“All done, you’re ready to go now. Good luck,” the mage said with his kind, elderly smile.
“Thank you,” she said and walked into the changing room. She was grateful for this protection spell; it was the only thing allowing the participants in tournaments like these to use their skills to the fullest extent without worrying about killing others. So, she clenched her fists and forced a smile in an attempt not to get the disappointment of him not sensing anything off about her ruin her mood.
She grabbed the fighting attire — a grey, sleeveless shirt, black cloth pants, and leather boots, all enchanted — from the one closet in the room. The enchantments for clothes were a somewhat recent addition to most bigger tournaments, used to avoid issues regarding the… decency of participants in heated battles where normal clothes could be shredded. They did nothing to protect the wearer, though.
And in the spirit of decency and pride, Valeria looked up while changing clothes. That perverted archmage had no right to see her body.
[I don’t plan on watching while you change, don’t mind me.] There was that bastard again. Did he really think he could fool her that easily?
[I will.] He must think I’m stupi—
Something changed. It was hard to distinguish, but her senses felt the tiniest bit different. More focused?
[There’s no way for me to prove this to you. But surely you don’t think you can go through everyday life without looking at yourself at all? You’re stuck with me for now, so you’ll just have to trust my word.]
She sighed; it bothered her when he made sense. And it pissed her off even more that he perceived her being bothered. And— no, she needed to focus. She continued changing, not bothered to look up anymore.
[You’ve also changed in the morning today, if you remember, so it would already be too late.]
Annoying bastard. She needed to get rid of him somehow. Not now, though.
Knocking sounded through the door in front, towards the battle grounds.
“Are you ready to start?” a woman asked from behind the door.
“Just a minute,” Valeria said, putting on her boots.
“Okay, we’ll be starting in five. I’ll knock again.”
She tied her boots and set down on the bench, breathing controlled, deep breaths. She pictured herself floating in ice water, the cold penetrating her skin and flowing through her veins. She saw the fires of emotion within herself and let them die down. Coldness was what she needed. If only there wasn’t this tinge of excitement coming from the bastard lurking within— no, calm. No anger. Only ice.
For now, she would accept his presence. No resistance, because resistance was friction, and friction was heat. A knock sounded through the door again.
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“You can come out now.”
Valeria breathed out deeply one last time, listening to her breath crystalizing in the air. What a beautiful sound it was.
She walked to the door, and the second it opened, the noise from the viewers broke into her room. She strode ahead, viewers cheering from the benches above as the tunnel gave way to an open arena. The ground was covered in a couple inches of snow, as was proper for a battle in the glacial mountains. Only the snowfall was missing; the audience preferred being dry and warm, so the mages had covered the top of the open-air arena with a spell.
She stepped onto the snow.
“Welcome Valeria, granddaughter of the snowfall executioner, and aspirant at this year’s grand final!” an overexcited announcer spoke into everyone’s ears, and the crowd cheered.
Looking around, Valeria found herself the last participant to have stepped onto the field. Opposite her stood another young woman; to her left, a muscular man flexed for the audience, and to her right was another man, looking back at her before gesturing towards the other woman. He wanted to fight her. So, she had to fight the muscular idiot. Perfect.
She had only done a rough inquiry into the other participants in this round; none of them appeared particularly threatening. All she needed to know was that none of them were mages, and the muscular idiot used earth as his element, in its sturdy form. But she could have guessed that from his appearance alone.
“Now, is everyone ready to watch the third bout of the semi-finals?” the announcer asked.
The crowd cheered, but there was still some hesitance.
“That’s not good enough! I want to hear you cheer so loudly that no spell can stop the noise. I SAID, IS EVERYONE READY?”
The spectators roared. Aside from offering good scouting opportunities, this tournament was also a great opportunity to get drunk out of your mind. Valeria was scared of what the final would look like.
“Now that is what I wanted to hear! Everyone, prepare! For the countdown!”
At the same time as spells muted the spectators from inside the arena significantly, a streak of light shot up in the middle of the arena and exploded into the number 10, then morphed to 9, 8…
The bastard’s excitement rose up again, and she felt a little envy at being unable to feel the same. No. Be unbothered. Unaffected. Breathe. 0!
Valeria turned towards the show-off, and he turned to her. A structured fight wasn’t in the spirit of the competition, but at least it was a lot more predictable. He broke into a sprint, but she strode forward unbothered. The moment he came within twenty feet of her, he jumped, and she sped up, formed a spear of ice in her right hand, and launched it at her competitor. He put his hands in front of them and formed a layer of rock on top. The ice spear glanced off, leaving a shallow cut on his forearm.
He moved as if to kick on his landing, but she dodged to the right and took a quick step back. Snow scattered in the air. He dashed forward, throwing punches with rock gauntlets around his fists, but she stayed just out of reach.
His hips twisted to the right. Haymaker. She dug her heel into the snow and launched forward, ducked under his wide swing, and dug her fist into his liver. Gasping, his guard dropped. She swung at his face, sending him tumbling back. She moved in. A jab to his chin. Another swing. He put his guard up, too high. A kick in the stomach. His guard dropped once more. She jumped forward and launched her knee into his face. A satisfying crunch sounded in the air as he tumbled another step back, then fell flat onto the snow. The roars of the crowd were unmistakable even through the muting spell.
Valeria looked at the other participants; their fight continued. She shaped a seat of ice underneath her and sat down, observing them. It appeared the woman had the upper hand, though it was hard to tell with all the snow the two were blowing around with their wind attacks. They were better than she—
[Are you not going to fight them? I thought you were supposed to show the scouts your skills.] Ugh. She had forgotten about this pain in the ass for a moment.
[If you answer properly.]
He said no more, but she sensed his approval. How did that work?
Roars broke out in the audience once again, and a wall of snow dust blew up in front of her. Blocking my vision, eh? A figure broke through the wall, plummeting towards her from several feet in the sky. Valeria got up and slid to the side on a thin layer of ice she had formed on the floor. The man landed and crushed the seat she had shaped, but his side was exposed. She slid his throat with an ice dagger.
Her opponent slumped to the floor, gurgling blood and clenching his own throat with his hands. That looked uncomfortable.
[Why the fuck did you have to do that?]