“We Elders pride ourselves in being the pillars of our community. In being the representatives of our respective industries. In being capable leaders that have the capacity to act on correct information as well as admit some of our faults. We sent our volunteers rules this morning for this event but the Elders have agreed to change these rules.” There were gasps and audible murmurs from the audience and volunteers alike. Jose was unable to see which of his fellow competitors were unsurprised with the turn of events given his position near the front of his line.

“I hope you’re ready Ileahians, because we have ourselves a good ol’ fashion elimination style match!” Elder Isabella flourished her hands across the crowd and the audience above them broke into hoots and hollers. “Originally, we were going to have volunteers come on stage and show off their talents while us Elders acted as judges but that’s both boring and not as useful in testing the qualities we really want to see in our expeditionary team; grit, wit, and combat experience!” The audience was buck wild now, a section to the side of them chanting ‘fight’ over and over again.

“Our first test gauged the raw skill of each volunteer. It took us a bit, but we’ve paired opponents with similar skill levels against one another for a fair fight.”

Fair fight my ass. Carmina’s predictions had come true, meaning there were competitors amongst them that were informed ahead of time that this was going to happen. What’s to say their placements weren’t rigged to give them the advantage?

“Because we want the numbers to be even for the final event, the weakest four volunteers will be in a four way elimination style match. A loss here means removal from the volunteering list, so I hope you’ve come prepared.” She gave them a devilish grin. Jose was incensed, moreso that the other Elders had agreed to the whole rule change or feigned agreement now that it was brought up in front of a ravenous audience.

“We’ll be calling your volunteer number and having you go to the arena behind you all, starting with that four way elimination match. Can I have volunteers 37, 16, 38, and 4 head to the stage? The rest of the rules will be explained when you’ve taken your place at a corner of the arena.” Jose looked at the pinned badge on his lapel, a 16 plain to see. He sighed and walked to the arena, making sure to hold his head high and glare at anyone attempting to make eye contact with him.

Lysa gave him a nod and thumbs up as he passed her by. Once on his corner of the arena, he took a glance at his competitors. There were two people he didn’t recognize, twins that looked bored as they stood around. They were indistinct from one another with long blonde hair down to their elbows braided thick and bound with an iron ring. They were both lean with a physique built for Bay work as freighters or general handymen. The corner opposite of his stood Gabriel, who was holding himself in a very different demeanor now. The bluster and befuddlement on his face was gone, the fidgeting of his fingers replaced with deftness as he pulled out devices from his bag.

The slimy bastard.

“Now that everyone has entered the arena, a judge will act as a referee for the match. The goal is to incapacitate your opponent in a decisive fashion. Killing is prohibited and drawing blood is frowned upon, but if that’s where your strengths lie, do your best to not maim your opponent! If you don’t expect to defeat them in strength, knocking them out of the arena is a viable alternative for victory. Ties are decided with the assistance of the audience so do try to dazzle the crowd with your hidden talents.”

Out of nowhere, a Vanguardian soldier dressed in black and white casual attire appeared in the center of the ring.

Where did he come from?

“I need verbal confirmation that everyone is ready before the match can officially begin. Number 16, are you ready?” Everyone's attention was directed at Jose.

“Yes but-”

“And are you, Number 37 ready?”

The bored twin in front of Jose cleaned earwax out of his ear with a pinky finger, “Sure, I guess.”

“Are you, Number 38, ready?”

The other bored twin made a sigh and lolled his head, “Yeah, the sooner the better…”

“Are you, Number 4, ready?”

Gabriel slotted in a glove that looked similar to the Archivist identification device they used to speed up the identification process. The glove had a bracelet with baubles of varying sizes on it.

He made a fist as he addressed the judge, “I’m ready to go.”

The judge made a nod to the Elders and a bell rung out to signal the start of the match. The opening event was disorienting for Jose but his frustration pushed all of the confusion aside to give him a single seething desire to put Gabriel in his place. He waited for the others to make the first move, taking a mental note of his equipment as they stood in a four way standoff.

Gabriel gave the twins a look and at once, all three of them were bound in Jose’s direction.

What rotten luck.

“How unexpected to see competitors working together and attempting to thin the pool of opponents. This must be a terrible time for Number 16.” Elder Isabella called out from her podium.

There were too many distractions and he didn’t like that he had to account for an impromptu announcer as another one. He took a deep breath and placed one hand on the cover of the Grimoire, the other hand directed at the encroaching aggressors.

He recited the incantation in his head, converting his common tongue into the shifting language of the spellbook and formed the mold of the spell in his open palm. His opponents were slowing down, unsure of what he was doing but their response didn’t matter. They were in his influence already.

“I hope this works,” Jose whispered as the crackling of the spell formed with his Soul reached critical mass at his fingertips, “Fog of Fools!” The bubble on his open palm burst open and a cloud of thick acrid teal smoke subsumed the arena. Jose mentally congratulated himself on the successful cast, but that was only step one of his assault. He could feel the twins flailing around in the mist, lost and confused while suffering under the hallucinatory effects of the spell. Gabriel remained steadfast, eyes and ears brilliant with a thin film of soul blanketing the entry points.

He would deal with him later.

“A fuck, what is all this!” Shouted one of the twins, arms flailing around to push away the smoke. Jose pulled out a thin baton from within his coat and ran towards the disoriented twin. He angled himself to their back, reached overhead and-

“Look out, he’s behind you!” Gabriel called out. Both of the twins swung wide with their fists and Jose ducked. He redirected his swing and bashed the side of the twins face, a satisfying crunch of teeth and bone from a reinforced blow sending them flying out of the arena. The referee emerged out of nothing a moment later to check the body and gave a thumbs up to the Elders.

“Number 37 has been eliminated by Number 16! It seems that our fledgling mage has an entire toolbox at their disposal.” Elder Isabella called out.

One down and Jose wasn’t feeling as exhausted as he’d expected. He turned his attention to the other flailing twin who was in the middle of dismissing the effects of his spell. The fog was thinning out and the audience roared as their first sight was of Gabriel swinging with their fist towards Jose.

“Jose Ileria, fledgling mage and lead Archivist for the frontline cabal,” Gabriel was pressing his advances with his fists, a bag of his own rattling with tools that were yet to be used, “A Hollow, abandoned by his mother, and weak!” The glove Gabriel wore flashed with light as a hammer erupted from one of the baubles, the ground quaking on impact.

Jose swung wide with his own weapon and retreated. His retreat path was cut off by the remaining twin, their eyes red with a grimace on their face. They barreled towards him with outstretched arms.

“Number 16 is caught in another predicament! It seems the other combatants have taken notice of his potential power!”

It was overwhelming. The audience, the situation, the unfairness of a battle someone else was clearly prepared for. His fingertips crackled as he hastily pushed his soul into a mold etched into him from youth. Jose recoiled, taking control again.

His hesitation was met with a tackle to his midsection, the wind knocked out of him as the twin pinned him to the ground. Their fists kept coming, one after the other in a flurry of blows. Their reinforcement control was shoddy, large globules of soul washing over Jose like a cold mist but what was reinforced in his balled fists felt like sledgehammers to Jose’s raised forearms.

The audience was cheering on the carnage and Jose could see from the corner of his vision that Gabriel was standing there, waiting.

He couldn’t hold his defenses forever. The anger coiling up within him told him damn well he’d sooner lash out and go on the offensive than lose with a whimper, but he wanted a plan. He needed a plan.

“Why! Won’t! You! Go! Down!” The Twin growled each utterance, punctuated by a heavy blow onto Jose’s forearm. It was enough of a rhythm that Jose sprung into action without realizing it. The twin’s arms arced up and Jose pushed his body forward, knocking him off. The sounds of footsteps coming his way meant Gabriel was coming in to take advantage of their disorientation. The twin yelled out in anger as they picked themselves up from the ground and lunged for Jose again.

He was ready as he thrusted the top of his club into the twin’s face, forward momentum on both sides leading to a more grotesque crunch. It wasn’t enough to stop him, Jose knew, but it was enough to get him off his back and retreat.

Gabriel brought down his hammer, missing for a second time as Jose pulled away to a safe section of the arena. Gabriel placed one foot forward to follow but held back, eyes glassy and distant as if focusing on something else. His hesitation was Jose’s momentary reprieve. His breathing was hot and ragged and his muscles ached with overexertion. This was the kind of action that Adventurers got into but he was out of shape and inexperienced.

“A momentary lull in the action as Number 16 pulls away! Number 4 and Number 38 maintain their alliance from the looks of Number 4’s actions. Now who’s going to start up the next round of action?” Elder Isabella announced. The audiences hollering tapered off as they waited intently to see what new trick would come next.

“I’m surprised you’re putting up this much of a fight,” Gabriel called out, the glassiness in his eyes gone and focus narrowed on Jose, “Better to have wasted away in your little cubicle than be out here against people with an actual measure of power.” His face was malicious with a satisfying grin on his face. The words stung but Jose didn’t give him the satisfaction of that knowledge. Instead he paid attention to the purpose of his actions.

Gabriel was taunting him, whether to make a mistake or fall into a trap was Jose’s guess. Advice from his conspirators? Did they conduct research on all of the combatants as the list was released?

Jose shook his head and chuckled. “Gabriel, I don’t have to be a weasel like you and your ilk to win. Just shut the fuck up and come at me.” Gabriel was incensed.

Using his Soul Sight, Jose watched the bands of soul erupt from the back of Gabriel's head and chin as they wrapped around to cuff his ears and mouth. The twin was starting to pick himself up as Gabriel ran past him with his hammer trailing behind.

Jose snapped his fingers and formed another mold, a snaking path that wrapped around his index finger. His Soul was forcibly tugged into the mold, the prerequisite for the spell along with his senses becoming muddled by a distant brine.

Gabriel saw he was casting a spell but kept running forward, haughty and indignant.

Jose yelled out the title of his spell, “Dead Man’s Anchor!” The snake-like mold around his finger sprung forward into a length of thick green chains. The casting left him bleary eyed and delirious, but the heat in his heart and stomach kept him lucid.

Gabriel used one of his baubles and his speed picked up tremendously. He was a few paces away when his motion stopped cold and the momentum from his swing caused the hammer to come flying from his fingers and legs to twist with a splintering crack. Jose had to hold back the bile clawing up his throat.

“Gah!” Gabriel cried out in pain as the bone popped out of his leg. He fumbled with the length of chain tied to his ankles, the links growing fatter and longer with each fidget and tug. It was draining for Jose to pay the initial cost of the spell, but its upkeep wasn’t so bad if he got rid of it quickly enough.

Jose shambled over to the twin, whose face was stark white with panic and terror.

Before Jose could bring up his club, the twin raised up his arms and yelled, “I y-yield! I quit! Get me the fuck outta here!” Upon surrendering, the referee pulled the twin out of the arena and gave the Elder another thumbs up.

“Number 38 leaves by forfeit! This is Number 16’s game to lose with such awesome power at display by our fledgling mage.”

“No! I’m still able to win this!” Gabriel cried out, twisting his body around to face Jose. His eyes were panicked and furious as he stared out at the hollering audiences.

“No,” Jose whispered, fingers numbingly wrapping around the club, “No, Gabriel, this game is over.” Jose used the last of his energy to rush at Gabriel. The length of the chain had created a small mound around his foot and ankle, a welcomed sign. Gabriel braced himself for an overhead swing by bringing his arms up to his head.

Jose used his momentum and swung low, sadistically bashing the open exposed bone of his leg to the gasps of audiences and Elders alike. Jose swung wide with his second attack as Gabriel slumped over. The arena was quiet as Jose lurched to the side and heaved. This was something to get used to.

The referee emerged from nowhere once again and motioned Jose to pull back. They reared Gabriels head back and exposed the frothing saliva in his mouth and the whites of his eyes. He’d passed out with an expression of anguish. The referee looked at Jose and then to the Elder, giving her the thumbs up.

The crowd roared with applause and yells.

“And there we have it! Our sleeper hit, number 16 has made it to the next stage of examination! If this is what we can expect from the bottom four competitors, just wait til you see what’s in store for the rest of these rounds!”

He rubbed off the spittle from his face and gave the crowd his most dignified stance. He looked through the crowd of other competitors and locked eyes with Carmina. She gave him a knowing look. There was more to do, but he allowed himself to succumb to his exhaustion, the floor beneath him satisfyingly cold to the touch and gentle to the skin.

There was more to do, but he won. He was allowed to rest.