The arrow whizzed by his cheek just barely steeling away with a short tuff of his platinum blond hair. He dropped low to dodge the incoming magical bolt and kicked off the ground charging forwards. He lunged head-first into the thick crowd of enemies elegantly ducking and weaving around every swing of their weapons. The occasional few strikes that did connect to him were too insignificant to merit his attention.

A sword stabbed directly through his palm, the hilt of the weapon smacking against his hand was the only thing stopping it from piercing his skull. He clamped his injured hand down on to the hilt of the sword pulling it down along with its wielder. A swift elbow to the throat with his free hand forced the enemy to release the sword so that he could finally pull it out of his body.

He idly watched at the gaping hole that punctured straight through his flesh. He watched as the smooth tendons and tissues slowly stretched out rebinding themselves together. The skin slowly grafting itself back together uncaring of the tribulations it had just endured.

He drew his gaze away from his injury and back to the battlefield in front of him. There were still many opponents left standing, and he wouldn’t stop fighting until they were all taken care of. His fury motivated each step, but he didn’t allow it to cloud his judgement. A tranquil serenity filled him as he casually followed the motions as they came felling foe and segregating limb from life.

Finally, all that was left was the wizard. Without any guards in between the two of them the wizard was as good as dead. He was too close for her to manage any successful defense. As he approached, he saw it in her eyes, the same hatred that had brought him here, the same carnal disdain that seethed through every one of his pores now moved through hers. Strangely, now that he had finally returned the favor he wasn’t filled with the sense of closure or accomplishment as he was expecting to. Experiencing that malice from the other end was quite terrifying really. He raised his sword over about to drive the sword down through her heart when suddenly her chest burst open from the incredible force of a final devastating blast of magic. The suicidal assault caught him entirely by surprise leaving him no time to react. The attack easily punctured through his intestines shooting out the other end into the sky.

The raw magic flew high in the air before rupturing into a mighty firework that lit up the entire night revealing the wasteland this battlefield had become. The firework had been so far up that its resonating explosion was only ever heard a second later, a thudding boom, bass so shear it shook the chest and destroyed the ear.

He casually looked down to his disemboweled body, a boundless rush of blood spurted out of the hole and onto the lifeless corpse of the wizard. Well darn. This would take a couple of months at least to heal.

“Well this is what happens when you get too cocky.” An elderly woman scolded the crying infant before her. The infant sat on a hard-wooden chair while the woman inspected the bone protruding out of the child’s knee.

The woman used a wet cloth she held onto to wipe away any dirt around the area, much to the illimitable pain of the child. “Lucky for you the injury doesn’t look too bad.” Without so much as a warning she then grabbed hold of the bone and shoved it back into the child’s leg causing them to screech out in wrenching agony.

“Now maybe this will serve as a valuable lesson for you. Your powers don’t make you unstoppable. Get too overconfident and you’ll end up like your uncle.”

“Don’t say it like that mom, you make it sound like I died.” In the corner of the room the man with platinum blond hair retorted back, a thick blanket covering over the gaping hole in his stomach. It had only been a few weeks since his injury. It had been a tough journey, but he finally just arrived back to his family’s home yesterday where he could comfortably rest and recoup. His intestines had yet to heal in any functional way yet so he still couldn’t eat any food. In all honesty the starvation was almost worse than the heal itch.

The old woman only responded by shaking her head. “What am I going to do with this family.”

The man with the platinum blond hair turned to his nephew still sniffling over the pain. “Don’t worry kiddo, your leg should heal in no time. Now if you had lost the bone then that would be an issue, but so long as you keep all the mass, healing it isn’t so bad. Besides, you might be the next family prodigy after me. I would be willing to bet money that you have the second-best healing power after me… okay well third best healing after greatest gramp, but he’s his own league entirely ain’t that right gramps.”

Everyone in the room turned to face the elderly man in the corner of the room sat on a large chair bearing a set of equally large metallic wheels. The man was ancient, his skin more wrinkled than one could believe possible; he was so frail that he couldn’t even muster the strength to open his eyes despite being awake, his hair was a pure white from the degradation of age. At his age it was too difficult to formulate any proper words so he could only muster a grunt in response.

The young boy’s pride welled at the compliment and felt a need not to cry or else he would betray his apparent position. The young boy needed a distraction from his pain, any distraction. He looked back to greatest grandpa and then back to his uncle. “Why do we call him greatest grandpa?”

Both the uncle and grandmother laughed at the young boy’s question. It was actually his grandmother that answered the question. “You see greatest grandpa is actually your great great great great so great that we don’t even know how many times we should say it that great grandpa that we decided it would be easier to just call him greatest grandpa.”

The young boy looked at the elderly man with a newfound wonder. “So, is he your greatest grandpa to grandma?”

The young boy’s grandma smiled at him. “Yep, and he’s my grandma’s greatest grandpa and he is her grandma’s greatest grandpa and on and on. When I was your age, greatest grandpa looked just like he does now.” The grandmother picked the boy up sending out a couple cracks of struggling spine and knees as she did so. “Now you need to go to bed. You won’t heal as well without a good rest.”

The grandmother left the room with the young boy leaving only the man with platinum blond hair and his greatest grandfather. The younger man slowly rose up grunting at the strain he felt around his stomach and slowly waddled closer to greatest grandpa. “So, it looks like you and I are going to be spending a lot of time together for the next couple of months.” The man managed to say with a pained laugh.

The old man managed a very slight smile and wiggled his fingers to form discrete abstract symbols. The family had developed a sort of pseudo sign language to communicate with their living ancestor. No one knew who created the language, it was just one of those things taught to each child in their family. Some assumed it was greatest grandpa himself who developed the language in anticipation of his deteriorating form, but no one knew anymore. Greatest grandpa had always been very coy about divulging these minor historical tidbits. The young man just guessed that greatest grandpa was a bit of a prankster and liked messing with the family in these odd ways.

The young man recognized greatest grandpa’s gestures as a warm welcome back home and that he was happy to have company. The young man too was happy to have company. He had just finished a wild pilgrimage of adventure and action; he had made and lost friends, partaken in glorious battle and dubious plots all concluding in a tragic climactic showdown where he could bring vengeance to his loved ones; and he wanted to share it all. Without his love to bask in these adventures with he desperately wanted to regale his family with his exploits in every minute detail from the highest highs to the lowest lows. And what better audience than greatest grandpa a near perfectly silent listener who surely had nothing better to do with his time.

So, the young man shared everything from the very beginning all the way through. There was a deep catharsis in retelling his adventure. It gave him ample time to think over what he had done himself, allowed a great sensation of accomplishment and satisfaction to wash over. He thought about his lover, and just a few weeks ago he found himself in a pit deeper than he could imagine, he thought he would never feel whole again but in recounting his story to greatest grandpa, he remembered all that they did together. The two of them had a full and happy life. He knew from the very beginning of their relationship that he would outlive her; such was the curse of their family. There was no sense in drowning in a sadness of loss when he could bask in the glorious memories and experiences they had formed together. Although it was much easier to tell himself this than it was to personally feel it.

The young man narrated his tale from noon to night and back to day again. Neither he nor greatest grandpa could sleep anyway, the energy and pain in continually healing their weakened bodies wouldn’t allow for rest. At least that’s why the young man couldn’t sleep, greatest grandpa never said anything nor asked for the young man to stop his story so that he could sleep so the young man just assumed that greatest grandpa was in similar straights.

The young man’s story finally ended as the day star rose again concluding at his arrival at the very building they stood in. He thought back to all of his escapades and then back again to the stories that inspired them, back to the stories greatest grandpa told him when he was younger. His favorite stories had always been those of The Tournament. The very same tournament that would begin anew this year. “I hope I can heal in time for The Tournament. I wouldn’t want to miss out on such an awesome opportunity. As someone that’s watched earlier ones you think I will get invited right? I mean how can’t I, with my healing I’m almost unstoppable aren’t I.” He wouldn’t say it aloud but he also wanted to heal in time for the tournament so he could get that wish which is granted to the winner, he had a few things he would wish differently now.

The young man looked up to greatest grandpa but before he even started signing a response the young man spoke again. “Actually, never mind, I don’t want to know. Let it be a surprise.” The young man chuckled to himself with mild uncertainty. “Anyways enough about me. How about you? Do you have any new stories to share?”

The young man laughed at his joke but to his surprise greatest grandpa grunted a yes and signed back to the young man. “There is something I would like to show you.”

“Yeah of course just guide the way.” The young man stood up as quickly as his tired aching body would allow and grabbed the handles that protruded from the back of greatest grandpa’s chair. The chair that greatest grandpa sat on was specifically designed to be mobile so that any of the family members could move greatest grandpa’s old withered body wherever he pleased. It also functioned wonderfully as a supportive bar for his own weak body. It was at times like this that the young man remembered that he wasn’t actually so young anymore. His healing abilities made it easy to forget that his body was still that of a seventy-three-year-old man even if it looked more like that of a twenty year old.

Greatest grandpa directed the young man to carry him out of the house and down to the village square. At the center of the village square was a large clearing where a perfectly circular plot of grass made way for a miniature park of sorts. In the center of the plot a behemoth sequoia sprouted out and towered over the entire village.

It was a miraculous slight, a true wonder and a popular attraction that granted the village a steady flow of curious adventurers. The tree had always been a favorite gathering spot when he was younger, but it was nothing he hadn’t seen before. He wasn’t sure why greatest grandpa was showing it to him.

The young man waited for his elder to speak, or rather sign him an explanation but when none came he decided to ask himself. “So what did you want to show me?”

The old man managed a weak nod of his head pushing his chin out as if pointing to the tree and he ever so slowly signed a response. “What I have been doing recently.”

The young man was still confused. “I don’t get it, what have you been doing?”

The old man grinned when he heard his descendants’ question. “I’ve been watching.”

The young man looked back to the tree before him. If this was another one of greatest grandpa’s pranks, he did not understand it. The tree looked exactly how he remembered it. He supposed it was taller than when he left but other than that nothing of note seemed off. Certainly nothing worth showcasing to others. “I don’t understand.”

Greatest grandpa ever so slowly signed back an explanation. “At one point in time this place was an open battlefield and I watched as men and women of heavy resolve laid their lives. The blood and ash from their turmoil seeped into the soil and became the fertilizer to a tree that I had planted there. I watched as that tree grew strong and tall. I watched as citizens from either side of that prior battle whose memory of conflict had long been washed came together here; and I watched as they chopped that tree to build a firm town. I watched as that stump recovered from its wounds and grew alongside the new town. I watched as neighbors came and traded goods, traded values. I saw as others coveted what the town had built here. I watched as fires were set to each hut and each farm. I watched the town set ablaze and smolder to nothingness; the tree too mighty and strong survived the attack and I watched as the villagers undeterred chopped the tree down once more and built again. One more time I watched both the tree and village lick their wounds growing stronger and closer than ever before. I watched families come and go, some born in the filthy sewers to die in the mansions high on hills while others nurtured in ivory but falling to dirt. I watched conflict and consolation orbit around this tree and now I watch more. See that branch third from the left, it has a slightly lighter green leaf than the rest. That leaf was just a little bit lighter yesterday and though it might not be here in a year, or even tomorrow, I’m glad I managed to catch it on the by.”

The young man stood still watching the tree as he pondered over his ancestor’s tale. “I understand what you mean, I was conceited and foolish in my earlier stories. At the moment, every single thing can seem like the most important event to occur but on the larger scale it is only but a repetition of so many other events. Revenge begets revenge, and with such I now have my current injury. I, like the villagers in your story, should rather build anew and push forward undeterred by the err of those around me.”

“No that’s not it.” The young man turned around to see another villager standing next to him. The young man was so enthralled by the story that he hadn’t noticed the crowd which had grown around. This villager spoke again. “The story was about the power of community and cooperation. Greatest grandpa was saying that if instead of going off to get revenge on your lonesome you could have avoided injury by seeking help from others.”

A woman carrying her infant child scoffed at the villager. “Are you crazy! The story obviously had an anti-war message.”

An older man chuckled to the crowd while stroking his long beard. The young man recognized this person as his great great grandfather. “None of you know greatest grandpa like I do. You are all so focused on the villagers of the story, as expected as young’uns such as yourself. You need to focus on the tree in the story; the story is about sacrifice. There was nothing wrong in your revenge itself but rather in the reason for it. You did well in fighting those bandits not to avenge your fallen comrades but to stop them from hurting others again.”

A young child interjected on the elder’s monologue. “That can’t be right! I’ve talked to greatest grandpa before and he says violence is bad!”

The crowd burst into a chaotic discussion of the moral nuance of greatest grandpa’s story. So many people were talking over so many others that he could hardly even hear his own thoughts. “Enough! Why don’t we ask greatest grandpa himself?” The crowd silenced and they all turned to the person in question. The young man approached greatest grandpa kneeling down to face him at eye level, though greatest grandpa’s eyes were still shut closed as they always were. “Greatest grandpa, can you tell us what you meant in your story?”

Greatest grandpa ever so slowly began to sign with his fingers to speak. “I just thought you’d like to know about my tree and how it was doing.”

Greatest grandpa’s woefully anticlimactic answer was accented by the miraculous chime of a bell. In front of the young man there was what seemed to be a small pink rhombus that grew out of thin air, or it was a rhombus, but its body would reject any stable state. It would shift and transform, shrink and grow, continuously morphing into other forms. The pink shape finally locked into a form resembling that of a featureless human with only one limb. The arm was outstretched holding a glowing parchment presented to greatest grandpa.

Surprised by the unexpected visitor greatest grandpa opened his eyes. The entire crowd let out a shocked gasp as they took in greatest grandpa’s revolting blue eyes. Greatest grandpa didn’t pay any heed to the dejecting onlookers and instead focused on the glowing parchment: it read.

You have been invited to The Tournament You are The Amaranthine