“I don’t know what you’re getting all upset about.” Diana smirked as she leant back against the wooden walls, one of Geoff’s horses trotting over to bump at her shoulder from over the stable doors. “You can’t tell me you wouldn’t have entered the tournament anyway.”

“It doesn’t matter whether I would have entered or not,” Christoph replied, frowning up from where he sat cross-legged on the hay. “Isn’t the guild set up specifically to stop stuff like this from happening?”

“Well, I don’t see any way around it,” Geoff said, brushing down one of his other horses. “Like it or not, Lord Benvolio rules over this city. There’s no churches or gods or kings, but Benvolio has Roethus in his pocket, and Roethus is master of the guild. Even if you protest, they could revoke your medallion and send you back into Bronze. There’s already calls from the guild to do just that.”

“Even after the dragon?” Diana asked. “I would have thought that’d be enough to silence the protesters.”

Geoff lifted one of his scaled hands in a shrug, the other continuing to sweep the brush over his horse. “It might have been, but… you left quite the impression on the adventurers, you know? Diana the Researcher! Don’t be surprised to find you have enemies within the guild.”

“Is it because I didn’t go to the meeting?” Christoph asked with a frown

Diana shook her head in reply. “No, this was Benvolio’s doing, and he couldn’t care less about the guild. He was pretty upset that he didn’t get to see the dragon, though.”

“Good. I’m glad I wasn’t there when Leila showed up,” Christoph said with a shudder. “I can’t believe she followed us all the way across the plains.”

“A lord wouldn’t usually leave their domain,” Geoff said. “Are you sure it was her?”

“I am,” Diana said. “To think she abandoned her position like that… Bastias did seem quite fond of her, though. She’ll probably be forgiven.”

“Maybe they’ll make her slay a dragon when she gets back,” Christoph said with a grin.

“Be quiet,” Diana replied. “Our circumstances are nothing alike.”

“You’re right,” Geoff said. “Considering that you didn’t really have any circumstances when you abandoned the guild.”

Christoph burst into laughter at Geoff’s casual remark, rolling over in the hay and causing the lizard-man’s horses to snort alarmingly. “Well,” he said with a chuckle, “what are we going to do about the arena, anyway? I can’t imagine it’s going to be easy.”

“Hmmph.” Diana glanced down at him contemptuously, arms crossing over her chest. “I’m the one fighting Leila,” she said. “Your part is most certainly going to be easy, compared to that. That half-breed pirate could probably take your place without too much trouble.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Christoph said, brushing hay from his trousers as he stood. Bowing his head, he flicked a few silver coins over to the beast merchant. “Thanks for the advice, Geoff, but if there’s really no way out of it, I’ve got somewhere to be.”

…

“Alright boys!” King said, lifting his bowl high into the air. “Bets for the Captain, over here!” The adventurers surged forwards to place their wagers, coins dropping into King’s bowl as betting slips were passed out in return.

Plume slumped down on a crate nearby, cutlass glinting where the blade was resting against his leg. Lifting the weapon, he checked over the surface for blemishes before sliding it slowly back into its sheath.

“How are you feeling?” Whistler asked, taking a seat beside him. “Your next bout is in half an hour.”

“I’m fine,” Plume replied. Although tiring, Whistler’s matches seemed like a good way to make a large amount of money if you were skilled with a sword. Tucked away in the outskirts of the city, the adventurers came here to satisfy their urge to for something more bloody than the spontaneous duels common in the city center. The fighting pit might not be much more than the unfinished basement of an abandoned warehouse, but the dirt floor was more than large enough to hold a small amount of fighters as they settled their scores, the many onlookers gathered around above.

“That’s good to hear,” Whistler said. “You should enjoy yourself while you can, this sort of work won’t be available to you once you’ve ranked up a couple of times.”

“I understand,” Plume said with a nod. He didn’t doubt that there were warriors here more skilled than he was, but none of them shared his Bronze medallion. He’d have to be more careful about choosing his duels once he was moved up to Iron or perhaps even Steel, but for now his opponents were well below his level.

“In any case, this’ll be the last day of fights for a while,” Whistler said.

“What for?” Plume asked, turning to frown towards his Silver-ranked acquaintance.

“It’s the arena,” Whistler said, nodding his head in the direction of the massive stadium. “The tournament starts tomorrow, so most of our usual customers will be there instead of here. You should go, too. It’ll be a good chance for you to see how the Gold rankers fight.”

“Maybe I will,” Plume replied, stretching out his limbs in preparation for his next duel. “It’ll be good to see exactly what it takes to make it into the higher ranks.”

…

The plains of Manitas sat in the very middle of its neighbouring territories, and Manitas City occupied the center of the desert in turn. To the south lay the human territories, both the Kingdom of the Creator and the Sanguine Empire to the southeast. To the west were the beasts and the dwarven lands, and the elven homelands lay almost due north while the orcs roamed to the east. Manitas city had developed as a trade hub, the building sprawling not only from a central point but also at the city gates which lay to the north, south, and west, and it was because of this that the eastern section of the city remained largely undeveloped. It was here that Benvolio had chosen to construct his arena.

Christoph rubbed at his neck as he approached the stadium, the morning sun warming his body pleasantly through the wards surrounding the city. Deciding to discard his ruined cloak, he’d purchased some plain-looking clothes from the Merry brothers instead. The white and brown materials reminded him of a certain treacherous bowman, but his discomfort had faded after he’d donned the garments. He wasn’t about to spend all his gold on some expensive plate armour just for this tournament, even if the other competitors were doing just that.

“So, how’d your enchanting lessons go?” Diana asked. “Are you ready?”

“I’m fine,” he said, forcing his hands down by his sides. He managed to get the basics down, but something about the engravings made his crystals buzz irritatingly. If it wasn’t clearly mana-related, he’d almost say it was an itch.

“Good,” Diana replied, leading the way through the crowd and towards the competitor’s entrance nearby. “I’m glad there’s some way you can make use of all that energy.”

“You still upset about our lessons?” Christoph asked, following along behind her. “I wasn’t expecting to be able to learn magic in the first place, you know?

“Failure reflects poorly on the teacher even if it is entirely the student’s fault,” she replied, flicking her hair in distaste.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Christoph said. “But I’m not about to argue more blame onto myself for nothing.”

Diana paused to present her medallion to the security guard, smiling sweetly as she lifted the necklace and allowed the beast-man to scan it with his guild-issued device. Christoph grimaced at the guard’s canine features, unclasping his own tag and dangling it out towards the man at arm’s length. Ignoring Diana’s half-muffled chuckles, he stepped through the door as the guard stood holding it open.

“You’re too much!” Diana burst into laughter as they proceeded along the corridor, leaning against the brick walls as she gasped for breath. “What are you planning to do if you have to fight one of our furred friends?”

“I’ll fight just fine,” Christoph said. “Now, where do we…”

Diana lifted her head, turning left and right as the corridor came to an end. Either choice seemed like it could be correct, crystals lighting up the brick hallway as it extended away in both directions.

“I have no idea which way to go,” Christoph said with a sigh. “It’s your fault we’re late, by the way.”

…

Jericho tapped his feet as he waited underneath the arena stands for the opening ceremony to begin. For a Gold-ranked competitor to be late! Adventurers like that gave the guild a bad name. If he were a Platinum rank, this delay might have been tolerated, but Gold rankers were the face of the guild itself.

“Hey,” Jericho asked, waving up at the arena attendant. “How long are you planning on making us wait for this guy?”

“Relax, mage.” Instead of the attendant, it was one of the competitors who replied. An unremarkable looking man, he lay slumped back against the bricks, his bow resting on his lap as his legs stretched out before him. “We can’t start this without him.”

“Calm down, Cliff.” The archer’s companion leant forwards slightly, tapping at the man with her staff. “You can’t do anything until we get into the arena, okay?”

“I know that,” Cliff replied, uncrossing his legs as he stood. “Come on, he’s here.”

The arena worker attempted to prevent him from leaving the area, but he pushed her aside, passing by without a word. Bowing in apology, his partner followed him out into the coliseum as the room’s other entrance swung open.

“Ah!” The newcomer glanced around the room, gaze settling on an armored figure before he turned toward the attendant. “Christoph, sorry I’m late,” he said, gesturing towards himself. “Diana seemed determined to sleep the entire day away.”

Jericho frowned as the man as he spoke. Diana? Diana the Researcher? Was this man her companion, then? The rumors had been that she was travelling with a swordsman, though, and this person was dressed as a mage would be. He was unarmed, although crystals glinted on his knuckles as he moved, and Jericho felt a certain coldness from him when he approached. Casting a wary look towards the stranger, he rose to his feet and followed the tournament staff out onto the sand. The warmth of the sun washed over him as he walked, the cheers of the crowd following soon after.

“This is a lot bigger than I expected,” Christoph said. “I didn’t think so many people would be here?”

Of course they would be! Jericho stifled his reaction, settling for a hostile look as the tired looking man as he took his position. The announcer stood before them as he began reading out the rules, his magically amplified voice ringing over the stadium with ease. The crowd cheered and booed at the various rules and restrictions, but Jericho felt his anger flaring as the ceremony progressed. The newcomer wasn’t even listening! To be so disrespectful as to start yawning and scratching your arms right there in the middle of the arena!

“Eh, that’s enough rules.” An equally loud voice rang out to match the announcer, a short jewelry-clad man appearing in one of the upper boxes of the arena. “First match, Jericho versus Christoph! Begin!”

“Ah, Lord Benvolio, I-” The announcer struggled to stay composed for a moment before bowing his head at the lord’s request. Casting his mana out above, he gestured the staff to usher the competitors from the sand as the tournament’s brackets were displayed on the ward above. Sixteen contestants meant four rounds… Jericho sighed as the worker led him to his place on the sand-covered clay. He’d have to conserve his mana if he wanted to survive until the end.

“On the left, Jericho the Wanderer!” Jericho raised his staff, waving to the crowd as they cheered. “Possibly the most suited to the title of all those to have held it, Jericho awoke in the Kingdom of the Creator one fine morning with absolutely no memories of his past life, nothing but his staff and his magic to keep him alive. He’s wandered the lands ever since, searching for his place in the guild!”

The crowd roared in approval as Jericho launched a fireball into the center of the coliseum, the flames flickering mid-air before flickering out of existence. He’d been more active than most since that day, and there were not many in the guild that didn’t know his name. Renowned for his mastery of fire and self-strengthening spells, he’d reached the Gold rank in record time for a mage. He might not have total confidence in winning the tournament, but at the very least he’d burn some respect into that discourteous fool standing opposite him.

“On the right the Crystal Eater, Christoph! Summoned from another world, it’s rumored he was granted the Gold medallion after slaying the dragon of the sand pits to the north!”

Rumored? Jericho smirked as the crowd erupted into murmurs instead of cheers. What kind of introduction was that? No, he was Diana’s companion, after all. The elven witch probably did most of the slaying. Pushing such thoughts from his mind, Jericho focused on his opponent. As a mage, carelessness was often lethal in battle. The tournament mages and doctors might be working to prevent that, but even so it would be no laughing matter if he was impaled because he had misjudged his opponent. Even if his opponent was unarmed and unarmored at the moment.

“Alright!” Lord Benvolio’s childish voice floated down over the coliseum once more. “Fight!”

Jericho cast his mana out like a net before him, the air splitting as flames spread out across the arena. Stepping backwards, he lowered his staff and gathered more energy, releasing a series of fireballs through the flaming ward. At the same time, he focused his energy inwards, feeling strength flow into his limbs as he increased his body’s strength and resilience, yet more flames appearing to cover his skin. All too many mages met their end at the point of sword which slipped past their shields for a single deadly thrust.

The fireballs exploded over the sand, flaming particles drifting up towards the crowd before the arena’s wards pushed them back. Where had his opponent gone? Jericho’s burst of spells had been meant as a distraction while he erected his defenses, but if that man had chosen to bear the brunt of his attacks…

“Fire magic, huh?” Christoph asked, kicking at the sand nonchalantly to Jericho’s right. “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t expect anything less.” A strange-looking sword swayed in his right hand, runes gleaming where they were carved into the blade. Where had he been hiding that? Was he a priest of some sort, to be using spatial-type magic? In that case, he’d have no choice but to target the entire coliseum!

Jericho spun towards the man, a barrage of smaller fireballs sweeping out towards him before exploding mid-air. Even if he had dodged the first attacks, this wasn’t something that could be avoided so simply! The crowd roared as the magic burst over the arena, multitudes of fireballs detonating in sequence as the mage continued his attacks. Jericho grinned as he expended his mana, fire pouring forth until a slashing blade extended from the midst of his flames to slice through the top of his staff.

“Wha-” What had just happened?

“Ah, so do you surrender, then?” Christoph stood nearby, clutching the upper half of Jericho’s staff in his left hand, sword levelled at the mage as his wounds began to heal.

Drawing a blade from his sleeve, Jericho instead moved onto the offensive. Charging around Christoph’s sword, he stabbed at his foe’s chest with a speed and precision that would be unthinkable for most magic-users. A dull thump sounded out as his dagger pierced into his opponent, and it wasn’t until he landed on the sand that he realized he’d taken a blow in return.

“Jesus Christ,” Christoph said, coughing as he clutched at his side, blood trickling down through his fingers. “Why does everyone go for the ribs?” Tugging Jericho’s weapon from his chest, he threw it down to the dazed adventurer with a flick.

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t forfeit,” he said, breaking the crystal off the mage’s staff with a crack. Reaching up, he bit into it as if it were an apple, crunching down on the gemstone as Jericho gasped for breath. “I wasn’t really listening, but I’m fairly sure I’d have to give your weapon back if you had given up.”