Chapter 534 - The Rising Moon X

  “Good morning, and welcome to the fourteenth day of Valencia’s annual Summer Festival!” Master of Ceremonies Octavia Augustus walked out onto the stage, her smile as bright as ever. She thanked the theatre troop, summarized the results so far, and discussed the circumstances surrounding the draw that had marked the end of the fourth round. She performed all of the standard tasks in the standard tone while secretly dreading the events that would follow.

  She didn’t let it show on her face or in her voice. She was both a professional and a member of Cadria’s ruling house. There was certainly a world where her panic got the better of her, but it would take far more than the possibility of an all-out war.

  If anything, the prospect should have excited her. It was a chance for Cadria to demonstrate the full extent of its prowess, a chance for her people to stand behind the words that they had always touted. But Octavia did not exactly buy into the national zeitgeist. That wasn’t to say that she was afraid of war—she’d been well educated on the risks and benefits—but neither did she see the reason why everyone was so gung-ho. Sending an army down south meant exposing both the eastern and western fronts and that was the whole reason the Eleven-horned King had advocated against war in the first place. Cadria was strong, but it lacked the resources to fend off their enemies whilst in the midst of an all-out-attack. That was the same reason that it hadn’t really expanded until the thorae fell.

  “The Vestudian school of martial arts is a near mythical existence. Though its name is always mentioned when discussing the most powerful styles, few of its practitioners have ever come to light. We are fortunate enough today to have one such individual fighting on Cadria’s behalf. Please welcome Berius, Master of the Vestudian Spear!”

  A lazy-looking thoraen man stepped into the ring with his spear thrown over his shoulders. He was wearing a curious outfit consisting of exactly two pieces. One was a vest that seemed a little too big, even for the giant bee ogre, while the other was a loincloth that barely covered its eponymous position.

  Berius

  Health: 1914327 (100%)

  Mana: 913751 (100%)

  Racial Class: Insectoid Bloodblossom Destroyer - Level 604

  Primary Class: Lightcaller Battlemage - Level 1733

  Secondary Class: Sunbreaker Magic Master - Level 1373

  Tertiary Class: Death Herald Blackspear - Level 3764

  Quaternary Class: Master of the True Vestudian Spear - Level 4166

  Notable Equipment: DFST-X19S Starrgort - War Goddess' Multiphase Aranea Spear (Quality: 10192), Odiferous Antimagic Loincloth (Quality: 9999), Ultimate Langgbjern Birdmaster Spear (Quality: 5011)

  He yawned as he made his way center stage, his eyes almost completely glazed over. He didn’t seem even the slightest bit excited to enter the ring.

  “Master Berius, do you have anything you’d like to say to the crowd?”

  The man frowned for a second before scratching his head. “I know I look a bit underleveled, but I’m stronger than everyone else that’s fought so far. Oh, and the Vestudian Spear is the strongest. That’s all.”

  “Thank you, Master Berius,” said Octavia. “We all know the Vestudian Spear as one of the few schools that King Virillius has readily praised, but the school has always been shrouded in mystery. Could you please tell us a little bit more about it?”

  Berius brought a hand to his face and took a few seconds to ponder. “Honestly? I’m not really sure. The Grandmaster taught me how to use my body. But I never really listened to why.”

  Octavia blinked, stupified by his answer. “R-right, I see. Hopefully, we will be able to figure it out ourselves then. Thank you, Master Berius.” She coughed before continuing with a troubled expression. “Now on Vel’khan’s side, we have none other than its queen. She is no mere figurehead or decision maker, like many of the cowardly rulers who run the surrounding nations, but a powerful monarch who seized the throne with her very own might. She is not only Griselda’s priestess and voice, but a magus well studied in arcane, blood, and shadow magic, as well as an archmage who has returned as an aspect from the bitter north. Please extend a warm welcome to Arciel Vel’khan, the ruler of the land half-taken by the Ryllian sea.”

  There was a roaring applause.

  But it didn’t matter how long they cheered. Though the gate was wide open, no Vel’khanese fighters emerged.

  It didn’t take long for the crowd to catch on and realise that something was off. They switched from cheering to whispering, discussing their speculations in a hushed tone. Gladora’s fate was still fresh in their minds. And though the city was never subjected to another attack, many had already heard about the bloody brawl that’d taken place in the eastern district.

  The odd event had stolen a full night’s worth of sleep from the people in the area and many were still at least a little bit grumpy that they’d have to watch the battle through a tired lens.

  “Queen Arciel. Please step forward,” said Octavia. But again, there was no response. Frowning, Octavia advanced on the gate herself, but found no one present. “Would anyone from the Vel’khanese delegation happen to be aware of any potential delays?”

  The centaur was acting, following a script written earlier in the day. In truth, the organisers had long known that Arciel was never going to show. She missed her check in and the delegation had already confirmed that she was missing—her maid had delivered the news with a pale face and a dire expression.

  That very same maid walked out of the gladiator gate and pretended to brief Octavia on the circumstances. There was an active search; both nations had their spymasters on the job.

  “Unfortunately, I have received news that Queen Arciel is missing at this time,” she said. “She vanished last night, and no one has seen her ever since. As per the standard rules, fighters may not be late by any more than fifteen minutes. We will begin counting down now. This match will be rendered forfeit if she does not enter the ring by the designated ti—"

  A deafening crack cut Octavia short. The sky shattered like glass, leaving a layer of cracks that soon broke to reveal a scene that looked like a child’s room taken from an ant’s point of view. A woman with a dark green ponytail leapt out of the barrier with her magic still firing from her wand. A jet-black bolt crossed the sky and flooded the realm, obliterating the caster within. A battleship destealthed a moment later and started firing its cannons, but the ponytailed fighter deflected the lasers with a flick of the wand. With her other hand, she crafted a tentacle that cleaved the fortress in half and detonated the generator.

  Still falling, the woman splattered when she landed on the arena’s barrier, becoming a blob of ink nearly four metres wide. The wet smear sank through the supposedly impenetrable barrier and filled the arena with its gloop. It briefly thinned as it did, revealing that it was not quite as jet-black as it'd first appeared. Its true colour was a deep crimson, a bloody hue that had only darkened on account of its lightproof density.

  Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

  Vel'khan’s queen emerged from the puddle.

  She was bruised and battered, and her outfit was covered in lesions; her damaged cloak was the only thing that kept her presentable before the crowd. That, and the fact that half of her body was made of shadow. The fragile mist fluttered in the wind, threatening to disperse with every wayward gust. Her god-given hat was the only part of her in one piece. It alone still shimmered, shining like a star in the night, even beneath the morning sun. The relic was doing its best to heal and restore her, but it did little to stop her from gasping and wheezing as she stumbled across the stage.

  Some of the medical staff poked their heads out of the bay attached to the ring, but they refrained from moving without orders. Octavia alone approached the foreign monarch.

  "Queen Arciel? What happened? Are you okay?"

  “It is no matter. I have seen worse days.” Arciel spoke in a weary voice and forced a smile.

  “I understand,” said Octavia. “Do you have any comments regarding your state, or perhaps the incident that delayed your arrival?”

  “I shall offer no comment. It was but a mild inconvenience.” A single look at her confirmed that it was a blatant lie. She was clearly haggard. Her ponytail was a mess of blood and dirt and she had massive bags under her eyes. Even ignoring her wounds and her tattered clothes, one could clearly see that she was worse for wear.

  “Then we’ll move on with the show.”

  Octavia lightly touched the artifact hidden in her sleeve and activated the REIDOM, causing Arciel’s status to appear in the sky.

  Arciel Vel’khan

  Health: 1064371 (35%) [Cursed] [Unhealable]

  Mana: 67067307 (7%) [Cursed] [Unrecoverable]

  Racial Class: Aspect of Stolen Light - Level 1062

  Primary Class: Eclipse Bloodmoon Archmage - Level 5349

  Secondary Class: Evernight Moonblessed Apostle - Level 4913

  Tertiary Class: Heiress of the Starry Sky - Level 4459

  Quaternary Class: Evernight Apocalypse Spellthief - Level 4372

  Quinary Class: Evernight Umbral Assassin - Level 379

  Notable Equipment: Evernight Moonthread Witch Hat (Quality: 17329), Grimswald’s Thirstquencher (Quality: 14102), Llystletein Panties of Greater Abstinence and Anti-fornication (Quality: 10049), Wand of the Crowned Construct’s Core (Quality: 7010), Fan of Moonblessed Salvation (Quality: 6423), Emblem of the Sunless Sky (Quality: 6002), Spellbreaker’s Bracelet (Quality: 5294)

  The crowd gasped and cheered as they beheld her status. The numbers were insane, and her distribution was even more so—her ability scores were in close proportion, with magic only about three times as high as the average stat. She’d dipped into battle mage territory, and her levels, at least, surpassed many of the nation’s most powerful elite.

  While the whole crowd had risen in excitement, none were quite as shocked as the theologians. They had practically shot out of their seats, kicking them away with such force that they destroyed them in the process. Eyes wide and mouths agape, they were completely, utterly, and truly stupified by that which they saw upon the display.

  It was not her depleted health, the wall of high-leveled classes, nor her absurd equipment that robbed them of all their attention.

  It was her racial class.

  She had one of the few documented classes known to have belonged to a god.

  She had inherited the very same concept that belonged to the deity she worshipped.

  She had walked the path that the moon herself had once chosen to tread.

  The revelation soon carried through the crowd, driving its members to gawk and squeal. Not just because Arciel was assured to be strong.

  But because there were still two fighters who were even stronger. The Grand Magus had clearly grown in her time away from the capital and become far more powerful than ever. And the last Vel’khanese combatant in tow was somehow even more potent than both the most powerful pure mage to have ever set foot in Cadria and an aspect set upon a path to become divine.

  “This battle’s stage is a special treat,” said Octavia, with a smile. “For most, it will be a brief, phantasmagorical hallucination ready to be seen exactly once in a lifetime, a mystical sight taken straight from a fantastical dream. For while it is a wondrous place that exists within this world, it is not one that is freely accessible by those of us who lead ordinary lives. It is sacred ground, a temple to the moon and an administrative office in one. Though we have filled its terrariums with otherworldly traps and powerful monsters, it is a sight with which Queen Arciel is intimately familiar. It is the Vel’khanese Throne Room. The place where the queen addresses her visitors and people.”

  The sun vanished from the sky as the terraformer cranked to life. Suddenly, they stood amidst a deluge of sand and water, a room that served to model an archipelago, with sparkling, white-sand beaches and the beautiful blue sea filling the space between them. Creatures of all different shapes and sizes dotted the terrain, prey and predator species alike, with their size as the common denominator. The deeper parts of the water featured large glass cages with whole miniaturized biomes contained therein.

  “Take your stances!”

  Both fighters were automatically relocated. Arciel was placed atop the royal seat, while her opponent was set down at the door.

  “Begin!”

  Octavia’s voice rang through the night, accompanied by a bell that marked the start of the battle.

  Arciel stood up from her throne and brandished her wand while her opponent simply threw his spear over his shoulder and yawned.

  “Oh yeah,” he said. “Before we start, er, I know we technically already started, but my school’s got this whole introduction thing that’s a part of the ritual. You mind if we go through it?”

  Arciel frowned. She suspected that it was some sort of trick, but she lowered her weapon regardless.

  “You may.”

  “Thanks,” he said. The man cracked his neck and shoulders and held out his weapon in front of him, its tip pointed to the side, running parallel to the spearman and the queen. “My name is Berius, 23rd student of the original Vestudian Master and its second true Grandmaster.”

  He lowered his weapon and then drew a wand from his side.

  “And at the same time, I also happen to be the Grand Magus’ 151st disciple. In honour of both of my teachers, I will be taking your li—”

  A jet black tentacle crossed the ring, gripped his throat and stopped him shy of finishing his proclamation.

  Arciel was already fuming by the time he mentioned Allegra. She’d wasted the entire night killing her students. She’d claimed at least three hundred of their names. The only thing she was sure of was that she was so sick and tired of hearing each mouth off that she never wanted to hear the cottontail’s title again.

  Still keeping him bound, Arciel shifted through the shadows, appearing in front of him in an instant with her wand already filled with magic and her eyes alight in a crimson light.

  A trio of magic circles formed at the tip of her spellstick, all as tall as her person and complicated as a dissertation.

  He reacted, of course. Ripping the tentacle from his neck, he immediately thrust his spear towards her throat, but a blade erupted from her shadow and removed his wrist. A hundred more followed, each impaling in a different place and locking him in position.

  Her spell followed right after, a streak of black and white that flew across the sky. It shattered the Vel’khanese palace. And even the barrier that kept the arena enclosed.

  The crowd, however, was unharmed.

  Virillius had crossed the ring and deflected the laser skyward.

  But it hurt even him, blackening his hand and causing it to rot off the bone.

  The spell was technically an ultimate.

  Representing the stolen light, it harboured the concept of converting one’s life force to magic. Specifically, it converted the target’s life force to a spell-specific resource, which further intensified the lunar flare on every subsequent cast. But with Berius’ health as low as it was, Arciel found that there was no need for the secondary effect. Even the first and weakest cast had wiped him off the face of the planet.

  Returned to dust, he left the Vel’khanese monarch as the battle’s sole survivor.