Theo knew little about warfare in Iaredin. The only touchstone he had was the information Luras and Aarok had given him about the Qavelli Irregulars, which were a group of soldiers drawn from far-flung places in the dead kingdom. What he was witnessing below was interesting, but he wouldn’t qualify the fighters as career military folk. They were less disciplined than the adventurers in Broken Tusk, and held almost no cohesion.
“That’s gonna cost them!” Fenian shouted with a cackle. “The red team’s captain tried to flank, but failed to defend their own!”
“What we’re seeing is an insane melee,” Theo said. “What’s the point of spreading out into ranks if you’re not going to fight in those ranks?”
“Exactly, Theo. What we’ve got here is a case of low-level people who read too many books on war.” Fenian shook his head, jabbing his finger toward the red team again. “The commander for the red team just got clobbered. Now we watch as they descend into chaos.”
Theo realized it would’ve been better if both teams had started out of formation. He watched as people stabbed at each other. None of the attacks pierced the skin, though. A red or blue flash of light appeared where the strike happened, leaving that limb limp. In the case that someone was struck on the head, they toppled to one side unconscious. That led the alchemist to a thought. This would be an amazing training ground for soldiers. If they couldn't be injured, then they could conduct as many war games as they wanted without fear of losing any of their force. He shook the thought away, returning to commentating instead.
"I'm feeling this is going to go on for a while," Theo said, scratching his head. "Without any cohesion, it's one fighter versus the other. How long do you think this is going to go on for, Fenian?”
"That depends," Fenian said. "There are a few javelin throwers on the red team who have decent aim, and red has been smart enough to pool those weapons together. So we might see a turning of the tide here pretty soon.”
"I bet you saw a lot of stuff like this during the war," Theo said. He didn't press the button for that comment.
Fenian turned, a slightly dark expression passing over his face for only a moment before his normal cheerful error returned. "We fought in a similar fashion, but the monsters didn’t line up for us to kill. But there was a lot of standing on defensive walls, falling back, fighting retreats. It was not a fun time."
"So you know that Elrin is fighting a war in heaven, right?" Theo asked. "Do you think that's really a good idea? Is it part of your weird master plan?"
“The gods will respect us more if we show them what we can do. Plus, it'll help them be prepared for what's going to happen when we do the switch. Right now, we think they're too complacent. If they continue on this path, they won't be ready when gods from afar attack. And trust me, they will attack.” Fenian paused for a few long moments, his eyes locked on the battle below. “The first strike will come from the Lady of Light. I’m sure of it.”
Theo thought he remembered the name of that god. From what he understood, the world Fenian grew up with was monotheistic. There might have been minor gods he was unaware of, but he had only heard reference to this Lady of Light. That meant she was outside of the bubble somehow, biding her time. But how did Fenian know that? The alchemist decided not to ask questions and instead returned to his job as a commentator.
The fight was predictable after that. The blue team was ultimately the victor after taking out everybody else on the red team. Theo was happy to see that. When the fighting was over, nobody on either team held animosity toward the other. They shook hands, and the audience screamed with excitement. And that's when he learned he would be stuck for the rest of the day commentating the bracketed fights. At first, he wanted to be upset about it, but then he realized it would probably be the most interesting series of fights during the entire tournament.
During their break, Theo and Fenian had some food in the same commentating booth. It was catered by the Marsh Wolf Tavern and included a few of the alchemist's favorite spicy dishes. He ate happily, finding that despite his initial impressions, he was more excited to get back to commentating than expected. There was something about watching the organized games, including the reaction of the audience, that he loved.
“All the fights will be between fighters labeled red and blue. The audience doesn't know exactly who they are unless they can determine that by sight. I don't know if this is to keep their identity a secret for the prize category, but all participants are able to wear a mask if they want.” Fenian concerned himself with a plate of rich meat, washing it down with more than a few cups of wine. “We’ve got a decently big bracket, so I hope you’re ready to do some seriously good commentating!”
Theo doubted that the first few rungs of the ladder would be anything but a one-sided battle. The audience might not have information on the fighters, but as the commentators, they had access to the levels and cores of those participating. The first fight would be somebody at level 20 and another near level 80. It was going to be a bloodbath.
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"Do you really think antagonizing the gods is the way to go?" Theo asked. "I understand the angle of trying to make sure they're ready, but it's kind of going over their heads, isn't it?
"Except the system agreed to it. We had a secret little meeting and decided to hold our own version of the war games in the heavens. If they have a problem with it, then they can take it up with the system itself."
Theo decided it was finally time to let it go. Fenian's reassurance that the system was involved was enough for him, so he dropped it. Instead, he turned his attention to the docket today. They would have at least five fights, depending on how long they took. But for some reason, he suspected they would get through far more than that. Once they had finished their meal, it was time to get back into their seats and reintroduce the crowd to the games. An hour break was enough for them to get their energy back up.
“And a strange one,” Fenian said. “Used to worship Spit before the ascendants fell. Now he worships Hallow.”
“A healer, huh?” Theo asked, shaking his head.
“And maybe something else. We’ll have to see.”
Theo found himself getting even more excited for the fight. He wanted to see what a high-rank healer could do, especially one as savage as an ogre. As he had predicted, the lower rungs of the bracket cleared out very quickly. Those who had come applying at level 20, 30, and even 40 were quickly crushed by those approaching the ascendancy levels. To get to a high level around 80 or 90, one had to be a master of something. They had to be extremely knowledgeable not only about the way their classes worked but also plain good at what they did.
One didn’t slack their way to such levels, showing an incredible level of control and skill.
Eventually, the titular fight came. It was the elf on the red side and the ogre on the blue. Dusk had only recently fallen, and a series of lights switched on within the arena. Theo wasn't sure if those lights were provided by the building itself or something that Throk had imagined. After a short break, the last fight of the day was ready to kick off.
"What we've got here is a pretty interesting match," Fenian said. "In the red corner, we have an elegant practitioner of the elven sword style, and in blue, we have someone with healing powers. I think it's not blowing their identity to reveal them as an ogre, is it, Theo?"
“Not at all. You’d have to be blind, both in the nose and eyes, not to know that.”
The crowd roared with laughter.
"Let's see how this plays out," Fenian said, leaning in.
Neither red nor blue chose to wear a mask for this fight. They apparently weren't worried about anyone knowing who they were. Theo smiled to himself. They would likely have a different opinion if they knew the prize for this particular tournament. It was one of his insane attribute potions. But they both moved with grace to their respective corners of the arena. Since they were both level 80 or higher, he doubted there would be enough space for them. Lots of barriers would spring up, preventing them from leaving the area or incinerating the crowd. From the elf, Theo expected nothing but excellent sword work. But the ogre was unknown. He held a hammer in his hand and wore little more than robes and sandals.
"Are both parties ready?" Fenian asked, nodding with approval as both the elf and ogre raised a hand. "Well then, here we go. Three, two, one, fight!"
The elf moved in an absolute blur, even with his obscene attributes, Theo could barely track their movement across the field. They moved in a zigzag, darting from left to right with each impossibly quick step. When they came to deliver a thrusting strike to the ogre, the healer didn't make a single move. The force of the thrust sent clouds of dust shooting up in two directions.
“Oh, well!” Fenian shouted, slamming his fist on the table. “Looks like we’ve found the first limit of the arena! That’s a clean strike!”
Theo narrowed his eyes, mouth falling open. He didn’t press the button on the table. “Damn! We gotta stop the fight.”
“Now, now… Let’s give it a moment,” Fenian said. “Look, the ogre didn’t even flinch. Trust that the arena knows what it’s doing.”
Theo leaned in, wondering if his mouth could drop even further. “The arena didn’t fail!” he shouted, jamming his finger into his button. “He warped space around the blade, making a tiny portal over the point of impact!”
“My gods!” Fenian shouted. “Looks like our ogre has at least one interesting core!”
“That’s not all,” Theo said, jabbing his finger into the window. He zoomed, watching blue. “That’s a lot of light coming from blue’s eyes. Things are about to get spicy!”