Harald watched worriedly as William groggily leaned against the edge of the arena, right underneath his Curador friend who wasn't looking very well either. They were both pale and shaking. The knight was obviously in his condition due to the puncture wound going straight through his upper arm. But Harald could not discern why the Curador was distressed.

Was there some sort of connection between the two, and if one got injured the other felt it?

He didn't have the time to ruminate on this topic as he was quickly called onto the platform to face Lock's cousin. He saw the tournament healer talking quietly with the knight, likely asking him if he wanted to forfeit.

Only losers would receive healing before being dismissed. This was a rule.

“Looking at your future?” Lock's cousin taunted as Harald joined him in the circle of confrontation.

Sparing the man a glance, still the same, overly muscled, metal arm guards, large sword, Harald off-handedly shot him a reply as he started mentally preparing himself for this fight. “Shut up Lock's cousin.” He said, which visibly enraged the man.

Technically he knew his name, he just didn't want to use it. Lock's cousin had a certain ring to it...

Drawing his sword Harald felt the experience of the shades reverberate through it, begging to be unleashed. However his payment of one vitality point a month had recently expired, and he was not interested in refreshing his subscription for now. The lessons of the past had already helped him enough, he didn't need them right now.

Not here.

The match began and Harald immediately rushed forward, putting forth only the slightest amount of killing intent that still counted as using the skill. Lock's cousin's eye twitched and he grinned. Harald went for a diagonal slash across the torso. Only for his enemy to quickly back off, slamming his sword tip down onto the ground before him, halting any further attacks.

A sword big enough to serve as a shield. How ridiculous. Not quite knowing what to do in this particular situation Harald simply stopped where he was, and lowered his sword languidly. Lock's cousin was using more stamina to simply balance the thing than Harald was by standing there. He could wait.

And wait he did, all he did was circle around and watched his opponent drag his cumbersome hunk of steel around to continue blocking him. Lock's cousin would receive a warning soon. Too much time spent idle was a reason for disqualification. By the man's gritted teeth he knew this as well, deciding that he might as well go down in a blaze of glory he lifted up his sword and rushed towards Harald.

There was something deeply disturbing about being charged with a sword that was almost as tall and wide as him, but Harald managed to dodge the wide sweeping slash by rolling underneath it, and the following diagonal one by jumping backwards. It had almost gotten him however, there was a lesson to be learned here. Something about not dodging backwards when faced with a long attack, but to rather dodge sideways. However Harald had other priorities than ruminating on that particular factoid at the moment. Lock's cousin's sword impacted the ground harshly with a clang.

Harald jumped forwards, sword extended and stabbed at his foe's torso. Only for an arm to be raised and the strike to be deflected via arm brace. The same arm then extended forward in an attempt to grab in.

In retaliation Harald simply jumped back again, happy to contend with simply being out of reach. Albeit he was cursing at himself on the inside. Had he used the full power of his killing intent during that attack he would have likely won due to his opponent staggering for a second.

Maybe next time. He'd gotten the last attack in again, which meant Lock's cousin would be the first warned for idleness.

He began pacing around his opponent again. Lock's cousin was tiring, he could hear him breathing, even through the noise that the crowd was making.

Lock had mentioned that he was prideful...

Harald locked eyes with his foe, and pointedly looked away from him after he did so. Searching out his teacher in the stands, he found him looking at his knees and laughing at something.

Throwing himself to the side Harald dodged a sword swing that would have bisected him. Well, probably not, considering the defence mechanism.

Glancing at William revealed that the healing process still hadn't started. Lock's cousin roared as he charged him again, visibly red in the face, although it might have been from simple anger. The large sword was extended towards the sky in a show of gross miss-positioning. This was what Harald had been waiting for.

He ramped up his killing intent and sprang forward, Lock's cousin froze and his sword slipped from dead fingers. Compliments to him, he only froze for less than a second. However, that was enough for the situation to become non-salvageable. A white thread stopped Harald's sword for the second time that day. A clatter resounded as the hunk of metal met the ground. The match was called to an end, and Lock's cousin took an enraged swing at Harald's face.

-/-

“Idiot.” Lock sighed as he watched his cousin angrily attempt to punch Harald in retaliation for losing the match. An attempt was all that it stayed at however, as the punch was halted, and the aggressor violently thrown off the platform by a bunch of white strings working together. His sword followed soon thereafter.

Harald seemed slightly shaken standing on the arena, but he composed himself quickly and left once he did. He was doing quite well, Lock had to admit, in terms of mentality and his progression in the tournament.

It might not have been the most fluent fight, but it had been well-thought out.

“What happened?” Kamin asked, worry in her voice. “Is Harald okay?” She continued.

Lock took a moment to reaffirm that his killing intent was still working, even as he was doing something else. It was, just not as strongly. He turned to answer his fiancée. “He's perfectly fine. Did something very smart even. His opponent was wielding a very heavy weapon and he managed to disrupt him mid-swing. This lead to a loss of control over the centrifugal forces inherent in swinging around a large weapon. He was able to win off of that move.” He explained.

Kamin nodded, which was an odd gesture in on itself. Did blind people nod? “And the idiot?” She asked.

“With idiot I meant his opponent, who tried to hit Harald after the match was over. He's been dealt with.” Lock said shortly, feeling a tinge of shame for his relation. Kamin sneered, and wasn't that an odd facial expression on a girl her age?

“Good.” She said.

Wondering if he should be afraid that his fiancée would find love with another man Lock returned his attention to the match, and to sustaining the pressure on the Curador.

With how things were going, Ino only needed to win his match and everything would be set.

-/-

Ino breathed in deeply as he was called onto the platform. Mostly this was an attempt to calm himself, after all he was embarrassing himself for the third time today. First the butt incident, then the underwear one, and now...

Now he was going on stage with a slightly shredded and dirty white robe, wearing a blindfold, and a pair of nose-plugs. He heard some of the audience laughing. It wasn't much, and only a dozen or so people needed to chuckle slightly for him to hear it. A dozen out of the thousand spectators was good right?

Trying his darndest to see through the blindfold, everything was a blurry mess, he climbed the stairs, and faced his enemy of the day. Lily, in the circle of confrontation.

A circle that he needed some time to find, due to his impaired vision. A few more people joined in on the laughter. Gripping his staff Ino gritted his teeth. He wasn't used to being ridiculed. He was the heir to a noble family who hadn't left his home-town often and who was fairly beloved by the people.

He reconciled himself with the thought that soon, nobody was going to be laughing anymore. He'd been given the clear to go all out, to waste all his mana in one attack. He'd been cleared to make a lasting statement about the power of the Trydans. To everybody.

The moment he heard the Legil announce the start of the match Ino started gathering up his electrically based mana in the middle of his body. It went in and in seemingly without pause, until the process was halting by the singing of an angel.

It was beautiful. Why was he trying to use his most powerful spell in the presence of such a being? Didn't he care that the indiscriminate electrical discharge might hurt it? How dare he? Unconsciously he started funnelling the electricity that he'd gathered until now back into his reserves.

He didn't need it, did he?

Turning around towards the voice Ino ripped off his blindfold to behold a shimmering woman dressed in a gown of white floating right outside of the platform, she was moving her lips with the accordance of the song being sung. His body started staggering towards her, while his mind was but a hapless spectator ripped between the states of being enchanted, not wanting to be enchanted, and wanting to be enchanted.

There was a prideful part inside of him however, and it was decisively on the side of not wanting to be enchanted however. This prideful part held just enough willpower, that it managed to create a tiny spark with the mana that had not yet been reabsorbed.

Now a tiny spark didn't sound like much, but this was electricity. If one handled it while not completely there mentally, one was prone to get hurt. This was exactly his goal, pain. The best cure for illusions. His hand twinged and cramped under the assault of electricity that he'd created within his closed fists, and the angel in his vision disappeared.

So did the song.

So did the previously unnoticed mana connection leading not to the opponent that he was supposed to have been facing. But rather the Legil, the officiator of the tournament. Trying to comprehend what exactly was happening Ino was unable to stop himself from falling over the edge of the platform when someone suddenly pushed him from behind.

Tumbling to the ground arms extended he barely managed to avoid breaking his neck.

The call of his defeat followed immediately after the conclusion that he'd reached about the next plan of action.

Talk to Lock.