The Fate: Book 1: Tournament Wysteria

by Ko, John

  He shines dominant in the darkness of the auditorium, a gleaming blade of sunlight in one hand and one bursting and snapping white-blue in the other. The audience gasps at the three of him and the six blades they wield.

  Riser knows what she’ll see when she turns around, but she does it just so she can remember the sight.

  They don’t look worried at all. They’re actually enjoying this, she thinks, even the one with the broken arm, the one who knows I’ve never beaten this guy before.

  She grips Ehecthal loosely and for the first time in all their battles bows before Daisho Sixblades. For once, he looks surprised.

  “To Glorious Defeat!” he says, all three of him bowing low.

  “To Glorious Defeat!” she repeats. Yours …

  The outcome is inevitable. Against an opponent as skilled as hers, it’s only a matter of time before her only piece on the board is cornered by his three. But she’s ready for that. He better be, too. No beast fights so fiercely as one with no chance of escape.

  She leaps backward, twisting and turning in midair, landing, defending—barely eluding his blows. Every style has its weakness. There’s a pattern here. If I could just see it.

  She picks her spot, one where her teammates will have a good view. This is where she will make her final stand. Already, Daisho, his Shadow, and his Reflection surround her.

  “A noble effort,” he tells her. “I would expect no less of you, but this ends here.” For the first time she notices that his face is sterner than usual, almost angry. No, he’s just concentrating really hard.

  She thinks back on their past battles and finally understands exactly what is happening. The Reflection and Shadow do not think for themselves. They are simply an extra set of arms and legs for him to control. That’s why they always attack in unison …

  “You’re right, it ends here, but not the way you think,” she says. “You probably thought I was forced to chose an incomplete Class like Wind Dancer just because I couldn’t become a Blade singer, huh?

  All three Daisho Sixblades stare back at her with no answer.

  “Allow me to show you the truth!” Riser says. “I’ll admit your style is pretty impressive, but now it’s time for you to have a taste of my Home-brew.”

  The arena grows quiet as she begins to spin in place. It was one of the very first things she learned to do, one leg for support, the other working her round. If it weren’t for her teammates though, she wouldn’t have bothered mastering it. She spins, she focuses—she has no blind spot.

  “Air Dance: Spiral Form,” she says. If he can concentrate on all three of him, then so can I.

  They attack. She deflects with her sword, than with her gauntlet and sword again, never stopping her turning. She knocks back the Original and the Reflection, but the Shadow goes for what’s left of hers. She shouts, “Blue Summon: Air Petal!”

  Wake was right there is no creativity in a chunk of Air. Beautiful Design, huh? She still doesn’t quite get it, but there’s one thing she knows. She’s always thought flowers were beautiful. So that is what she decided to master the creation of. She did it alone, with no soul around, so the moves would be personal, hers and hers alone. I put myself into these Techs—my heart, my soul. They are mine and mine alone.

  Layer after layer of petals she summons, until she is surrounded in them. And when she is done the Air rushes around her, forming a perfect flower ready to bloom. “Perfect Defense, Roaring Rose.”

  All of him attacks, slashing and cutting away at her creation. But it holds.

  “This is unlike you, Esperanza,” he says, hacking away. “A Technique like this could almost be called stalling.”

  “Fool!” she says. “Didn’t you hear me say I’m about to show you my new style? I don’t just fight with brute force anymore. Haven’t you heard of Beautiful Design?

  “My Techs don’t end where they begin any longer. They build upon one another, to achieve what one cannot alone!

  “And besides, I’ve figured you out,” she adds with a smirk.

  “Figured me out?”

  “Someone once asked me, 'If we have two eyes, why are they both right next to each other?'“ she says. “I thought he was telling me to look forwards and not behind.”

  Riser lifts her sword and watches it glint in the spotlight. “But it’s really because we’re at our best when we focus on one thing. And you … all three of you can’t keep up with that” she declares. “But I haven’t changed that much; I’m still a brute at heart. Let me share with you my savage heart. Behold my Brutal Art!”

  She begins to spin once again, and this time, she slices at the Flower of Air surrounding her. Ehecthal was once a Blessed Beast; his form was that of a winged serpent that soared through the clouds. As he flew, he sung from his cold-blooded heart. Now he lives in a sword, but right at this moment he flies again.

  And as he slices though the Air, the serpent sings once more … a song of pure joy. It surprises even his wielder. What’s this? Ehecthal has never done this before.

  “I’m sorry that it’s come to this.” Daisho looks at her sadly. “Soulless Blade Style: Release.” His twin and reflection disappear and all six of his blades clatter to the floor. He draws the seventh sword from his back. It is a plain looking weapon of ordinary steel.

  “Truly, I’m sorry, Wind Dancer. Whatever it is that you are planning, it’s not going to work,” he says. “This is the most powerful sword in all of the Three Kingdoms, a truly despicable sword.

  “It is why I’m the anchor and not the Chosen One, Kase Shake. There’s only a handful in all of Wysteria that can wield a Rank Six Swordbreaker.”

  The crowd gasps at the fact that such a sword has appeared in the Tournament. A Swordbreaker is beyond uncommon. It is a blade that can shatter any other of equal or lesser rank. And one of such a high level is unimaginable. Daisho’s seventh blade is one of the rarest in all the world.

  She cannot attack or even block such a weapon—doing so would destroy her best friend.

  Riser does not slow. The Flower of Air surrounding her is nearly gone; its petals once taller than she, are now sliced miniature and float all about. Perfect!

  “My Brutal Art: Roaring Rose Bloom.” The tiny, hovering blossoms reunite behind her, cloaking and winging her, driving her forward with unbelievable force. She hears the cries of the crowd and her teammates’ worried shouts, but most of all she hears Ehecthal. He’s singing.

  Daisho Sixblades charges her. She shouts out her final Tech. “Air Sharpened Ehecthal! God Sword.” With this, she claims, “Sharpest Blade in the World!” The edge of her sword glows fiery blue and she points it at her opponent’s heart.

  The Alcendor In-Training realizes just what she has achieved. He lowers his sword before it is too late.

  She cleaves his armor in two.

  All that remains is a Sphere with Daisho in the middle and seven blades scattered around him. And of course the crowd goes wild.

  “What the hail just happened?” Wake asks as they throw Riser up on to their shoulders.

  “Ehecthal, leveled up to a Rank Seven Weapon,” Riser explains. “A true God Sword.”

  “What, how? Swords can level up mid-fight like that?”

  “Kind of … The difference between Rank Six and Rank Seven is possessing one of God’s Six Attributes. I used Air to sharpen him to temporarily gain the title of Sharpest Blade in the World. My Petals are made of pretty tough stuff,” she explains. “Even Ehecthal can only hold such an edge for a couple a moments. See, he’s already back to his regular self.” She holds up her sword.

  “Daebak! A sword breaker facing a higher ranked weapon would’ve broken itself against it. He had no choice but to lay down his sword,” Wake realizes aloud, eyes wide with wonder. “Riser, your Brutal Art … that was the most Beautiful Design I’ve ever seen.”

  She hugs him fiercely. “It’s thanks to you. You showed me the way. Thank you.”

  She turns to the Half-Orc and pinches his cheek and
where it turns red, she gives him a little pat. “Thank you too, for everything.” His cheek turns redder from that than the pinch.

  The Daughter turns to all her friends. “That goes for all of you. Thank you,” she says. “Thanks for believing in me, but most of all thanks for giving me something to believe in.”

  “We didn’t do anything. That was all you out there!” they shout, tossing her up into the air.

  After they finally let her down, she walks over to the boy from Gregory’s House, who is packing away his fallen blades. “Daisho Sixblades!” she yells out. “Good fight.”

  He sheathes the last of his swords and nods. He almost walks away without saying a word, but without turning to face her, he asks, “How did you become so strong?”

  She answers, “Because of you. Thank you! You’re going to be the best Alcendor ever. I know it.”

  He gives the slightest of nods.

  “I know you were just trying to do your duty, that you would’ve deferred your claim,” Riser tells him. Ever since there’s been one, the Alcendor would challenge all Daughters at the onset of their Pilgrimage. Those he defeated, he deferred his claim, allowing them to continue. If that Daughter later fell to an unacceptable foe, she could claim Alcendor’s Right. In doing so, the unacceptable foe would have to travel to Silla and fight the Alcendor for First Claim. In this way he protected the Daughters of Silla. This Daughter, however, needed no such protection.

  Daisho turns around with those smiling eyes of his. “Maybe I never cared about being the Alcendor. Maybe I just wanted to beat one Daughter …”

  Riser being shocked into silence is a rare sight, but it’s one that happens this day.

  “Oh well, I guess I have no choice in the matter now,” he says, turning back to face a very upset looking Princess.

  Chapter 55

  PRINCESS

  [Backroom of Some Inn, Saranghae]

  On days such as today, it really seems as if everything is against her. She would laugh at the thought, but a Love never laughs. It is something few would ever understand. But for her, a lesson learned early. Another is that life is never fair, a lesson that needs no reminder just now.

  No matter what it takes, I will win the final match.

  The Princess studies the small room, checking once again for any possible lack of privacy. Normally, she wouldn’t invite Kase to such meetings. The Chosen One has no taste for such things. But if he really wishes to win, he better swallow his foolish sense of honor and pay close attention.

  In the back room of some small, nondescript inn, the Princess and her champion sit at a wide, wooden table. The Sibyl stands behind them. Her silvery mask hides her face, but not the frustration in her eyes.

  “Look, Princess, I want to beat them as much as you do, but Mindreaders?” Kase Shake says when he finds out why they’re here. “Really now, do we need to resort to such things?”

  “Kase, I would like for you to be here, but if you wish, you may leave. There is but one match left. I will not walk away from this without at least a single victory. I will do anything … anything to ensure that.”

  “Calm down, Achylsa. I want this as much as you. I’ll stay.”

  “Don’t tell me to calm down,” she says before calming down. “Thank you for staying, Kase. I’m sure this will be most informative. Please call the first one in.” The Sibyl exits through the single entrance on the far side of the room.

  “Oh, and wear this. It will keep your thoughts hidden.” She passes him a silver band, which Kase promptly slips onto his finger.

  “There’s more than one?”

  “Of course. I hired three.”

  Kase rolls his eyes in disapproval.

  The Sibyl reenters the room escorting a young girl, who promptly curtsies and takes the single empty chair.

  “Miranda Ducer, of Chastetown,” the Sibyl announces. After an exchange of greetings, they get down to business.

  “It took me a while. I couldn’t follow his thoughts at all until the match actually began. His thoughts are like a bunch of gobbledygook, but once he started fighting his thoughts became crystal-clear. He’s very simple, really. All he thinks about is one thing—what he wants. Over and over again, all he could think was Everything.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yes, he repeated it over and over, like a chant within his head.”

  “Is that all?”

  The little girl nods.

  “Thank you very much, Miranda. The Sibyl will show you to your mother.”

  As the young Mindreader is escorted from the room, Kase whispers, “This is a waste of time.”

  “She is just the first. Let’s hear what the others have to say.”

  The next entrant is hidden in a long dark cloak, with hood pulled low. The lanky fellow bows in a gentlemanly manner and sits down. He pulls back his cowl with a flourish. Beneath it is a familiar face. Nester Hocke, the Royal Family’s personal Reader, smiles back at them. A simple nod for a greeting, he gets straight to his report.

  “An uninteresting young man, very typical, I would imagine. I couldn’t make heads nor tails of what he was thinking before the fight. Looking back on it, I’m surprised he didn’t give his injury more thought.”

  “Anyway, he is certainly a determined lad. All he thought of was pushing himself. Over and over he repeated one word to himself: Everything. I’m sure he used the thought to describe what he had to give. He gives all of himself in battle. It was a rather short match, but I am willing to bet if he got an attack off, it would’ve been marvelous.”

  “Was there anything else at all?” the Princess asks.

  “I’m afraid not,” the gentleman says. “I am sure there was more to the boy, but that is what he concentrated on most. To be honest, the whole experience was quite straining and I’ve had the most awful headache ever since.”

  “Thank you for the report, Sir Hocke.”

  The Court Reader bows deeply and makes his departure.

  Kase holds up a finger and begins to speak, but the Princess cuts him off. “I am sure the last one will have something useful for us.”

  Her champion gives her a doubtful look, but doesn’t protest.

  “She is an outsider that reads professionally on the World Circuit,” she says, reassuring herself as much as her companion.

  An older lady enters next. She gives them a grandmotherly smile full of understanding and takes a seat. She straightens the folds of her dress and eyes their rings. “He’s an unusual one, that one.”

  “How so?”

  “He is not like you and I. His world is full of ghosts and he sees people not as they are, but what they may become. He lives with one eye on the past and one upon the future, leaving him often blind to the present. Only when his match began did he fully join us in the now.

  “His level of focus is unparalleled. I have never felt the world to be as frivolous as when I touched my mind to his. There is a beauty to his order of things. One that I cannot even begin to understand. He makes connections of the seemingly unrelated, but lacks to ability … or should I say desire to comprehend what is obvious to you and I.

  “What I can tell you is, that his memories are not like yours or mine. His memories are alive. They breath and they speak. And it is them that call out for Everything.”

  “I must admit, I found the experience to be quite frightening. He will not be denied. I would not wish to go against one such as he.” The old lady shudders.

  “How do I beat him?” the Princess asks.

  “I am no Crier or strategist. My best advice is … you cannot. At least not directly,” the experienced reader tells her. “If I had to try, I would attack his teammates. Which, from what I have seen, is not going to be much easier of a task.

  “And as unusual as that boy is, he is not the one that I found the most interesting. That would be the Water Knight. Now that was a truly delicious mind, one that I could wander around in for days. The fascinating thing was that for a moment there h
e really had no chance, and he knew it. But just then, he looked up and saw someone, someone he wanted to prove something to … perhaps to impress?” The old Reader grins from ear to ear. “If I had to guess, it looked like he was looking your way, Princess.”

  Chapter 56

  WAKE

  [Outside the Midnight Auditorium, Saranghae]

  “Wake … Wake! Over here,” a girl’s voice calls out as Monsters To Believe In leave the Auditorium. The Award Ceremony and fanfare that followed their victory were nice, but they’re all more than eager to return to the inn and get some rest.

  When he sees who it is, he tells his teammates he’ll catch up with them later.

  “Um … Hi, Juli. Julia, I mean …”

  “It’s alright, Wake. You can call me Juli, Julia. Whichever is fine,” she tells him. Even though she was with Kearney in Greenwood, she was on the Observation Deck during their match. He hasn’t actually laid eyes on her since her stay in Ice Ridge. That was over three years ago, he remembers.

  Her father was and still is one of the most successful textile merchants in the Three Kingdoms. Four years ago, he came to Wake’s hometown to set up his northern base of operations and brought his daughter with him.

  They only stayed for half a year or so, and for some unknown reason, Julia Redsilk ended up attending the same school as Wake rather than the more prestigious all-girl school in upper Ice Ridge.

  He met her first, even before anyone else. He even helped her in some small way. But that was before he found out who she really was, and of the family that she came from. After he did learn her name, he knew better than to bother someone of her station.