I’m sort of thankful that I didn’t get to see Olexandrya before this all started. The last time I’d seen her, she was getting comfortable in that bed without me.
“I’ll be here,” she’d said.
I didn’t get a goodbye. I didn’t even get to promise my survival. That just means I don’t have the luxury of a proper sendoff. It means I won’t allow that to be the last time.
The blonde woman is screaming now, flailing even more. A sheathed sword spins in the air next to her.
“Moonlight Tranquility.”
As I fall, I draw closer to the skeleton. The ground is still a ways away.
It’s falling headfirst, and its body is in a perfect line. Did someone die when Remrey brought them? How? I spot the glow of an orange band on the skeleton’s wrist.
Is my mark on my bone as well?
The skeleton’s head turns towards me. It’s producing mana. There’s a dense flow of mana surrounding it’s body.
I’ve seen walking skeletons before, undead corpses and the like. This isn’t like that. This thing is odd.
I turn away, twisting flames into being around my arms. I condense mana at my feet to try to slow myself. It doesn’t seem to be working.
The canopy of trees is getting closer.
The skeleton vanishes from the corner of my eye. A bone arm slams into my gut, and I’m yanked.
The world blurs for a moment before we hit the canopy. I raise an arm to my face, shielding myself from slashing branches.
The skeleton is helping me. I can’t explain why, but I don’t bother trying to fight it.
We break through the canopy, and the skeleton lands on the forest floor with a thud. I’m folded around its bony arm, my head spinning. I cling to my sheathed dagger. I vaguely recognize the blonde woman on its other arm.
“Why…” I mumble through nausea. “Did you—”
The skeleton moves its arms, and we both collapse to the ground.
I land on my side and curl up with a groan. The ground feels like it’s vibrating beneath me.
“Ow!” the other woman whines. “Damn it!” She gets up a moment later, snatching her sheathed sword off the ground.
The woman’s tunic is sleeveless, and her trousers are baggy. The sword is hooked onto a long cord that she throws over her shoulder. It dangles under her arm.
On her wrist is a blue band of light. She’s on the same team as Lloyd and Jeremias.
The skeleton stands perfectly still, but the mana continues to move around it. Now that I have time to focus, I can see the flow. It circles around the it’s skeletal form. Head, shoulders, arms, chest, legs.
The thought occurs with a hint of indignation. Is this thing using mana to move it’s body? It doesn’t have musculature, and it doesn’t have the deathly aura of an undead.
But, where is it? Is there a soul in there somewhere?
“Now,” the woman says through heavy breaths, pulling my attention. “Both of you. If you give up the competition, I’ll spare your lives.”
I push off the ground, my head aching. How is she already moving? Is she immune to physics?
“Well, first,” the woman says, eyeing the skeleton. “What’d you save me for? I didn’t need help.”
The skeleton doesn’t move.
“Shouldn’t you be focused on finding your team?” My voice comes out hoarsely. “It’s a bit early to be thinking about killing, isn’t it?”
She pushes her hair out of her face. Her eyes are big and brown.
“The faster the rest of you give up,” she says. “The faster I win. Seems simple to me.” She grabs the hilt of her sword. “Skeleton is orange… are you orange too?”
I pull up my sleeve, showing the green light on my wrist.
The skeleton continues to not move or speak. Can it speak? I suppose it doesn’t have the body parts to speak. It clearly has some level of autonomy, considering that intense mana and the fact that it saved us.
“Oh. Two teams then.” The woman slowly draws the sword in a reverse grip.
I gather mana at my feet and draw my dagger.
The skeleton takes a step back and turns away.
The woman and I watch as it walks into the brush.
She furrows her brow at me.
“Where’s it going?” She hisses.
“Probably to find its team,” I reply.
Her eyes dart around the area. I could lunge. I don’t know how fast she is with that sword, though. I don’t know what other tricks she has.
She catches her sheath and slides the blade back in.
“Something doesn’t feel right,” she says, still holding the hilt.
I don’t move. I’m watching her hand. As long as she’s holding that hilt, I have to assume she plans to fight.
I try to mentally measure the weapon, to figure out exactly how far back I’d have to move to escape her range. It’s not quite as long as she is tall, at least I don’t think. She’s at least a head taller than me…
She turns to the side, at the same time taking a step towards me. Mid-step, her leg folds and she propels off it, hopping at me. She draws the blade in an instant.
I release my mana, launching myself backward. I slam back first into a tree. I hiss, the air escaping my lungs, and the sheath falls from my hand. Before I hit the ground, I raise the open hand. Golden flames rush out, pluming towards the woman.
She lands on one foot and dives, throwing the sword as she does.
I slam an arm against the tree, pushing myself forward as I fall. The sword sinks into the tree behind me. She lands and rolls out of the way of my flames. But she’s lost the sword. I have to attack now.
I compress mana at my feet and lunge, dagger raised.
She jumps up, swinging the sheath like a blade to parry me. The impact is heavy, nearly throwing me off balance. The dagger doesn’t cut. I have a moment to recognize that the sheath is some kind of metal.
She twists, knocking the dagger aside and slamming her sheath into my ribs. I cry out but grab her arm. Before she can withdraw, I close the space between us and plant a hand on her chest.
At the same moment, her foot slams into my ankle and my leg folds.
Gold flames explode between us, launching her back. Her foot knocks my legs out from under me. She skids across the ground with a shriek, her sheath landing nearby.
I land hard with a yelp and scramble to my feet. My head is spinning, my back aches, and my ribs are already sore.
She’s on her back, beating at the flames. Then, she’s up in a heartbeat. Her tunic is tattered, and her face is red.
She’s tough like Rakel. And she’s quick. If she had her blade just then, she’d probably have killed me.
I kneel slowly, picking up the dagger.
“Magic fire,” the woman says. “It isn’t very hot. Is that really all you’re capable of?”
Moonlight Tranquility’s passive flames are only third-class. I can already tell they won’t be enough to put this woman down. I know I can use second-class spells, but too many will leave me drained.
The forest is starting to darken. I have until morning to find Pepper and Smetchen. I wonder if I could outrun this woman. Would she bother chasing?
The skeleton emerges from the brush between us.
The woman and I share a look.
The skeleton points at me, then at her, and then turns and walks into the brush again.
We stand in silence for a few moments.
“I think it wants us to follow,” I say.
“I’d rather die.”
Fine, then.
I loosen my stance, standing a bit straighter. Then, I hold the dagger out. Breath. In. Out. I allow my mana to pour passively out, clouding around me. It’s a meager imitation of Heartsworn Cloak, at least structurally.
This is my plan. To fight while casting as few spells as possible. Pepper conceived the idea.
The woman’s eyes widen. She can sense my mana moving. So she’s at least sensitive to magic. That means I can’t count out the risk of her casting a spell.
I take a step toward her. And another. My cloud thickens, swirling around me.
The woman turns into a spin. Her leg snaps up and her sandal slips off, flying at me.
Then, she drops, taking the sheath with both hands. She lunges in the same breath.
Moments before the shoe would hit my face, it hits the cloud of mana around me. The cloud functions as a detection zone, marginally improving my reaction time.
But in my case, it also serves as a barrier. The mana around the shoe ignites, consuming it in golden flames.
The woman watches this, pivoting on her bare foot to slow her approach. Her eyes narrow.
I move, stepping into a lunge.
Something hits the wall of mana behind me. Fast. I don’t think, I just drop. The woman’s sword zips by, narrowly missing my head and slamming into the sheath.
My stomach sinks as I land hard. I don’t have time to process how close I’d come to losing my head. I roll onto my hands and knees. My dagger lands nearby.
She can manipulate the sword? Or just call it to her? She wanted me to forget about it. That’s why she was so willing to throw it away to begin with.
The tree the sword had been in groans, tilting slowly. It’s trunk has been split open.
My heart clogs up my throat. Anger twists up my insides. It’s settling in my head. I would’ve died. Just like that.
Olexandrya would’ve died because I was careless.
“Some trick,” the woman says, stomping on the burnt remains of her shoe. She grabs the hilt of her sword. “I’ll get you this time.”
I have to kill her.
I kneel slowly, grabbing the dagger.
“I’ll go faster, this time,” the woman says. Mana blooms around her hands.
Do I even risk the second-class? Should I go straight to first-class? Just how strong is this woman? Is everyone here this lethal?
The skeleton emerges from the brush again.
We stare at it as it steps out between us. It raises open bony hands towards each of us and it’s jaw falls open.
“If you have something to say,” the woman barks. “Speak!”
The skeleton doesn’t move.
The woman lowers her sword, leveling it at the skeleton.
The skeleton is gone.
I whip my head, hardly tracking the skeleton as it rushes the woman.
She drops into a lunge, thrusting the sword at the skeleton’s legs.
The skeleton’s feet leave the ground. The motion is so smooth, I hardly register it as a jump. A bony foot slams onto the back of the woman’s blade, pushing it into the ground.
She releases the sword and catches the sheath, swinging for the skeleton’s head. The blow lands but the skeleton catches the woman by the face, hardly fazed. They remain there for a moment, unmoving.
“You aren’t an undead,” the woman growls into the skeleton’s hand.
The skeleton doesn’t respond. It releases her face and points at the brush.
The woman laughs flatly, raising the sheath again.
I decide to take this chance to run.
I turn, snatch up my sheath, and dart for the brush. The moment I hit the brush, the ground drops.
I’m running downhill. I slow instantly, managing each footfall carefully.
Ahead, the trees are shadowed by the setting sun. The warmth is fading and the cold of the night is falling in around me.
I hadn’t had a chance to notice before. But the sensation is gone. The invisible thread binding Pepper, Smetchen, and I has vanished.
They aren’t dead. Are they? That quickly? Or was it a concession only offered before the actual competition and it’s been thusly revoked.
I catch it, then, the ring of Pepper’s mana in the distance.
There you are. The ground levels and I commit to a full sprint in her direction.
The woods open up around me. The trees are further apart and the ground is thick with tall grass.
Ahead, two shapes resolve into approaching people.
One is Iris, spear in hand, running my way. The other is a bald man I don’t recognize.
Will she attack on sight as well?
“You!” Iris calls. “Have you found Rakel?”
“No,” I reply, slowing to a jog.
“A demon,” the man says. “Is she friendly?”
“Leave her.”
Mana flares behind me.
Iris and the man’s heads snap up and I whirl to see.
The skeleton and the blonde woman collide high above the trees.
A magic circle rips across the air, burning into the sky around them. I don’t recognize the symbols blazing within the ring.
“Holy magic?” The man gasps, stopping beside me.
A stream of white fire rips across the sky and is instantly cut in half.
The flames roar over our heads and I drop, shielding my eyes.
Iris shoves the bald man down and crouches next to him.
The flames dissipate, leaving the forest ablaze behind us.
The skeleton lands on its back in front of us. The blonde woman lands on top of it, driving her sword into its ribcage.
“What kind of skeleton uses holy magic?” The woman asks between heavy breaths.
The skeleton raises a hand, and she kicks it.
Iris leaps forward, aiming her spear at the woman.
I realize; of course, Iris wouldn’t attack me. She knows about Olexandrya’s soul. She doesn’t want Olexandrya dead. She may go out of her way to protect me.
The bald man makes a small whining noise as he gets up. I spot the white ring on his wrist.
That’s five people from five different teams. Green: me. Blue: the swordswoman. Red: Iris. Orange: the skeleton. White: the whining bald man.
“Conis,” Iris says.
“You know me?” The woman tilts her head.
“Do you intend to kill all of us?”
The woman—Conis—straightens, ripping her sword free of the skeleton’s ribcage.
“I intend to win. But if I don’t have to kill any of you to do that, that’s perfectly fine.” She sheaths the sword. “If all of you stay here and vow to forego the competition, I’ll leave you alive.”
“Forego?” The bald man spits the word out. “Who do you think—”
Mana explodes at the end of the sheath and the blade shoots out. Conis’s foot comes down between Iris and the bald man.
I don’t see her swing. I just see the bald man’s head hit the ground.
The sword returns to the sheath.
Iris recoils, her eyes wide.
That speed. It re-textures every moment I spent in that woman’s perimeter. I wouldn’t have been able to react to that. Mana, it flowed from the sheath. Enchanted? It doesn’t matter.
Our entire ‘fight?’ It had been a mercy. She could’ve done this from the very beginning and taken my head.
Why? Feeling out competition? A whim? Conserving strength? I can’t outrun her. Not if she’s capable of speed like that.
It’s right there in front of me. Her or us.
This woman, bathed in the glow of the fading sun, she’s a predator. She will kill me. If I take my eyes off her, I will die.
“This isn’t worth your lives,” Olexandrya had said. “If it gets bad, I want you to give up.”
“Get the sword!” Iris yells, lunging at Conis.
The skeleton’s mana surges, and it shoots to its feet.
I draw my dagger and hurl the sheath. A moment later, I throw the dagger.
Conis twists her sheathed blade, knocking Iris’s spear aside. Iris staggers a step and spins, aiming a kick at Conis’s leg. Conis catches the leg and slams her sheath into it.
Iris cries out.
Then, Conis snatches my sheath out of the air. The dagger sinks into her shoulder.
The skeleton appears as Conis recoils. It grabs her and pins her arms to her sides.
The bald man’s body hits the ground at same time that Iris does.
A magic circle blazes into existence around Conis. Her body convulses, and the sword slips from her grasp.
Iris rolls and flips low to the ground, landing in a crouch.
I clap my hands together, scattering mana. Second-class; bare minimum.
“Dancing Aces!”
The mana ignites into dozens of golden flares that rush at Conis.
The flares explode, swallowing Conis and the skeleton in a swirling blaze.
Iris and I are thrown back. I catch the ground and roll, fixing my eyes on the fire.
Conis is there as the flames fade, holding the skeleton by its ribcage and bringing her sword down on its head.
There’s a sickening crack as blade meets bone. She tosses the body aside and looks my way.
Her clothes are tattered, revealing burnt skin. The side of her head is burnt. She rips my dagger out of her shoulder and tosses it aside.
“Run!” Iris insists, grabbing my arm and pushing me. “For Olexandrya’s sake!”
I stagger back, my eyes falling off of Conis for a moment.
Conis appears, cleaving through the remnants of Iris’s spear. The sword again returns to the sheath.
Iris’s head has hardly turned when she’s cut open. I don’t even see the blade drawn; just blood across Iris’s chest.
Conis stares at as Iris collapses.
First-class. Now! But my legs won’t hold my weight. I’m hitting the ground before I realize what’s happened.
I raise a hand, but my mouth won’t move. I have to cast a spell. Now. I have to do something!
Conis stands over me, sheathing her sword. But she’s still gripping the hilt. Her eyes are wide and empty.
I stare at her, frozen. Just like with Jeremias. I know what’s at stake. I know how close I am to death.
Yet, I won’t move. My body won’t respond to the desperation in my mind.
I just stare.
But Conis doesn’t attack. Her hand trembles around the hilt.
“If you’re this afraid,” she says. “Why are you here?”
“That’s enough.” Remrey’s voice rumbles in my head.
Conis stiffens. She must hear it, too.
“Why is one of you dead? I merely instructed all of you to find your teams. The competition hasn’t started!”
Conis flinches.
“You treat this as a game,” she says, her voice trembling. “You gather all of us here to kill for the right to end the war.”
“I will not have this. Conis Entorri, you will be punished. You will retain those wounds.”
The light on my wrist glows. Mana rushes through my body. Every ache, pain, and bruise fades.
The skeleton and Iris get up. We’ve been healed.
The bald man doesn’t move. His head remains severed. It seems Remrey can’t or won’t revive the dead. The skeleton and Iris must’ve been close to death or just maimed.
“Damn it.” Conis sinks to her knees, looking over her shoulder at the corpse. “All of that… for nothing?”
The skeleton approaches Conis, placing a bony hand on her shoulder. White light blooms beneath its hand.
“Stop it.” But Conis doesn’t move. I watch the wounds close across her body.
I sink to the ground. My body feels distant. The world feels quiet.
No, it’s happening again. Not here. I can’t pass out here!
But it’s too late. I watch the darkening sky slip away.