The two fighters moved toward each other at rapid speeds. Their tendons stood out from their arms; the muscles of their legs bulged with each accelerating step. Their spears seemed to bend as they whipped the weapons around to face their opponent. When they met, the encounter almost seemed choreographed.

Thrust, block, dodge, advance, cut, sweep, hop, slash, thrust, dodge…

Randidly’s eyes followed the movements. Both possessed impeccable spearmanship. They were variants on different themes. Even from a glance, Randidly could tell Illdan came from the Spearman School where Daemont appeared to have heavy influences from the Death School, which he believed to have been all but extinguished during the Wight’s invasion. The surprise of his movements was a brief, if pleasant, diversion.

Illdan utilized grace, leaving a dozen small cuts on Daemont’s body from subtle strikes. Daemont’s eyes blazed with something very like hatred as he attempted to pin down the younger man and crush him. Eventually, his patience paid off and he unleashed a sinister thrust that Illdan was forced to block with his spear.

Both blazed with emotion and image power. Both refused to give up ground before the other.

The arena shivered, the growing cracks started by Tykes and, continually enhanced by every fight after that, leaving the entire location shuddering with the possibility of collapse. A few more good impacts would demolish the entire building.

Tatiana would be quite mad if I let that happen, Randidly resisted the urge to glance over at her. Undoubtedly, she was calculating costs even at this moment.

Illdan advanced, paving a path for himself with sharp thrusts. Daemont didn’t dodge at all, instead, he welcomed the possibility of trading several quick wounds for one quelling sweep of his spear. But then Illdan was gone, ghosting backward out of his opponent’s range before an attack could land.

Advance, sidestep, cut, roar, chase, thrust, thrust, thrust.

Yet even as he cataloged their movements with his eyes, Randidly’s mind wandered. He felt slightly uneasy, likely because he didn’t dare use the First Authority to stabilize the arena, afraid he would affect the fighters with the presence of his active Nether. Meanwhile, his mind fixed on the letter that Neveah had discovered within all those educational Engraving series Yystrix had left.

Based on the timeline that Neveah had provided-

Another impact shook the arena. Randidly crooked a finger, unwilling to let Tatiana’s worst fears come to pass. Under the pressure from his Grey Monarch’s Authority, air in the area twisted and wove itself into roots and tightened around the stage. He carefully activated only the Skill, with none of the potency his image could bring. Even if the fighting shook the location to pieces, it wouldn’t fall apart.

Congratulations! Your Skill The First Tree Suffers Only Fealty (P) has grown to Level 890!

-based on Neveah’s timeline, it would take years before she could decode the main message. She could interpret a few words, but she had hit a dead end with that method; it would be faster just to reveal it the old-fashioned way, by learning all the Engravings and revealing the inner portion.

But Randidly wondered if he could accelerate the process by taking apart the movie of her memories that Yystrix as left, using Nether. Perhaps he could obtain some clue from what he saw there. Because Yystrix-

His Nether Core twinged painfully. Randidly grimaced and pressed a hand against his chest. The sharp pains were becoming increasingly frequent in these past few days. His emotional affect training had almost been entirely derailed. He probably needed to make a decision about his Nether transformation soon. Even his powerful Nether Core had difficulty teetering on the brink of a transformation for so long.

Randidly shook his head slightly; he could think about that later. Instead, he tried to become interested in the match. Yet looking at these two, he suspected that neither would be the ultimate winners of the tournament. For the sake of the challenge against him, he hoped this wasn’t the best Expira had.

Both Tellus spearmen had manifested amorphous, shadowy auras that spread out from them and fought for real estate across the stage.

Randidly couldn’t help a smirk creeping across his face as the even and subtle aura from Illdan began to overtake Daemont’s corrosive aura, bit by bit. I tried to be impartial, but that barrier around the stage is made with my Nether. You have followed in my footsteps with my Breath of the Spear Phantom… not even Aemont’s but my particular manifestation of that Skill. Probably from remnants from when I fought to end the Second Calamity. So it is no wonder that you are improving so rapidly and seizing the upper hand.

My wind is at your back.

Illdan planted his feet and accelerated abruptly forward. Daemont spun his spear and then brought it crashing down with all the deadly intent of a guillotine. Yet at the last second, Illdan executed a very familiar shoulder shrug and barely avoided the strike. A few small hairs across his arms fluttered away, severed by the close shave. The Nether bubble designed to protect the audience and prepare the fighters for rewards resonated slightly with Illdan’s movements.

It must be a good feeling, Randidly’s eyes narrowed as he watched the Tellus warrior twist away from the strike and respond with a perfectly aimed thrust. Even as Daemont bashed the counter away, his follow-up was sharp and hungry. To suddenly feel like the doors in front of you were thrown open. To have sudden insights and feel like your talent is limitless. But this isn’t your talent, boy. You are sitting at the edge of my experience, slurping from the puddle around my overflowing cup.

Randidly folded his arms as Illdan increasingly pressured Daemont. I’ll leave it for this match. But I’ll adjust the Nether Ritual in the future so this won’t happen again. Otherwise… your own ability to advance will wither into nothing.

One of me is more than enough for the Alpha Cosmos, I think.

A few minutes later, the phantasmal breath dominated the entire arena. Illdan seemed like a god of violence incarnate, ripping through the older warrior's defenses and bringing his spear to his throat. Daemont’s eyes flashed and Randidly wondered if seeing Azriel’s stubborn display earlier had inspired him. If he resisted-

Yet ultimately, the older man lowered his gaze. “I concede to the Spearman Reborn. May he carry the torch for Tellus all the way to the championship.”

The cheers of the crowd that followed were dominated by numerous young women: Illdan had built himself a certain sort of obsessive following on Expira, one that left Randidly somewhere between bemusement and confusion, while Tatiana stressed over how to prevent these young women from breaking into his personal quarters and carrying him away. The Tellus spearman looked around seriously then offered a small wave that compelled a dozen of these women to toss themselves over the audience barricades and try and rush toward him.

Randidly caught them with his still manifested roots of air, gently placing them in the audience area despite their squirming and cries of disappointment. Without any more announcements, Randidly left.

Once he had returned to his room, he meditated to stabilize his Nether Core, which weirdly no longer ached. Yet he could only purse his lips at that development. Then he sank into the dreamworld and began to call the losers of this round.

Congratulations! Your Skill Spirit Realm of Marshaled Endeavors (M) has grown to Level 756!

When Randidly returned to himself, he was rather relieved to find that the process of filtering the emotions and significance of the losers hadn’t been as bad as he anticipated; these individuals might be much more potent than those that had come before, but the difference between four thousand losers and sixteen meant that Randidly could afford to spend a little more time and effort on each one. The conversations were more fulfilling, the energy that passed between them spread out over a longer period of time. The burden was lessened.

Before he went to sleep, Randidly looked at every match for the next round. From this group, his challengers would emerge. And obviously, they would start off with a bang.

Alana v. Azriel

Kimpap (the vaguely familiar middle-aged woman from Tellus) v. Wivanya

Paolo v. Mrs. Hamilton

DiOrtho Vant v. Charlotte Wick

Hank Howard v. Wolfram

Allowaen v. Li Hong (the smiling old man who Randidly sensed had a strong connection to Arbor)

Drake v. Kayle

And Finally, Illdan v. Beatrice

The most talented individuals in the Alpha Cosmos.

Randidly’s eyes blazed for a second as he went through the names once more. These would be the finalists for the tournament, and the winners of the next match would need to demonstrate capability far beyond what they had displayed this round if they wanted to threaten them. Some part of the Grey Creature stirred; it had been increasingly restive lately, likely due to the threat he hoped they would present.

But his Nether Core churned with such momentum he couldn’t imagine himself losing. Randidly looked down at his hands. After how far I’ve come… especially since Vant will probably knock out Charlotte to be the only member of the Vulpis Squad to join the challenge, how could they rival me?

“Also,” Randidly spoke aloud, bemused with himself. “Isn’t the whole point to show them the level of the Nexus? Why the hell would I want them to threaten me?”

Yggdrasil activated unconsciously to demonstrate the fullness of his presence. The emerald canopy spread behind Randidly, radiating the first light of the first dawn of existence. Everything was new, pure, and raw, burning with potential. His skin tingled. He felt his power swelling as he settled into the proper emotional affect, allowing his feelings to ebb and flow in the manner he learned from the Ashes of Helen Path. His spirit soared and his entire Skyisland began to hum with the force of his image.

The silver moonlight spirits followed the grooves of his will, becoming a massive silver tree that reached up to hold up the sky and down to grip the ground.

Randidly’s mouth twisted into a grin. With all the progress I’ve made with emotional affect for my images… aside from the slight problem of the Unborn Duo in the Stillborn Phoenix… I’ll cut them to pieces-

His Nether Core twinged. Randidly scowled then shook his head. If the pain was triggered by him going all out, that might be a problem. After napping, he would need to ponder the issue of shifting his Nether Core, so he wouldn’t need to hold back.

“And then…” Randidly’s mind flitted to the Patron of Feathers and the need she represented. “I’ll need to return to the Nexus… obtain Tier 3 Citizenship, and finally see the last group of monsters that have been hiding in the Nexus. How many of them, I wonder, are at the Speculum Tier…?

”What is waiting for me back at the Nexus? How will they react to my defeat of Commandant Wick?”