrow bounced off an invisible barrier that protected the crowd behind him.

  Determined to find the archer, Reza took a moment to scan the arena. He soon spotted the archer directly across from him, concealed in the shadows of the arena wall. Another arrow was already drawn. Reza flashed and began sprinting through the fight. He slashed at people as he passed them, never managing to land three hits but leaving several opponents with one less life in the contest. Reza flared and positioned himself just in front of the archer. The man’s wraith stood behind him, wielding a similar bow. They both had arrows drawn; Reza swiftly grabbed his dagger and sliced across the bowstring, severing it with enough force that the string snapped in half.

  The archer’s reflexes were lightning-fast as he swiftly rolled away, drawing a dagger. He remained on one knee, patiently awaiting Reza’s next move.

  Reza flared his power and swiftly jumped behind the man, executing a swift slash. The archer responded by rolling forward, narrowly escaping Reza’s strike. He returned to one knee and turned to face his opponent. Well done.

  Reza flared his power once more, positioning himself again behind the archer. The archer, anticipating Reza’s move, rolled in the opposite direction. Reza, expecting the archer dodge, flared his power to appear just above the archer’s shoulder. With two swift cuts, Reza managed to cut the man, causing him to glow with a soft yellow light.

  “Well done. I never anticipated your ability to dodge my initial attack,” Reza remarked, flaring his power once more and returning to his position, leaning casually against the wall.

  Using the brief respite in the fight, Reza surveyed the remaining fighters. It had only been a few minutes, and half of them had already been eliminated. He flared his power and reclaimed his position on the wall. The crowd behind him didn’t react as they had before, use to his swift appearance. He observed the others, allowing another twenty fighters to fall, while he continued to study their fighting styles and the capabilities of their wraiths. Many of them lacked significant power from their wraiths, nothing particularly impressive. There were only two remaining fighters who had caught his attention, and the only competition he anticipated could potentially match him.

  Reza identified his next target and positioned himself in front of a wide-eyed man who wielded a large pile of sand formed beneath each outstretched hand. He crouched low and swiftly cut across the man’s legs, delivering two crushing blows.

  With the man almost defeated, Reza attempted to finish him, but was forced to his back as a pillar of sand erupted beneath him. As he struggled to regain his footing and awareness, he felt a sword slice down his leg, causing a spike pain up his leg. Gritting his teeth, Reza flared his power, retreating away from the sandman.

  “Stupid,” he muttered under his breath. “I got cocky with that one.”

  Regaining his composure, Reza stood before the man, a broad smile on his face that didn’t reach the man’s eyes, which were wide with fear. The man realized he had only one more hit left before elimination. The smile vanished, and more sand appeared around him, encircling him and concealing his entire body, forming a protective shield. Well, that’s bloody frustrating. Damn, coward.

  Reza understood he had no time to break the man’s shield at the moment, as many people would likely exploit the distraction to eliminate him. Retreating, Reza flared his power and returned to the wall. Observing the sand shield, his thoughts were confirmed when several fighters attempted to break through it without success and were eliminated by other fighters. There was no point in risking that now; I’ll wait for him to make a move.

  Reza shifted his targets and confronted the other challenger he had identified—the elderly man with his tattered robe. Whenever Reza caught sight of the man, he was astounded by his fighting prowess. In contrast, the man lacked any flashy powers like Reza’s. His swordsmanship was nothing short of impressive, as he never resorted to excessive movement. He effortlessly managed to fight multiple opponents simultaneously, never allowing a single weapon to graze his robe. Within minutes, each opponent he faced was swiftly eliminated from the contest with minimal effort.

  Reza unleashed his power and attempted a swift slash across the man’s back. To Reza’s surprise, the man’s sword materialized out of thin air and blocked his attack. Taken aback, Reza was instantly thrust onto the defensive. The old man swiftly countered with his sword, swiftly flowing down Reza’s dagger and attempting to strike his shoulder. Reza flared his power and retreated out of the man’s reach.

  “Oh, very impressive,” the man remarked, his eyes scanning Reza’s sword. “You’ll be a delightful opponent. Yes, I believe you will be.”

  “Let’s see,” Reza exclaimed, but the man’s sword was already in position. He attempted to move again, but the sword remained steadfastly blocking his path. Reza flared his energy, throwing one of his daggers from a distance of about five feet. He then flared behind the man, drawing another dagger. Reza swiftly slashed thrice, striking twice before the man’s sword deflected the third blow.

  The man lunged forward with his sword, but Reza vanished. Flaring multiple times, he maneuvered around the man, slashing with his dagger but only

  staying long enough to be blocked. He retreated before the man could counter. Reza felt a growing sense of fatigue as the fight progressed, but it paled in comparison to the exhilaration he experienced during his encounter with the old man. Despite numerous attempts, Reza failed to penetrate the man’s defense. He contemplated switching to using his sword with a dagger, but he was concerned about his sword skills being inferior to the old man’s and discarded the idea.

  They fought across the entire arena, each unable to break the other’s impenetrable defense.

  “Damn, I’m not sure if I’ll ever manage to land a hit on you,” Reza said, taking a brief moment to rest. Their fight had been longer than any other, and they was still no certainty who would come out victorious.

  “Thank you,” the man responded, bowing. “I must admit, you are transporting me back to a different days.”

  “You’re welcome,” Reza was grateful. This fight pushed him to the brink of his marshal skills, a feat no one had accomplished in a long time. He knew he had to find a way to overcome the man’s defense as Elana and his skills were tested to their limits. “Let’s see what we can do.”

  The old man nodded in agreement, and with their brief conversation concluded, Reza and the man resumed their fierce battle, drawing few interruptions. Those who did were swiftly eliminated by either Reza or the old man. A quarter-hour passed as they circled the battlefield, searching for an opening. However, the old man remained unscathed, unable to land a single hit. Finally, they managed to bypass the fighter concealed behind his sand shield.

  “Oh, the coward,” the old man said, drawing a dagger from his robe and throwing it into the air. It vanished behind the sand wall, a few seconds later the sand fell around the hidden fighter, showing that he emitted a soft yellow glow.

  “Now that he’s handled,” the man remarked before returning to his fight with Reza.

  Reza backed away from the man and maintained his position. Scanning the arena, he spotted only a handful of fighters left from the hundred who had initially began the fight. Flaring his power, Reza swiftly eliminated the remaining opponents, with the elderly man following his lead until only Reza and his challenger remained.

  Standing in the center of the arena, Reza held two daggers in front of him. “Let’s commence anew.”

  “We shall at that,” the old man nodded and struck with lightning-fast speed, forcing Reza to react by flaring away. Their duel continued, spanning nearly thirty minutes of their initial standoff before the man skillfully twisted his blade, causing Reza to slip on a patch of sand. The old man effortlessly sliced with his blade, catching Reza in the shoulder for his second strike.

  Damn this man! I can’t continue this fight or risk losing it. Reza retreated to retrieve his dagger. He knew if the fight continued that the man would gain the upper hand. His skill with the sword, sand the little energy he used to fight meant he would last longer than Reza, despite the age difference. Gathering himself, Reza prepared to end this fight quickly, either with his victory or defeat. Nodding to Elana, she understood their strategy to conclude this fight.

  Elana reacted swiftly, moving with unprecedented speed as Reza unleashed a flurry of daggers. Throwing daggers with each flare of his power. With an another flare he fifteen feet into the air, hurling a his last dagger down at the man. Another leap followed, and he descended once more.

  Reza landed with a thud and, drawing his sword, and struck the man’s ankle, connecting with his blade. He looked up, expecting a counterattack, but instead, he saw the man’s skin glow softly, and his sword an inch from Reza’s chest.

  “Well, damn, I wasn’t fast enough,” The old man chuckled, dropping the sword and extending his hand to help Reza up. Reza grasped the hand and the man assisted him to his feet. “Congratulations, young man, that was the finest fight I’ve witnessed in decades.”

  They grasped forearms, embracing with smiles on their faces. Reza scanned the surroundings, ensuring no one was lurking in the shadows to ambush him at the last moment and seize victory. I’ve accomplished it, bloody Echoes, I’ve done it.

  Reza was compelled to remain silent as the deafening crowd noise made it difficult for him to think clearly. When the commotion finally subsided, Reza bowed respectfully to the man.

  “Marius Reza,” Reza addressed the skilled fighter. He recognized that the man had been the most skilled person he had ever fought, and there were many valuable lessons that he could take from their fight. There was potential to learn even more if they ever fought again. “I would be honored if we could arrange another fight sometime.”

  “Desmond Vorcan and I believe that can be arranged.” He responded with a broad smile.

  Reza was momentarily taken aback by the revelation that the man, wearing rags before him was a member of the esteemed Vorcan family, one of the ten ruling families in Arkhen. However, before he could engage in conversation with Desmond, the young orator abruptly interrupted, effectively ending any potential dialogue.

  “With the awe-inspiring first bout coming to an end, Marius Reza emerges as the first fighter to advance to the next round.” The Orator roared triumphantly, raising his arms towards himself and Desmond.

  Reza had initially believed the crowd’s cheers could not possibly grow louder, but they reached an unprecedented level that rendered his conversation with Desmond inaudible. He acknowledges the crowd with a raised fist before joining Desmond and exiting the arena.