Virrion’s face went from one emotion to another in a frenetic course. Surprise. Shock. Realization. Sadness. Anger. Rage. Restraint. Control. Concentration.

The battle was far from over, and the cards had been re-shuffled. It was now a two-versus-two battle. The stakes had also increased. They were not fighting for the king’s favor anymore. They were fighting for their life.

Although uncommon, it wasn’t the first death to appear in a duel, nor the first one in the tournament. Two people had already died, solely by unfortunate circumstances and deep injuries, though. It was the first time someone was so plainly killed in the tournament, but given both teams’ background, the crowd wasn’t so shocked.

Quite the opposite, actually. They yelled even louder their cheers as the battle took an unprecedented turn. Not only was it the final one, it was also a fight to the death. The increased pressure made the spectators tenser, and all their eyes were glued to the four men standing inside the arena.

Virrion threw a look towards the king’s balcony. He couldn’t see him, but he knew he was here. Paegis. Virrion was an intelligent man. He knew what happened there was the last jolt of a cornered old man. His final play. If the Ill Immortals could win this battle against Mahon and Jorik, they would have won the war.

“Varek.” He called his last teammate.

“I know.” The sorcerer answered with a nod.

The two Ill Immortals stabilized their flames before Varek moved to the front and Virrion dropped his sword. With a deep breath, the magician drew his power, and fire started to accumulate in a sphere in both his hands.

As soon as they saw the Ill Immortals in action, Mahon and Jorik didn’t hesitate any longer, and they rushed to meet their enemy before they could finish whatever they were doing.

Alas, they didn’t reach far before fireballs started raining on them. Virrion mixed both straight throws and curved ones to force Mahon and Jorik to watch out for any direction.

What Virrion didn’t know was that his fireballs had a stronger effect than he thought, and it was further amplified by his magic wide coverage. Mahon’s Flow got disrupted immediately after the fifth fireball. Trails of emptiness barred his rhythmic world, and with each new one Mahon struggled even more to keep it whole.

He had trained with Paegis enough to be able to maintain his Flow as the shallowest level and not crumble under the pressure, even under this fireball rain, but his surroundings were so blurred he could as well have not Flowed, and he would have obtained the same result.

Mahon and Jorik had no other choice but to drop their main asset. Fortunately, they were still quick enough to dodge all the magic thrown at them.

In the meantime, Varek finished casting a powerful spell on himself that covered him entirely with fire. Powerful flames ran all over his body as if he didn’t even feel them, and the sorcerer started running towards Mahon and Jorik at incredible speed.

Fireballs continued to rain around, but Varek didn’t pay any attention to it even though half of the nearby area was already engulfed in fire. In some places, the sand was boiling and started to turn into glass beads. However, the sorcerer moved through as if he was leisurely walking on a sunny beach.

Protected by his armor of fire, he didn’t seem to mind Virrion’s magic at all. When he reached Mahon and Jorik, he attacked them without showing any hesitation. His attacks were both fast and deadly, and his blows carried the strength of three men as he easily pressured the duo.

Fortunately, Mahon and Jorik were two while Varek was alone, and they managed to keep the man at bay with their amazing coordination.

But Virrion didn’t stop firing. He aimed directly at the three men, without caring about Varek’s safety since the man was encased in his fire armor. As a result, the sorcerer didn’t care about dodging, but Mahon and Jorik did. Fortunately, the fireballs weren’t so fast that they couldn’t react in time, but as more and more projectiles crashed besides them, the arena slowly turned into the pit of a volcano.

As more time passed, they found themselves forced to choose where to step carefully or burn. And since Varek continued to be immune to any of it, the safe places were often covered by his blade.

Soon, the duo of Protectors had to choose between Virrion’s fire and Varek’s sword.

Without the Flow to guide them, Mahon and Jorik were less efficient than before, and they started to bump into each other as they tried to escape their demise.

The two men were incredibly trained, used to fighting with each other, and had a boundless amount of techniques to rely on, but the odds were stacking against them.

They couldn’t use the Flow.

The area they could safely step in was growing thinner with each passing minute.

The sorcerer they were fighting was both stronger and faster than them.

Jorik was the one to make the first mistake. He was pushed backward by a wide swipe from Varek, and in a moment of inattention, he stepped right into a burning zone. Mahon instantly jumped to his rescue and countered Varek follow-up moves while Jorik jumped back onto a clean area.

The noble ended up slightly injured, but since he wasn’t bleeding, as fire cauterized everything, the referee didn’t intervene.

Parts of his pants had burned, and the skin underneath showed uneven dark patches as the smell of roasted pork reached everyone’s nostrils. Yet, Jorik didn’t even flinch and got back into the battle right after.

As more time passed, they realized Varek wasn’t growing stronger and faster anymore. Actually, his face seemed to age as the flames of his armor grew slightly weaker over time. After another minute of fighting, it became clear the technique he used was killing him slowly, and he was running on a time limit.

Unfortunately, Mahon and Jorik were probably on an even shorter schedule.

By now, more than half of the whole arena was covered in glowing red embers, and it increased with each new fireball. The duo was starting to run out of options as fatigue accumulated in their arms.

They had tried to approach Virrion by tricking Varek away, but they couldn’t buy enough time. Varek was too quick and strong to stay immobilized for long, and Virrion’s fireballs were almost impossible to dodge within ten meters of him.

They had then switched to taking Varek out by ganging on him, even going as far as to ignore Virrion’s fireballs to do so, but the sorcerer didn’t show any deadly openings, and the minor cuts they managed to land on his body cauterized instantly under his armor of fire.

After trying out everything in his catalog, Mahon could only face up the evidence. The Ill Immortals had successfully tricked them into a battle of attrition. A contest which their opponents had all the odds to win, given where it was going.

Mistakes started to pile on each other, and even though Varek showed signs of intense exhaustion, Mahon and Jorik’s freedom of movement was so restricted they couldn’t prevent walking into fire from time to time.

Jorik was in the worst state of the two. Mahon’s ability to control and limit Varek’s motions helped him tremendously resist the man’s attack or at least orient his own escape towards safer zones. The noble wasn’t as versed as Mahon in this art, however, and he suffered from the consequences of it.

From time to time, he even got grazed by Varek’s burning blade, but as everything else, flames cauterized the wound even before blood could appear, and the fight continued. Varek didn’t mind it. He was planning on eliminating them, anyway. He wanted to kill them.

Jorik endured it all. Without losing his focus even once, he stayed in the battle, knowing very well it all came to a matter of who could outlast the other. Seeing visible signs of Varek weakening helped him dig in his last resources to keep fighting.

Alas, the weaker he was, the more dangerous his mistakes became. And as Jorik saw a brutal death from way too close once too often, Mahon reached a decision.

We can’t win this battle of attrition unless we take it to the next level. I’m sorry, Jorik.

Mahon pivoted swiftly and kicked his duo away. While the surprised noble was propelled backward, Mahon grazed him at the hand with his sword.

Jorik rolled on the floor instinctively and stood up, but the referee immediately called him out.

“Eliminated!”

Varek didn’t have time to react either, and he showed his worst grimace at Mahon’s face while Jorik was forced to leave the arena, blood slowly dripping from the slight wound at his wrist.

“You think you saved him?” The sorcerer snickered. “You just bought him some time. We’ll deal with him once we’re done with you, anyway.”

“You wish.” Mahon countered with a knowing smile.

Varek laughed loudly. “You’re not fooling anyone. I know you’re the kind of guy to sacrifice yourself for others. Just accept your fate and come to me.”

Mahon’s smile turned bitter. “And yet it always happens the other way.” He muttered. “And I’m not ready for another.”

His actions hadn’t been without a purpose. It was too risky for Jorik to continue fighting, but the same could be said for him. Even though his techniques were a rank above the noble, he would too come to his limits before Varek did.

Unless he did something about it.

And Mahon had a plan. A reckless one.

A plan that necessitated he was alone to execute it otherwise the collateral damage would be too big to bear without the Flow to guide their coordination.

Mahon attacked Varek with a fast swipe at the man’s face while keeping an eye for the fireballs coming at him.

Virrion too was showing signs of fatigue, and even though the fireballs kept coming, they lacked the velocity and intensity of the first minutes of the fight. Still, he continued to throw fireballs one after another while fighting his own battle against exhaustion.

As Virrion threw a fireball high in the air in a dome-like trajectory towards the fighters’ position, Mahon recognized his cue.

Now!

He parried Varek’s sword and started Flowing, but instead of focusing on his surroundings or Virrion’s magic, he focused on himself. On his rhythm.

He let the Flow sooth him while he brought Varek into a tricky attack pattern. At the last instant, he pulled the Ill Immortal towards him in a locked embrace and moved him on the path of the fireball.

Before Varek could react, the magic spell hit him on the shoulder, and both he and Mahon were propelled backwards.

Mahon’s Flow got disrupted, but with Varek taking most of the blunt, the time magic was enough to prevent any serious injuries.

Varek wasn’t hurt either, but something in his expression told Mahon he had been right. After the long exhausting battle, the sorcerer had started to mind Virrion’s fire more.

Where he stepped right through it at the beginning of the fight, he was now trying his best to get around instead.

Where raining fireballs didn’t even register in his mind previously, he was now being careful not to stand on their paths.

And Mahon had noticed this pattern.

Virrion’s last fireball hadn’t injured Varek in any way, but the sorcerer’s face was proof it had still impacted him in some way. His expression grew tired as he seemed to age another year or two while the flames of his armor grew slightly weaker.

It wasn’t much, but at least it was something. Mahon took a deep breath and started again. He used his Flow to shield himself the best he could while tricking the increasingly tired Varek into a position they would be both struck by Virrion’s magic.

Mahon turned the physical battle of attrition into a magical one. He was weaker than Varek, but his techniques still allowed him to have some control over the fight. Varek couldn’t win against him, exactly like Mahon couldn’t win against the sorcerer.

The only way to victory for the Ill Immortals was when Virrion’s magic would have completely filled the whole arena and Mahon would have nowhere to escape.

But Mahon reversed the odds. If Varek became sensitive to Virrion’s magic, then Mahon would have a way of winning against Varek. And the sorcerer had been using his magic at full power for dozens of minutes now.

On the other hand, Mahon had stopped Flowing a long time ago. His magical reserves were probably higher than Varek’s. With no other alternatives, Mahon was ready to bet everything on it, anyway.

So he fooled Varek again. And again. And again.

Each time, the two men took longer to stand up after Virrion’s fireball hit them. Each time, Mahon clenched his teeth harder before willing himself to stand back up. Each time, Varek became more and more like an old decrepit version of himself.

Each new wrinkle on his face was a victory for Mahon. A victory he ended up paying dearly as burns appeared on his body each time fatigue caused him to make mistakes.

But he never quit.