The crowd went wild as the thin, one horned, Jotun, locked the limbs of his much large opponent and made the other youth’s face kiss the floor. Impacting the tiles of the stage with enough force to create a small crater.

Cornell Takao, of the Courts of Steel and Amber, sat alongside his friend Leon, from the Radiant Orrichalcum Gardens. Not quite believing what he was seeing.

The two of them sat next to Berthold Rishe, a mutual acquaintance of theirs from the iron blood kings, who swore loudly as she watched her sect junior quite literally get made to eat a loss. Leaving behind several teeth when the medics came to carry him off of the stage.

Speaking of eating a loss, Leon couldn’t help narrowing his eyes and giving his friend a smug look as he saw the referee announced the unknown fighter’s victory. Aware that they were both familiar with the young jotun who’d somehow climbed his way all the way up into the top ten ranks of the whole tournament.

“Corny old boy, I do believe you owe me fifty medium grade essence crystals...I don’t mind taking it as five high grade crystals or five hundred low grade crystals, but I do ask that you pay promptly, please.”

Cornell snorted rolling his eyes.

“Hmph...okay, you old bat...How about I just take it out of the five thousand you owe me from the last time we went drinking together.”

Leon swore, sputtering. His already ruddy face growing even redder.

“Oi! Oi! Let’s not mix past and present debts...or rather, what five thousand crystals?... I don’t owe you shit!”

“Ah, how about me, that kindly wife of yours, and a certain Madame Delilah at the Soaring Palace Bordello and Wine house, talk it over, nice and slow to see through to the black and white of the matter.”

Leon snorted, ignoring the blatant blackmail.

“Un...I see, I see. Very good. Who would expect the famous Cornell Takao would renege on a bet? Well, I tell you this, the boys in that favorite gambling house of yours will definitely hear of this. I hear a few of your sects inner and core court members are numbered amongst them.”

Cornell’s complexion wavered between blue and white, impressive for a man who was normally pink. He weighed the loss of funds against the loss of face, and decided that face was more important. Tossing his friend, a spatial-card with exactly five hundred low grade crystals stored inside.

“Tch…” scowled one of the two old cultivators.

“Kehehe…” smiled the other.

“Well, now...he’s up again. Little Bastard better not lose after making my boy lose face like that.” growled the third old cultivator. The aged swordswoman, who sat fuming alongside the other two.

Cornell and Leon startled, realizing that the boy was up again, having stepped off the stage and been called back after a few matches had taken place in-between.

They’d missed the last two fights, which for a quarterly tournament like this, wasn’t really that great an issue, for aloof, senior personages, such as themselves. Especially, since it was only the last three fights that counted as ought, for the sects they represented.

What made today’s tournament different, was the fact that unbelievable as it was, there was an outsider in their midsts. An inscrutable youth who stood facing one of the darlings of the Courts of Steel and Amber, for the title of tournament champion.

Even with seats as good as theirs, it was hard to know what kind of face the strange youth was making. It was hard to know what the young man was feeling.

What could be known, was that once the match was over, regardless of who was entered into the rankings as the second place winner and who came in first, there would be fervor as all three of their sects fought to draw the boy in. Crowding out any of the smaller sects and groups that might have been interested in recruit the young jotun.

*****

“A Human?...No. You’re a monstrum right? One of the ascended monster races.” said Edwin. Half mumbling to himself as he faced his opponent. A young woman with honey-colored skin, triangular ears atop her head and a thick scale covered tail.

Her more, “natural”, human-like skin tone, making Edwin mistake her for a member of his former race before he recalled the descriptions given by both his sister and parents concerning the non-jotun portion of Embla’s population.

“What the hell are you talking about all by yourself, on the other end of the ring? If you’re gonna fight come on then!” said the sect disciple. Her Elite Stage cultivation allowing her to pick up the young man’s whispered words.

Edwin blinked realizing that this final match, the final match of the tournament had finally started.

Rushing forwards to meet his opponent as she raced forwards to meet him.

They traded blows, their fists flying so fast that each punch sounded like a muffled gunshot, regardless of whether it landed.

She, the female disciple ended up with the upper hand, breaking Edwin’s momentum and kicking him away, nearly kicking him out of the ring.

Edwin recovered, grounding himself, by stabilizing himself and anchoring his body down with his kinetic field. His feet tearing up the tile floor of the fighting ring.

His hands and forearms stung from the kick that he’d just blocked, yet his look was mostly thoughtful instead of pained.

These last few dozen fights, whether it was aboveground or underground had been fairly challenging compared to those he’d fought back in Rus. Still, compared to combatting celestial presences and immortals it was nothing.

Even if his current body was nothing compared to what he’d once had as the hivemind at the helm of countless transcendental-constructions, the experience was still there. Rendering any pressure that a normal youth might have felt from the fight, moot.

Though his opponent chased him, trying to finish him off and kick him down the stage, Edwin was absolutely sure, he could handle her. Ignoring the kicks that were powered by gathered wind essence. And the punches that were filled with a sharpened aura.

Rather than fighting with any of his opponents, Edwin had been fighting himself. At around the fifth match, where he’d stood above ground, with a roaring crowd both praising him and cursing him, he’d found himself meditating on his own actions. Questioning himself.

According to his brother winning the tournament would bring good things to both him, his wife and the family in general. They would have backing and resources and status. Which seemed a good enough reason for Edwin to do as he was told.

Except it wasn’t a good enough. All this had happened too fast. Getting married. Becoming at least partially responsible for the fate of his family and his wife. Suddenly being pressed into becoming a pillar from his family. It was all too fast.

It wasn’t so much that the boy didn’t want to do and be these things, a husband, a son, a paragon and family guardian. It was more that he’d not even really been able to give proper time to the consideration of whether he wanted to do these things.

His brother had only told him of his plans a few days before the tournament happened, so he’d barely had the time to set up the necessary drones for reconnaissance and research.

Which meant he’d not had the data to make the kind informed decisions he liked to make. Where he knew all he needed to know and could see the issue from all its angles and sides.

On the one hand, he’d sort of wanted to spend some portion of his young adulthood living free and unfettered. Wandering through Embla and learning what it had to offer.

On the other hand, Edwin loved his family, and he was pretty sure that he could properly come to love his former-sister, as a wife, if given time. Or rather he already loved her, he mostly just needed to get over the slightly incestuous vibe it was giving him.

His earthman sensibilities getting in the way of letting him feel anything beyond a chaste fraternal affection for the woman.

Though, speaking honestly, her fusing with his nanites made him feel closer to her already, making him feel an odd tingle of attraction.

The subsequent treatments that he’d given to the family based on the experience made him feel like for the first time, he wasn’t quite as much of the odd man out, as he’d been before.

He had kin, and he had people and he did in fact want the best for them.

Considering the sentiments on both ends of the argument and considering the concerns born therein, Edwin looked at his options.

Finding that even if he ended up doing as his brother asked, he wanted to know that he was doing it, because chose to do and wanted to do it, rather than just because he’d been told to. Finding that being a simple automata that followed orders, was now anathema to him, at least where matters of self-determination were concerned.

Even if one was fine trusting some matters with others. Even if one didn’t mind letting others decide what clothes one wore, and what food one ate and what person one married. If a person, was a person and not a puppet, at least a few decisions would have to be consciously made.

“Hup...Okay.” said Edwin. Having made up his mind. A light entering his eyes, as he pivoted and swept his legs under his opponent, tricking her into leaping over them, so he could throw her clear of the stage with a single palm strike to the abdomen.

There was silence and then madness, sounds within the stadium reaching a new deafening high. This time when the audience lost their minds a few of them lost them for good. Unable to believe that a sectless nobody had won the tournament.

The referee came and lifted the young jotun’s arm up into the air while the young man himself, stood mostly unmoved, but resolved in his decision on the new direction his life would be taking.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! We give you this year’s Spring Tournament Champion! Edwin viiissss-Oddmund!” roared the referee. His magically amplified voice, echoing throughout the stadium.