Horn was sitting at a table back in the waiting room. His clanmates approached and patted his back, said a few words, or just gave him a short salute by touching their hearts with a fist. He was bathing with praise, and he loved every second of it.

However, the second round was quickly approaching, Goran was about to lead his team outside. They exchanged a few words, and Horn hurried up to the bleachers. He found a small enclave of his dwarfs outside his entrance, either the more shy ones or not interested in other races. He mixed into two dozen of them, got a horn of ale, and drank it happily. He had no idea where they found it but loved it. A cheer went out, and he focused on the arena.

The gates opened, and the teams rode on the white sand. On one side, Goran led his squad, slowly trotting on their Warboars. However, what shocked Horn was the fifth member of their team. Sigrid was unsteadily riding the boar. What was she thinking? And how the hell did she convince Goran to let her join him? Horn was furious. That could cost him the win, the damn woman! Why all of his NPC’s were so stubborn. There will be hell to pay! He expected everything, but not that.

He took a sip of ale to calm his nerves before focusing on the other team. Slowly five robed humans walked out of their gate. Three women and a man, each in similar cyan robes, covering them from toes till the neck. They didn’t seem to have any visible weapons, but the leading woman walked with a long staff. As the groups stopped fifty yards from each other, the voice echoed over the stadium. “Goran Steelriver of the Lightforge clan and his party, against Madam Beatrice of Evening Tide Academy and her entourage! Standard rules apply, fight to the death! Glory to the victors!”

The match began, Goran shouted something at the team, and they broke into a gallop, roaring “Lightforge!” The humans stood their ground, quietly discussing something. The fifty yards turned into forty, then thirty. Finally, the robed group began moving. The leader with the staff raised it high in the air while quickly pronouncing a set of unintelligible words. The remaining four rose their hands towards the leader, and energy rays began flowing out of them. With a final shout, the woman slammed her staff in the ground, and a cracking sound echoed. Suddenly a gust of arctic wind spread through the stadium. From the crack in the ground, a wave of ice began to cover the arena. In a heartbeat, it reached the charging dwarf. The boars lost their grip and fell in a mess of limbs and dwarfs. One unlucky ended with a broken leg crying in pain. The charge was broken.

The mage slumped on her feet, but only for a moment. As she regained control, her hand disappeared under the robe, only to reappear holding a blue vial. With one movement, she gulped the contents. Horn noticed that the remaining mages had done the same. Instantly they went into five different casts. The dwarfs were still trying to get to their feet, challenging on ice while wearing armor and holding arms. The casts finished two rays of cold shot toward Goran, each freezing part of his body. He yelped in pain but gritted his teeth and kept raising. Another spell created a gust of wind again, throwing dwarfs to their knees, and the final two hit the ground without visible effect.

Then something unexpected happened, Sigrid began shouting at the party. Goran started to argue, but a movement of her hand cut him off. Horn was too far to hear the words over the cacophony of the crowd, but the old veteran seemed to be losing a shouting match. Finally, he nodded, just as another salvo of spell hit them, this time four freezing rays focused on one of the warriors, dropping him dead. Their own adept tried to heal as much as he could, but there were limits to his abilities.

Goran threw some commands out, then did something astonishing. He sheathed his weapon, took his shield in both hands, and threw himself over it on the ice. Using his shield as a sled, he ice skated towards the mages. The rest of his team did the same, with Sigrid taking the shield of the fallen dwarf.

The dwarfs looked like a group of seals sliding on the ice. The distance to the mages began again shrinking rapidly. The woman barked some kind of order in front, and the four assistants broke in the middle of their casts and began preparing a different spell. With fifteen yards between them, the leader sent out a cone of cold that hit the approaching dwarfs. One of them stopped moving, his skin turning sickly blueish, but others just huffed and puffed and kept pushing away. Then the four mages finished their cast, and a blueish barrier surrounded the group. Goran was first to slam into it, harmlessly bouncing away. He hefted his axe and swung, but it harmlessly skidded at the edge.

However, Sigrid was the one with the plan. Seeing the barrier, she reached for her dagger, slammed it into the ice, quickly breaking the movement. Then stood up took out a scroll. Unraveling it, she began casting the spell. The hostile mages saw that and refocused their attention on the scholar. The first ray of cold hit her, almost sending her prone, but she maintained the concentration. Her teeth began clanking with each word as the magical cold seeped into her bones. Horn’s adept reacted. He covered the scholar with his own body while casting his own spell. Another ray of cold hit him, but he kept going, then another, but he stubbornly kept at it. Finally, his chant finished, and both himself and Sigrid began glowing with Inner fire.

The dwarfs at the audience shouted in excitement, but a second later, two rays hit the brave adept, and not even the buff saved him. The dwarf slumped to the ground, lifeless. But his sacrifice wasn’t in vain. Sigrid finished reading the scroll and shot her hand towards the barrier. No one could understand what happened for a second, but then they saw Goran charging through now empty air. She dispelled the barrier. A furious dwarf, between five weakly humans, quickly changed to four against one, then to three. The mages tried counterattacking, but Goran seemed to be everywhere, slashing, bashing, and kicking when needed to interrupt the spells. Sigrid wasn’t passive either, closing the gap and adding to the fray. She didn’t have any weapons. Instead, she just tackled the enemy leader.

The strangest catfight ensured, a scholar against a mage, they rolled, shouted, scratched, and punched each other. However, Sigrid was clearly stronger and more resilient. The rest of the fight finished in a matter of seconds. Finally, with the two dwarfs the only remaining participants, the arena voice pronounced. “Goran Steelriver party of the Lightforge clan is victorious! What an amazing match!”

The crowd exploded into cheers. Horn found himself standing on his seat chanting with his fellow clanmates, “Lightforge! Sigrid, the scholar!”

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Horn erupted as they entered an empty side room.

“Chieftain, the logical conclusion that led me to that decision was a simple one. Goran being an experienced leader, tends to follow a very conventional doctrine, which makes him uncrea-“Sigrid began replying when Horn interrupted,

“Bullshit, I don’t buy that.”

Sigrid stopped blushing. She opened and closed her lips, then, in barely more than a whisper, said, “I followed your words. I wanted to see if I’m as worthy as fighters.” She looked at her feet, shuffling them in embarrassment.

“Oh, for all that’s holy,” Horn muttered, a fricking teenager rebellion? But then he added, “You’ve done well. Without you, they probably would have lost, but that’s just a coincidence. Your place is not on a battlefield!”

“I understand, chieftain, but disagree. I’m capable of fighting.” She replied,

“I really don’t give a crap about that. Your place is behind. Get back on the bleachers if you want to see the final match. Better work on a puzzle. I have a clue on that.” He said, but this time she interrupted him, “I solved it.”

“What? When?” Horn inquired,

“Just before you arrived to call for the clan. There’s a hidden compartment in the reward chest, and now I know how to open it.” She explained.

“Good, a great job, even. We’ll talk more after the arena.”

The final fight wasn’t scheduled for another hour. Before it, half a dozen other battles ensued. Horn was back in the stands, watching his competitors and their tactics. He was enjoying himself when a familiar voice entered his ears.

“Oy, pumpkin! This pussycat wanted to talk with you, and she said you still owe her an answer. Whatever it is, seeing her face, I’d say, run for the hills!” Ingrid said, bursting into a laugh.

Turning back, he saw her accompanied by Ellaine, his earlier opponent. “Ellaine, what a surprise, came for the second round?” He couldn’t stop himself from a bit of gloating.

“Maybe next time. I promise I won’t go so easy on you.” She replied with a predatory smile.

An uncontrollable shiver went through his spine, but he continued, “So what bring you here?”

“Did you forget about our little game already? I’ve answered your question, but you still owe me one.”

He knew she was right. Even though Sigrid had already solved the puzzle, she gave him an actual clue. He, however, didn’t reply about the dungeon challenge. “Well, what’s fair is fair. To be honest, I haven’t solved it yet, but I’m sure I know how to get the rewards. My warriors went through every inch of the dungeon, finding nothing. The only thing remaining possibility is the charges on the core. So, it’s an educated guess you need to run it to the ground. I should have confirmation in a few hours, but that’s all that I can give you.”

“Shit,” She replied, “Too risky, it’s the last one I’m missing. You lied to me.”

“You were shooting at me at the time. Wasn’t the easiest moment to pass my thoughts!” He argued,

Thinking for a moment, Ellaine said, “There will be one last arena event with twelve hours remaining on the clock. They’re daily, but that’ll be too late to finish the challenge. I propose that we sign a non-aggression pact. Then if your hunch pays off, you upgrade it to a defensive alliance, and if it’s a failure, you dissolve the relationship. “

He thought about that. First of all, he had an opportunity to learn about diplomacy a bit, and he didn’t mind the catwomen. She knew how to fight and was just his kind of a person, adding some fun to a challenge. “So, how do these pacts work exactly?”

“You didn’t take a lot of time to check your menus, didn’t you?” She snorted but kept talking, “There are five normal relationship statuses and several extras. First, you can be at war with someone. It probably doesn’t need an explanation. Then you can set them as hostile, which is just a shy away from open warfare. These two allow you to fight in and around neutral armies without provoking a reaction, but not in their cities. Then you have a basic one, neutral, and it doesn’t mean shit. After that, you have a non-aggression, a friendly setting, but it just does what the name says. However, breaking such a pact either takes a few days or results in many diplomatic penalties. After that, you have a defensive alliance, which grants some nifty bonuses while fighting with your ally. Besides these, there are trading agreements, vassalage one, and a few more that need additional research to unlock. “

“Huh, pretty neat. Sure, count me in.” Horn replied a moment later a notification appeared,

Ellaine Ha’shir requests a non-aggression pact between the Shadow Paw tribe and the Lightforge clan. Please note that breaking such a pact without waiting out fourteen days will result in big morale, loyalty, and diplomatic reputation loss. Breaking a promise can also affect your righteous citizens and champions. Your actions matter! Agree?

A moment later, a shorter notification confirmed they had a non-aggression in place. Horn just asked, “So how can I update it?”

“Without us meeting, you’ll have to do this from your tribe menus. You can request an alliance from there to tribes you’ve already established relations with. You know about the chieftain panel?” Ellaine asked,

“Yea saw them.” Horn nodded,

“Great, then I’ll wait for your info, and good luck out there. I heard your final opponent changed at the last moment, and someone used his challenge right to take over.” She threw over her shoulder as she left.

The counter before the final battle crept towards zero. His forces were already assembled. The dwarfs dead in the previous round just stepped through the portal like nothing happened. They recalled being hit, but then they just reappeared.

As the gate opened, they marched: Fifty dwarfs, sixteen boars, two yaks, and a wagon under a large tarp. After exiting, they arranged in the formation, with the front covered by squads of melee and crossbowmen behind them. Raiders split into three groups. One on the left flank second mirrored them on the right, and the last team centered on Horn in the middle of the formation. The wagon stood just behind them.

From the opposite gate, two dozen monstrous figures emerged. Seeing them, Horn was almost sure who he was against. Ogres were the favorite race of his last opponent in the global tournament – Shadow. “So the sore loser wants a rematch? Oh, how good it’ll be to kick his ass again.”

The ogres looked menacing, ten feet large mountains of muscles. Their gray skin gave them a bit of moving statues look, but their ugly mugs dispelled any regard towards them. Their faces looked a bit comical, with small beady eyes, pig-like noses, and enormous lips full of blunt teeth. They looked like they chew their victims, crushing bones like it was nothing. They were barely clothed and armed. A few had some weapons, but most held pieces of tree trunks or even just large stones.

There were three slightly different ogres within the pack. One was clad in furs, some with still fresh bloodstains, an enormous metal axe laid over his shoulder, and a helmet made out of the skull of a large wolf partially covered his bloodthirsty visage. Another one was a head shorter than the rest. He held half a dozen chains in his hands. Each connected to a strange beast. They looked like a mix of a lizard and a dog. Canine features were clearly visible, but their whole body was covered by scales, with long tongues sliding out every few seconds. The ogre himself had an enormous crossbow, or rather a small ballista sticking over his shoulder.

Finally, the last one was the largest. Easily a head taller than the rest. He walked in the middle. His bare chest was covered only by a large golden necklace, a longsword which looked like a dagger at his massive frame, dangled attached to his loin cloth. In the hands, he held a giant staff with an ogre skull with shining crimson eyes. That looked exactly like an Ogre mage from the previous game, and Horn would bet any money that this fella was the Shadow.

As the ogres took place, Shadow roared, “Horn you slimy bastard, finally we meet. This time you're mine. Your punny dwarves will be feed for my ogres and I’ll eat you whole!”

Chickling Horn shouted back, “That’s what she said!”

A roar of laughter erupted from the audience. It only enraged the ogre, but Horn had him exactly where he wanted. He heard from behind voices under the tarp, muttering something and a delicate chant slowly gaining momentum.

“Laugh as much as you want. The Flesh Eaters’ll crush you!” Shadow shouted back, trying to ignore laughs from the crowd.

Like on a cue, the arena voice spoke, “Welcome challengers and spectators! The fight between the Lightforge clan, led by Horn Skysmith, and The Flesh Eaters tribe led by Shadow Skullcrusher will commence in ten seconds. The fight is to the death, with no restrictions on used items and spells. Good luck!”

“Skullcrusher? Seriously?” Horn shouted, trying to keep Shadow focused on him. The countdown started, and his gambit was about to fire - Literally.

“You’ll see in a moment!” The ogre shouted back.

Finally, as the countdown reached zero, a few things happened at once. First of all, the tarp was pulled off the wagon, revealing an Advanced Dwarven Scorpion. It was a robust yet sleek construction. It was basically a massive crossbow attached to a cart on a rotation platform. It took three-quarters of the nine-foot-long wagon. It could shoot six-foot-long and half a foot thick projectiles at four hundred yards with decent accuracy and had a stopping power of a fricking elephant. Right now, it was loaded with a massive metal-tipped bolt, target directly at Shadow. The time he spent shouting at Horn was time his two engineers manning the weapon took adjusting their sights.

Secondly, an adept just finished his cast of Blessed weapons, and the bolt began shining with the golden hue.

Thirdly, Horn shouted, “Fire!”

With a pull of a lever, the scorpion launched. The massive golden projectile traveled the fifty-yard distance in a blink of the eye. Shadow, paralyzed by surprise, just stared at the dwarven formation when the bolt slammed directly into his chest. His massive few hundred-kilo heavy body was flung backward like a piece of tissue. The bolt didn’t even slow down, passing through the ogre and slammed into another one standing behind him. Both were dead in the instance.

A moment of silence ensued as spectators witnessed the surprise attack. Everyone present was just stunned by the display of power, then a crank of wheel pulling back the scorpion’s bowstring broke the stupor, and a roar of applause began. Before they launched into a charge, the ogres took a few more seconds to understand what had just happened.

Horn was proud of his engineers, who didn’t wait to see the result of their strike. Instead, they were already almost ready to fire again. In a few more seconds, the scorpion would be ready. Seeing the situation, he just shouted, “Lightforge! We show no quarter!”