Aetherios System: Whirlwind

Chapter 30: Sparks and Old Enemies

Arena Platform Nine: Match, Alexander Pierce of the Worldstriders vs Ashnya Vezra of the Tempest Monastery!

“Gods,” he muttered, looking down at the arena ground below. “Sure glad I got over that fear of heights when I was twelve.”

Opposite him, his opponent stood perfectly still. Her long coat fluttered in the air as the barrier around them snapped into place, and when she drew her blade it was a curved sabre etched with silver sigils. Lightning crawled down the edge as if they were ion-charged serpents.

Alex exhaled deeply and slid into a defensive stance, lowering his center of gravity, boots grinding against the rune-etched metal.

The instant the that Alex even hinted at moving forward, Ashnya was gone, her form blurring into motion.

A burst of lightning exploded under her feet, propelling her forward like a thunderbolt all her own. Her first strike came in low, then high, a whip-fast feint aimed at his throat. Alex leaned back, barely dodging the crackling edge of her blade, feeling the heat of displaced air skim his skin.

Just from the first attack, Alex could see that her martial art was about precise bursts of acceleration followed by sudden halts. With each of her strikes meant to draw a counter before punishing it with another.

Her sword screamed as it cut through the air, sparks trailing in streaks of blue-black discharge.

Alex blocked the next blow with his new forearm bracer and pivoted away, keeping his distance. Fast, he thought, but not faster than some of the arcane beasts I’ve fought.

His muscles ached with force of restrained power, the result of weeks of training and stat allocation finally showing their worth after his spars with Master Sionnadel. He could anticipate his opponent’s movements before they landed from the tell-tale signs in her body language. It was in the slight twitch in her shoulder, the microsecond delay between her bursts.

He didn’t want to show too much in that first bought. He had already decided on no spells, and no [Demon Asura Style], nothing that would mark him on the betting boards or draw yet more questions from Sects already watching.

Instead, he went with what he could use, his [Glyphcraft] inventions. After all, Devon wasn’t the only one who knew how to enchant things.

He mentally reached into his bracelet and flicked a small shard of crystal between his fingers. It glowed faintly red.

Ashnya lunged again. Alex threw the crystal into the air and his will passed through the glyph lines carved into its surface. It detonated with a sharp crack, and a shockwave of heat and light forced her back into a retreat.

Three more crystals followed the first from inside his bracelet, these ones were a soft green and began orbiting him like miniature satellites.

Ashnya fornwed at him and then raised her hand to form a spell pattern, the amulet around her neck glowing as she used it for her focus. This was something he had anticipated as well, and why he had chosen these three crystals.

He willed them forward, one after another, the barrier crystals sprung to life around him as he deflected a conjured bolt of lightning that was sent at him. But his opponent created a second, then a thrid right after, each aimed at his head, then his stomach in turn.

“Interesting,” Obby hummed in his ear. “Her spell is basic, but effective and fast. She’s trying to overload your reflex window. Don’t let her force a mistake.”

Yeah, thanks, but I already know. Alex thought back.

It looked like she had given up on her ranged attacks, as Ashnya moved back into melee, her curved saber attempting new angles in quick succession. Her defended by ducking under a slash that sent static crawling through his hair.

She darted to his left, but he moved first to intercept, reading her rhythm.

Another crystal shot out from his side like a bullet. It hit her raised blade, shattering into a burst of fire that drove her off balance. Alex was already in motion, closing the gap between them.

He sent two probbing attacks, a right hook, left elbow, and she blocked both, just as he wanted. He dropped into a crouch, swept her legs with a burst of agility.

She hit the ground hard, dark lightning scattering from her skin in every direction.

Before she could recover, Alex followed through with one final kick that contained considerable strength behind it. The impact cracked the bones of her ribs, the sound echoing even above the roar of the dome-hushed crowd.

Ashnya went flying, tumbling toward the platform’s edge. She impacted the barrier in a flash of golden light as the safety runes activated.

Then the arena had sound once more.

Cheers, disbelief, the voices of thousands shouting his name or cursing it, though as always, Alex barely registered any of it. He stood there breathing in the heat and energy of the battle still worming through him.

That wasn’t enough. That wasn’t what he wanted, what he needed. He craved more.

His eyes lifted briefly toward the royal platform. The Empress’s gaze was fixed on the arena below her, unreadable. In the far left of the royal viewing box where the other descendant royal families sat, Lady Xhiu was smiling faintly at him.

The platform began its slow descent, lowering him back to the ground where Devon and Peter were already waiting.

“Holy shit, man!” Devon shouted, clapping him on the shoulder. “You just kicked a lightning monk out of the sky!”

Peter grinned. “You did great man. Not two flashy at all. Just the right amount of showmanship.”

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Alex mumbled a thank you to each of them. But he attention wasn’t on his friends in that moment. His focus had drifted past the crowd, to another figure walking toward one of the other tournament platforms. The man’s armor was unmistakable: ornate, clean white with green lines running along the edges, and a faceplated mask shaped by repaired crack filled with gold.

The Aeralith Kingdom’s Prince.

Even from that distance across the arena, Alex felt the pressure and saw the aether radiating off him. He had certainly gotten stronger since they last fought. The Prince was clearly at the peak of solid stage, his wind aether a tightly packed storm of energy.

Their eyes met for just a moment as the prince stepped onto his own platform. He tilted his head slightly, as if acknowledging Alex, or perhaps sizing him up.

Then he looked away.

The platform rose, carrying him skyward, leaving Alex staring after him.

“Hey,” Devon said beside him. “You okay?”

Alex forced a grin. “Yeah. Just… thinking ahead.”

But in truth, his heart was pounding again from the certainty that his real opponent had just entered the stage.

***

The rest of the day blurred into rounds of magic and violence. Steel clashing, spells detonating, the crowd’s thunderous reactions rising and falling with every match.

Alex didn’t have time to think about the Aeralith Prince after that once sighting. He didn’t want to spend all his time ruminating on one opponent. And the memories attached to that time in his life came with visions of the burning ruins of the peace summit, and that massive cloud of destruction left in its wake. How exactly that man had somehow survived that explosion, if he had clawed his way out of that wreckage… then that was a question for later.

Right now, there was only the tournament.

From the stands overlooking the floating platforms, Alex watched the others fight, each match like a window into the scale of power that they would be facing in the future.

Kate was the next in their group to fight, her flames honed razor-sharp, the air warping around her as she twisted heat and combustion with her martial style. Her opponent had never stood a chance. It took only three movements, a flicker of light, and the match ended in a shockwave of red-gold fire.

“God damn, Kate must have gotten some serious equipment from that royal sponsorship, huh? Remind me never to piss her off,” Peter muttered beside him.

“I’d worry that you don’t have to fight her in the next round of matches,” Lance teased as he pat the Light-mage on his beefy shoulder.

Peter coughed lightly. “Fuck, you’re right, that could happen huh?”

“Certainly could. Any of us might have to take each other down,” Selka said as she leered at Alex, a dagger balance carefully on her fingertip.

Alex merely chuckled. “I’ll give you a spar if you want Selka. You usually only ask one of the girls though.”

“All my grand plan to catch you boys off guard,” she said tossing her weapon up and snatching it from the air.

“Alex is dragon,” Tom-Tom said proudly from his seat. “No one can beat him. Not even Tom-Tom. Though I have grand new spoons to pummel with, I doubt I could beat him.”

“Yes, of course Tom-Tom, no one can beat a dragon,” Holly said, patting the little lizard on his head, and causing his tail to twitch happily.

“We will have to see about that,” Ghrukk barked from behind Alex higher up in the seat-box. The ork’s tusk was still broken from the fight with the chimeras months ago. But if it pained him, he didn’t show it. Instead he smiled, showing all of his large teeth.

“I guess we will,” Alex hummed, “maybe.”

Cole fought next.

His opponent was a towering brute from the Iron Fist Monastery. Cole was an off-tank and physically sturdy, but his enemy matched him blow for blow during their fight. The clang of fists cracking against armor echoing even through the aether bubble surrounding them. Cole’s focus was unbreakable, every motion conservatively controlled, his body glowing faintly with a sheen of water aether while his attacks contained the speedy flash of his light aether.

He won in the end, but just barely. Even those first rounds didn’t guarantee you wouldn’t fight a high-tier opponent.

Then came Garret. His opponent’s twin axes tore rents from the platform, but Garret weathered the barrage, waiting for the right moment before smashing through the man’s guard in a single brutal counter in the form of his Earth aether spell.

Alex was certain that Garret had made progress with his fire affinity, even learning to use lava. But he didn’t show either of those yet.

Zach’s match was cleaner. As a fast agility fighter, he was the one who pressed the offensive in his match. His spear danced, and the crowd murmured at the speed of his thrusts, each one striking exactly where it meant to without error and overwhelming his opponents only seconds after they started.

And then there was Holly, Alex couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her silver-white robes swirled as she darted across the platform, her body moving gracefully with every step. Her strikes were a blur of silver, that crashed into her target without any time for them to form a defense.

Allie’s match drew the most shock, though.

With her rather unique dual affinity, her spells flickered between light and dark aether, her mana signature shifting back and forth with each cast. To anyone else, it would look impossible for her to do, a contradiction in elemental law from two opposing affinities.

Even the announcer stammered through her victory call, unsure what to make of what he’d just seen.

“Guess Allie’s been holding back on us,” Henry said. The first words he’d uttered all day.

The hours crawled by, the heat from the volcano’s light bleeding into the air, turning the entire coliseum into a forge of energy and tension. By the time the last of the day’s fights ended, Lady Xhiu had appeared beside their group ready to escort them away.

“Good,” she said softly, looking over them one by one. “All of you advanced. That was the easy part.” She gestured for them to follow her to a quieter alcove beneath the stands.

“The next stage you’ll be assigned matches based on merit ranking, your last performance, the obelisk scans, and political interest,” she said. “Each victory from here on out will draw more attention. But that isn’t necessarily all bad, use it carefully. Fame is leverage here.”

“You already know the very top competitors based on the merit rankings and the obelisks, and I assume you did your proper research. But there other fighters that are lesser known wild cards that you need to watch out for.” She raised a finger and began pointing toward the arena, identifying names and faces among the surviving competitors.

“Ravin Drawil,” she said first.

A young man with hair the color of stormclouds stood near one of the waiting platforms, rivulets of water dripped lazily between his fingers as he laughed with his entourage. “Scion of House Drawil. A famed duelist. Arrogant he may be, but he is favored by half the noble courts. Avoid provoking him unless you can win decisively.”

Alex studied the man, trying to memorize his face.

“Next is Selior Geyrick, of the Eastern Isles,” Xhiu continued.

Alex’s eyes followed to the opposite side of the arena, where a woman in purple silks performed fluid movements that seemed to shape runeic lines out of the thin air. The resulting impressions of the sigils was both serene… and dangerous. Every motion radiated well practiced confidence that must have taken decades to learn.

“She’s polite in public,” Xhiu said. “But her duels end with broken bones, at the very least, and more often in death. Don’t count on her mercy.”

She listed others: a fire-monk from the Blazing Spire Sect, a scholar-magus from the Crystal Choir, and two twin adepts rumored to share aether affinities, spells, martial skills, and far more. Each name came with stories of power, influence, and the backing of the factions standing behind them.

“The Aeralith Prince,” Alex finally said. “You haven’t mentioned him.”

Xhiu’s expression didn’t change. “There’s little to mention. His House has no presence here. He has no high noble alliances, and no serious sponsors. He’s an underdog.”

“An underdog that survived something that should’ve killed him outright,” Alex muttered.

She didn’t respond his comment. Instead, she handed Alex a small slate containing the official bracket list, the surface covered in lines of golden runes.

He skimmed it quickly, his eyes tracing down the ranks until he found his own name listed in tomorrows fights.

Round Two (Single Elimination Tournament): Alexander Pierce vs. Talbon Norric, Disciple of the Jade Tiger Martial Sect.

From what Alex remembered of the merit rankings, Talbon had been listed as rank seventeen.

He would certainly get a real fight from him.