by Aaron Oster
“I don’t think your aunt will care what your father thinks,” Morgan said, watching as Arnold came to stand beside Sing.
“What makes you say that?” Sarah asked, her smirk fading.
“They know each other…well,” Morgan replied, heavily inflecting the last word.
“Well, I guess our problems just got a whole lot bigger then,” she replied, her mood growing sour. “It seems like people we know are showing up left and right!” she continued. “I swear, if Gold walks out for the East Kingdom, I’m seriously gonna lose it.”
Luckily for them, the East Kingdom’s champion was a rank 37 mage woman named Marsha. As she walked out onto the arena, the cheers nearly deafened the two of them.
“Looks like there’s a lot of support for that one,” Sarah said, but Morgan wasn’t really listening.
His mind was going over the respective ranks of his competition. Of all those who entered, he was by far the lowest. While Sing and Arnold were at the maximum of 38, and Marsha at 37, he was at the bare minimum of 33. That meant that his weakest opponent would be 4 ranks above him. He didn’t know how Sing and Marsha would fight, but he did know how Arnold fought.
The man was a monster and the only time he’d ever seen the man lose, was when Gold had fought him. And Gold was a freaking god!
“Looks like I’m up next,” Morgan said, feeling his adrenaline spiking.
His core was perfectly still however, and it was somewhat comforting to Morgan not to feel the pounding in his ears. The world was about to find out who and what he was. There was no going back now.
Sarah stood and wrapped her arms tightly around him. She squeezed hard for just a moment before pulling back. She took his face between her hands, her eyes hard and her expression growing serious.
“You go out there, and show them the kind of power they’re dealing with. You go out there, and make them feel it! Do that, and they’ll know that you’re a serious contender! Now go out there, and kick some ass!”
Morgan grinned as she released his face, then turned to the wall of crystal. The screen had grown translucent and he could now see through it to the rest of the arena.
“Last but not least… Introducing the champion for the West Kingdom. He is a young boy, only sixteen, but has managed to reach great heights already…!” The announcer faltered for a moment, and Morgan wondered what was wrong.
He saw the man motion up to the stage and several people ran up to him where they held a whispered conversation. The crowd began muttering, and Morgan felt his nerves ratchet up a few notches. He took a deep breath to calm himself, and felt his core become active. As soon as it did, his nerves immediately calmed and he let out a long, relieved sigh.
It looked like his reiki could cure stage fright. That was a nice perk.
The crowd on the stage cleared away, and the announcer raised the piece of paper again.
“Sorry about that folks, I thought there might have been some mistake on the card, but I have been reassured that the information is accurate. Introducing the West Kingdom champion. Sitting at rank 33, and sporting a supermage ability, I give you: Morgan!”
***
Lord Simon was sitting up in his richly decorated box, along with the others from the North Kingdom. He was in a fairly good mood at the moment as servants swarmed around him, offering him food, wine or anything else he could possibly need. Sing had looked marvelous walking out into the arena. And when he saw Arnold, his mood had only improved, rather than deteriorating.
Arnold had managed to elude the Assassins Guild somehow, but now the universe was finally on his side. It had seen fit to deliver him right into his lap. Since killing wasn’t against tournament rules, it wouldn’t take much to convince Sing to end him during one of the challenges. He knew they shared somewhat of a history, but it had ended badly many years ago. She would be more than happy to cut his head from his shoulders.
He turned his attention away from the arena as one of the servants stopped to replace his drink, so he missed the announcement of the third competitor, not that he thought he was missing much. At this point, Simon was fairly certain that Sing would be winning the tournament with little to no trouble. His attention was piqued however, when the announcer announced the final contestant as a sixteen-year-old boy.
When the announcer faltered, his interest was only magnified. This contestant was supposed to be a supermage, but the judges would have made sure of that fact before he entered. So could it really be true? He watched the confusion on the stage clear up, and the announcer continued. Simon heard the boy’s rank, then, was dumbfounded as the man confirmed for all to hear, that he was indeed a supermage.
Not many in the crowd would know what that was now, but he bet that by the time the tournament was over, the knowledge of supermages would become widespread. It seemed that some secrets couldn’t be kept forever.
Simon was so distracted that he almost missed the boy’s name. The second he heard it, he sat bolt upright, feeling his heart beginning to hammer in his chest.
Morgan!
He leaned forward in his chair, staring down at the arena below. His fingers tightened on the armrests, until they creaked under the strain. Then a figure appeared as though from thin air, and Simon felt a sudden, overwhelming sense of dread wash over him.
The figure walked out into the open arena, his body enveloped by a burning violet light. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, his back straight as a board. When the multitude of screens zoomed in on him, it showed a body rippling with corded muscle visible even through the uniform. The boy stopped then and started up at one of the enchanted metal disks that fed the images to the screens, and the entire arena let out a gasp of surprise.
His eyes burned with unrestrained power, the bright violet and gold pupils contrasting with the pitch black of his sclera. Altogether, it made for an extremely intimidating sight. Simon felt a burning pain in his chest then, and realized that he’d subconsciously been holding his breath.
He let it out in a sudden explosive breath, taking in a deep gasp of air.
It was him. Morgan.
The boy who had ruined so many of his plans. The boy who had evaded death time and time again. The boy who had stolen his daughter away, putting his plans for the throne in jeopardy. He’d been wondering how the boy kept foiling his plans, and now it all made perfect sense. There was no way anyone but a supermage could have killed his guards. No way any sixteen-year-old orphan, no matter how talented, could have avoided Arnold for so long, and no way he could have survived multiple assassination attempts from the most powerful guild in the Five Kingdoms.
He had no doubt that this boy was indeed a supermage, and everyone around him seemed to share that sentiment. The entire arena had gone silent as a grave, everyone staring at the burning figure below.
Simon had no idea how he’d managed to go from having nothing to being a rank 33 supermage in less than a year, but he was sure of one thing: Loquin had not lied to him. Morgan was here, which could only mean that his daughter was here as well. The burning violet light around the boy faded, and he heard the entire arena let out a collective sigh of relief.
With the light extinguished, Simon could now clearly make out the boy’s features. And although the powerfully build young man barely resembled the scrawny and starving boy he’d known, his facial features were unmistakable. Now that he could think clearly once again, he realized that Morgan was only rank 33, which put him at the lowest in the competition by far.
A grin slowly worked itself onto his face as Morgan continued on to the stage. It appeared that the universe was on his side indeed!
34
Morgan allowed his Aura flare to fade, walking straight backed toward the set of stairs leading onto the stage. He’d figured that his skill had a limit to its power, and decided that it probably wouldn’t damage the people in the crowd. He’d been right about that, and was glad that he’d found the limits of the skill.
It appeared that only
people within close proximity to him would suffer any real detrimental effects. But the activating of the skill had had its intended purpose: to showcase his power. Normally, he wouldn’t have bothered, preferring to allow his fists to do the talking, but if he could put either Arnold or Sing off his back, then it would have been worth it.
He kept his breathing deep and even, making sure his core continuously thrummed, sending comforting energy throughout his body. He lost sight of the contestants as he took his first steps onto the stage, but they soon came back into view as he crested the lip of the stage. They were all staring at him, but not in fear as he’d hoped.
Arnold was glaring at him, Sing was smirking, and Marsha looked indifferent.
Oh well, Morgan thought as the announcer directed him to stand next to Marsha on the far end of the line. Though it had been a long shot, he’d really been hoping his plan would work.
The roar of the crowd sounded once again when the announcer raised a slim metal rod with a circular piece set on the top to his lips.
“These are your champions! Now, without further ado, let us explain the first challenge!”
The man waived to a large screen, where an image displayed a massive area dotted with points of color.
“Your first challenge is a maze! Each of you will be dropped in a different location in the maze. You have two objectives: reach the center of the maze and collect as many points as you can along the way!”
The display shifted again, this time showing several small metallic balls, each one shining a different color. A number was scribed into the surface of each, and Morgan guessed that these were point totals.
There were five in all, and his eyes traveled over each one, committing them to memory.
White: 5
Black: 10
Blue: 25
Red: 50
Purple: 100
The screen then went back to what Morgan now knew to be a map of the maze. His eyes darted over it, noting all the areas with purple pinpricks of light. He was also careful to note all of the others as well, paying specific attention to the blue. The others might go straight for the purple, as they were worth the most, but that would likely pit them against each other.
“As this is a race, the one to complete the maze first will receive one thousand points. The second will receive two-hundred and fifty. Anyone who completes the maze in under ninety minutes will receive a five-hundred point bonus, regardless of whether they came in first or not.”
The announcer stopped as the crowd erupted in applause once more, which was perfectly fine for Morgan. He’d located the center of the maze and was now tracing as many paths as he could, trying to memorize as much as possible from the map.
“Now for the rules,” the announcer continued one the crowd had calmed down. “You will have eight hours to complete the maze. Should you fail to return by that time, your points for the challenge will be void! Also, all skills pertaining to flight are banned. Anyone caught using a flight related skill will be disqualified, and their point total reduced to zero.”
Despite having already been told as much, Morgan still felt his lips turn down in irritation. He was already at a severe disadvantage as it was, and they were just trying to hamper him even further.
“Next, while fighting and killing an opponent is permitted, we encourage you to focus on point collection. Stealing points from another contestant will also be impossible. As soon you touch a sphere, it will vanish, and the point total will appear on the big screen.”
David gestured, and a massive screen appeared in the center of the arena, dwarfing all the others. On it, the faces of the four competitors appeared. Each had the number 1 to the left of their picture, and the number 0 to the right. Morgan took the 0 to be the point totals, and the 1 to be each of their placements in the tournament.
Morgan looked down as a man suddenly walked up to him. He was momentarily confused when the man handed him a small pack, but then he explained.
“The pack contains two food rations, a canteen of water and a device that will keep track of your point total and remaining time. Simply press the impression at the center to see how much you’ve collected so far.”
The man then moved on, handing a similar pack to Marsha. Morgan was about to dig into his pack, when the announcer continued speaking.
“As always, this is a competition, so completing the maze won’t be that simple. But, I’m sure the champions are already well aware of that,” he said, pausing to allow the crowd to laugh.
He then pulled a rectangular piece of metal from his pocket that was very reminiscent of a beast zone key and flourished it in the air.
“Champions. Are you ready?” his voice boomed out, somehow even louder now than before.
He turned to them, waiting as each gave him a curt nod. He gave them all a salute, before turning back to the crowd.
“Then without further delay, let the Skyflare Tournament begin!”
As he said this, he held the device up in the air and pressed the button. A moment later, the ground under Morgan’s feet suddenly glowed a bright blue, and he fell straight through.
He didn’t fall for long and landed a moment later on hard packed dirt, rolling to lessen the impact of his fall. Rising quickly to his feet, Morgan looked around to get his bearings. His vision was limited on two sides by tall walls made of stone, but he could clearly see the terrains shifting in either direction. Behind him, the ground became more sandy, and in front, marshy.
There was a good thirty feet of space between the two walls, which told Morgan a lot about the sheer scope of this place. He’d seen a map from above, but there had been thousands of tiny lines. If each line represented a path like this one, then he would have to seriously move if he wanted to even complete the maze before the eight hours elapsed.
He noticed then that a few metal disks were floating in the air nearby, and figured that they must be showing the people in the arena what was happening right now. Ignoring them for the moment, he dug into his pack, checking on his rations. They were hard crackers, barely edible, but still better than most of the garbage he’d been forced to endure growing up. He next checked his canteen, and finally, removed a small rectangle of metal.
There was a small indentation in the center, and when he pressed his finger to it, a purple number 0 floated into the air above the square, as well as a timer, counting down from eight hours. Tucking the item away, Morgan looked down both paths again, trying to decide which way to go. He needed some sort of vantage point. As he couldn’t fly, he would have to climb, but looking up, he found that he was unable to see the tops of the walls.
So, Morgan did the next best thing. He took a running start, and activating Explosive impact, he launched himself into the air. His jump carried him nearly forty feet up, and he looked quickly to both sides as he reached the pinnacle of his jump. A vast, watery swamp spread to one side, and he could see several paths branching off the one he was on.
Whipping his head the other way, a desert, complete with sand and scorching sun spread in that direction. Similar paths branched off there, but Morgan couldn’t see much more. He fell from the air, landing in a crouch and rolling once more. He’d already made up his mind and the moment he landed, he took off into the swamp.
He’d had enough of deserts to last him a lifetime, and although he wasn’t particularly fond of the marshland, it was far better than the alternative. Racing down the gloomy path, Morgan soon found his steps slowed by clinging mud and thigh deep water. He was tempted to use another skill, but decided to reserve his reiki for Explosive impact, as it would be the most useful in helping him move swiftly through the maze.
After several minutes of running and using his skill every time it recharged, Morgan finally came to the first fork in the path. Down one, the swamp continued, becoming overgrown with grass and vines. Down the other, the path turned solid, with no obstacles whatsoever. Suffice it to say, he chose the marshy path. Anything that looked as inviting as the other
one had to be a trap.
As Morgan moved deeper into the marsh, pushing through tall weeds and vines, he became aware of a soft light up ahead. He first noticed this when the walls, coated with moisture the way they were, began to emanate a blue sheen. Increasing his pace, Morgan soon saw that the path up ahead was opening.
Feeling a surge of excitement, he sped up, and emerged into a wide open circular space. Four different paths continued on the far side, each one containing a different landscape, but Morgan only had his eyes on one thing: the pedestal in the center of the space, on which rested a shining blue orb.
He grinned, and quickly moved forward. A blue orb was worth twenty-five points, and would be a great start. The knee-deep water that covered the entire open area grew shallower as he moved to the center, and the going became easier. He reached the center of the circular area, standing before the pedestal and wondering if he should take the item, or if some sort of trap would spring it he did so.
Just as he was thinking that, he felt something slimy wrap around his ankle and he was abruptly yanked back from the pedestal. Morgan flailed for a moment as his head submerged in the water, then, as he felt more tendrils wrapping around his other leg, he gathered himself and dug his arms into the soft ground.
His backward momentum came to a sudden halt, and an explosion of bubbles left his lips as the pressure threatened to tear his arms from their sockets. He fought against the tendrils, pulling back with his shaking arms for all he was worth, while more and more tendrils wrapped themselves around him. Gritting his teeth, he fought back, feeling his lungs beginning to burn from a lack of air. But no matter how hard he pulled, he couldn’t escape the iron tendrils that were wrapping themselves tighter around him with every passing second.
Finally he was forced to give up on being able to break free with just his normal strength. Using Explosive impact, Morgan jerked his legs back. He grimaced as the tendrils strained against him for a bare moment, before they snapped and he was able to pull himself free.
