Even the branch heads shifted their weight unsteadily, as it felt like an ancient beast had shifted in its sleep. Chills ran down their spines and set their hair on edge.
“You will be our fist and sword, to show them that the Adventurer’s Guild will not stand by and they do as they like.”
Everyone stood straighter, feeling the weight and responsibility of the guild upon their shoulders. Those who were from the region held their gear with white knuckles and gritted their teeth.
“Put on your gear and get used to the changes. In one hour, we will show these people what we’re capable of.”
There was no nervousness in their appearance; they anticipated the fight to come. They were excited to reverse the tables on the ones who had stepped on them before.
Elder Mendes sat in the highest booth in the arena. The other elders chatted idly, their voices mocking when the subject turned to the Adventurer’s Guild.
“I heard they dispatched their own guildmaster with only twenty or so people,” Elder Tsi scoffed. “If even our lowest elder wandered the streets, they would have no less than fifty people with them!”
“I heard there was an issue at the gate?” someone asked.
“It was nothing. Just them raising a ruckus. I want to see what noise they make when we defeat them in front of everyone. They won’t even be able to lift their heads,” Tsi continued.
There was a commotion as thirty people from the Adventurer’s Guild wearing cloaks walked out into the arena.
At the same time, another group walked through the arena and into the boxes reserved for them at the bottom.
Mendes hadn’t greeted the visiting group and had even placed them in the bottom-most box, showing them no respect and slapping them in the face.
Instead of raising a ruckus, the Adventurer’s Guild settled into their box.
A man removed his hood, his body still hidden as he glanced up to Mendes. The two made eye contact; the man was unperturbed as he looked away from Mendes.
There is no tension in his expression. Seems he doesn’t know how high the heavens are. Mendes dismissed any threat from the Adventurer’s Guild leader. He would soon destroy him and tear out his roots, making sure that there was no way for him to recover.
“Look at them. Truly ridiculous, hiding in their cloaks. Must be concealing their scared expressions. There was no need for us to send out our best!”
“Truly, if we sent out best students, it would only tarnish our reputation, using so much force to defeat an ant.”
The elders ridiculed and laughed at the Adventurer’s Guild’s people.
Even Elder Mendes scoffed at the guild and sat back to enjoy the show.
“Do they not care for face, accepting their position at the bottom of the boxes without complaint?” someone said in the crowd.
“What do you expect? They are just a guild. The Willful Institute has connections to the higher realms. There are rumors that some students reached the Seventh Realm.”
“It seems that they are finally realizing what kind of power they slapped. It is too late for them to do anything but accept their fates.”
“It is a shame they were too bold and spat in the face of the Institute. I was thinking of joining them at one time.”
Mendes let people discuss the Adventurer’s Guild’s fate.
He indicated to the referee standing at the main stage to continue.
“Thank you, everyone, for coming. On one side, we have your Willful Institute’s ten competitors!” The crowd roared and cheered as the referee raised his arm toward the Institute’s people, who bowed as one to the crowd.
Then the referee’s face turned sour. “On the other side, we have the Guild of Adventurers.” He stared at the guildmaster. “I must ask you to show that you have the resources placed on this match.”
One stepped forward and flicked something shiny toward the referee.
The referee grunted and took a half-step backward to catch the object.
Mendes’s eyes thinned. “Make note of that one. We’ll make an example of them after this is concluded.” His voice was quiet, but it carried through the booth.
The elders nodded, their expressions cold.
“Assaulting the referee will lead to a loss,” the referee said in a cold voice.
“Sorry, Guildmaster. I guess I should have used a twentieth of my Strength. A tenth was too much,” the man lamented to the leader.
The guildmaster smirked and rolled his eyes. “Try not to break too much. The buildings around here are weak enough. Leaning on them might make them fall. Their foundations are corrupt.”
Mendes felt an itch, an old, forgotten instinct that had regressed into the back of his mind. He ignored it.
“I would ask—your Institute has our resources, right?” the guildmaster asked the referee.
“You are too arrogant,” the referee said. “Of course, our Institute has the required resources!”
With a flourish, the curtain on one side of the stage was withdrawn, revealing a mountain of resources.
“Good.” The guildmaster sat back. “Shall we begin?”
“I must make sure of your own wager.” The referee didn’t even look in the ring and waved it, wanting to show the lack of wealth to the people in the arena.
Pill bottles, potions, ingredients, and mana stones dropped to the ground.
A wave of refined mana passed over the arena. The pile was a fifth of the size of the pile in the box.
A hush fell over the arena, as the expected face slapping was reversed.
“Why is it that I feel the items the guild brought are more powerful than the ones supplied by the Institute?” a spectator whispered to her neighbor.
“Quiet! Do you want to lose your head?”
“The items the Institute brought are many, but the guild brought refined potions, pills, and powders. They’re much more effective and have a higher value.”
“Those mana stones—are they from the Earth realm?”
“That can’t be. You can only get those in the Fourth Realm and higher.”
Mendes had seen Earth mana stones before. They were a resource he had used himself to increase his cultivation. Seeing the resources casually dropped on the ground, he wanted to hit the referee who had wanted to show off the difference between the groups. He had, but not in a way that he or anyone else had been expecting.
Mendes wanted those resources. Being from the Third Realm, he had a faint idea of the power of the different concoctions. They must’ve brought their guild’s wealth. If we can take this, we will have three times the resources that we would be usually given in a year.
“Make sure that there are no issues,” he said to one of his aides. “Have our elites ready in case we need to make a substitution. They might have hired others to fight for them.”
“Yes, Grand Elder Mendes.” They moved off to the side, passing the message on.
“Good enough?” The guildmaster seemed amused. There was a small smile on his face, making Mendes grip his fists together in anger.
“I think it will suffice.” The referee moved the materials back into the storage ring with a swipe of his hand and then placed the storage ring on an altar next to the stage.
Mendes looked over to the people in black cloaks who were to represent the guild.
“We will start with the first fight!” The referee stood back on the stage.
“Isn’t that the Storm Witch?” someone said as the first person from the Institute stepped up.
“She is one of the younger students but has already shown promise. Her temper is something to behold. If anyone challenges her or she thinks they are slighting her, she will go all out to destroy them.”
One of the Adventurer’s Guild members stepped up, still hooded.
“Maybe the guild has brought a hidden Expert?” The Spectators were eager, excited by the display of resources.
The two reached the top of the stage, staring at each other.
�
�You will need to remove your cloak,” the referee said.
They pulled off their cloak and put it into their storage ring, revealing a man wearing a sword on his hip.
“A knight. Their fate is too bad. The Storm Witch has high Agility and can double cast spells. They won’t be able to get close to her.”
“Why do I feel like they are a beast in human form? I think that I have seen them before.”
“Yeah, that is one of the guild’s group leaders. They take on a lot of trader protection details.”
“Being a caravan guard, he’ll have good fighting experience, but his cultivation will be nothing compared to the Storm Witch’s.”
“All right, let the fight begin!” the referee said.
There was a shift of air on the stage. The Storm Witch gathered her power. There was a crunching noise and a scream before something hit a solid object.
The arena fell quiet.
People’s eyes adjusted to a new scene.
The guild member held his hand and looked meekly at the guildmaster. “I am sorry, Guildmaster.” He bowed, and people’s eyes moved to where the noise had ended.
The Storm Witch had been struck, flown off the stage, and collided with the wall.
A chill ran through Mendes. Was that a combat technique? No, it couldn’t be! For someone at such a low level… Only geniuses understood those, and there was no way a guild would pass those things around to the lower ranks. They were trump cards for their strongest fighters. It had to be something they were using. Maybe they were using something to hide the appearance of the fighter?
“Make sure that is really a person from the guild,” he hissed. There had already been too many surprises for the day.
“We need to confirm your identity,” the referee said.
“My identity?” The man was already leaving the stage; it was clear who had won as alchemists fed the Storm Witch healing and Stamina potions.
“I am Lennaert Breukink, level twenty-six member of the Adventurer’s Guild. I swear on the Ten Realms.” Light descended around him, and nothing happened. He stared at the judge.
“That should be all,” the referee said, looking haggard.
“They are an even lower level? How is this possible? Only someone who is a higher level should overwhelm the Storm Witch, right?”
“I thought they were the weaker group?”
“Did you hear what had happened at the gate? One of them bent the pauldrons of the gate guard’s armor with just his Strength.”
“How strong must they be? Do you think they have reached Body Like Iron?”
“There is no way. There are people in the Sixth Realm and Seventh who are unable to reach that level of Body Cultivation. The cost in resources is high, and it is many times more painful than it would be to increase your Mana Cultivation.”
The second fight started. It was an archer on the side of the Institute and a sword user on the guild’s side.
The archer got off one arrow that the swordsman cut down with their blade, showing incredible Agility.
They hit the archer with the flat of their blade, but the referee didn’t call out the loss. The archer got distance and prepared to fire again.
The swordsman glowed green; their attack made the air shift around their blade. They hit the archer with the side of their blade and pushed them back. The archer’s hair was thrown to the side with the breeze, and they yelled as a crunch sounded from their arm.
Their arrow dropped to the ground, and the swordsman peeked at the referee.
He didn’t step forward, an awkward look on his face.
The swordsman frowned and ran toward the pale archer, who switched out her bow for a blade. The swordsman stepped past her, punching the archer in the back with a free hand.
The referee still didn’t call it.
Then, like a machine, the swordsman dodged around the woman and started hitting her from all sides. There was a cruel look on the swordsman’s face.
He hit her kneecap, dropping her before a vicious kick to the head, sending the archer sprawling on the ground.
“What are you doing!” the referee said in alarm.
“I thought you were telling me they could take more hits.” The swordsman put his sword away. “Should’ve just fought with my legs. Might’ve killed something so weak with my sword.”
“Excessive use of force!” the referee said. “You’re disqualified!”
“Disqualified? He was the clear winner! What is this, a contest or a fraud?” people complained in the stands.
The third fight ended in just three moves, with the Institute’s member laying on the ground with a broken nose.
The fourth fight went the same way, before there was a change along the sidelines of the arena’s floor.
A group of five people stepped out of the tunnel, and five of the Institute’s fighters left.
“What is happening?” the guildmaster’s voice boomed through the arena.
“Those people were placeholders. The real combatants were preparing,” the referee said.
“The Willful Institute—a bunch of con artists and fools.”
“Watch your tone!” an elder warned.
The guildmaster chuckled and didn’t even look at the elder, completely relaxed as the group around him bristled.
The fifth fight was the same as the first four.
“That is the Young Mistress Blue. It is rumored that she will soon reach the Fourth Realm!”
The woman stepped onto the stage from the Institute’s side. She wore a blue set of armor and held a spear.
Her opponent was an assassin.
“Are they that confident? They haven’t even changed their fighters or their lineup,” one of the elders said.
“Silence,” Grand Elder Mendes said. To get the resources on the altar, he had thrown away a part of his face that would be hard to recover. People would bring it up for years to come. If others in the Institute learned about it, it could severely affect his standing. Though all of that would be forgotten with the powerful members he could raise out of the resources earned.
The two combatants took their positions.
Mistress Blue drew on her power, making the air stir around her. A faint blue glow covered her body and spear.
“She is really going all out, using one of her half-learned combat techniques to start. They don’t stand a chance!”
The referee started the round with a wave of his hand.
Mistress Blue charged forward. Her spear shot out like a snake.
The assassin shed their cloak and threw it. Mistress Blue’s spear hit the cloak and punched through it; it blocked her sight. The assassin turned their body along Mistress Blue’s spear shaft.
As Mistress Blue caught sight of them, they were within arm’s reach.
She tried to jump away, but the assassin’s hand clamped onto her arm and flowed with her, circling around to her back. Mistress Blue stilled as the assassin’s left blade pressed against her neck, his right blade against her ribs.
Mendes grit his teeth. The enemy had played him. Mistress Blue had been raised without any issues and had been raised within the Institute. The assassin, judging from their use of environment, was no orchid in a greenhouse; they had been through life-and-death battles. They were a veteran fighter.
Skill and power had been on the side of the Willful Institute, but suddenly, their opponents had increased in power. With their power on the same level, it was clear that the Adventurer’s Guild’s skill wasn’t lacking.
They had to win the next fight and the next four after to at least get a tie. If not, they would not only lose their face, they would lose the resources needed to raise their students.
“You have pushed me this far, so don’t blame me for being ruthless.” A cold light shone in Mendes’s eye as he called over his aide, passing some quiet words to them.
Their expression turned colder with each word.
Once Mendes was finished, the aide bowed and left the box t
o carry out his orders.
Blaze watched the fights. He nodded to the different fighters as they stepped down from the stage.
He didn’t care about the position of their seats. He didn’t care whether people looked down on him. He had been looked down on before. He silently smiled and looked around, wondering what expressions people would show if they knew the truth.
He coughed to hide his amusement. He had great confidence in Alva. Erik and Rugrat had shown again that one should play the pig or dog—to have others underestimate them. Then, at the time of their choosing, when the odds were in their favor, that…that was when they struck.
Mistress Blue had murder in her eyes as she peeked at the back of the assassin, turning and strutting away.
Blaze’s expression was remorseful. Arrogance was the greatest weapon they could use against their enemy. Thinking that we should just roll over and open our necks for them. Are we not people as well?
“Seems our hosts are anxious,” Derrick said in a low voice, using his communication device so others couldn’t hear them.
“Are they moving?” Blaze tried to not look up at the booth of Willful Institute elders.
“They are,” Derrick said.
Blaze watched a swordsman step up from the Willful Institute. The man had a proud and arrogant air. Even with all the defeats before, he looked down on the Adventurer’s Guild.
Sok Young-Min stepped up on the side of the guild. There were faint streamers of white behind him. He reached the stage and took off his cloak. He wore the complete Ice Knight set. A chilling air surrounded it; cold, white wisps of air flowed around his body.
His opponent stared at him.
The referee stepped forward.
The two swordsmen drew their weapons and prepared for the coming fight.
Sok Young-Min lowered himself, his eyes locked on the other swordsman.
“Begin!”
The Willful Institute’s swordsman threw his hand forward. A purple-and-pink powder shot out in a stream, hitting Sok Young-Min.
“Poison,” Derrick hissed.
In competitions, poison would only be used in life-and-death duels. It was rare to be seen in smaller competitions.
Sixth Realm Part 2: A litRPG Fantasy series (The Ten Realms Book 7) Page 31
