Chapter 177: The tournament

The tournament

The day of the tournament finally came. Black Empire got louder than it usually is. The usually silent streets shook with drums, shouting, and the hum of portals tearing open one after another. Travelers from the east, west, north and south spilled out in cloaks of every color and gathered in the middle.

It was the same hall, once used for execution, now polished to perfection. Its black marble floor gleamed like still water, and golden banners hung from the high arches, hiding old stains the stone could never fully forget. The crowd was a hundred times the size of the last. Many orbs were installed, floating above the stands like pale moons, to broadcast the event to those who can’t come inside or those who couldn’t make it. Vendors’ stalls were everywhere selling things that the Salvador students had now gotten used to: roasted meat on skewers, glowing charms, and bottled drinks that fizzed in the heat.

Before they even came out of the fortress, the air was already booming. The event was set, ten days in ten years, for anyone to challenge anyone.

It had already begun.

The contestant they saw from the teleportal orb was a warrior who challenged the king’s right-hand, Gal.

While the challenger held a giant sword, Gal wasn’t holding anything. His arms hung loose at his sides and his shoulders were relaxed, as if he were waiting for a late friend. His stance was full of openings too.

The announcer raised his hand.

"Next match! Ragnar of the Iron hills versus Gal of—" He paused. "...Well, apparently just Gal."

A few people laughed.

Gal almost rolled his eyes. He had an expression that suggested he would rather be somewhere else.

Ragnar stopped several meters away from Gal and rested the massive sword against his shoulder. Its blade was nearly as wide as a door, dark iron etched with worn runes.

"You’re still allowed to surrender."

Gal looked at the sword. "That’s a big sword."

Ragnar grinned. "If I defeat you, I can finally challenge—" He pointed up. All eyes followed and a collective gasp came out.

Richard raised a brow from where he sat.

"You want to challenge the king?!" Gal laughed. "That’s an adorable resolve."

The announcer stepped back.

"BEGIN!"

For someone carrying such a ridiculous weapon, he was surprisingly fast. He moved with a terrific speed and swung. WHOOOOM!

The giant sword tore through the air, and the wind of it ruffled the hair of the front-row spectators. Gal simply stepped aside and the blade smashed into the ground.

BOOOM!

The stone shattered. Cracks spread across the floor like a spiderweb and dust rose in a thin cloud. Ragnar immediately pulled the sword free and swung again. Gal ducked.

Instead of losing his hold on the sword, he switched hands, grabbing the tip with his left hand and giving another swing. Gal continued to dodge every attack.

It went on for a minute, until Ragnar began to get frustrated.

"Stop running!"

Gal grinned. "I can’t just let you hit me right."

Ragnar gave a massive swing, but Gal just dodged it again. He was already panting.

He lowered the sword and took a wide leg stance.

"You won’t stop running, then I’ll just pursue you."

He took a deep breath, shut his eyes, and calmed himself.

Then he opened his eyes and charged forward, his boots cracking the stone with every step.

He caught up to Gal in a second, swinging the massive sword to the man’s throat. Gal wasn’t able to dodge so he raised his hand to block. A mere second for the hit to land, Ragnar suddenly paused.

The sword was only an inch away from Gal’s hand.

Ragnar took a step back and turned around. He looked right and then left.

The crowd were beginning to murmur in confusion.

The young man didn’t mind. Instead, he glanced at a lady sitting in the crowd. She quietly stood up and began to walk away.

He raised his hand.

"I surrender."

Yelling erupted.

"What’s he doing?!"

"He almost landed a hit!"

"What’s he looking for?!"

Gal sighed. He tapped Ragnar’s shoulder and whispered.

"Better to save your strength, right?"

He walked off the stage.

The announcer stepped forward.

"Winner! Gal!"

Ragnar left the stage too. The announcer began to call in the next contestants.

___

Ringoff students didn’t leave the fortress. The broadcast had provided them everything they needed to witness the fight, and just like everyone, Ragnar’s decision left most of them dumbfounded.

"Why did he stop? Such a douchebag!" Bora exclaimed.

"He probably saw that he couldn’t defeat the man." Cidi laughed.

"After acting like he was finally serious." Another one said.

Carlel immediately sprang up. Her eyes were locked on one person on the screen. Elias, sitting beside his father, his posture stiff and his eyes distant.

"How many minutes would it take for me to get to him?"

"Five minutes." Fayera replied.

"Three minutes at full speed." Tyler said.

"A minute if Kael takes you." Claude added.

They all glanced at Kael.

He got up, spread his wings and walked to her.

"Can you fight?"

"Not at all."

He grabbed her by the waist, and took flight with a sudden burst that shifted the rest of the students. He soared the sky, heading straight for the hall, the wind roaring in her ears and the fortress shrinking beneath them, while she hung on to him like her life depended on it.

They only made half the journey before something cut through the air with a thin, ugly whistle, heading directly towards them. His eyes followed and he twisted, dodging by an inch before catching the arrow with his feet.

She raised her head. "What was—"

"Shut it." He pushed her head down, then increased his speed. He closed down and twisted, hiding between the houses and entered through the hall’s gate, its iron frame still trembling from the noise within.

Another arrow came at them and just when it got close, a hand caught it by the gate, snapping it into two.

His eyes narrowed into the distance where the arrow came from and he frowned.

"I waited ten years for this fight." Ragnar swung his massive sword. "You Invaders would pay for this!"