“You found another underground city below the hill?” Torysen balked as Mason and Leornal attempted to explain what they had been through the past several days.

It had taken some time to catch up to the band, but thankfully they had made it while the group was still some ways out from New Marra. As Torysen had reminded him by way of greeting, if he showed up to the city by himself the guards would probably sniff out the soul magic he used and kill him on site. For some reason, Mason didn’t think she was telling him that to comfort him.

“Yes, Captain,” Leornal affirmed with a roll of his eyes. “And it appears the population was under a great threat and used soul magic as a last effort to save themselves. The gremlins you fought must be what remains of the weakest of them.”

“And this Artorial?” Torysen asked.

“Artorias,” Leornal corrected.

“Artorias, yes. You do not believe he is a threat, though you also claim that you haven’t seen anything like his power before.”

Leornal shook his head, “No, if he were a threat, we would not have survived. That’s not to say he’s a friend, but he has no plans to assault us outright. I already explained what he did for De… I mean Mason.”

Torysen shot Mason a scathing look at that, “More soul magic, it seems.”

“It’s not as if I chose soul magic as a specialty, you know,” Mason countered. “I’m just not dumb enough to pass up a legendary artifact when it falls into my hands.”

“You are, however, dumb enough to use that artifact despite having almost zero idea how it works, where it’s from, what it’s capable of, or what the side-effects might be,” Tory continued to glower, reminding Mason that though she was training him, her bitter feelings weren’t completely set aside.

“You know you’ve got one minute left to live, and you have a potion in your hand that just might help you, even though you don’t really know what it does. Do you avoid drinking the potion just because it might cause problems later?” Mason retorted. “I’d rather at least have a later to worry about.”

Shayjol pushed his way into the large tent where they were discussing and looked between the three tense conversationalists, “I take it you’re still angering everyone you meet, Demon?”

“I can count at least a few people that don’t hate me in the Trials, Shay. Do you have anyone other than your parents that you can add to your own list?” Mason studied the Darkest Night boy, having only glanced at him briefly in passing when he and Leornal had entered the camp.

Shay ignored Mason’s taunt and turned to Torysen, “Sentir needs to know if there is trouble he should be watching for. He and my mom have both sensed something out of the ordinary, but nothing definite, yet.”

Shayjol looked haggard in a way that Mason didn’t expect. It was in his voice too. Even as he teased Mason, his throat seemed raw and his voice seemed deeper. The escape hadn’t been very easy on him, either, it seemed.

“No,” Tory replied, “If Leornal’s story is true there shouldn’t be any mana users below us, unless you count the Biord. If they’re sensing something amiss it’s most likely the goblins or the Corrosi. Either way, nothing we don’t know how to handle.”

Shay nodded, then turned back to Mason, “I’m glad you’re alive, after all. I would have come back for you like you did for me but…”

Mason smiled, “Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you made it out too.”

Leornal watched the expressions flicker on Tory’s face with each passing exchange. She had seemed approving when Shay had been mocking the human, but now that he was being kind she looked irritated. There was no way they could present Mason in front of the council with Torysen acting like this.

“Torysen,” he started, before Shayjol had even left the tent. Her attention jolted to him, and he continued when she nodded, “You need to put your feelings aside. I would not have survived in that city without Mason. He’s a good warrior and a good person.”

Even Mason felt uncomfortable in front of such directness, but Tory looked outraged, “You wouldn’t have been trapped there at all if he hadn’t lagged behind during the escape!”

“And Shayjol escaped all by himself, then? Mason carries the soul of a Darkest Night, and he’s now saved several of our lives by working with us. I’m not sure how much more of one of us he could become before he’s earned our approval.”

“Do you not think I know he has one of our souls in him?” Tory yelled as Mason considered whether he should really be present for this conversation.

“I didn’t mean to…” Mason started, but Leornal put his hand out to signal for him to stop talking.

“I won’t even pretend to understand half of what Mason has done, or what Artorias helped him with. But it’s clear that these are some fairly unusual circumstances. Your brother is whole in Mason. He has a rune which Mowry taught me himself once. If Mowrytal thought it was worth giving him that power, then it is worth our treating him like a friend,” Leornal insisted calmly in the face of Torysen’s anger.

“Show it to me,” She demanded, turning to Mason.

“Um, I can try,” was all Mason could give her.

And he did, sending a thought to Mowrytal to help him. He didn’t think Torysen wanted to see him use Indiscriminate Force. She wanted to see the rune.

Hoping that her mana-sight would allow her to see it as he formed it, he did so, and tried to press it forward into the air ahead of him. He saw in his status that Mana Manipulation had ticked up a level, and felt like Runecraft was activating at the same time.

It was exhausting trying to go through the motion of that rune, and he wondered if he simply lacked any natural talent for this. But after he had finished pulling his mana through that shape for some time, Tory finally spoke up.

“Enough,” she said roughly, and then turned away from him and back to Leornal. “Ask Clearsay to help turn that into an embellishment for him. The council will want to see him show up as one of us, and he can’t come to them blank.”

Whatever that meant, it seemed good enough to Leornal. Smiling, he nodded, and grabbed Mason’s arm to drag him out of the tent.

Shay and Mason both panted heavily as they resumed exchanging blows under the dim end-of-day light. Even unused to using a sword instead of an axe, Shayjol made for an impressively even match with the human child. They both practiced the same footwork, and each of their attacks was predictable enough that the other could almost always raise a counter in time.

Of course, to themselves, they felt as if they were levelling an impressive offense and defending valiantly. Despite their confidence, Leornal yawned as he watched from the side, disappointed to see that Mason didn’t fight with nearly the same resourcefulness as when his life was actually in danger.

What he didn’t realize was that Mason’s attention was split in half. This sparring was more than an excuse to refine his blade mastery and footwork, he was also trying to learn to carve out that rune within him even in the midst of combat. He could move his mana smoothly while on the offensive, though he passed up many opportunities to shift his stance or break Shay’s guard because of his distraction. However, every time Shayjol began pressing in, he lost focus on the rune as he tried to watch the dangerous weapon flying toward him.

He was getting closer, and he knew he’d be able to keep the fight up long enough to get at least one successful cast off. Indiscriminate Force had already levelled up without him casting it, so if he could get it off once more, he would inch his way into the realm of competency…

Taking a deep breath, he poured stamina into Focus, trying to slow down time and speed up his movements, even while redoubling his attention on the rune. He felt the mana making the motions, the focusing of energy as the rune prepared to activate. If he could just get a moment’s peace during the fight, he’d have it.

Then his opportunity presented itself. Shay disengaged, jumping back from their crossed blades. He looked ready to pounce, and though Mason could block the attack easily, if he went for a full lunging strike it would definitely throw him off balance. Putting aside any thoughts of turning the attack, Mason focused hard on the rune, feeling his mana drain even as Focus emptied his stamina.

Shay pounced, and Mason roared in return, stepping into the attack, rather than away from it. The rune activated, and force burst from Mason in all directions. The trampled plants beneath their feet were blown up and around, and the trees shook all around them. But most importantly, Shayjol stalled in midair, losing his balance and falling backwards. Mason wanted to press the advantage, but the energy expenditure left him a little loopy, so all he did was laugh and pump his sword in the air.

Leornal, mildly windblown, looked on interestedly now as Shayjol scrambled to his feet shouting. “We were sword fighting, not casting spells! You cheated, Demon!” He seemed more embarrassed than righteously angry, though.

Before moving too close to Mason, he thrust his unarmed hand forward, and a concentrated blast of force burst out, and the still-cheering human stumbled backwards. While he was off balance, Shayjol launched another force blast and this time Mason fell completely backwards, smacking his head painfully on the ground.

“Fuck,” he swore as he sat up and rubbed his head, “I just wanted to see if I could do it at all, Shay. It’s not like I stabbed you!”

“Only a child uses magic on a friend without warning,” fumed Shay.

“Again with the name calling? Is that all you Darkest Night know how to do?”

“There’s a great many thing we can do better than that, Mason,” Torysen said, appearing seemingly out of nowhere near where Leornal stood. “Casting a spell in my camp without warning is a quick way to have my archers riddle you with holes. It’s late, too. You should be resting- we’ll be getting to the city early tomorrow.”

Mason took her outstretched hand and rose to his feet. Wiping himself off he justified himself, “I’d rather not show up without even a simple rune under my belt. I know it’d be dumb to stall, but I’m not exactly eager to meet many more of your kind. None of you seem to really like me.”

“So you admit that you make everyone you meet angry, then?” Shay offered unhelpfully, unfazed by Tory’s appearance.

Mason shot him an irritated glance, but he just shrugged as Tory spoke up again, “If you need a sparring partner, I’d be more than happy to bruise you a few times. Leornal said you fought impressively against those beasts, but I wouldn’t want you to start getting the idea that you were a capable fighter.”

“Of course not,” Mason said sarcastically, drawing his weapon anyways. “If you want to fight, I’ll fight you.”

“You know no matter how strong he grows, you cannot claim him,” said the loud-voiced god that had suggested bringing the humans into the Trials with a pile of guns.

The first voice, who had schemed to get Mason the Staff of Mardun, look abashed by this proposal, “I would never dare. If I were scheming to create an upstart contender, why would I start with something so weak and squishy? Mal, you offend me.”

Mal leaned close to the smaller god, and his aura was overwhelming. He reeked of blood and sweat, and his almost grotesquely developed muscles seemed to put off a heat that was uncomfortable just to be near. Nobody achieved his status by being merely a brute though, so he was armed as much with natural suspicion as he was strength. “Perhaps we should start referring to you as the god of the underdog. You don’t think I forgot about that one a thousand years ago.”

Underdog just flashed him a sheepish grin, “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh yes you do,” growled Maladuk, god of Thunder and Battlerage, “The illusion-master from the shapeshifter race. Got a good hundred thousand of my favorite warriors killed. I still haven’t been able to get a good werewolf mutation spreading since then!”

“That was a lucky pick. I followed the rules perfectly with that one. If Helzibeh hadn’t been trying to conquer that entire tier of planes at once, he never could have led them into that foolish war.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault, Coralis?” said a deceptively sweet voice from the beautiful Helzibeh. “If you two hadn’t caused so much trouble, I’d have been raised to a higher echelon altogether after conquering those planes. Instead I’ve been stuck with you two and these pathetic excuses for Contenders. There are hardly any Champions to claim, and nothing like one of those greater Champion races.”

“Didn’t you sneak the Maledite away from Mal three hundred years back?” Coralis asked, trying to push the focus off his projects. “I mean, you took the Mal from Mal, and they’re such an aggressive race. They would have done great under his tutelage.”

Mal glowered at Helzibeh briefly, but he growled at Coralis, “You’re a snake. And that human of yours isn’t so entertaining. I don’t know why we agreed to let you play with him. You know the Trials are against such direct interference.”

“Direct interference? Why, he’s a non-contender on a non-contender plane. Since when was it against the rules for us to have some fun there? Those Maledite shouldn’t have been slumming it anyways, especially not with a legendary staff at their disposal.”

Helzibeh sighed dramatically, draping herself across a large, ornamental chair, “You told me those bird-people had it. If I had known you were disrupting one of my contenders, I’d never have allowed it.”

“The bird-people did have it. They just happened to be under Arlon’s influence at the time.”

Helzibeh and Maladuk both spoke at once with barely contained animosity, “You’re a snake.”