Chapter 82: Precision and Grace
Gripping his unsheathed falx, Zayn lowered his head.
‘I can’t believe I agreed to this…’
While it wasn’t entirely necessary, as people trusted Lucas’s word, with the others from the Goblin King trial only reinforcing it, Lucas had set this up anyway so it could be demonstrated.
“The competitors are Zayn Gatlin of Camelot and Byron Jarlock of Zephyrus. Both are new competitors and as such betting will begin at even odds…”
The announcer continued with her spiel as Zayn looked at the thin man opposite him. He wore thick glasses and a green cloak, and instead of any bladed weapon, he was wielding a thick wooden staff.
‘One he didn’t walk in with.’
That meant it was likely a Relic. Perhaps it was even the result of a Contract.
‘But I doubt it.’
From the few memories he had, there shouldn’t have been anyone from Adsagsona who had earned a Contract in their initial Trial.
Though if it was one, Zayn was screwed. The base strength boost from a Contract was insurmountable for someone uncontracted like himself.
In any case…
The lack of a blade suggested he was capable of victory without one—or at least thought himself capable.
‘A Mage type? He kind of has that whole vibe going.’
Almost like he was leaning into the aesthetic.
Or Zayn was about to get whacked by a stick. But the uneven weight distribution of the top-heavy wooden pole suggested otherwise.
The man stepped forward, ignoring the announcer as she continued her spiel.
“Hello, Zayn. I look forward to this match and working with you. I go by Jarlock, by the way.”
Scratching the back of his head, Zayn replied:
“Yeah, you as well. But, to be honest, I’m not all too stoked about this. I don’t much like fighting.”
Jarlock’s dark brown eyes narrowed behind his glasses as he studied the man who was supposed to lead the elite unit to the graveyard.
Smiling, Zayn felt he should disabuse him of any preconceptions that remark might have spawned.
“Though, that doesn’t mean I won’t fight. Just like everyone, I have reasons enough to push forward…”
‘But unlike most, my reasons are a bit more… insidious.’
Jarlock nodded knowingly.
“I understand.”
Moments later, the arbiter left the arena, signaling the start of their match.
Zayn stood there for a moment before taking a stance, inspecting his own weapon, his eyes drawn mainly to the curved end.
‘Is that the win-con?’
Use it to disarm Jarlock?
‘Alright…’
Sliding his back foot away and lowering his center of gravity, Zayn began to inch toward the man, who stood nearly entirely still. The only thing he’d done so far was draw a circle in the sand around him with the edge of his staff.
Even as Zayn closed the gap, Jarlock stayed still.
‘I don’t know his game…’
But there was only one way to find out.
Move forward.
Zayn kicked off the sandy ground and accelerated into an Aether-fueled sprint. Within seconds, Zayn planted his foot inside the drawn circle and swung his sword crosswise at the staff.
Jarlock finally moved.
He swung the wooden staff into the path of Zayn’s strike.
While such a foolish action would have normally resulted in the staff’s destruction, Zayn had already surmised it was a Relic, and Relics were inherently stronger than whatever base material they appeared to be made of.
‘But I doubt it can take too much punishment.’
With that in mind, Zayn didn’t divert or pull his strike.
Imbuing his weapon with as much Aether as he could manage, the edge slammed into the twisted wood spiraling up the staff.
Jarlock’s staff held, but it was immediately knocked aside by the sheer power of Zayn’s attack.
However…
The sand underneath Zayn began to rumble.
From one portion of the circle Jarlock had drawn, a wall of earth shot out of the ground and straight into Zayn’s groin. From the second spot Jarlock had pressed his staff into, a single spike erupted upward.
In a flash, Zayn sent Aether throughout his body and turned his head to the side, dodging the spike. Though he could do little against the wall as it smashed into his groin.
Jarlock winced and looked away.
“Oof… man, my bad.”
But averting his gaze was an awful mistake.
Zayn barely even flinched as he shoved one hand down onto the short wall and vaulted over it.
All Jarlock could do was screech as Zayn thrust his hand forward and took hold of the staff’s end, holding it still.
“Wait— seriously?!”
Then, Zayn raised the falx and angled it for an attack.
A sick feeling washed through him as his mind replayed Axel and Claire’s deaths.
‘Tch.’
Thankfully, Jarlock wasn’t so hungry for victory that he’d take advantage of Zayn’s hesitation once it was clear the loss was his.
“Ah, damn. Paul was right, you are scary. Not many would just, y’know, shrug that off.”
Jarlock nodded toward the wall.
Zayn grimaced, his tone darkened by the corrupted thoughts plaguing his mind. At the same time, he reached for Jarlock’s hand.
“I don’t think that’s necessarily a compliment.”
Jarlock’s eyes widened as he suddenly began to shake.
“Ah, shit… did I piss you off? Sorry! Please don’t stab me, I surrender.”
Just like that, Jarlock was sent to the stands, and the announcer reappeared next to him.
‘Phew.’
Zayn barely managed to slap his hand against Jarlock’s before it disappeared. Although no message appeared. Since the contact was terribly brief, he didn’t draw any definite conclusions, but it was likely Jarlock was not a Disaster.
But…
‘Huh…? Why did he react like that? I was only trying to shake his hand.’
Zayn sighed.
‘Plus… he just tried to skewer my head?! What does he mean, “don’t stab me”?!’
Should he not be prepared for such a thing, having entered a damn coliseum?!
Zayn stretched as he straightened and glanced at the jubilant announcer.
The girl smiled.
“Congratulations, your winnings total two silver. Would you like to keep fighting or retreat with your earnings?”
‘Wait… winnings? Winnings mean winning… coin? I’m… I’m getting paid for this?!’
Lucas had paid the entry fee for him, but…
‘It was an incentive?!’
Zayn’s gloom and doom gave way to pure cheer as he learned what was on the line.
“I’ll keep fightin!”
It was the plan anyway, but he screamed it as if it were something he’d just decided.
Maybe he wouldn’t ever get his money back from Ms. Pickpocket, but he could at least earn back what he lost!
Money was Zayn’s second greatest motivator. Second only to love, of course.
The announcer turned away and shouted:
“The winner of this fight is Zayn Gatlin of Camelot… If you bet on the game, go to the broker to receive your winnings. As for fighting, a new fighter, Caldon Horris of Vulcan, has lined up to challenge Zayn.”
The man named Caldon walked out and introduced himself as the announcer dipped back into her spiel about betting.
In the meantime, Caldon walked up and got somewhat acquainted with Zayn, during which he apologized for his guild leader’s obstinance during the ’round table’ meeting.
Zayn responded with little more than lukewarm acknowledgments, all while wearing an expression of glee and hope.
The last thing Caldon said before their match was whispered under his breath:
“Damn… pinball is a bit insane.”
Then Zayn beat him in barely a few seconds after disarming him with the hook of his sword.
Being a good sport, Caldon surrendered.
The rest of the day went quite smoothly. Zayn was able to win all of his matches convincingly and only suffered a few scratches in the latter half.
The problem was…
‘None of them were Disasters.’
And…
‘These are the “elites” of the other guilds?’
Sure, Zayn had some experience from his past life, but these challengers were simply too poor at fighting to be called ‘elite.’
Of the sixteen he fought, the most impressive was the first one, Jarlock.
‘And he lasted less than thirty seconds!’
Though, that might also have been due to Zayn being fed an inordinate amount of Aether Shards compared to everyone else. His base strength wasn’t exactly double everyone else’s, but such a mistaken assumption wasn’t easy to correct. Especially when Zayn was more skilled with a blade than anyone else at the time.
Plus, there was a second factor he’d only learned about recently…
Everyone else. Every damn person who went through a different Trial than him…
All of them had their Aether awakened from the start.
Zayn’s group was the only one who had to suffer and find a way to awaken it on their own. Meaning, Zayn and the others had had their fighting spirits, minds for battle, and tenacity forged in hell compared to everyone else.
‘Kind of BS if you ask me…’
Apparently, their ‘angels’ had given them all a starting Relic to awaken their Aether. A small book…
Oddly, Zayn felt like he knew that Relic’s origin.
What else could it have been but Adsagsona’s Aether Guide from her years of traveling the world, spreading the secrets of Aether?