– Era of the Wastes, Cycle 217, Season of the Rising Sun, Day 75 –

Terry sat leaning against the transparent walls in his inner cell. His face was as pale as the pages in his notebooks. He was still bleeding. He had ripped strips of cloth from his shirt and trousers and tried to stop the bleeding by pressing on the wound. It did not work as well as Terry would have wished for.

Terry had pleaded with the overseer assistants to at least give him some thread and a needle, but his pleas had only elicited shrugs and questions of: “Why should I?”

Today, Terry had paid the price for indulging in a silly idea and entering a shaky alliance. Terry had also learned that no one in the Proving Grounds felt responsible for giving medical attention. If you die, you die. That was life.

I’m pathetic… Terry took shallow breaths and cursed himself for his self-indulging naivety. He felt dizzy and did not even notice the sound of the cell door opening.

“You certainly made a fool out of yourself out there,” said Damian wearily. “I hope you realize that. Stay at the back.”

Damian held the wand that Samuel had given to Terry. He opened the small door for sliding items through and then used the wand to cast the fundamental healing spells on Terry.

Afterwards, Damian placed a bottle of concentrated alcohol on the floor. “Wash the wound and make sure that there are no foreign objects inside before we continue with successive Cure Wounds.” Damian closed the opening and waited for Terry to follow his instructions.

Terry wordlessly grabbed the bottle and disinfected his wounds.

When Damian continued with the healing, he said: “You know that you would be dead if I hadn’t come here. Perhaps you can try and reciprocate by being less of an embarrassment in the future.” He spoke more relaxed when he saw some color return to Terry’s face. “They say the Proving Grounds are a place to prove your own worth, but there is always an advantage in having allies outside the arena. It is true that no one is allowed to interfere in the battles, but after a day of fighting, having allies can be the difference between bleeding to death and getting back up.”

For the first time, Terry felt sincere gratitude towards Damian. “Thank you.”

“I don’t need your thanks,” said Damian with a frown. “I need you to hold your own in the arena. I hope you understand that if it wasn’t for your ridiculous amount of mana, you would have been beyond saving. Do better. You’re still alive, but you don’t have a single win to your name.”

Terry felt like defending himself, but he held back. Even though he had won matches, the wins had never been counted for Terry. He had pointlessly wasted his time fighting for nothing and nearly got killed in the process.

“You’re an outsider after all.” Damian shrugged. He glanced at the wand in his hands. “Take it as another sign of good faith. You know best how you feel.” He slid the wand into the cell as well. “If the available primers aren’t enough to stabilize your condition, I need to get another healing item. I’m not much of a healer myself. Remember that you’re not allowed to use the wand in battles.”

Again, Terry was grateful even though he still resented being locked up.

“So far, you’re not much of an eye-catcher.” Damian clicked his tongue. “You seem more likely to get yourself killed than to get recognized. I doubt Beatrice would insist on killing you personally unless there is a good chance of you washing away the blood debts by becoming recognized.” He shrugged with a wary expression. “To be honest, I can’t tell for certain yet if Beatrice and the others are making a move. There have been a few unusual suggestions for matches – the kind that would give you a high chance of dying until the end of the day.”

Damian observed Terry healing himself. “Perhaps I should consider you lucky, but you somehow managed to avoid that fate even without my interference.”

“How so?” Terry felt endlessly exhausted, but he forced himself to pay attention. He had seen enough politics to know that they could come back to bite him if he failed to understand what was going on. He had to try at least.

“Your overall performance was mixed and often boring,” said Damian. “Your unusual disruption discharges have garnered some interest, but overall your battle style isn’t exactly flashy. There aren’t many that would go out of their way to vote in your interest just for the sake of observing your discharge techniques.”

Damian yawned quietly. “The best thing you have done for yourself was killing the scion of the Blazing Sun Sect. That has earned a significant amount of goodwill from the audience even if they’re not that interested in your battles. It is always an advantage to have the people on your side.”

Terry scowled when he recalled that particular incident. The fact that the audience was supporting him specifically for that made Terry uncomfortable.

“That brat was a stain on the Proving Grounds’ floors.” Damian spoke with contempt. “He relied on his grandfather and sect to bully others into surrendering. That’s shaming the very idea of proving yourselves.” Damian scratched his cheek. “You don’t need to feel sorry for such a rotten soul. I can assure you, the bastard had it coming. He used to kill ruthlessly whenever he had the chance as well.” Damian yawned again. “Our dear scion was a torture to watch. You killing him finally released the audience from that torment.

“The fact that your battles seemed rather boring may have even helped you somewhat,” admitted Damian. “People aren’t that eager to see you battle anytime soon, so you can take a few days to get back into shape. However, your last battle was more intense. Everyone can enjoy a good reversal of fate. Your strange spellwork added some mystery. I suspect the number of mana cultivators taking an interest in your battles will grow after that performance. Perhaps there will also be a few eccentric mages following you from now on.”

Damian shot Terry a glance of praise. “If I hadn’t met you in the Bulwark, I wouldn’t believe that someone’s mana pool could undergo such drastic improvements in such a limited timeframe.”

Sure feels as if I haven’t improved enough. Terry’s partial healing afforded him the questionable blessing of experiencing the pain again without the numbing effect of his body’s shock response. It was hard to feel proud in this state. It was a lot easier to feel lacking in all aspects.

“It’s good that you have become more interesting,” continued Damian. “Being boring is only a temporary protection. If Beatrice and the others make a serious move, then flying beneath everyone’s notice won’t work anymore. Do me the favor to remember that I need you to catch Beatrice’s attention. The closer you get to becoming a recognized outsider, the better for that.”

Damian turned around to leave.

“C-Can I have some new clothes?” asked Terry. His tattered clothes were soaked in blood and smeared with dirt. He was feeling filthy.

Damian glanced back. “No, I think it will do you good to properly remember the lesson of today. If your wounds had been less serious, I would have let you spend the night with them to better etch the feeling into your memory. You’ll be getting a new set of clothes tomorrow. This night is for remembering.” Damian tilted his head. “I guess I still haven’t gotten the squad leader completely out of my habits. No matter, remember well.”

***

Terry was sitting with his back against his cell and with a gloomy look on his face. One of Damian’s assistants had brought Terry a fresh set of clothes and allowed Terry to clean himself up.

Unfortunately, the water and change of attire did not wash away Terry’s feeling of shame and disgust with himself.

I nearly died, and for what? Terry cursed himself. I’m only alive because a former Thanatos soldier won the lottery and now needs me for some political bullshit. Terry shook his head. “I’m not the Veilbinder. I’ll never be.”

No shit. The Veilbinder could have healed himself. The Veilbinder wouldn’t have been caught off-guard in the first place. The Veilbinder wasn’t a pathetic excuse of a mage. The Veilbinder—

“Enough.” Terry growled and took a deep breath. “Focus.” Terry controlled his breathing. I’m not the Veilbinder. I ought to remember that. Always. But what happened is in the past. What I want is in the future.

“Home…” Terry muttered to himself and thought of all the people waiting for him in Arcana, everyone whom he had left behind to worry.

Terry stood up and recited quietly to himself. “Do what you can before figuring out how to do more.”

Terry picked up several of the training balls that Damian had returned to him. He began throwing the rubber balls with force against the walls and then transfixed them before they hit him.

Whenever he was too slow or messed up his targeting, Terry did not attempt to dodge and instead allowed the ball to hit him with all the force of his throw.

For some reason, Terry appreciated the occasional pang of pain. He was not sure why. He only noted that a theme invaded his thoughts no matter how much he tried to focus on his training.

You messed up, serves you right.

'If you value your own life that cheaply, then you can risk it on your own.'

If you die, you die.

'Remember well.'

Terry took comfort in the familiar routine of training. He began keeping all his available metal balls transfixed in the air simultaneously with the twist of using as quickened a casting as possible, which meant that Terry was forced to reactivate the spells rapidly over and over.

The goal was to activate a new spell the instant that the old spell expired – without letting the balls drop far. With the number of targets, Terry had to rely on parallel and ranged casting in order to keep hold of everything. With the way the balls were placed, Terry had to push his mana control and mana reach to the limit to avoid spell failures.

After some time, Terry’s intrusive thoughts became quieter.

Eventually, they disappeared.

Terry had become too focused on his training to notice.

After an unknown amount of time, Terry sat down cross-legged and put on the mana-cloaking necklace from the dungeon. Terry began dumping his mana into the crystal cell, which increased the mana absorption rate of the necklace. Terry continued dumping his mana until he had reached an equilibrium with the necklace – it absorbed as much mana as Terry was regenerating.

Afterwards, Terry closed his eyes and focused on the sensation from his naturalized mana. He pushed on it. He forced it through the barely noticeable gap in the transparent door mechanism. He could feel a tingling itch from his naturalized mana outside the cell.

Terry pushed the mana further. It felt strange. Normally, Terry’s mana control was an intuitive and almost natural feeling for him. Like moving another limb. Terry could always sense directly where his limb was relative to his body.

Controlling his naturalized mana beyond the mana-blocking cage was different. Terry couldn’t directly sense the mana the way that he sensed the mana in other beings or items. That sense was blocked. This new sensation was different and limited to Terry’s own naturalized mana. It became weaker the more the mana decayed and slipped from Terry’s grasp.

Terry was aware that blocking mana sense was generally understood to also block spellwork and other mana use like activating magic items. If you can’t sense what you’re doing, how are you supposed to shape, prime, or ignite a spell structure? How are you supposed to interact with an imprint, an inscription, or an enchantment? How could you target anything?

Slowly…

Using his mana in this manner felt extremely foreign to Terry. It felt as if he was relearning how to walk.

Further and further…

Terry opened his eyes and compared the itchy feeling from his mana sense to what he was seeing with his own eyes.

I need to remember the feeling. This should be…

Terry memorized the sensations he received from pushing his mana onto different objects. After some time, Terry pushed his naturalized mana around the corner and into the cell’s area that remained hidden from Terry’s eyes. The area where Terry believed at least some of his belongings were stashed.

***

Terry stepped onto the floor of the Proving Grounds’s arena for the first time since he had nearly died. He was wearing a somber expression. The first thing he did was pick up a few pebbles.

Terry’s opponent was an elven woman with a pronounced earth aspect gift but with a comparatively weak mana signature – at least in Terry’s estimation.

“Hey! It’s you!” The elven woman smiled widely. “I heard about you! Want to form an alliance together?”

Terry furrowed his brow. “Come again?”

“We could work as an alliance, I’ll act as the rearguard and I can heal if necessary,” explained the elf.

Terry did not really have much enthusiasm for an alliance anymore, but he also didn’t feel like fighting a fight that could be avoided. However, before he could formulate a reply, he could sense a slight mana fluctuation – a cloaked casting.

Terry dashed forward as a barrage of rock projectiles formed and assaulted him from the sides. Contrary to the elf’s expectations, Terry continued unfazed and all her rocks transfixed more than an arm’s length away from Terry.

“Shit,” cursed the elven mage. She hurriedly cast a spell to raise a stone wall but before she had a chance to finish, an intense disruption discharge arrived from Terry and interrupted her casting. “Stop! I yield! I yield!”

Terry reflexively hesitated when hearing the words of surrender, but he had to remind himself that words were meaningless in the Proving Grounds. Contestants could lie or change their minds. Nevertheless, Terry adjusted his course of action. With a burst of mana, Terry hurled the lightweight elf towards one of the match overseers. “I hate double-faced folks.”

“O-of course.” The elven woman suppressed her pained grimace and tried to display a charming smile. “I truly don’t want to fight. Th-think about it. There are more battles to come. We shouldn’t injure each other.”

True, I guess. Terry was not really in the mood for a chat. “If you yield, then leave! Now!”

“Yes!” yelped the elven woman and she departed with one of the match overseer’s assistants.

***

Terry had to do a double-take when he spotted his third opponent for the day.

“For fuck’s sake,” cursed Nash. “I sur—”

In the blink of an eye, Terry had arrived in front of Nash. A disruption discharge followed by a violent fist crashed into Nash’s body.

“I SURRENDER DAMN IT!” shouted Nash. He had attempted to run away but only managed to collide with an immovable pebble.

“Wasn’t it you that said to not take someone by their word?” Terry placed another kick into Nash’s stomach. “Don’t you want to advise me to at least cripple you? Of all people, why would I trust your word?”

Nash glared at Terry with a dark eye and bloody face. “I’m just trying to survive, damn it. You should have surrendered with me, then— How are you still alive? What did he ask from you? You’re no better than me! That bastard doesn’t let anyone go without paying a price.”

“Heh…” exclaimed Terry with a mad look in his eyes. “That 'bastard' is dead. That’s the price I paid.”

Nash’s mouth stood agape and the blood rushed from his face. His fresh bruises stood out even more on the pale background.

“Oh that and I nearly died myself, didn’t you hear?” Terry punched Nash again. “Or didn’t you care?” Despite Terry’s furious words, he was already holding back. He had not used bursts to empower his fighting. He had not attacked lethal points. He was just venting. The fact that Nash had stopped fighting made it difficult for Terry to even do that.

“I surrender,” muttered Nash. “Just let me go. Continuing this fight benefits no one, does it? Take your win.” Nash stood up, turned his back on Terry, and quietly left with the overseer’s assistant.

Terry did not interfere with Nash’s exit.

'Repeat encounters possible.' Did the audience vote to make us meet again? What for? Did they want to see me take revenge? To punish Nash? To goat me into another killing? For another scene like with the scion of the Blazing Sun Sect? Just some sort of twisted blood thirst?

“Mind games…” Terry grumbled quietly and clenched his fists.

***

Terry looked down at the quivering opponent in front of him. An immovable pebble was pinning the dwarf on the floor. Terry glowered at the young dwarf. His opponent had thrown everything he could at Terry.

The dwarf wasn’t weak and he had refused to accept his loss. To make it worse, the dwarf did not only train as a mana cultivator but was also well-versed in life-aspected spells, which included healing, and self-targeted buff spells like Haste and Enhance Strength.

Fortunately for Terry, the dwarf appeared to be used to wielding a weapon and was not that proficient in hand-to-hand combat. On top of that, Terry had the significant advantage in mana foundation. Eventually, the dwarf had run out of mana and became easy prey for Terry.

Terry had won, but despite that, he was annoyed. This battle had cost Terry some blood, a lot of mana, and even more nerves. The day was still young and there were more battles waiting for Terry. Everything together caused his mood to run sour despite his win. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to recover much between matches because soon, there would be the overseer with his usual line and then the next match of the day.

“I surrender!” shouted the young dwarf with transparent resentment.

Terry sighed and thought to himself: Now comes the usual dance.

Terry had really learned to hate the Proving Grounds. In particular, Terry hated the rule about what constituted the end of a match – the fact that a verbal surrender wasn’t enough. In Terry’s opinion, this rule was even worse than the one that permitted intentional killing, because from Terry’s perspective, it was mostly the former rule that caused the latter to become relevant.

There was a good reason for Terry to dread this moment in his matches: Ever since his failed alliance with Nash, it was nearly always the same sequence of events that repeated again and again.

Terry gathered a new stock of pebbles. He glared at the young dwarf. “When you can move, you will go directly to the overseer and declare your intention to surrender. You will not turn around. You will not change your mind, got that?”

“Obviously,” grumbled the young dwarf.

So you say… Terry braced himself and waited for the immovable pebble that was pinning the dwarf to become movable again.

Finally, the young dwarf stood up. He turned and walked to the overseer. “I surrend—”

Always the same bullshit, thought Terry and rapidly punched out a disruption discharge to eviscerate the darkness-aspected spell structure the instant it had appeared. A desperate last attempt? This casting was so much worse than his life-aspected spells…

Before the young dwarf could mutter his insincere apology, Terry had landed another blow with enough force to hurl the dwarf in front of the match overseer.

“I… ugh…” The dwarf’s face contorted in a grimace of pain and unreconciled resentment. “I surrender. Fuck.”

This time, Terry watched the dwarf depart with the overseer’s assistant. He was scowling at the dwarf’s back.

Always the same bullshit.

Deceit and treachery.

Wasting my time and mana.

Mana damn it.

Terry had continued with a winning streak ever since his failed alliance attempt, but he had the feeling that the battles were becoming more difficult. The problem posed by the successive matches on a battle day – without any healing or much chance to rest between matches – was creating unending frustration for Terry when added to the other rules of the Proving Grounds.

It was as if his opponents insisted on going all out even way past the moment they had lost. They forced all out of Terry in return, which added up over the day.

Terry could understand that they were unwilling to accept the loss. A loss meant an end to their winning streak – a start from zero again, which was loathsome unless you were already at zero from having traded for item privileges. It was rational to struggle.

That was why Terry tried to keep a detached attitude. He could sympathize to an extent and he tried to stay rational as well. As soon as the opponent finally accepted their defeat, Terry would stop fighting too in order to preserve his mana. However, somehow, Terry felt as if his overall mana consumption was only increasing the longer he acted like this. At least that was the impression that forced itself on Terry when he looked back at the past days of battle.

***