It turned out that the place was a refuge. A refuge for obsessed [Mages].

It was like a soup kitchen/hostel for the magically talented. It was in the morning after the attack that everyone had decided to swarm the place, which was really rather ironic if you thought about it. You didn’t even have to think about it—it would be an act of common sense to not want to put yourself in danger.

It seems, however, that [Mages] thought differently. To those that had stormed the gates, their logic was simple: ‘we don’t want to miss out on access to our training arena’. Lucky, then, that everyone else thought the same.

The front yard had been absolutely chokkas, with a few [Guards] and a [Coroner] originally at the scene. Hence today’s bracing for even more traffic.

All they got were two teenagers, though, so far.

Ivory and Nozumu were both rather confused by the [Attendant]’s opening introduction:

“Short-term lodging will be available until the [Serial Killer] is itself killed. The price of food and drink has risen threefold to accommodate. If you are unable to afford this, a payment plan can be initiated.”

It was the [Attendant] that was shocked to hear that, no, they weren’t interested in living there—they already had a house! It was explained to them that the same applied for everyone here, but they relished the opportunity to, well, stay here.

Unbeknownst to Ivory and Nozumu, participating in the Relic Mage’s establishment wasn’t a hobby to most: it was a lifestyle. After all, why wouldn’t it be? You levelled—granted, more slowly than you would by fighting for real, but how many opportunities arose to go ‘all-out’ with combat magic? Lots, if you won… but losing would be the end of the line. Plus, it was fun!

That they didn’t want to leave—even to just sleep and head right back—was odd, but whatever. The fact was that neither had any desire to live in one of the makeshift dormitories in the lesser used arenas, thank you very much indeed. Nor pay an arm and a leg for a sandwich.

By the time Nozumu had been given his introductory spiel about how the place functioned, Ivory had already been propositioned for a match.

“I’m kinda just looking to chill, sorry,” Ivory said to his challenger. He felt a bit lame declining; not only was he here but he was also looking through open challenges.

She didn’t quite look the part, Ivory had thought—not that this influenced his response. She’d have been a bit older than him; she wore pleated, emerald-green overalls over a black turtle-neck skivvy. A stylish diva.

“Yes, and?” she replied, her head cocked to the side with an expectantly amused look on her face. “We can chill.”

Ah. He realised there were innumerable ‘game modes’ here.

“Cute… fish?” she remarked, trying to break the ice; she figured she came on a bit strong. “Does it fight, or is it ornamental?”

“Ornamental!” he chortled. “That’s a good one. She’s a Drathian seal, and she can fight with me if she feels up to it.”

He gave her a hearty slap, forgetting that actually hurt now. The challenger’s eyes, however, were bulging out of their sockets.

“Drath? Forgive me, but you don’t exactly look it. Name’s Corina, by the way. [Elementalist] and [Chic Fashionista].

Ooh, a cool class.

“I’m Ivory, [Sorcerer] and [Beast Tamer]. This is Misoe—and that is Nozumu, who’s coming up to us now. We are travelling companions.”

Corina spun 90 degrees and gasped.

“Dead. Gods. You are fabulous!”

She took Nozumu’s hand in both of hers, cupping and shaking it. He had only heard the tail end of the conversation, so was very confused.

“H-hello.”

“It’s Corina, and you have made my day. Your style! And those feathers, your plumage—”

She abruptly took a step back, exhaling sharply.

“Sorry. Personal space and all. I feel like just looking at you will level my class.”

“Thank you?” he replied, trying to not sound utterly perplexed.

Ivory smiled awkwardly at him, shrugging his shoulders. Nozumu’s ‘fashion’ consisted of… a blue vest that matched his plumage, as well as a pair of long green pants.

They both chalked it down to the person which they were fitted on.

“Nice, nice, nice. C’mon Corina—” she whispered that part to herself —“Distractions! Chance meetings! You can hardly refuse me now, Ivory? We can do a Tier 1 Eacher and a Strength Tester round—low stakes, fun stuff.”

Ivory’s mouth briefly hung open, not knowing what each entailed.

“I’ll… have to take your word for it.”

He began to hand a pouting Misoe to Nozumu, who let her dangle there for a few seconds.

“What am I doing with her?” he asked matter-of-factly. “I do not know where to go.”

Corina dismissively waved a hand.

“That’s the easy part. Just let me boop around with this and get an empty arena. Mmmm~ mmmm~ mmmmmm~.... Okay. That’s done. You,” she locked onto Nozumu and pointed a finger, “are going to follow us and take the door opposite where we go. Follow the stairs up and you’ll get to the seating area. No space dimension trickery.”

______________________________

“Nozumu’ll be up there soon. I like this one ‘cause it’s actually a part of the house. It feels more homely. I’m talking nonsense.”

“No, I get what you mean.”

“Good. I’ve done every arena at least once and there’s just something different about it. The Juggernaut Arena specific arenas kind of put me off? Maybe I’m just difficult. Well, anyway. You said you’ve only done a basic round—no wonder you didn’t want to play. We’ll do a Tier 1 Eacher—appalling name name, isn’t it? We take turns casting a Tier 1 spell: let’s do ten casts of each. It’s a good introductory round to suss each other out, but it’s also a social thing. We’re here to improve, and who knows if your opponent can give some advice or commentary?”

Ivory was glad that she immediately started rooting around in her bag of holding—he looked visibly exhausted after that! Corina was a… personality. It was refreshing, but he wasn’t used to it. She didn’t seem to expect a response, either. Ivory took off his own bag of holding and put it beside hers.

“Yeah, sounds good. Is there a winner? Or is it informal?”

“Wand, ring off—oh, yes, there’s a damage calculator. You don’t dodge anything, and you barely feel it. You’ll feel the heat of a [Flareburst], and depending on your level, the slight impact of an [Ice Pebble]. Oh, and if you aren’t sure what Tier your spells are, the Skill will tell you if it’s allowed or not; it’s catalogued at lot of spells.

“That—was my next question. Okay, cool.”

It was an utterly incredible artefact.

Ivory’s introduction to the relics of this world was strong. Most did not fully comprehend the sheer magnitude of its capabilities—specifically, its dimensional capabilities. Most were too preoccupied with spamming spells at each other to care, or were taken its sheer intelligence in what it could do with rules, spell cataloguing and what not.

Ivory didn’t, either, but for the opposite reason: he just thought it was magic, and magic was common here. Strong magic, yes, but magic nonetheless.

“You clear on what we're up to, now?”

“Got a few ideas in my mind. Okay, you go first.”

Corina lifted her arm to the sky, her brown wand parallel to the ground, and struck a pose. Her left arm on her hip, her right leg extended out with the toe of her high heel making contact with the floor.

She turned her head to Ivory and grinned with glee.

“Let’s do this. [Water Strike].”

Corina made an elegant slashing motion towards Ivory, and he braced for impact.

Instead, a little droplet of water materialised. It began to slowly grow and grow, until it was the size of a large fist. Ivory could see that she was feeding mana into the spell to power it up.

And then it shot straight at him, without any warning—no flick of a wand, no lift of a finger, no nothing.

He braced again. There was about 10 metres distance between them, with another 20 metres each way behind them. It travelled quite slowly, which was discomforting: you expected these things to fire right at you and hit you in the next moment. He fought the urge to close his eyes.

It took almost three seconds for it to reach him, where it exploded right in the middle of his face.

“Hooooaa!”

The frightfully chilling exclamation was followed by him stumbling back on his backside.

“Oh dear,” Corina giggled. “I don’t think I overdid it? There shouldn’t have been any force in here…”

“Yes—no—I just expected it. Did you have to make it so cold?!”

Ivory stood up, marvelled that only his face was wet: the rest had exploded off in every other direction.

“You can’t just change the temperature of a spell. Unless the spell allows customisation—like [Water Strike]: I can charge it up so it’s bigger and more powerful, but it travels slower.”

Ivory had a moment of realisation as he slicked his wet hair back: you absolutely could alter a spell like that. Why couldn’t she? Very interesting.

“T-true. Alright, my t—”

“Nah, nah,” she said, holding a hand up, “what did you think? Got any thoughts on the spell?”

“Oh,” he replied, now understanding fully the point of this stupidly named exercise. What did he think, though?

“It seems like it’s kinda bad for combat, since you have to charge it to be powerful, and it leaves you wide open. Though, it’d be great for putting out a fire or cooling off if you can just increase the size without the force.”

Corina’s opened and closed, eyes squinted, and her head tilted—in that order.

“Cooling off… I mean, I suppose so. Huh. I probably could use it like that, without the force… that’s a novel idea. I’d cast [Cooling Wind] when it’s hot, but that’s less fun. Well, there you go! Alright, your turn.”

“Just quickly—is that similar to [Cooling Breeze]?”

Ivory knew the similarly sounding spell, but it was just a momentary reprieve of heat through a literal light breeze. It wasn’t something he’d consider to categorically cool you off.

“Don’t know that one, but [Cooling Wind] just makes you less hot. Useful.”

“Well, how does it do that?”

Corina raised an eyebrow.

“It conjures cold air around you…? What does your spell do?”

“Just makes a breeze. I think it uses the actual air as opposed to magic, though.”

“Sounds like it’s something for multiple people. [Cooling Wind] is a personal spell.”

Something didn’t sit right with Ivory—the explanation was fine, and it did sound better, but it was a bit… off.

“Alright, well, my turn.” Ivory pointed the Wand of Zont at Corina and spoke a spell. “[Gust].”

The characteristically strong force of wind shot out from from the end of the wand and buffeted Corina. Like Ivory, once she heard the spell, she braced by narrowing her eyes against the incoming air.

Ivory’s eyes, comparatively, cracked wide open when he saw that the only effect it had was to slightly jostle her hair. In any other situation, you’d absolutely be stumbling back.

“Now,” she said, straightening her hair with her hands, “that is interesting. My [Elementalist] senses are tingling here—surely you know a… better spell?”

“What?” Ivory replied, taken aback.

“[Gust] is so basic! I’m shocked the place even considers it Tier 1. This is going to sound insulting, but I thought [Sorcerers] got loads of spells?”

Before Ivory could reply, with some choice words, she got back in first.

“Though, your [Gust] was about the strength of my [Wind Jet], surprisingly. Usually your favourite spells get upgraded as you level, like my [Fireball], but I guess the opposite can happen? I can imagine a [Gust] having similar power to [Twister], since it’s just a blast of air. Huh.”

The explanation mollified him at once: he had received quite a few wind-based spells, but none were really ‘upgrades’ to the base spell. But she was wrong on something.

“Don’t discount lower Tier ‘weak’—” he mimed exaggerated air quotes “—spells, though. As you level up, you will become more powerful, making them more powerful as well. And you’d have proficiency with the spell, so a well honed Tier 1 fire spell could be better than a [Fireball]. I would imagine, anyway.”

Corina put a finger to her chin and tapped a few times.

“Mr. Wistram over here! I’ll trust to [Fireball] sheer power and explosion over a few puffs of fire of a [Flareburst]... but you’re probably right. But a—”

Corina looked up sharply as a door creaked open in the upstairs gallery. Nozumu froze as the two [Chatters] downstairs looked up at him. Ivory gave him a wave.

Nozumu did a quick scan to see if there was anyone else here—none, excellent.

“Hello!” he shouted down.

“Company at least!” she shouted, “Your presence empowers me!”

Ivory couldn’t help but laugh at Nozumu’s reaction—a quick bow, before scurrying down to where Misoe was flying: the closest seats to the action.

“As I was saying. Some spells are just better—[Wind Jet] is also Tier 1, but it’s faster than [Gust] and the force when it hits is greater. I don’t know a Tier 2 version, but [Steamspray] is a tri-element blaster. Uh, uh… [Razorwind] is Tier 3, but I don’t know what that does. Probably a lot! Throw a few more [Gusts].”

The clack clack clacking of Nozumu’s heeled shoes echoed on the wooden flooring of the front row’s flooring, causing both Ivory and Corina to look up reflexively. Even he was surprised; Drathians were used to the signature clack clack of shoes on hardwood floors, but the sudden change of flooring material would surprise most.

As Ivory’s gaze returned back to Corina, he saw two figures in the background. “Regular spectators, I guess”, Ivory thought. Another passing thought was whether it was any of the people he had known from his first day here. Neither figure was recognisable other than the fact that they were humanoid in shape, one was in black and one looked quite portly; Nozumu’s colour palette and Misoe, whom he had sensed, had given them away. The two figures sat down on the opposite seats relative to Ivory, on the back row. They rose quite high, so it made for a fine bird’s eye view.

“[Gust]!”

Where the first spell was the ‘baseline’ version of the spell, this one was compact.

The compressed, thick stream of air shot from his air. Ivory felt his hair blow back from the recoil of the spell, to his surprise.

Corina was likewise surprised—the heavily reduced effect of the spell made her stagger back and reach at her eyes.

“Christ, you ‘right?” Ivory called out, unsure if he should go over to her.

“Dead gods! Tier 1! Without a barrier, that’d really hurt!”

“Hard to hit, though. Don’t just take this one—try and dodge.”

“Okay—ready!”

Ivory concentrated as he ‘stored’ that variant of the spell in his mind. Satisfied, he assumed what a fighting stance might be and pressed the attack.

“[Gust]!”

Corina dodged left with elegant footwork, owing to her other class. Neither were surprised; she knew it was coming, and he knew she would dodge. The stream of air petered out after another 10 metres.

Ivory sprinted right at Corina, his wand aimed and ready for a spell. He opened his mouth—

“[Geododge]!”

A segment of the floor rose up underneath each of her feet into a slope, and then propelled herself up into the air with a great jump.

No spell. Ivory saw her mouth ‘shit’ as she realised she’d duped her.

Unfortunately for Ivory, maths and geography weren’t his strongest suit—the next [Gust] missed her by a wide margin, hitting the space she had been two seconds prior.

One of the mystery spectators laughed loud enough for Ivory, on the other side of the arena, to hear it.

Corina landed gracefully, like a figure skater finishing an elaborate performance. Ivory couldn’t help but briefly applaud.

“That was a bit shit, wasn’t it?” he said to the approaching Corina.

“Ignore the peanut gallery. It comes with practise, Ivory. [Lightning Bolt] might have hit me—aim at where the target is going to land next time. Way easier—oh, dear. I can’t use [Geododge] if we fight for realsies!”

That made Ivory smile. He looked up at the gallery and gave them the middle finger.

“That’s the way. Okay—idea. Let’s fast forward to a Strength Tester.”

Ivory got a shock when the Arena spoke to both of them.

Magic Dummy: Granted.

With a pop, a black centipede-like thing appeared in the centre of the room. It had multiple maws on its body, with far too many little limbs hanging limp.

“What in the fuck is that?!” Ivory shouted, jumping back to get some distance.

“Awful, isn’t it? It’s based on a Creler. Disgusting thing, and a fitting target to attack with all our might!”

Ivory was still staring at the dummy-Creler. It was so viscerally hideous that Ivory started to feel queasy at the thought of such a thing existing.

“Don’t worry, Ivory—whenever a nest is spotted, it’s exterminated immediately. Even nature hates them; they’re everyone’s enemy.”

Ivory looked up at Misoe and Nozumu; the former was staring angrily at it, whereas the latter was just pale.

“Adults are the worst, though. They’re the size of a house—”

“Alright, yep, terrible things. So we’re just blasting this thing with everything we have?”

Corina cringed a bit at not having read the room.

“Yes! You get 20 seconds to give it everything you have, and then it tells you how much ‘damage’ you did.”

She saw Ivory turn to look up at his friends; Misoe was now atop Nozumu. He did a beckoning tilt of his head—

"Ah, no," she swiftly added in, "nothing physical. Sorry."

"Not to worry. She casts magic."

Corina struggled for a response. She watched as the magic seal floated down to Ivory, settling in the air above his right shoulder.

"She's eager to get at that Creler."

"Uwahh. Hssssss."

"Full of surprises. Well, why don't I start? Time starts as soon as your first spell makes contact. One sec.”

Corina held up a finger and ran over to her bag of holding. The world was her runway: even when breaking into a sudden, brief jog, she demanded your attention. Her other class, Ivory figured.

“Ring on. Stand back, I reckon. [Vulnerability Rhythm: Five]—”

Ivory had already disengaged several metres, goosebumps of anticipation affixing his body.

Corina held her left hand up in the air and balled it into a fist as she cast her first spell.

“[Amass Boulder]."

Ivory saw her mana coalesce high above the dummy. A brownish spec appeared at first, but began expanding slowly outwards.

"[Volley Spell]. [Arrow of Hardlight]!"

A thick arrow of pale, yellow light materialised into existence about a foot in front of Corina’s face. Ivory, reasonably, expected it to heave forward towards its target; his head turned to follow the expected trajectory. Curiously, it remained stationary—it sat in the air like a great long brick, just waiting to crack the Creler-dummy’s skull open.

And then she summoned two more. A bead of sweat, even here, rolled down the side of her face.

As impressive as it was—both visually and magically—every other pair of eyes were locked on to the now keg-sized boulder that was still growing in size.

“[Arrow of Hardlight]!”

The air hummed as the final [Arrow of Hardlight] was cast. It did not sit stationary with the others; this one shot through the air as it was intended. The three other spells, waiting in limbo, fired off alongside it.

What followed was the most sickening thud Ivory had ever heard. The dummy was clearly recreated to as close of a biological level as possible—except it had been enchanted to not react, or move.

The thud wasn’t even the worst part. It was the squishing cracks of a carapace being obliterated beyond repair. It was a perfect simulation, tickling all the senses.

It made him feel sick. Misoe dropped down into his arms and rubbed her head against his chest.

It didn’t stop there. The sickness turned into something else entirely as he felt a click of magic. Squinting, he focussed on a patch of mana that wasn’t dissipating—it was in whatever language magic existed in; it was just, well, mana.

Maybe a month ago, that may have been the case.

The number ‘1’ came to mind.

“Of course. The Co—”

“[Water Jet]!”

He didn’t finish the thought before Corina cast her next spell of this sequence.

The perfectly linear jet of water hit the Creler-dummy in the centre of its… torso?… producing yet another unbelievable sound. If the world’s most powerful power-washer was used on a cheap tin roof, that would almost be analogous. If this were the real deal, Ivory thought, then that thing’s insides would be crushed by its own hellish armour.

2.

“[Sickles of Ice]!”

Corina swished her wand five times, each producing a torso-sized, half-moon sickle of black ice. Each followed its own curious trajectory, culminating in the five spells hitting the Creler-dummy simultaneously; the clank of ice meeting chitin paled in comparison to the harrowingly sharp squelches from the sickles hitting evil flesh.

3.

“[Lightning Orb!]”

A perfectly spherical orb of roiling lightning zigzagged towards the Creler-dummy. There was no audible sound, as the [Lightning Orb] had moseyed through its trajectory over a few seconds—a critically long time, given the situation—and landed softly on its target.

Instead, the sight was what made Ivory erupt once more into goosebumps. Its entire body was twitching impossibly fast; the waves of electricity were visibly running across and through its chitinous exterior and dancing on its flesh.

4.

The large figure at the back, expecting a climax, leaned forward. Ivory spared a glance at the patch of magic, which swirled black, blue and varying shades of yellow—reflecting the magic that had been unleashed.

Only a few seconds left, surely! It felt like far longer than 20 seconds; the amount of spot analyses he’d done, the thoughts he had felt unnaturally high. And when had he started chewing on the inside of his cheeks?

“Oh fuck!”

Ivory’s vision became a tough darker, causing him to instinctively look up.

A giant boulder, the size of a bed—a single, vertically—was floating ominously in the air, like some alien monolith. It hovered there, imposingly, for a fraction of a second before it started vibrated ominously. And then disappeared from Ivory’s vision.

It’s not something you see every day. If you were… fortunate… enough to have a seat at the base of a cliff to watch a big ol’ rock tumble down, then you’d know that there’s trajectory in play, gravity and all that. Perhaps a crane dropping a car in a junkyard?

You could repeat each of those actions and you’d get the same result every time, more or less. In this world, however, there were cheats.

Before Ivory knew it, there was but a foot of stone left. The boulder had somehow skipped straight to falling at nigh-on terminal velocity right on the Creler-dummy. It shattered continuously as it fell, until there was nothing left except a field of pebbles and gravel. It was difficult to tell what effect it had, or how much damage it had done; the dummy did not move an inch.

5.

Corina’s left hand was no longer balled up, and it looked worse for wear. Her hand looked arthritic; its joints posing as if attached to the arm of a weathered crone, deep in the forest.

“[Fireball]!”

A bright orange ball of angry fire, visible in its entirety to Ivory only barely, burst forth from Corina’s wand. He would later liken it to watching a cricket match up close; you couldn’t see the individual stitching of the ball when it had been thrown with strength and dexterity. The air itself was stained orange, like waning chemtrails over a sunrise.

The deafening explosion made Ivory shield his face with his free hand, his arm covering Misoe’s. Even through closed eyes and covering digits, his black vision still lit up orange.

Curiously, there was only a brief few seconds of great heat. He expected that, but not the disorienting immediate drop of it.

Ivory opened his eyes through his fingers and saw an uncanny scene—the Creler-dummy no signs of its past abuse, nor was there any evidence any great spellcasting. No rocks, no steam, no magical signatures. Nothing.

A panting Corina, squatting where she once stood, looked up as Ivory approached her.

“Wow.”

She accepted his hand and stood up, still panting. Ivory repressed the physical desire to make a face at his gripping of her wet hand.

“Dead gods. That’s fun.”

“F-fun. What level are you? I feel like I’m a bit out of your league.”

Corina laughed, mirthfully.

“You are too kind! But you’re mistaken. I can’t pull that off in a real fight. It’s just for show, really!

A hand on his hips, Ivory looked at Corina in irritated disbelief.

“[Fireball], though? That’s tier 3, isn’t it? That’s a killing spell—don’t sell yourself short. And [Amass Boulder]? You should be an adventurer.”

Corina sat down on the bench, having walked with Ivory as they spoke. She took a deep breath breath and exhaled, in such a way that seemed uncharacteristic. It was vocal and unflattering.

“I should. But I don’t want to kill things; that’s mean. Yes, laugh if you want, I will understand. It is almost funny that I received [Fireball] on my recent levelup. 18, by the way. You level faster at the start but it drops off really quick.”

“How do you mean?”

Ivory felt bad for pivoting from what was going to likely be Corina opening up, but he, well, was more immediately interested in her Skills.

“I’ve been here for two years, and started at level 15 as a [Mage]. Three levelups in a year, and a class upgrade—that’s fast, and an early change to [Elementalist]. Who’d have thought that having heaps of high level [Mages] giving you tips would help you target a specialisation? Now it’s been a year without one.”

She sighed again, shrugged, and fixed up her posture.

“No, but I get what you mean with adventuring. I’ve been in a few… tricky situations out in the wild. I hated every second of it—if I can help it, I want to avoid any more life-threatening situations. That goes without saying, I guess.”

Corina smiled at Ivory and squeezed his shoulder.

“Yeah, sucks doesn’t it. Can’t say I have been in those situations, but I’d rather just have fun, y’know? Plus, we’re safe in here. No [Serial Killer] to chop up your body, or whatever he’s doing. Or she.”

Ivory returned her smile.

“Unless it’s an inside job,” Ivory said in a warbled voice, “but yeah I’m with you on the fun part. Time to show you how we have fun.”

“Grra! Mweh!”

Corina nodded sagely.

“Go on, then,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. As if this totally wasn’t her idea. “Oh, I do wonder who’ll win.”

—————————————————

“Right. Now, what are we gonna do?”

Ivory sitting cross-legged next to the Creler-dummy, conferring with Misoe. He wanted to see it up close; it was first truly alien thing he had seen in this world. Knowing that it wasn’t real, and he got to absolutely murder it also helped.

“We’re definitely not going to win, but we gotta figure out how to make the most of our time.”

Misoe, angled in front of Ivory so she didn’t have to see the dummy, nodded.

“Raaar!”

She playfully roared. Ivory felt her breath on his face—yuck—and understood her meaning.

“We could, but I don’t actually think they do much damage. Yes, we can set them on fire or boil them or shock it, but we’re using a lot of our time by channelling the spell. Hmm. Sorry to shoot down your idea, darlin’—maybe we can do it when we have a few seconds left?”

Misoe zoomed around the air triumphantly, eventually landing in Ivory’s lap.

“What are my tier 2 spells? Christ, I should really just make a list—[Cantrip: Itemised List].”

The cartoony book once again poofed into existence to a new page. The words ‘find out what all my spells’ tiers are somehow. maybe a library? almanac?’ appeared, one after another, in quick succession as Ivory thought them.

“Oh, I can make different lists. Now that’s fun.”

“Hurry up!” a voice called from the stands.

Ivory looked up at a standing Nozumu, who was tapping his wrist and then the bannister. Ivory burst out laughing at his picking up of that—watches weren’t a thing in this world, yet he’d figured out what the action meant when ivory had done it.

In response, however, he simply gave Nozumu the finger. The cantrip poofed away as Ivory stood up.

“‘Spose we should get on with it. Seven [Mirror Spells] for you… I guess just do any six and save the last for… [Breath of… Fire] at the end.”

Misoe wobbled her body to the side, lifting a waving flipper.

“No thumbs for you, loser. Alright!”

The two figures in the stand, Corina saw, now leant forward with expectation. She raised an eyebrow; he hadn’t even started, and they were interested?

“Let’s see what happens, then. [Zont’s Fire Pufferfish].”

The spectators saw the [Sorcerer] produce his wand and trace a continuing ‘O’ in the air. From its centre, a red blob appeared, which swiftly grew to match the size of the shape Ivory was tracing. This one was slightly larger than his first; a child’s head compared to an adult’s.

With a casual wave of his wand, the angry facsimile wafted over to the Creler-dummy, nestling itself a few inches from the wooden shaft the Creler was kebabbed on.

“What else can I prepare? [Petrel Feather].”

The stiff, arm-length feather courtesy of Misoe’s would-be predator materialised in his free hand.

“I’m getting there!” Ivory shouted, cognisant of the fact that this was still an actual match, but curious nonetheless in the moment. “Er, [Elemental Spellbinding]?”

He knew this was not a Skill you just ‘activated’ to do something, but well, whatever.

The item-as-a-Skill was, as he first thought, ‘windy’. Specifically, it ‘had its own wind’—it made Ivory remember when he had seen the gargantuan bird descend upon him, and how effortlessly it navigated both the sky, and its being at the back of a fast-moving ship. He gleaned some other cursory information, courtesy of being a Level 3 [Spellbinder], that he found useful, but not so for the task at hand. So.

“‘Kay, you ready? [Rapid Casting].”

His mind began to race as his mana rared to go. 20 seconds began—

“[Water Jet]!”

—now.

Ivory and Misoe each channelled a torrent of water—not as powerful as Corina’s, who had the upper hand in elemental magics—at the dummy. Its exposed innards squelched magnificently.

“[Electric Jolt], [Electric Jolt], [Electric Jolt]!”

Three swift little lightning bolts, cast sequentially over the same second and a half, struck the soaked dummy. Each bzzt’d against its wet exterior, causing some sparks to roll over front. His blatantly copied plan did not work as well as the original thing, as [Lightning Jolt] was only tier 1, but it was nonetheless made strong with the addition of their [Water Jets]. Misoe did not manage to [Mirror Spell] all three—she managed only two; the second of which she cast with the flap of a flipper as Ivory cast his next spell.

“[Serpent Strike]!”

He’d learned not to risk spell cross-contamination—at least that’s how he thought of it.

The spectral serpent, jaws prised open slithered swiftly through the air and latched onto the Creler-dummy’s head, striking repetitively with lingering sparks of electricity dancing on its spectral scales.

Misoe’s joined soon after, sinking its fangs into its exposed flesh, making yet another series of disgusting, squelching crunches.

“10 seconds…”

Corina was, thus far, tentatively disappointed in the performance. The seal was an unexpected addition, yes—but the actual spells were lacklustre. Until she saw what that weird… pufferfish, the spell called it?

“[Petal Needles]—”

Now that was one that Corina hadn’t heard of, nor had the unknown spectators.

“Magus?”

“Keep watching.”

“Yes, Magus.”

Under the aegis of their [Relic: Analyse Battle] Skill, the quip didn’t cost them any valuable viewing time; the Drake was just, well, a Drake.

The spell was highly situational—as, of course, most spells are—in that you’d get some nasty cuts if you were hit. It wasn’t a killing spell, but if you were in the business of, say, hexing and curses? It was an easy system of blood retrieval.

Now, if you had any sort of armour on, the spell was a fizzer. Unless your goal was to annoy people with the ding ding ding ding of magical leaves, then you’d save it for unarmoured enemies.

When you could hit the actual weak spot of someone, that happened to be its fleshy innards? Great choice.

No great auditory response, but the new quivering animations told Ivory he was on the right track

“[Extend Spell].”

Misoe began her barrage as Ivory renewed his.

6 seconds left.

Luckily for him, that wasn’t him counting—it was the arena telling him. [Quick Breath]. Another second more, and then—

“[Breath of Fire]!”

He and Misoe exhaled simultaneously—two streams of fire combined into one great torrent of burning might.

It travelled slowly, as far as spells went: it took a second and a half for the fire to make contact.

Ivory was ready—he already had his eyes squinted shut and put his hands over his ears.

A bona fide bomb.

The resulting explosion would leave everyone’s ears ringing for hours, and white spots in their vision for the rest of their day.

“Fgcklk!”

Ivory bit his tongue in disoriented fright, as the imminent vaporisation was mere metres away, halting his oral spellcasting. Misoe, too, disengaged almost immediately.

2 seconds left.

His, Misoe’s and Corina’s sight was reduced to a flashing white, yet they could still see angry embers flit out of the pillar of flames. Two of the three spectators were spared blindness by some quick reflexes.

Nozumu, however, never once budged—[Resistance: Radiance] was once granted to everyone on their next levelup after witnessing a particularly brilliant bout, courtesy of a certain [Omnicaster].

_____________________

When Ivory opened his eyes, there was once more no evidence of any kind of magical engagement. He was hunched over on his bum, his wand still firmly in his hand. Misoe was in his lap, though he could barely make her out.

“Hello?”

“Dead gods, Ivory!”

Corina came bounding over, no fear on her person, and dual-poked Ivory’s eyes.

“[Clear Vision]. Better?”

The effect was immediate. About 80% of his vision returned; the remainder comprised of splodgy white spots that were slowly dissipating.

“Shit yeah. I can see!”

He felt confident standing up without falling into the void, so he did just that.

“A conflab is in order. In a Recoup Room. Let’s head o—”

“Halt, peasants!”

Ivory and Corina turned sharply to see an incredibly tall, black-clad Human floating down into the arena. The head of his staff shone with a pale light, no doubt the source of the spell—[Slow Fall?]—but what was most noticeable was its length, which matched its wielder’s height and colour scheme. It was made of a thick, beautifully smooth black wood.

“Your pathetic magic is an embarrassment, you filthy [Sorcerer]. Trust that bitch to keep such company.”

Oh no. Ivory knew who what this was.

“Look, I have no beef with you. Whatever your issue with Linda is—”

“I said silence, peasant!”

The rest of his sentence refused to come out. He opened his mouth again, and still nothing.

“When your betters speak, you would do well to listen. Magus Rendon—” Fabian turned and called to the Oldblood Drake in the audience —“begin the adjudication!”

He knew him as well! That Drake that had it out for him!

“No thank you,” Ivory replied, “goodbye.”

Fabian’s mouth hung open in shock, before spluttering about ridiculous things like honour, as if he hadn’t just offended him outright.

“Wait.”

Corina hissed at Ivory and grabbed his hand, pulling him close.

“People do this all the time,” she whispered in his ear, “though it’s usually the head honchos like the Drake doing it. It’s a double-edged sword: suggest a fight to prove superiority. You know what’s even better? Embarrassing the fuck out of them by winning. Do you want to try?”

For answer, Ivory turned around and faced Fabian; Corina sprinted to the exit.

"Alright then.”

The other Human smiled sadistically.

“Best of three. Fights to the death, all artefacts. Your stupid little pet can play, too.”

“Oh, that’s alright. I won’t need Misoe’s help. That’s right, bubba, go up with Nozumu.”

The battle had already begun, and Ivory had scored the first point