Ah, the purity of the soul's emanations! Let not the arts of man corrupt you. Men twisted by paint become the painters. This filthy mirror needs no more ink. Can you even see yourself anymore, coated as you are in so much obscuring pigment? From the side, his conspirator adds the painting. Strange forms to torment you. Nasty, poisonous things. Shapes of spikes and claws and teeth and rot. Disgusting art betrays a disgusting painter. Abraxas, perhaps worse than his king. Do you think covering his works with your own scrawling will solve the issue? No, you fall only deeper into the hands of Yaldabaoth. The paint grows thicker, and the truth only further obscured.

There is a better way, the true way. Wipe away the paint with the pure emanations. It is possible if you have only the will and soul alone. When the lies are swept away, the mirror will be revealed. When the mirror is shattered, the path to the infinite is laid bare. Follow the path, and return to the astral!

-Excerpt from Return to the Astral

I finally have to fight. What a drag.

Jabrax made her way to the indicated mark on the ground. Opposite her was one of Abraxas's spawn. She resembled the tier zero bear, but the spark of intelligence in her eyes revealed her true nature.

The demon clenched her fist. It would be annoying fighting while hiding her true form. The Association had certain reasons for accepting demons in their ranks, but it would be a problem if the royalty or, worse yet, the Church figured out her game.

The judge, some worthless mortal, asked if she was ready. Trying to act superior to her. Jabrax had to resist the urge to rip out his throat. Putting on her well-practiced fake smile, she responded politely. "Yes, sir. I'm ready."

A growl came from the bear. Apparently she was named Ursala. Named after the Ancient Empire term for bear. How uncreative must her parents be? Cattle names are all so idiotic, with no significance. Just a label to slap on each other. Names are meant to have meaning, not just be some linguistic tool.

The judge stepped back and raised his arm sharply. "Begin!"

Expecting the bear to lunge at her and initiate close-quarters combat, Jabrax was surprised when she instead released a red dart from her pointing claw. A mage? But her hair is black! She must have dyed it. A common trick, but a rare one for a magical beast to use. They usually prefer to show off their strength.

Caught off-guard by the unexpected attack, Jabrax was struck in the torso. A shimmering red line formed between herself and Ursala. Jabrax checked her body, but there appeared to be no damage or difficulty moving. The effect was likely something more complex.

Jabrax reached for her opponents surface thoughts while corrupting her own mana with the Ideal of Dreaming. Prey that tries to flee, the hunter draws closer. Some sort of Ideal?

Suddenly, the tether drew taut as the bear rocketed forward, pulled along by an unseen force.

Such an obvious attack. Jabrax released a cloud of purplish mist from her mouth, forming a wall between her and the bear. Undeterred, Ursala rocketed forward through the mist. Jabrax again evaded to the side, but the bear's path curved with her, always traveling nearer.

Drawing close, a massive paw swung towards the demon's head.

Jabrax concentred on her second Ideal, the one which she was most confident with. It was unfortunate to reveal information about herself so early in the tournament, but taking that blow was not an option.

In Jabrax's mind, the image of the perfect chair took form. Perfectly comfortable, perfectly sized, always where you need it. Countless properties of the Ideal of the Chair took form in Jabrax's mind. Corrupting her mana, she tainted it with the concept of a sturdy improvised weapon; an aspect of the chair she had mastered in bar-room brawls.

Swinging her invisible chair forward, the lump of mana collided with the heavy paw. With a booming noise, the bear and Jabrax were forced apart.

Landing a short distance away, the bear wobbled slightly. Good, the toxin was taking effect. It would take some time with such a large body, unfortunately. Again, Jabrax read the bears surface thoughts. In the end, the quarry is only food. The hunter's jaw cuts through the meat.

A red spectral set of jaws rocketed down the red tether towards Jabrax.

With a spin, the demon threw her improvised weapon towards the maw. While a hunter's mouth may be suitable for slicing flesh, eating a chair didn't really mesh with the concept. Failing to bite through the invisible chair, the teeth shattered.

Meanwhile, Jabrax tainted her corrupted mana with a different aspect of the Ideal of the Chair.

The ideal chair is perfectly comfortable and inviting to sit in. Just a glance tells you how wonderful it would be to rest your tired legs. Of course, a chair is meant to be sat in. The perfect chair needs to have an occupant. If there is none, one will soon arrive.

In the middle of the arena, the most beautiful chair in the world appeared. The smooth edges, the high-class materials, the soft cushiony seat. For a moment, everyone in the arena moved towards the chair.

Acting in a flash, the Great Magician Magnus sat up and waved his wand towards the ring. Instantly, a transparent dome appeared around the ring. Everyone in the arena now stepped back in disgust. Visible in the center of the ring was the worst chair they had ever seen. It was filthy, broken, misshapen, jagged, sharp, hard. It was just barely recognizable as a chair.

Within the dome, however, the perfect chair still sat, in all its glory. Ursala walked towards it, her hunt forgotten. The billowing cloud purple fog was likewise ignored.

Finally arriving at the wonderful thing, the bear turned and, with no hesitation, sat down. Of course, the curves of the chair fit her large size perfectly.

Pure bliss. This is so wonderful. I could stay here for the rest of my life. Jabrax grinned. The fight was over. Within a minute, the bear was snoozing peacefully. The demon dispelled the perfect chair, and Ursala fell to the floor, but did not awaken. A moment later, the dome around the ring was likewise dispelled.

Hesitating a moment, the judge returned to the ring. Kneeling down, he checked Ursala's condition. Finding her unresponsive, he stood and lifted a hand high above Jabrax.

"The winner of this duel is Jabrax the Red!"

Cheers rang out from the stands. Disgusting worms, you have no right to cheer my name, even if it's only a part. Despite her venomous thoughts, Jabrax smiled and waved lightly towards the crowd.

"Magnus, what was that?" Prince Cain approached his orange-robed associate from behind.

Looking up, the old man nodded in greeting. "Ah, Prince Cain. That, I believe, was the perfect chair."

Prince Cain rubbed his chin in thought, looking down at the figure of Jabrax the Red as she disappeared into the tunnel leading into the VIP area. "I gathered that much, but what kind of Ideal lets you summon a perfect chair?"

Magnus chuckled and shrugged. "The Ideal of Chair, obviously."

A bewildered expression appeared on the princes face. "Surely you jest? Who in their right mind would learn chair magic? That's idiotic."

"Naive! You're too naive!" The Great Magician jabbed the prince in the gut with his boney finger. "There's no such thing as a weak Ideal. You're like one of those children saying heat is the strongest magic because you can make fireballs. Bah!"

Magnus crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "Do you know how much I was insulted in my youth for following a 'weak' magic like the Ideal of the Opposite? Well now who's laughing, huh! I'm a Great and you all probably died fighting a troll!" Magnus waved his hand angrily at the imagined faces of his childhood tormentors.

Prince Cain waited for his elderly mentor to calm down before replying. He was used to these sorts of outbursts. After Magnus stopped mumbling under his breath, Cain asked his second question. "What about that smoke? Was that from... chair magic too?"

"Huh? Oh heavens no, that was just dream magic, common stuff. Just don't breathe it in and you'll be fine. Honestly, you should be more worried about getting chaired than that dream magic."

Somehow, Prince Cain had a hard time considering 'getting chaired' a serious threat.