Through his Flow Mahon could see how the three men in front of him were still very calm, and perhaps it was his only chance to turn around the situation.

If they think they’ve already won and don’t take me seriously, they might make mistakes.

Inhaling deeply to dive even further, Mahon reached a state where he could feel most of the empty arena through his Flow, but he focused primarily on the three duelists in front of him.

Different strategies went through Mahon’s mind as he realized he had come to this fight with the wrong mindset. It wasn’t a fight to the death, and a part of him wasn’t afraid of losing that battle. Jorik and him would always have another shot at the Immortal King’s book, even if it might come years later. After all, they still had centuries to live if they were to believe their origins.

But was it what really mattered? Should a fight not be worth simply because it wasn’t deadly? Was the stake really the important thing?

Luvon’s words had tingled Mahon’s ego, making him aware of what he had been doing wrong. A fight was a fight. Not matter what.

What if their weapons were poisoned, and I was a simple human? A simple graze would cause my death.

Mahon threw a look at his opponents’ swords as they slowly advanced towards him.

Every person has their own rules, hmm?

From the left side, the left-handed disciple moved forward in a quick motion and attacked Mahon. The move was predicted as easily as if the man had announced loudly what he planned to do thanks to Mahon’s Flow, and a simple step to the side moved Mahon out of the way.

The right-handed disciple took action at the same time and pressured Mahon from the other side, but a swift tap parried the weapon away. Mahon kept an attentive eye on Luvon, the most dangerous player of the three, but the eight-star seemed to be waiting for an opening, and it was the left-handed disciple that attacked again instead.

This time he made a feint at Mahon’s head before switching at the last moment to his hand. Mahon reacted in time to the trick and moved accordingly when Luvon suddenly stepped in and aimed at Mahon’s leg. The right-handed disciple moved forward as well to prevent Mahon from dodging.

Within three seconds, it was already over.

Shit. I’m dead. Or…

Mahon stepped backward to avoid Luvon’s attack, but it was clear to all that it wouldn’t be enough. And yet, when the trio expected Luvon’s sword to cut into Mahon’s skin, they suddenly realized he was a centimeter short of touching Mahon.

The three frowned with an identical puzzled expression that Mahon would have found quite funny if he hadn’t been so focused on his thirteenth Step.

And he came to another realization.

They have their tricks, but I have mine too. As long as I’m able to step, I can actually avoid any fatal blow.

A wide smile appeared on his face as he recognized the truth in Luvon’s words.

Indeed, one can only reach the pinnacle while fighting worthy opponents.

Mahon was both faster and stronger than any of the three. He also had the Flow and a cheat trick that could save him from almost anything against normal people. Why would he need to be afraid?

Luvon picked up the pace instantly after he understood Mahon had hidden part of his strength, and the two disciples followed his lead.

Attacks rained from all the sides, and Mahon started parrying and dodging at a frenetic pace. But it wasn’t enough, and soon he failed to dodge a low swipe at his knee, and he had to step away.

If that weapon was poisoned, and a sorcerer blocked my Flow I would be dead. That’s not enough.

A new energy growing inside him pushed Mahon back into the fight. Seconds turned into minutes, but somehow Mahon kept resisting despite all odds.

The enemy trio displayed an amazing dance of minute coordination and perfect synchronization, but even with all their efforts they didn’t manage to hit Mahon even once. Each time, their mind tricked them into believing they had him trapped, but each time Mahon somehow managed to escape.

What they didn’t realize, though, was that the time between two last-second saves was slowly increasing. Mahon had now teleported more than twenty times, but his thirst for knowledge had only grown wider.

Again.

Mahon pivoted to dodge a strike coming from his left while he parried Luvon’s sword. He then moved in a way to prevent the right-handed disciple from attacking him easily and blocked his weak attempt right after.

A sword came for his hand, but Mahon glided around. He counterattacked on the right-handed disciple side, aiming for the man’s throat before going for his hand instead. Luvon’s sword intercepted his move before the left-handed disciple targeted his unprotected foot, and Mahon had to teleport to safety.

Again.

Luvon didn’t give him any respite and attacked almost a blink later. Mahon moved forward and entangled himself with Luvon, using the man’s body to protect him from his two disciples’ attacks. But Luvon wasn’t fazed at all by his strategy and kicked Mahon in the stomach with his knee.

The Flow helped Mahon to use the push to move further away instead of taking the full brunt of the impact. While he moved backward, he aimed at Luvon’s cheek with his sword, but the man turned his head away and dodged it.

The two disciples pounced on him from two sides, and caught in a wrong posture a few moves later, Mahon had to blink away.

Again.

A sword came from his back and targeted his calf.

Again.

A disciple almost suicided himself to pin Mahon’s down while the others attacked him from two sides.

Again.

Again. Again. Again.

There was never a time when Mahon doubted as his mind was focused entirely on the only thing that mattered to him.

Learn.

My own mind is limiting me?

And get better.

Fine. Let’s do this.

Mahon blocked two swords at once when the third one caught him by surprise. Alas, he hadn’t much space to move. He couldn’t even step.

It was bound to happen in all the times he had been caught in a difficult situation. But Mahon wasn’t disturbed. Something opened in his mind, as if a wall had just collapsed in front of him and he finally realized the world was not limited to a simple room.

Why do I even need to step to stop time?

Mahon focused on the feelings behind the thirteenth Step rather than its motions, and his feet didn’t even move as he was still teleported to safety.

A crazy smile barred his face.

Again.

Mahon danced between the swords, dodging any attacks as if they were part of a perfectly choreographed performance.

Why do I even need to follow norms?

Mahon became much more aware of his hands, feet and any parts of his body that was a target for the trio’s incessant attacks. The Flow helped him refine his usual stances, turning him into an untouchable shadow as he performed a jig no one had ever seen before.

Again.

Mahon let his feet linger for a bit too long, baiting the left-handed disciple to attack. He then swiftly moved to the side, forcing the right-handed disciple to delay his strike, and giving ample time to Mahon to parry Luvon’s sword.

Why do I even need to understand when I abide by my own rules?

The weird patterns of the trio’s swords held no mystery anymore when he finally saw through their cores. He had been wrong the whole time. It wasn’t about getting in Luvon’s head and deciphering his style’s nature. It was all about creating his own frame.

Or rather, his own lack of frame.

Wasn’t it the very essence of the Flow, anyway? Belanor, the right hand of the Fada cult, had mentioned the Flow was all about experiences and not rules. Instincts, not laws.

Why would he care if others had their own ways? As long as he encompassed them all, the Flow would find the atomic rhythm in every thing.

All his life, Mahon had thought Blue was how to place things in boxes. Only by structuring the world around him could he truly understand it. And with true understanding came control and power. That was the Flow.

But what if the quintessence of Blue was the removal of all boxes? Or rather the box that fitted them all? An abstraction so wide it would encompass any other and lead to something… unknown?

The Flow in him twitched at this thought, as if It was showing he was in the right direction.

Destroy the frame? Ignore the rules?

Mahon stopped dodging the swords coming at him. It had been a full minute now that he hadn’t needed to blink away. He looked at the trio as if they weren’t even here.

They were all a meter away. Circling him from three different directions.

Why would it matter?

Mahon swiped his sword horizontally. Once.

Three gashes appeared at the same time on the three approaching men’s arms, and blood poured out instantly, dropping on the arena’s sand.

Both the referee and Luvon’s team stopped breathing for a second as the information slowly made its way to their brain.

They had lost. Mahon’s sword had somehow pierced their defense.

But how?

They hadn’t even been in reach.

“What did you do?”

“I… I’m not sure myself.” Mahon answered Jorik’s question as they watched without much focus the next match taking part in the arena.

He had felt something new when he had performed that last attack, but at the same time his torpor state had abruptly ended, and Mahon had realized he was much more exhausted than he should have allowed himself to be.

Thinking back to the battle, he had probably blinked almost eighty times in a row. That meant almost eighty percent of his energy had been depleted in that single battle. However, he still had to find his way through two other fights to qualify for the third day.

Breathing deeply, Mahon ignored the battle happening in front of him. The sorcerers from the Pack of the Hawks were doing little work of their non-magic opponents, and there wasn’t much he would learn by watching it, anyway. Instead, he focused on his respiration to accelerate his recovery.

Jorik let him be, and Mahon closed his eyes to find back his bearings. Shortly after, the emptiness he was feeling since he had stopped Flowing started to disappear slowly. Only when it was completely replaced by his normal state of mind did Mahon allow himself to relax.

He opened his eyes at the exact time Jorik gently tapped on his shoulder.

“It’s time for the next fight.” The noble said while pointing at a trio of warriors that was already moving into the arena.

Only seven-stars.

Mahon held back a sigh of relief. If he had had to face sorcerers right now, he wouldn’t have been so sure about the outcome. But against seven-stars...

He rose from his seat and walked with Myrthil and Jorik into the arena. He didn’t even need to do much. Jorik and Myrthil could actually have taken care of the three on their own, and it went even quicker that way.

That they could trounce their opponents at that stage of the tournament showed how luck still played a big part in which team would be able to advance forward. In the death group, sorcerers were getting eliminated since the first round, but here there were still people reaching the third without any real advantage.

Mahon soon resumed his resting posture as the fights continued one after the other. The only notable element of the third round was the elimination of the second team of sorcerers from Mahon’s group by the Pack of the Hawks. It meant they would have to deal with them in the fourth round, but since their appearance earlier today, Mahon, Jorik and Myrthil had long been mentally prepared for that outcome.

Meanwhile, the second group was indeed the most leisure one, and the two final opponents ended up to be the two Protectors’ trios, exactly as they had said it the day before. The trio of Ill Immortals wiped out every team they faced with such ease that it was clear they would end as the winner of the death group.

As for the last batch, without surprise, the trio of sorcerers from the Protector Circle won their places for the fourth match, and they were the obvious favorites to win.

A one-hour break was given to all contestants before the final round started and the four semi-finalists would emerge. It was barely enough time for Mahon to get back in shape to face the duo of sorcerers and the mountain accompanying them.

Jorik, Myrthil and him exchanged a knowing look as they entered the arena to face their sworn enemy.

During the whole competition, the Hawks and the Protectors hadn’t missed an opportunity to go at each other’s throat, clearly showing to everyone that they were the two powerhouses of Finem and they were both fighting for the title of number one.

Even though Mahon and Jorik didn’t feel as concerned about it as the other Protectors since they had never interacted with the Hawks before, their opponents were the first sorcerers they had to face since the beginning of the tournament.

They had trained close to six months with Rania, plus one more with the trio of sorcerers from the Protectors Circle to prepare for such battles. Now was the time to test if their training bore its fruits.

In front of them, the Hawks smiled wickedly. With a loud dramatic sound, the two sorcerers ignited their swords, and the long flames soon released a black smoke that slowly twirled in the air above them.

“Start!”