Ril tilted his head up. Then up some more as the giant stone structure loomed in front of him.

“Impressive isn’t it?” Eren asked. She stood next to him and slightly behind with her hands on her hips.

“This is the arena?” Ril replied.

“Yes.”

“Wow.”

Eren smirked. “You want to head inside?”

“One second,” Ril said. The structure that they stood in front of was massive. It dominated the skyline. Rising above all of the other buildings in the immediate neighborhood. The only buildings that surpassed it were several extravagant noble homes that could be glimpsed in the distance, and the seven spires themselves.

It was constructed out of large dull red bricks, making the entire structure look rather sinister. The rust colored bricks were the size of Ril. He had no idea how this building must have been constructed. It would have required the concerted effort of thousands over the course of generations to quarry, ship, and place the stones. For all of that, the arena looked slightly out of place surrounded by wooden buildings.

“When was it built?” Ril asked Eren idly, looking down the street to see how far the arena extended. It went quite far, fully encapsulating one side of the street. From the outside it wasn’t entirely clear, but it seemed that the structure was built so that there were locations for the entire city of Anduin to come watch while combatants fought in the center. Off in the distance, Ril saw that the arena actually extended to what looked like mini-arena’s for less important battles.

“Over five-hundred years ago. It’s the pride and joy of the Artorius family. They used to be very warlike, organizing gladiator fights almost every day. Sometimes they even had people fight monsters. That all really changed after the calamity happened and King Magnus ascended to the throne. Now this place is mostly used by the Academy, and for the Silver Spire Tournament.”

“Isn’t that a little...barbaric?” Ril asked, giving Eren a look.

Eren snorted, “How did you think King Magnus became king so quickly after the calamity. He is a born fighter. Spent much of his childhood in this arena.”

“Huh,” Ril gave one more look at the imposing structure. “Let’s go in.”

Eren led the way into one of the large archways that led into the structure. They emerged into a sandy room with a couple of chairs and a receptionist that was dealing with a muscle-head as they argued over something emphatically. The walls of the room were unpainted and didn’t have any type of covering. That with the sandy floor gave the place an ancient ruins type of look. That, or just a very old, slightly worn building.

They joined the line, and waited patiently as the warrior continued talking with the secretary. It had something to do with points and how he hadn’t gotten enough of them. Ril didn’t totally understand, and honestly didn’t really care. The red stone bricks holding up the ceiling were less worn here on the inside, compared to the outside of the building, but it seemed that they were the source of the sand on the floor. This was confirmed when the complaining warrior angrily stalked out of the room and bumped into the doorway, causing a puff of sand to cascade from the porous bricks.

“How does this place not collapse? The walls are made of powder.” Ril whispered to Eren, as they stepped forward in line.

“Hmm? Yeah, the walls do look fragile, but they have been standing for centuries. I doubt one angry warrior would be able to knock them down.” She replied, unconcerned. It seemed that angry warriors leaving in a huff were a common sight in this place.

“How come the doorway isn’t...wider by now?”

“They fix it up every once in a while. What did you think there was no maintenance on this place since its foundation?” Eren replied.

Ril pursed his lips. That was exactly what he was thinking. To be fair he hadn’t really ever lived in a home that he had fixed up. Also the arena was colossus. It seemed like a place that had some magic that sustained it, rather than the hard work of many humans.

The rest of the people in front of them in the line managed their business much faster than the angry warrior, and it was soon their turn at the counter.

“Ranked, Team or Spar?” The receptionist droned out in a bored tone. Her voice had a nasal quality to it that grated on Ril’s ears. No wonder the warrior from before was so angry.

“Uhm...” Ril started.

“My friend here recently registered at the Academy as a prospective,” Eren stepped in, “and would like to start a ranked match sometime today.”

“Name?” The receptionist droned.

“Ril Renar, Esquire of House Artorius.” Eren replied.

Ril blinked. This was news to him. “Wha---”

“Evelyn sponsored your entrance into the Academy. That means that you are technically part of the Artorius house. At least until you want to go independent. But you should only do that once you prove yourself.” Eren responded quietly. During this time the receptionist was digging through a cabinet holding files, presumably about prospective Academy students.

“Ahh... here we go. Ril Renar. Rating fifteen-hundred, style Outrider, prefered weapons ... la di da, ok, I can put you in a ranked duel in twenty-five minutes against a fourteen-ninety-two.” She looked expectantly at Ril.

“Uhm, what is a fourteen-ninety-two?” Ril asked, hesitantly.

The receptionist paused, then gave an exaggerated sigh. “Every combatant who fights in the arena is giving a rating that defines their skill level. You are unrated in single combat, so a provisional fifteen-hundred. In order to get rated you need to fight ten times in the arena. Then we will formalize your rating. When you win a fight we will update your rating, and when you lose a fight we will do that same. You don’t need to worry about any of that. All you need to worry about is that if someone has a higher rating than you, you will likely lose.” The receptionist said.

“The academy only accepts rated students with a rating above fifteen-hundred.” Eren piped in. “That’s what you are aiming for. If you have a rating above eighteen-hundred they will offer you a scholarship, and if you get above twenty-one-hundred they will let you in for free.”

Ril listened to Eren describe the requirements. He disagreed with her though. He wasn’t aiming for the lowest bar. He wanted to get to above twenty-on-hundred so that he didn’t need to rely on Evelyn anymore. Clearly she had done more for him than she had let on.

“So,” The receptionist drew out the word. Her annoying voice pulling Ril’s attention back to her. “You want to take the fourteen-ninety-two in ... twenty-two minutes now?”

“Sure, why not.” Ril said with a smile.

* * *

Perin strapped his quiver to his back. He pulled the buckle back and tightened it as far as it would go. The quiver was a gift. His uncle had given it to him when he had announced at his last birthday party that he was going to join the Academy. It was lovingly crafted and fit him perfectly. The thirty-odd steel tipped arrows held snuggly in its embrace.

The arrows were also somewhat special to Perin. He had made them himself. His exacting standards ensure that none of the shafts deviated from true. Unlike most archers, he had also spent the extra effort to coat the tips of each arrow in candle wax. The use of abilities largely negated the need for the extra penetrative power granted by the lubricant, but Perin wanted every advantage he could get.

He had to win. Perin had a rating of fourteen-ninety-two. One more win and he would be applicable to join the Academy. Once there, he would be able to train with the greatest warriors of the land, and acquire the skills and abilities to tackle any dungeon he so chose.

Perin let out a small sigh. One more win. That is all it would take. Hopefully his next opponent wouldn’t be too skilled. Then with a fortifying breath he grabbed his bow from where it was leaning up against the wall.

“Ha! Guess what!” Came a booming voice from behind him. It came out as more of an exclamation than a question.

Perin turned around to see a large scarred veteran of the arena push his way into the staging room. This was Bale, the battle coordinator and Perin’s distant relative. How they were related was a little dubious, but Perin’s uncle assured him that Bale was related to them quite closely.

Regardless, Bale had been a blessing to Perin ever since he had begun ranked duels in the arena. He had made sure that Perin got opponents that were considered weaker than their rank would imply, and overall made the experience of fighting in the arena less of a gamble than it already was.

“What?” Perin asked patiently. Bale had a tendency to do this before every one of his matches.

“Switched you out to fight a newbie!” Bale said, stepping into the room and crashing down on one of the benches. “Like a true newbie. Never fought before. Rating of fifteen-hundred, that’s ripe for the taking.”

Bale grinned like a madman, clearly proud of his achievement. Perin, for his part, smiled internally. This was his lucky day. Most of the time Bale managed to get him a good duel, but never a duel that was this good. Perhaps he would be able to crest fifteen-hundred without much trouble after all.

“Thanks heaps,” Perin said, “But how do you know he isn’t some prodigy who has come here to smack me silly and steal all my hard earned points?”

Bale snorted, “Please, the chances of a prodigy like that coming into the system without some endorsement of their skill level is zilch. This bloke that you’re matched against is some nobody who stumbled in here from the wilds. His clothes even look like he came in today, covered in dust and leaves.”

“Maybe he’s some wild man who has been surviving all by his lonesome in the Dread Thicket.” Perin smirked, the description of his opponent reassured him that he wasn’t facing some groomed noble who had decided that today was a good day to test his skills.

“Mayhaps that’s true,” Bale said, stroking his non-existent beard. Bale was clean shaven, and was one of those people who couldn’t grow a proper beard to save their lives. Unfortunately Perin was also one of those people. Maybe they really were related.

“He’s bald as a babe. Could be he is a secret monk.” Bale continued, “Had on him classic low-level Outrider gear, but mage clothes.”

“Shortsword and buckler?” Perin replied, “Good that he doesn’t have a tower shield, but why mage clothes? Seems like a stupid combination for a melee combatant.”

“Beats me,” Bale said, shrugging and getting up from the bench, “could be he’s just stupid. Either way, smack his ass, steal his points, and me and you are gunna go and celebrate. I’ll convince Kate to come as well.”

Perin’s face heated up. Kate was a girl that he had a crush on for some time now, and was one of the driving reasons that he had dropped everything to become an adventurer. Kate liked strong men.

“Uhm, tha-yes that would be awesome.” Perin stuttered out.

Bale gave a hearty chortle before bowling out of the room just as fast as he came in. Perin watched the waving curtain that separated the staging area from the rest of the building as it swayed from the battle coordinators passage. Then with a little shake he stringed his bow, and stepped out into the arena.

* * *

The arena was small. Dull red walls. No stands. This was one of the side arenas used for less exciting events. Since both Perin and his opponent were below eighteen-hundred it made sense that their ranked duel took place here.

Perin walked onto the coarse red sand of the arena. The sand’s color came from the iron in the stone. At least, that is what people said, but Perin found it hard not to imagine that the color came from the blood of the gladiators who fought here before the calamity. Running his hand over the fletching of his arrows he waited for his opponent to join him.

He didn’t have to wait long. Barely five minutes passed before a young bald ... kid stepped into the arena. The kid was small. The only thing that made Perin think that he was an adult was the shadow of a beard that graced his cheeks. It was recently shaved and covered his entire face.

Perin tsked in annoyance. Kate liked full beards.

Other than that, he was wearing ratty mage clothes just like Bale had said, and had a short sword strapped to his belt. The supposed buckler was probably strapped to his back somehow, and as such still out of sight. Overall, the boy did not exude an aura of skill.

The boy looked around the arena curiously, taking in the red sand with a curious expression on his face. When he noticed Perin, the boy smiled and gave a little wave. It was the type of behaviour that Perin associated with new fighters, those who had never fought here before. To be fair, the sand was quite striking if one had never seen it before.

Shaking his head, Perin lowered his stance and rested his palm on his quiver, gently moving his fingers through the fletchings. He did not return the wave. Even though it was likely that Perin would win this fight easily, it never hurt to be cautious and treat this match seriously. Also, he thought that the exuberant happiness that his opponent was portraying was at odds with the formality that he associated with ranked duels.

Bale stepped out of a side entrance.

“Oi! Welcome fighters. This is a ranked duel in side arena seventeen taking place between Perin Wulfstad and Ril Renar. Attacks with the intent of permanent injury are prohibited and will automatically result in a loss, and possible suspension from the academy. If such an attack happens I will intervene. Finally, the duel is over when either of you yield, or are too tired to fight, or get into a situation which would result in a kill. The duel begins when the flag hits the ground. You ready?” Bale said rapid fire. He had said this speech at least five times today and had long since become bored of it.

“Ready,” Perin said, directing a short nod towards his opponent.

“Ready!” Ril said, cheerfully hopping up and down a bit to get the blood flowing.

Bale looked doubtfully at Ril. “Draw your sword, boy. When you do that, you will be ready.”

Perin shook his head slightly, as Ril hurriedly drew his shortsword and with a sheepish grin said ‘ready’ again.

“Alight, no time like the present.” Bale said and tossed the flag up into the air. Then he activated some ability and flashed out of the arena, reappearing by the side entrance a moment later.

The flag twirled through the air. At the peak of its arc, Perin caught Ril looking up at the flag.

Another rookie mistake. He should be looking at me and waiting to catch any hints of what I will do next. Whatever, I’ll make this quick, he thought to himself.

The flag hit the ground with a puff of red colored dust.

Instantly, Perin yanked out an arrow from his quiver and unleashed it at his unsuspecting opponent.

[Power shot], he thought to himself. The arrow glowed with a blue nimbus of power as it left the string. Immediately it accelerated far faster than it should have, and rocketed towards the boy.

The boy’s eyes blasted open, shock evident on his face as he slammed his body down to avoid the arrow. It wizzed above his head with barely an inch to spare, as he rolled from where he had fallen and gotten back to his feet. Before the boy could do much of anything else, another glowing blue arrow was rocketing towards his position, warping the air at the speed of its travel.

The boy let out another yelp as he fell to the ground again. Perin let himself smile a little. The boy seemed utterly unprepared for his fight. He had yet to draw his buckler and try to block the projectiles. Although his speed was to be commended, not many could dodge a powershot at such close range twice in a row.

Without hesitating, Perin let loose another [Power Shot], but to his surprise the boy awkwardly stumbled around the lethal projectile. A small frown appeared on Perin’s face as another two [Power Shots] rocketed across the arena and slammed harmlessly into red stone. The boy wasn’t advancing, but neither was he retreating, and no matter what Perin did he couldn’ land an arrow on the nimble brat.

Time to change it up, Perin thought to himself. [Homing Shot]

The next arrow emitted a purple glow as it left his bow, curving unerringly towards the boy. He stumbled a step back, then suddenly flipped forward, passing over the curving arrow with unnatural grace. The arrow valiantly tried to redirect, but slammed into red stone before it could do so, losing all of its momentum.

Perin let out a snarl. Pulling out another arrow from his quiver.

[Flow Acceleration]

Time slowed down. The boy’s frantic dodges slowed. The world seemed to move as if it was pushing through molasses. Perin was the sole exception.

[Split Arrow][Homing Shot]

Perin felt a twinge in his gut. The arrow left the string. Upon flying an arrows length away from the bow the arrow split into three. They launched across the intervening space. The boy’s eyes widened once again in slow motion. Perin would have found it slightly funny if not for the enraging circumstances.

The arrows flew closer to the bald boy. In Perin’s enhanced state he watched the arrows twist around themselves, as if they were drilling through the air. The boy jumped. His body twisting through the air with bestial dexterity. The arrows passed harmlessly between his legs, across his chest, and under his arm.

Impossible

[Returning Arrow]

A spike of fire erupted in Perin’s stomach. Clutched his belly, trying vainly to stay upright as he exceeded the limits of his body. Despite the pain, he grinned. The arrows that he had fired, before they had the chance to collide with the red stone, blurred. As if there was a heat haze distorting them, the arrows morphed to be facing back the way that they came. Then they regained their moment and homed in on the boy’s form, which was still helplessly stuck in the air.

As Perin’s time rejoined the rest of the world, the arrows each pierced the boy’s form. His eyes, instead of scrunching in pain, glinted with a mischievous light, and he grinned. Then, before Perin could register the strange reaction, the boy’s body burst into a cloud of faint smoke. The arrows continued over Perin’s head as he just stared.

A moment passed in silence as Perin tried to understand what had happened. Then a short sword appeared in his vision and rested almost daintily on his collarbone.

“Dead,” Ril’s young voice came from behind him. He didn’t even sound winded. Then in that maddeningly cheerful voice he continued. “Damn that was awesome! How did you move so fast near the end. And those returning arrows. Absolutely brilliant. Could you teach me that ability?”

Perin carefully turned around, still clutching his stomach, to see the young boy standing there behind him with his shortsword extended to point at his throat.

“End match! The winner is Ril Renar!” Bale’s voice came from the sidelines. He did not sound too excited about the fact that Perin had lost. In fact he sounded a little frustrated at Ril’s performance.

“What....How?” Perin said, listlessly, dropping his bow to clutch his aching mana center with both hands.

Ril's grin grew wider.