By the Dragon Blooddrinker Emperor Krystfallen, before whom I have sworn an oath to protect his castle, I swear another oath, to right my wrong, to pay for my shortcomings, to succeed where I have failed. As long as my blood flows in my veins, no harm shall come upon your most honorable throne, I swear this oath upon my sword, and upon my Bloodline. All who bears my Bloodline shall forevermore enter into your service.

-Alluverius Fahllyr

Logan Baccarat clutched his chest. He breathed slowly as he concentrated on equally distributing his mana to the two crystals he used. The second crystal he melded into his body gnawed at the surrounding flesh. It burned and itched beneath his skin. Hopefully, his body would not reject the crystal of his brother. Let it last until he defeats Garett Berklaw, he prayed to Paximillon. May Paximillon gaze his way and grant him good fortune in return for having denied him of any gifts given to powered humans.

He should concentrate on defeating the Roghinian first before thinking about his revenge against Garett, he counseled himself. His opponent certainly had a limit to his defensive capabilities. Otherwise, there was no need for him to evade at all. Right? The BasketSlayer was known for dodging his opponents. Logan clenched his jaws. What if his analysis was wrong? He shook his head. It wasn’t possible for this Roghinian to be stronger than Berklaw.

Logan kicked at a pebble near his metal boot. The pebble rolled over the edge of a large crater and disappeared into the smoke laced with electrical sparks covering the crater. Did he overdo his attacks? No. The Roghinian was still in the middle of the crater. Faint mana traces outlined his figure below.

“This is odd. His mana trace appears to be that of a normal human. What kind of nonsense is this?” Logan grumbled. Was his visor malfunctioning? He specifically wanted this feature added to the armor that his father bought from the Gaomant Manaforgers House- a visor that could analyze and display data that could help him in his battle. It was a mere fraction of the support a scryer could give him. “There are anti-scrying wards all over the place and the shields prevent syncing, so this would have to do,” he said. Even though they were outside of the stadium, numerous enchantments were placed all over the mountain to prevent cheating, such as having long ranged support from a scryer, which would definitely give anyone a large advantage in a fight. Logan toyed with the controls of the visor. The BasketSlayer did not move from the center of the crater. Logan smirked. This next spell should bring him to his knees.

Twelve men surrounded the crater, evenly spacing themselves. They raised their curved blade and gathered fire essences above the crater. Slivers of mana poured from the tips of their blades, threading through different variants of fire essences, forming a halo of light that floated to the heavens, expanding as it ascended.

A smattering of black flames gathered in the center of the halo, barely visible against the blinding light of the halo. The flames sucked in the light, feeding the darkness with the light, growing, blotting out the sun, casting a formless shadow over the crater. The twelve men lowered their swords, guiding the howling dark flames to the crater.

Logan tapped at the side of his helmet. He magnified the middle of the crater. “Surely, you’re not going to make it this easy for me to hit you with this spell.” He shifted the modes of the visor, changing how it viewed images. It didn’t help much since the smoke and the magical residue of his earlier spells interfered with the detection capabilities of the visor. Switching back to detecting mana traces, the outline of a man standing in the middle of the crater came into view again. “Let’s end this then,” he said.

The dark flames swirled into a vortex, solidifying into a black spear. With a flick of Logan’s finger, the spear hurtled towards the BasketSlayer. It burst into a ball of black flames, spilling out of the crater. The surroundings darkened for a moment as waves upon waves of black flames rolled all over the side of the mountain. The flames crashed against the mobile dome shield that followed the fighters as they fought across the peak.

After a breath or two, the flames receded, leaving behind a blackened earth, devoid of all life. Grass and trees alike burned away to nothingness. Any animal unfortunate enough to be caught in the flames burst into ashes where they stood.

“Where is he?” Logan said, his cheek twitching, not really expecting his clones to answer. His clones surrounded him. They cast a collective shield to protect him. Most of them were damaged, losing a limb or two, chunks of their bodies burned away. It wasn’t a big problem anyway. The bigger problem was that his opponent had vanished.

The tremendous force of the attack blew away the smoke covering the crater; it also expanded the crater. However, there was no one inside it.

Logan did not let himself be fooled that the BasketSlayer would be defeated that easily. While he was confident of the power of his attack, especially since he used it in conjunction with the two crystals inside his body, the BasketSlayer was yet to display his full powers. He should quickly repair his clones. The crystals in his body drew in mana from his armor. Numerous mana gems pumped full with the special mana required by his two crystals were embedded in his armor. He sacrificed his defense in return for a large supply of power. The actual size of his mana pool was nothing to be proud of. Furthermore, the crystals required a special kind of mana, the normal mana that humans produced provides it with only one-tenth the energy that the same amount of special mana can provide.

He couldn’t find the mana trace of his opponent anywhere. The clones spread themselves out. While he shared their vision, they did not share the capabilities of his visor. He did not want them all to get caught up in whatever counter-attack the BasketSlayer planned. His mockery of his opponent does not mean that he underestimated him. What he disdained was the childish demeanor of his opponent, disrespecting the noble warriors that placed their lives on the line to win honor and glory.

Logan leaped up to have a wider view. Jumping backward up the slope of the mountain, he kept his eyes peeled. “Nothing,” he said. His clones also scoured the ash-strewn earth to no avail. “Did I pulverize him? I expected more from him. It appears he was all talk.” Beings of cobbled essences held together by mana threads weaved by his crystals, the clones appeared as bright bluish humanoids on his visors. They showed up clearly even though the mountain on which they stood on was on the path of a mana stream originating from the mana node on Krysperium. Besides the constructs, he couldn’t spot anything.

“Did he get out of the dome? That is not possible. I’m certain the shield extends underground.” Logan blinked. Underground! Earlier, he couldn’t see the flow of the mana underground because the mana of the trees, plants, practically all the living things on top of the mountain obscured it. Now that he burned away all life, he has a clearer, but still a faint view of the veins of the mana that ran beneath the mountain. The BasketSlayer has a very faint mana signature; it can easily be lost against the backdrop of the mana veins of the mountain.

The only possible explanation why he couldn’t see the BasketSlayer was that he was underground.

A slight rumbling of the earth broke the lifeless silence permeating the blackened earth. Instinctively, Logan ordered all of his clones to jump. Through the eyes of one of them, Logan could see a fist breaking out of the earth, heading straight for another clone who had just jumped. Logan snapped his head to the location of the clone that the BasketSlayer was about to hit. The clone couldn’t get away in time. The BasketSlayer’s fist caught it squarely in the stomach in midair.

Logan gasped as he saw the mana threads connecting the clone to the crystals in chest burned away upon impact. Even stranger, the mana lines of the BasketSlayer’s body momentarily fizzled and disappeared at the same time.

The BasketSlayer lost his mana?

Before Logan could order his other clones to come to the aid of their fellow, the BasketSlayer’s body suddenly burst into light, as if it was an exploding bomb. A surge of mana. The light immediately faded back to the faint traces Logan earlier observed. With lost mana replenished, his opponent grabbed the foot of the clone he punched then swung with his might, sending the clone flying back down to earth.

Connect! Logan screamed in his mind. At the least, he wanted to dispel the clone-destroying it on his own terms rather than letting the Roghinian destroy it. The BasketSlayer landed beside the downed clone and punched it a few times, each time peeling away a layer of essences as the mana threads holding them disintegrated. With each punch, the mana lines of the BasketSlayer also fluctuated.

Logan willed into existence two more clones and tried once again to reestablish connection with the one the BasketSlayer was pummeling back into nature. “Tch, I can’t do it once my crystal has lost contact.” With one final punch, the clone burst into a cloud of light which shimmered back to the earth and faded. His heart beat faster. So this was going to be a race? Which one will run out first? His supply of special mana or the mysterious defensive spell of the BasketSlayer? “Only one-third of my supply has been used,” Logan said as he checked the display on his gauntlet.

“That black spear hurt a lot!” BasketSlayer said. “I never thought all of your clones can use spells.”

“Surprised, Roghinian? You are full of surprises yourself,” all the Logans replied.

“Magic in this time is so amazing,” the BasketSlayer shouted as he ran from the scimitar-brandishing constructs chasing him. The blades whizzed all around him, never getting closer than an arm’s length. “All of your clones can cast a spell together? Without a sealcrafter back-up? Is this normal in this time?”

Why was he talking about “this time”? Some nonsensical ravings of a monkey, perhaps. But Logan couldn’t help but smile because his comical adversary noticed that the clones could cast a spell together without uniting their essence construction through a sealcrafter. His past opponents simply though that it the spells were cast by one person since, technically, there was only one real person, the rest being clones. “Good observation, Roghinian,” Logan said, his clones repeating his words, meaning what he said with no hint of sarcasm. “Others before you thought that my clones here are mere illusions, smoke, and tricks. But they aren’t. They are individual beings, however, they are devoid of thought.”

“Tough, annoying things,” BasketSlayer said. He slowed down, his eyes darting about, careful not get sliced by the furious swords.

Logan juggled his consciousness which was divided among the clones. The punches of the black-robed Roghinian could theoretically incapacitate every clone he had. He divided his clones into four groups and summoned two more; the number of his clones has already exceeded the maximum that he could summon when he only had one crystal in his chest. “You’re slowing down so that my clones will get closer?” he said in an amused tone. “Even a child can see through your plan.”

Wisps of black smoke rose from the tips of the scimitars held by the clones. They slashed the air, sending lashes of black flame at the BasketSlayer. Another group of clones continued attacking the BasketSlayer at a close range, limiting his movements, alternating their attacks with the group of clones that attacked from afar.

With a burst of speed, the BasketSlayer closed in on a clone and threw a punch. Logan scoffed. He was prepared for this. Another clone pulled back the target of the BasketSlayer. The clone the BasketSlayer was about to miss snorted at him; the latter’s fist needed a nudge more to reach the chin of the clone. Through his clone’s eyes, he saw the BasketSlayer’s wide smile. “What?” he managed to say in surprise before the BasketSlayer extended his finger and touched the chin of the clone. Logan felt that he lost contact with the clone.

“Got another one,” the BasketSlayer said. He held the clone by the neck. The clone began disintegrating, sending spurts of light essences into the air.

Such a fearsome skill, Logan thought. He observed with his visor the BasketSlayer’s mana shifting. An ebb and tide. Disappearing then surging back. It timed perfectly with the blasts the breaking off the layers of elemental essences making up his constructs. “You don’t need to actually punch your target. A mere touch is enough to activate this power of yours?” The clone held by the BasketSlayer was no more, like dust blown away by the wind.

“Yes.” The BasketSlayer eagerly nodded, happy that someone understood his skill.

All the Logans raised their brow. “There was no need for you to punch your opponents?”

“Huh.” The Roghinian scratched the back of his head. “Well, you’re right. I didn't really need to punch." He looked down with his brows furrowed. Then he suddenly looked up with a big smile on his face. "But I need to get in contact first. A punch is faster than a…a poke, I guess.” He shrugged.

“What is exactly the effect of your skill? Are you draining mana?”

“No. It’s actually funny how this works. It’s like—”

Black blades drilled out of the earth from each side of the BasketSlayer. Logan had some of his newly made clones tunnel underground to get near his opponent, copying the earlier trick of the Roghinian. The blades were a black blur, aiming to skewer the head of the BasketSlayer. Instead of evading, the BasketSlayer caught the blades with his hands. The two clones tried to pull back their swords but they couldn’t. Logan wasn’t fazed. This was all within his calculations. Explode your swords, he mentally ordered the clones.

Nothing happened.

“You seriously need to stop interrupting me.” The BasketSlayer pulled the swords he held, dragging the clones that held them. They slumped on the ground but didn’t let go of their weapons. “So I was right, the swords are part of their bodies.” The BasketSlayer looked straight into the eyes of the Logan that was furthest from him. “I just need to touch you and this will be over.”

“I’m not finished yet,” whispered Logan. He focused on the vision of a clone. Darkness. The same for the other one. He switched back to his visor and checked the position of the clone. The BasketSlayer was busy disintegrating the two clones whose blades he caught, eyeing the clones arrayed before him.

Now!

Two more clones concealed underground launched their attacks. They were behind the BasketSlayer. Shrugging off the dirt on their clothes, their scimitars held high, they leaped in an arc across the air. Their swords descended swiftly. Black hissing lightning sheathed their bare blades. In Logan’s vision, the BasketSlayer hasn’t even turned back. Suddenly, the vision of one of the clones turned upside down. The clone careened off into the air, bouncing off a protruding rock. What? Logan mouthed, the words caught up in his throat.

“Heh. This was why I was standing in the crater earlier even though you were casting that huge spell above me. I was surprised that the restraint runes were weakening,” the BasketSlayer said casually. “Lots of surprises today, huh?”

Logan pressed his lips together. “Another surprise?” One of the clones that came up behind the BasketSlayer for a sneak attack dangled above him. A thick scaly tentacle coiled around its body, locking its arms by its side. No, not a tentacle. A tail. A deep vivid blue tail with large uneven scales stretched all over. The tail squeezed the construct until it burst into a shower of light. “Is this your Forge Spirit?” Strange. The BasketSlayer didn’t invoke an aspect of his beaststone. No visible indication of invocation. The tail just spurted out.

“It’s not my Forge Spirit. I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.” The BasketSlayer turned to look at his tail slowly retracting back into his body. He then showed his back to Logan and the clones. “I can’t quite see. Is there a hole near my butt? My tail got out so there should be a hole.”

“Your robe is a surprise as well,” Logan said. “I know its defensive capabilities are immense, but its other effects are not very apparent.” The robe sewed itself together again, like skin healing very rapidly.

“Good thing there’s no hole, anymore,” the BasketSlayer said, smoothing the back of his robes. “My robes stretches when I expand myself so I thought it would also allow some light transforma…hey, you’re attacking again while I’m speaking.”

Logan didn’t care for the protests of the BasketSlayer. Another group of his clones hung back from the fight and has already constructed a containment spell to trap his opponent. Two groups, the melee and the ranged group, was supposed to drive the BasketSlayer to the location where the trap spell was being set up. The group that attacked from underground bought time for the containment spell to activate. All of his clones carried out his plans beautifully.

“You’re trying to catch me again?” Four clones each summoned a colossal triangular barrier; they rose from the ground, converging high above, gradually forming a pyramid to trap the BasketSlayer. The erecting triangles shimmered into tangibility as the barrier was being completed. It was glasslike with a golden shade. “Not this again,” the BasketSlayer said, rolling his eyes.

Logan couldn’t help but smirk. Plan after plan stacked delicately on top of each other. Preparing for all circumstances—even the ones that he wasn’t expecting. He certainly did not expect the Roghinian to sport a tail. His beaststone was probably from a reptilian-type beast. He wondered what other secrets the Roghinian was hiding.

The BasketSlayer crossed his arms over his chest, grabbed his shoulders, and crouched down. A shudder passed through his body. Several thorns appeared to be growing out of his back, attempting to tear through his robes. Two large spikes burst through, growing longer and thinner. The spikes fanned out, revealing several thin elongated fingers folded inside it. The fingers extended while a leathery cover connected them.

“Wings?” Logan said, taking a step back in surprise. His eyes darted to the top of the pyramid barrier; it still hasn’t finished congealing. He knew what the Roghinian planned to do next.

The BasketSlayer roared as he spread his wings. With one mighty flap, he sped up to the skies. The top of the pyramid barrier was its weakest point since the spell hasn’t finished locking down.

Logan raised his visor to rub his eyes, he put it back down but his vision was a bit blurry. He took out an ampule from a pouch attached to his belt. He unscrewed its cover, revealing a needle at the end. “Necessities, necessities,” he muttered as he jammed the needle into his neck through a gap between his helmet and his armor. Keeping his attention on the battlefield, he continued taking out ampules and injecting himself with mind-enhancers—all the clones took a heavy toll on his brain. He already planned for his next moves. His eyes followed the Roghinian dart up, with enormous cobalt claws stretched out before him. Claws?

The BasketSlayer clawed at the air, sending rippling energy slashes at the barrier. He sped up and crashed into it, shattering it into thousands of golden shimmering pieces.

“You’re not getting out that easily,” shouted Logan. An enormous fireball waited for the Roghinian as soon as he broke out of the barrier.

The BasketSlayer continued speeding upwards, ascending towards the fireball. He laughed maniacally as he tore through the fireball, causing it to explode.

Logan felt a bead of cold sweat ran down the back of his neck. He was certain he wasn’t nervous. It was probably due to the substances he ingested. He fiddled with his visor to get a reading on the BasketSlayer. A cloud of smoke floated where the Roghinian collided against the fireball. The mana trace of the BasketSlayer showed up clearly; the outline of his body was still faint but his wings and claws showed up brightly. Logan didn’t have time to spare to think why this was so because his opponent flew out of the cloud.

Tucking his wings close to his body, the BasketSlayer dove down with his eyes set on a clone. All the other clones tried to shoot him down but he sped past the flames, snatching one of them and climbing steeply back up in the air, as he ripped apart his prize.

A predictable move from a flying opponent, Logan thought. The BasketSlayer flew down for another run and snatched another clone. Elemental essences littered the flight path of the Roghinian as he disassembled yet another clone. Logan scanned the surroundings with his visor to check the levels of essences. The levels of fire essences were abnormally high. It was due to the numerous fire spells cast by the clones. They kept on extracting fire essences from nature, creating a sort of vacuum, making fire essences from other parts of the mountain flow to their location. “Time to test my plan,” Logan said. He gnashed his teeth as the crystals inside his body produced mana threads that would primarily use fire essences to make new clones. Sweat running down his brows made Logan raise his visor so that he could wipe it off. He allowed himself a smile as new clones materialized.

“I’m going to catch all of your clones then catch you,” the BasketSlayer shouted playfully. He closed in on a lone clone that struggled to evade him. As his claws neared the clone, the clone disappeared. A surprised Roghinian flapped his wings rapidly to fly up, apparently suspecting a trap. “Oh, you’re dispelling them before I catch them? That would cost you mana just the same,” he said.

Logan knew that. But he had something else in store for his adversary. He let the BasketSlayer catch another clone. He sneered as he felt his connection with the clone cut off. “This makes the mana cost efficient, Mr. BasketSlayer,” all of the clones said as the clone the BasketSlayer captured exploded in his hands.

“Hey, I thought I…Oh, I get it,” the BasketSlayer said as he flapped his wings to clear the smoke. “You turned them into bombs. Fire spells that would go off once I cut their connection with you?”

All the Logans laughed out loud. “Impressive deduction, Roghinian monkey. Or whatever beast you have inside your body.” Logan checked his supply of special mana. About a third remaining. More than enough. He was sure that the BasketSlayer would fall before his supply ran out. “Care to try that again?” he challenged his enemy.

“Nah, I’d rather not.” The BasketSlayer flew higher while examining the grounds. “If I go for your clone, either they disappear and you replace them with those exploding things, or they explode, and then you replace them.”

“You could make this easy for me and just stay still Roghinian so that I could shoot you down.”

"Then it time for me to use my ranged attack!"

"You don't have a ranged attack."

"Alright, fair enough." The BasketSlayer cracked his neck. “Or,” he said, “I could just go for you.”

“You are welcome to do so.” A group of Logans ran away from the BasketSlayer.

The BasketSlayer beamed as if someone invited him to play. He flew after them, weaving across the air to avoid the black flames they shot at him. Increasing his speed, he spread his claws, ready to latch onto the real Logan.

The Logans looked back at him with smirks all over their faces. “How dumb are you to fall for such an obvious trap." Black lightning spiked out of the ground, hitting the BasketSlayer. It wasn't a strong spell, but it was sufficient to momentarily stop him. All the other clones pointed their swords downwards. Their swords shot out powerful flames, propelling the clones towards the BasketSlayer. Logan saw the BasketSlayer cover himself with his wings before the clones covered him. "Explode," Logan said in a grim tone.

The clones disconnected themselves from Logan.

Shockwaves reverberated across the mountain. Logan's visor automatically adjusted the brightness so that it wouldn't blind him. The other clones spread out in other parts of the mountain saw nothing but light. Glancing once again at his supply level indicator, he laughed weakly. "I'll fight until my power is depleted." He had more traps laid out by other clones. He could win this.

Out of the smoke flew off a smoking black shiny ball. The ball opened up, revealing the BasketSlayer inside it. Logan could see him muttering something to himself. His wings were different. It was more like black overlapping metallic plates arranged to have a streamlined feature. "I really don't like this wings," the BasketSlayer said offhandedly, in a loud enough voice for Logan to hear.

Monster. The word popped inside Logan's mind. This man was as much a monster as Garett Berklaw. His throat was dry. He swallowed his spit as he observed the Roghinian morph his wings back into its blue form. Plans upon plans, he reminded himself. It wasn't over yet. The BasketSlayer dove down again and chased after his prey. "What a simpleton," Logan scoffed. The Logans headed for the next trap. New clones appearing to help them as they ran.

Suddenly, the BasketSlayer pulled up and skyrocketed upwards.

All the Logans froze in place and stared up in surprise. Logan suspected that the Roghinian was about to use some other secret skill.

But the BasketSlayer did nothing except float high above the clones. He had an impassive face as if he was regarding plants growing, compared to his earlier playful expression. He slowly descended they earth in an upright position. Each flap of his wings brings him gradually lower.

"What is he doing?" Logan was a bit unnerved. No matter. He needed more clones to set up more traps.

The BasketSlayer snapped his fingers. It echoed throughout the mountain.

Logan stood still, carefully observing what his enemy would do next. The BasketSlayer slowly turned to face Logan, his mouth curving into a smile. Logan clenched his jaws. Should he run? His heart beat faster and faster as if it was going to burst out of his chest. The BasketSlayer said something that he couldn't hear. But he had a close-up view of the BasketSlayer and could read his lips. The BasketSlayer said, "Found you."

The BasketSlayer spread his wings and veered off towards Logan.

"Is this the end?" Logan said weakly as he steeled himself for pain. The next thing he knew, he was bouncing up the side of the mountain.

“Clap, clap, clap,” the BasketSlayer said, in synch with each clap of his hands. He flared his wings and landed near Logan. “Insanely brilliant plan. Too bad you messed up.”

Logan tried to get up but the pain stopped him. His armor wasn’t meant to take such a blow. The armor's last act before shutting down was to shoot him full of adrenaline to keep him awake. Blood flowed from a gash on his head, down to his right eye; his helmet has flown off as he bounced up the slope. He couldn’t even turn his body because some rocks weighed down on him. Putting weight on his arms to get up was out of the question. He managed to chuckle at his situation. This was not good.

The BasketSlayer laughed along with Logan. “Funny, isn’t it,” he said, obviously misinterpreting Logan’s laughter. “Actually, I messed up, then you messed up, then I realized you messed up…and… here we are.”

Logan tried to reply but he couldn’t spit out words. Even breathing hurt. Every time his chest heaved, a shooting pain struck him. He bit down hard on a pill containing a powerful pain-numbing substance inside his mouth. As the pain subsided, allowing him to think more clearly, he maneuvered his tongue around his mouth to pop out two healing pills embedded as false teeth. He bit them as well to activate them.

“Hmmm. That’s also wrong. We are here because we were brought here to fight. What I meant with “here we are” was that here we are in this situation.” The BasketSlayer scratched his chin. “Did I get that right? All of your attacks earlier made me a bit woozy.” He stared at Logan's body half-covered by rubble. "That's an impressive armor you have. Impressive for stealth, anyway. For defense..."

“Ho-how?” Logan pulled his arm from the rubble and pushed back a slab of rock pressing down the side of his chest. He couldn’t feel any pain. But he knew that his body needed a healer. Healing pills only assist in regeneration. He stared up at the BasketSlayer who stood by his side, looking down on him with a slight smile on his face. The Roghinian’s blue leathery wings retracted to his back. The only indication that his opponent was in a fight was his dirt covered robes. “How did you,” Logan began to say, then he paused to cough out blood. “Grakking damn,” he whispered. He wiped the blood on the side of his mouth. “How did you know? That…”

“All of them were clones?” The BasketSlayer smiled as if they shared a friendly joke. He brushed the front of his robes and looked around. “Do you want the heart-stopping, mind-rending, thriller version of how I found out? An inspiring tale that will surely—”

“No,” Logan said in a grating voice. This monkey was still making fun of him. He spat blood near the feet of the BasketSlayer. There was no way his body could continue to fight. He pulled up his body in a sitting position. Examining his armor, he found that many of his crystals were broken, the special mana leaking out, mixing with his blood.

“Aw, I really wanted to make it into an exciting story. I’m good at telling stories.” The BasketSlayer sulked. He crouched down and arranged some rocks to make himself a makeshift seat. He sat down on Logan’s right side. “I was keeping track of that construct that I thought was the real you. You did a good job of making it act like he’s the real one. Always hanging back, stuff like that. Even after that black spear thingy explosion, it was the one that was undamaged.”

Clenching his right fist, Logan gauged whether his opponent would evade if he punched him. He was right there beside him. The BasketSlayer’s face was unblemished, no scars or scratches. Logan raised his fist. Blood dripped out of the cracks in his gauntlets, streaming down the sides of the plates. His hand was trembling. He couldn’t feel any pain but he also couldn’t stop his hand from shaking. So this was the difference between someone blessed by Paximillon with gifts and normal men, like him. At the least, he wanted to bruise the face of this black-robed man. A protest to the unfairness of the world. His nostrils flared. Grudges and hate resurfaced in his heart.

The BasketSlayer bumped his fist with the raised fist of Logan. He gave Logan an acknowledging nod then said. “Where was I? Oh yeah, well, there I was chasing after your construct that I thought was the real one. Given your strategy of attacking me at a range and gradually wearing me down, that was the only option for me…what?”

Logan stared at his fist that the BasketSlayer bumped. “Nothing,” he said. He regarded the BasketSlayer. The Roghinian was animatedly explaining how he chased down the fake Logan, his hands imitating flapping wings and flying around, making swooshing sounds. This was all a game to him.

“After you exploded all those clones, I reeled in the air and lost my concentration. I focused on regaining my balance. I didn’t want to land because you sprinkled the ground with all your trap spells.” The BasketSlayer folded his arms and nodded. “Yep, staying in the air was the best option for me. I have the whole sky as space to dodge.”

Logan noticed that he still has his fist raised. He exhaled in resignation and lowered his fist. There was no use to all his struggles. In the end, humans were not equal. The Gifted, Bloodlines, mages, people with high affinity in using beaststones, he could go on and on. And even among these special humans, some were more gifted than others. Mages that could control more than one class of elemental essences…In the end, it all came down to how one was favored by Paximillon.

“When I managed to right my position, I searched for the real you. I saw all of you spread out all over, with your swords raised, trying to shoot me down. I just went for the you that was farthest away from me.”

“So that was it,” Logan said. He laughed but then cut it short because he had problems breathing. “You’re right Roghinian. It is as you said. I messed up.” Too many clones, dispelling them, materializing them somewhere else, casting joint spells, laying down traps, maintaining the façade that one of them was real…It was too much for his consciousness.

“I messed up first,” the BasketSlayer said with a shrug.

Logan understood what he meant. The one the BasketSlayer targeted was not the clone who was pretending to be him. Logan didn’t notice the mistake committed by the Roghinian. All his clones shared their vision with him. In the confusion of managing all the clones, he assumed that the clone who saw the Roghinian coming for him, swooping down from the sky with fists poised to punch, was the one pretending to be a real person.

The BasketSlayer said, “When the clone I was chasing ran away instead of dispelling itself and turning up some place else to shoot me, I just continued going after it. Then I realized that the one I was chasing earlier was not the one who was farthest away from me but the one who stood near those containment spells you laid out all around.” The BasketSlayer stretched his hands and laid down on the ashy ground. “I mean, why would the real you stand away from the spells you meticulously laid out to protect you. And it wasn’t a trap. It’s kind of dumb to make yourself as bait when the moment I catch you, this is over.”

“And how did you find me…no…I understand,” Logan said. He grabbed a clump of earth. His trembling hand sprinkled the ashes he held, letting them slip through the gaps of his fingers.

"Yes," the BasketSlayer said,his eyes following the falling ashes. "You burned away all the plants. I didn’t notice it immediately because the mana vein under the mountain obscured it. But once I realized the real you were someplace else, then I knew I should just follow where the mana threads making the constructs came from.”

“Is that so. I never imagined I would lose this way.”

“Before you burned away all the plants, it looked like your clones were just popping out of thin air.”

Logan turned his head to face the city of Krysperium. If he wasn’t the one who lost, if he was only a spectator, this fight would have been laughable. Somehow, he appreciated how the mind of the Roghinian worked. No. No, that wasn't it. His plans were better than whatever the Roghinian could come up with. He lost simply because his opponent has an inhuman affinity with his beaststones, even growing wings and a tail.

Wait.

The Roghinian said that he saw the containment spells? They weren't activated yet. Which meant that he was purposely letting himself get caught by the suiciding clones. Why would he do that? Logan frowned as it dawned upon him. This liar. His black-robed opponent already knew that all the clones were fake. He wanted to say something about it but closed his mouth. Then he shook his head. “It’s unfair,” he said softly.

“Unfair? What’s unfair?”

“Everything,” Logan replied. The mana dome above them shifted to a translucent bluish shade and started to crumble. No, it was more akin to melting ice—the mages outside were dispelling all the enchantments surrounding them. “What can a normal human do in this world with Bloodlines, elemental humans…normal humans are an inferior race.”

“I’m happy with the…developments these past, uh, several years. I can’t find discrimination or oppression between normal humans and not so normal humans. Nothing apparent anyway.” The Roghinian sat up straight and dusted his hair. He stirred up a cloud of ash. It drifted Logan’s way, making him cough. “Sorry ‘bout that. Anyway, when you compare the situation now to the past, this is obviously way better. Maybe it’s because of religion? Preaching oneness and everything like that.”

“Religion? I believe in Paximillon, however, that does not equate to my acceptance of the inherent unfairness of this world. Paximillon favors some. That is a fact.” Logan didn’t fully understand what the Roghinian was talking about. And he didn’t really care about the views of the BasketSlayer. Those who have cannot understand the plight of those that don’t. “We have to work harder than everyone else to match them. To match you,” Logan said. “And we can’t. We can’t.”

The BasketSlayer did not answer immediately but just stared up at the sky. “I’m assuming you’re rich. Being able to afford all that equipment. Do you have vast plantations of, well, plants? Whatever kind of plants.”

“Yes,” Logan answered warily.

“Oh, so that’s where you harvest all the plant mana and sort of mix with your mana. That’s what’s stored in those gems, right?” the BasketSlayer said, pointing a cracked mana gem on Logan’s bracer.

Logan raised his brow but chose not to answer the question.

The BasketSlayer stood up. “I’m not going to preach about the world being unfair, and that you should just accept it. You probably heard about it many times.” He looked in the same direction as Logan, the majestic city of Krysperium, and pointed at it. “Inside that city lives normal, powerless, delicate, fragile humans along with some of the most powerful humans of Forkspear who could have a brawl with a dragon and survive, and even probably kill a dragon. Humans that are, in your words, favored by Paximillon.”

“Sounds like the start of preaching,” Logan said wryly.

“I’m just going to point out something. If we take all those humans inside that city, from the weakest to the strongest, and meld that crystal which I assume is in your body with their body, how many do you think will survive?”

Logan opened his mouth but said nothing. He hung his head and grimaced.

“I can sort of see how beaststones can work with humans although humans aren’t supposed to have beaststones inside their body. But as for that crystal you have? I have no idea what you did to be able to use that." The BasketSlayer gave a derisive grunt. "Only select plants have crystals that sort of function like beaststones inside them. Even among plants that have achieved sentience, it is rare for them to form those crystals. And you managed to put inside your body an extremely rare crystal even though you shouldn't have been able to.”

Logan simply shook his head. His case was different, he wanted to reply. But he couldn’t. He clenched his jaw and continued staring down, his eye twitching uncontrollably.

“And your control of all those clones. Amazing. Of course, if you compare it to Isaac Gaomant…that guy can control a thousand golems all at the same time with his mind. But still, I’m sure the number of humans that can achieve your level of control over your clones are few in number.”

“And what is your point?” Logan lashed out. He gritted his teeth. All of this was virtue of his hard work.

“That’s my point. I said I’m going to point out something, and I did. Point. Point,” the BasketSlayer said with a straight face. "You should learn to listen.

Logan didn’t know how to respond. He never found himself in such a situation before that he was in such a loss for words. He stared at his trembling palms. It felt surreal, his body was bleeding and shaking but he couldn't feel any pain. And he was being lectured by the type of person he hated the most.

"You shouldn't feel too bad. Given my skill, I'm sure you can see why I'm very annoying in one on one fights. That's another reason why I chose to enter this tournament. And you're the one who came the closest to beating me. Fighting against you was more like fighting against a group."

"Words of pity from the winner?" Logan said. "I have no use for such," he spat.

The BasketSlayer merely chortled in response. “I have seen a flower that replicates itself. Kind of like how you make your clones. Fields of white flowers and only one of them was real. A sea of white frills.”

Logan held his breath. Impossible. His brother along with their adventurer team had gone through hell before they found it. They came to know about this legendary flower through the most obscure of references, dying tales left forgotten in the bowels of forbidden archives. How could this BasketSlayer know about it?

“I’m surprised when I saw a flower like that. Especially given the place where it was growing,” the BasketSlayer said. “It made me happy…to behold such a beautiful sight before, I, uh…let’s just say, rested, for a very long time.”

Logan understood the first statement of the Roghinian. However, the next part of what the BasketSlayer said was nonsensical to him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Logan said, facing the BasketSlayer with a defiant face.

The two of them stared at each other before the BasketSlayer broke the silence.

“The world is unfair. You’re right about that.” The BasketSlayer waved at the mages who were flying around, deconstructing seals. Two white-robed mages entered the disintegrating dome followed by a globule containing people dressed in white, tight-fitting clothes. All of them had an emblem of clasping winged hands on their chests. “Another thing you’re right about. I didn’t really need to punch people,” he said with an embarrassed grin.

Healers. Finally. The bubble holding the healers flew towards their direction. Logan tried pushing off the ground to stand up but his hands didn’t have the strength. His legs also shook as he attempted to straighten them. “Grakk this.” If he could feel pain, he was sure that he would be writhing on the ground.

“No need to curse, um. I never knew your name. My name is Aya. Just Aya. That’s the name given to me by my first master. What’s your name?”

Logan cocked his head and examined the BasketSlayer from head to toe. His opponent has given his name; he should also give his. Not giving a reply would be petty and immature even if he doesn’t respect the BasketSlayer. “My name is Logan Bac—”

Aya stooped down and pointed his finger in between the eyes of Logan. “This is for interrupting me earlier.”

“Wha—?”

“Poke.”

Aya’s basket, with the silver cup he’s also claiming as his nestled inside it, waited for him on a clump of grass at the foot of the mountain. “That was an entertaining fight,” he said with a contented sigh, bending down to get his basket. “Too bad I had to use more beast blood to weather all that damage. I wonder where’s a good place to replenish my stock.”

After taking control of the mana node, he spent the next few years collecting blood from various beasts across Forkspear. But he wasn’t alone; he had the help of the Dragon’s Chosen Gisella de Chanterel, recognized as the most powerful beastmaster of her time. At that time, he already had the blood of the dragons that once lived on the crystal mountain on top of the mana node. It could be said that at the time before the Siege, he was at the peak of his power. In his battle in the Blighted Lands, he used up most of the blood he stored inside his body.

“The Siege,” he said, his voice trailing off. “I wonder how they fared against the Blighted Multitude.” He left them to guard the mana node and didn’t have any contact with the city while he traveled to the heart of the Blighted lands. “It all turned out for the better, I guess.” He slowly shook his head. Not really. He was alive. Which meant that his spell failed—not that he had high hopes for it succeeding anyway. “So, I just bought five hundred years, it seems.”

He sat down on a small mound and gazed up at the mountain. “Five hundred years, huh? Why do I feel tired even after sleeping for a long time?” He closed his eyes. The winds ruffled sleeves and the hem of his robe. It felt cool on his face. The clouds partially hid the sun; it was just the right amount of warmth. If he could just sit here forever. “I could become a monster guarding a cave full of treasure. I already have my basket and my cup to hide in it, I’ll go look for other stuff to add in,” he said with a sad smile. Guarding a treasure. Just like what the dragons did with their mana node. Proud beasts, those dragons. He saved a small part of their blood in his body—each dragon whose blood he drunk still lived inside him. “Oh yeah,” he said with a snap of his fingers. Staring at the mountain reminded him of something. “I still need to keep my promise with those dragons.”

“Congratulations,” a voice boomed out. After turning around, Aya saw that it was one of the people that brought Logan and him to the mountain. “Truly amazing fight, Mr. BasketSlayer.” He was accompanied by a group of mages who were applauding; they floated down from the sky.

“Thanks,” Aya said. He stood up. It was time to return to the city. He still had lots of copying to do. Time was of the essence, especially since the restraint runes were weakening—the nearing upsurge probably had something to do with it. The time to leave the city was coming near. He wondered if he still had enough mana parchments.

“My colleagues here will fly you back to the city. No need to exert yourself.” The man looked up at the blackened part of the mountain and frowned. “We have plenty of restoration to do here.” He then smiled at Aya and winked. “I hope that your match with Sir Berklaw won’t cause this much damage to the mountain.”

“I hope that as well.” Especially since he was low on his stocks. He doesn’t plan to drain the blood of dragons to the last drop and he can’t use void magic.

“This way, sir.” The mages made a magical bubble and gestured for him to get inside.

He shrugged as he stepped in the bubble. He’ll figure something out at the actual fight. He always does. It’s another matter if it would work.