Threads of the Soul

The Spanish Leader might not have been paying attention to the fight, nor had the majority of the audience as they focused on the more important spectacle happening in the stands. But Corvus had been, as had a few others including one very bored looking demonic maid.

However for those that had been lucky enough to witness Woe's victory, it wasn't much more enlightening than the aftermath. In fact it brought with it even more questions.

All they had really seen was a massive arm, one that looked almost the same size as Woe's entire body, come flying out of the column of fire the Spanish subordinate had been spewing forth. It had deep black skin with hardened, white knuckles and bulging muscles that threatened to tear its skin apart. But that was all they could see of it.

It was that massive, monstrous arm that had punched the once handsome Spaniard in the face, making his glass situation even worse than before. Just that one punch had sent him flying across the arena, while the arm disappeared into the fire once more.

Once the Spaniard was barely clinging to consciousness across the arena, and the flames dispersed, Woe was left standing in the middle of the arena unharmed, with no monstrous arm to be seen and definitely no accompanying monster.

With the fight decided, half of the audience was left baffled while the other was left curious and confused. All except a single pair who rose to their feet and started to applaud.

Side by side, Astra and Corvus applauded Woe for his first ever victory, like they were parents cheering on their child at a baseball game. Woe blushed deeply at their embarrassing display.

His face turned completely scarlet as he suddenly found the ground the most interesting thing in the world, unable to look at them despite their eager applause and a few whoops thrown in there just to embarrass him some more.

Woe scampered out the arena, causing Corvus to chuckle and sit back down with Astra, putting his arm around her and pulling her close as if they were just watching a movie.

Of course as embarrassed as Woe was, it was absolutely nothing compared to the embarrassment felt by the Spanish Leader, who had to drag himself off of the ground and slowly make his way back to his other subordinate. He was eager to get back to his seat, then simply blend into it until everyone forgot about his existence.

That was probably for the best.

The next few fights between subordinates carried on without a hitch, however they quickly became quite... boring, in Corvus' opinion. The use of their abilities became much more subdued, to the point that some avoided using them all together.

Whether this was because they didn't want to show their hand, especially after Woe's unexpected and mostly unseen victory, or if it was because they feared being the next one's to have to grovel to a Celestial. That option was especially bad not just because of the utter humiliation of it all, which the Spanish still hadn't recovered from, but because the next time it might not work out so well.

They mostly put it down to luck that Woe survived, luck that his ability - whatever it was - could keep him alive under the incinerating flames. But not everyone here could do that, and they all had their own ways of killing their opponent, accidentally or intentionally.

So reservation became the new norm, hoping to simply last through this spectacle, rather than the previous desire of bragging. Unfortunately reservation didn't make for good entertainment.

Thankfully, Corvus had another tournament up his sleeve. He shifted his attention, focusing on the empty suit of armour posing as himself in Ravenkeep.

The forging competition was currently ongoing within the much larger and much more grandiose Colosseum of Ravenkeep. Not that he was bragging or anything about the size of his arena.

That would just be petty, and he was anything but a petty person.

Countless forges lined the ground of his lovely stadium, each one being worked tirelessly by a contestant. Some of them wore traditional garb, with the leather apron and gloves to complete the blacksmith look.

But many of the more muscular men, and even a few of the women, seem to have 'lost' their shirts. Their sweat glistening, muscular bodies were displayed proudly to the crowd, who were absolutely eating it up.

Every rolling and rippling muscle from their favourite contestant sent waves of screams and cheers from different parts of the crowds. It was also an absolute nightmare for those who were recording for it to be streamed across the country, as for some reason the system never thought to add a censoring function to the Communicators.

As for the forging itself, it was strangely quite the spectacle of raw talent, engineering and innovation. They had all been tasked with creating a sword, which would then be tested against a variety of beast hides that the kingdom had in storage.

The contestants had been given a choice of different materials, with each contestant given the exact same materials to choose from. Bringing your own was not allowed, although it was not against the rules to use abilities or techniques to alter the materials in different ways.

Such as a transmutation ability or a technique that blended metals to make something stronger. That was seen as part of the person's individual talent, so it was highly encouraged.

The same mindset was given to the forges, which were all identical copies built by puppets from standard material, as well as the tools they were given. They all had the same hammer, but they had no need to use it.

Some did choose to use it, perhaps because they had no better option or because they were in the mindset of 'A good craftsman never blames his tools'.

However there was still a variety of forging techniques. From using abilities to directly manipulate the metal through your mutation, to using their own bodies magical heat to melt the material, to simply punching the metal into shape instead of using a hammer.

One man had even brought a beast that he had tamed, and was using its skull crushing feet to forge the metal.

As much as it was simply a bunch of people wacking the hell out of some metal, or that was what it was in Corvus' novice eyes, it had become a mystical spectacle that was already achieving what he had hoped it would.

It was exposing the hundreds of different techniques, hidden geniuses' and ways that abilities could be used. Many of the people below might have been completely self assured in their abilities, thinking themselves above others only to find a rival in the competition.

One who surpassed them in ways they couldn't imagine and forced them to improve their own craft in response.

Looking over the hundreds of crafters, Corvus chuckled softly as he imagined the countless rivalries and competition romances that were blossoming below him.

However of all the competitors fighting it out to be seen for their forging talents, one in particular naturally drew Corvus' eye. He had promised not to show favouritism in his judgement, but that said nothing about silent cheerleading.

Puppet Corvus leaned forwards in his chair, watching a hooded figure work the metal with practised expertise. His movements were fluid, as if he had been doing it every second of his life, and his command of the metal was almost as if it was speaking to him.

After a few more taps with the hammer, the forger paused for a second, taking in the sight of the metal, before plunging it back into a forge that roared with Onyx flames.

Much to Corvus' surprise, however, whilst the competitor was waiting for his blade to heat up under the power of the magically controlled flames, he had turned to face the force beside his own. Thɪs chapter is updated by N0velFire.ɴet

This was manned by a woman in a white tank top and loose fitting trousers. While the tank top contrasted well against her chocolate skin, most would think it was a poor choice given the sweaty conditions of such an activity.

Yet despite the overwhelming heat of the arena, which was intended as part of the competition, this woman didn't seem to be shedding a single drop of heat.

In fact, not only that but she had left off any protective gear meant to help with the heat, including handling the metal with her bare hands instead of gloves and tongs. Her curly hair was pulled back into a neat pony tail, which bounced and sprung as she moved.

From where his puppet was sitting, Corvus could see that the woman was talking and laughing with the hooded figure across from her. He had no idea what they were saying, not without sneaking a puppet closer, but he chose not to.

Instead he simply leaned back and laughed softly as he watched them talk, joke and shamelessly flirt in front of the entire country. He just wondered if the cloaked figure even realised he was flirting. He was only a year old after all.

'Titus you absolute dog...'