Omen of a Bluebell

“For Emilia, standard victory conditions,” the Mage proctor says once the bearkin finishes speaking. “Either force Seraphine to surrender or incapacitate her.”

I nod along absentmindedly, taking the chance to inspect the arena itself. I was half expecting the same conditions as my last round, given how rare it is for someone in my Tier to be as durable as I am.

As he speaks, I look around the arena we’re in. Instead of a simple platform like my last match, we’re in a kind of desert, with sand and warm winds gusting over small dunes around the arena parameter.

With my constitution, the heat isn’t unbearable—but it is uncomfortable.

“For Seraphine, either land three critical strikes—avoiding the head, of course—or restrain Emilia for ten seconds.”

She nods her understanding as well, and the Mage steps back with his tablet, the Healer and Bearkin joining him as they go.

The barrier flashes once, and we’re told to start when it flashes again.

I lower my stance even further, one hand nearly touching the ground in preparation for a charge.

I already know that with her weapons reach, it’s going to be difficult for me to get close. So I might as well push hard from the start.

That’s when I remember something I did almost on instinct right after hitting Tier One. I had used Bloodmist Fist to empower my steps, increasing my speed.

Oh yes... I like that. I like that very much.

I feel a pang of regret at not remembering to use that strategy in my last fight, as it might have made a difference on my score, but I blame it on the nearly three month long vacation. While I delved, nothing was ever strong enough to push me into using my Skills more... creatively.

Not like those weird statues did.

All For One flares to life with all 36% of my available mana regen, and then…

Light flares all around us, and Scarlet Barrier comes to life around me in a swirl of wind and blood, kicking up sand as I move. I empower my legs with Bloodmist Fist after every footfall, all but leaping across the sands towards her.

Her eyes widen ever so slightly at the burst of speed, but they lock onto my legs, where the mana for my Skill is being sent to empower me. She nods to herself, as if she’s figured something out, and angles her spear low, its tip tracking me without wavering.

Then I’m there, fist flying for her chest and backed by both Arcane Strike, boosting its damage and penetrating power, and Bloodmist Fist increasing the speed of the attack even further.

She spins away, red ribbons whipping through the air as she dances over the sand and avoids the strike by a hair. Her spear twirls as she moves, and it strikes my barrier with a wide sweep.

At the barest touch from her weapon, the crystalline plates of blood shatter like glass.

My eyes widen with surprise, and I suddenly realize that getting hit by that weapon will not end well for me.

While my last opponent was able to break the barriers, she had to put her all into it.

This woman just took what was effectively a casual swipe, and the weapon sheared through it all like paper.

I close in again, this time sending a blood burst to go off around her right ankle.

But as if she’d predicted it, she takes the momentum of her previous swipe and shears through the Skill at her feet before it can even fully coalesce. The spear does… something to the magic, because I feel the Skill literally fall apart in my hands.

I'm not given time to think though, as at the same time, with grace and skill far beyond anything I’d seen from anyone, she twists away from my next punch, the butt of her spear connecting with my barrier and shattering even more of the blood crystals.

I growl in annoyance and push harder.

With the distance her spear gives her, it’s harder to get a good angle of attack—but I am faster.

Barely.

I push Bloodmist Fist into my legs again and explode sideways in a spray of sand, coming at her from the flank. I twist mid-step, kick lashing out toward her ribs with enough force to crater stone.

She blocks with the haft of her spear, using the my kick to pivot with the motion, and rotating it with her body in a smooth, practiced arc. The ribbons blur into red streaks as the blade slams into my barrier again.

More crystalline plates shatter, dissolving into mist before they can even hit the sand.

I snarl.

Fine. I’ll just wear her down then.

I don’t let up. I can’t let up. She’s doing this well seemingly without activating a single Skill—

Wait...

The moment she destroyed my Blood Burst, her spear did have a faint red glow to it, as if she had activated a Skill.

Some kind of Skill that disrupted my own.

I test the theory in my next attack, triggering another Blood Burst.

This time, I'm ready for it.

Her spear takes on a faint red glow in the moment between blinks as it pivots to disrupt my Skill before it can detonate, and I reach out with my Intelligence stat.

This is something I haven't had much practice in, though Cari did help me get a simplified grasp of the concept as she helped me better acclimate to the System these past few months.

To use the second Intelligence milestone, which allows a person to interfere with another's magics, you have to have more Intelligence than the stat governing whatever magic they're trying to use.

All it takes is a thought. And a shitload of mana.

Which I have in abundance...

A small, sinister grin splits my face.

Even restricted, I have nearly three-thousand six-hundred Intelligence with All For One. And while I can't even begin to guess what stat her Skills rely on, I'm certain I can beat it.

I reach out with my will, pushing mana into the idea of disrupting the mana in her spear. I fill my intent with thoughts of breaking it apart and dispersing it. Removing her control over the mana invested into her Skill and taking it for myself.

Only... nothing happens.

Nearly ten percent of the mana in my tail vanishes before even a full second has passed, and her control over her magic seems utterly unphased.

It continues on its path of destruction, cleaving through my Blood Burst just as easily as it did the last, obliterating my previous confidence in my stats along with it.

Then I wince at a realization I should've made much, much earlier.

Despite being faster, even if only just, she's been keeping up with me this entire time, and my Dexterity is well, well over four-thousand.

My attempt to beat her Skills with my Intelligence never stood a chance. I just didn't realize it until it'd already cost me over ninety-thousand mana.

On top of that, even if we are nearly matched in speed, she is very clearly the better trained of us. There is no wasted movements, no unplanned steps, no momentum lost.

...Will I even be able to touch her?

It also doesn't appear that she's even really trying at all.

I squash the hint of doubt and redouble my efforts.

A punch, a kick, a swipe—each backed by Arcane Strike and Bloodmist Fist flaring again and again as I push myself harder and harder.

Sand churns beneath us as I chase her down, dunes collapsing into shallow pits as we circle and clash all around the platform space.

Each time, she gives ground, always edging just outside my reach, but never engaging herself. Step after step, strike after strike, she evades.

Now I'm not certain I'm actually faster than her. But I can tell, without a shadow of a doubt, that I am absolutely stronger, and more durable.

Every near-miss and redirection tells me the same thing.

If I just land one solid hit, everything will change.

But the more we clash, the more of a gap I find between us. She may be physically weaker, but there isn’t a single mistake.

Each step that gets her farther from me is tied in with a spear strike or deflection. Each strike or deflection is turned into extra momentum for the next. Each time I miss, it gives her an opening to take another step.

On and on, the cycle repeats itself, her training and experience destroying the gap in our Stats without mercy.

The spear lashes out again, a sharp tap landing against my leg, knocking my kick off course and sending it skimming over her head instead of through her chest.

It forces me to overextend again, and she’s got her distance once more.

It rankles.

She’s been toying with me this whole time, I can tell. She just had the chance to take my leg off, or at least stab it—but she knocked it aside instead.

Like she doesn’t want this to end.

Like she enjoys making me feel like a fool.

Like she enjoys making me look weak.

Punish.

Fae Ferocity activates, giving me a massive burst of power that threatens to overwhelm me. Just barely, I manage to keep myself from losing it by reminding myself why I’m here.

It’s not a death match. It’s not a real fight. I’m not here to kill her, no matter how infuriating she may be.

It helps, a bit.

That... and the fact that I know the bearkin proctor will step in if I actually do lose control.

So instead of attacking again, I give her the space she wants, an idea coming to me.

My grin turns feral.

“You don’t want to take this seriously? Fine then,” I growl out.

Instead of pushing mana into a Skill, I push outwards with my mind, leaning into Hemokinesis and Willpower hard. Wide and diffuse, I send my control out, into the space all around us.

I hadn’t used this ability often since silencing the Matron of the orphanage, but I wasn’t completely out of practice either. With Fae Ferocity active as well, doubling my Wisdom and increasing my control over ambient mana even further?

Yeah... I'd like to see you dodge this.

I reach out, my hand open and clawing, grasping the world around us.

Then I squeeze.

The desert winds falter for a moment, then stop entirely.

The wind that had been tugging at her ribbons dies first, letting the bits of fabric fall limp. Then the faint swirl of sand around us settles unnaturally still.

Her brow furrows, and a thrill of delight races through me at finally getting a reaction from her.

I tighten my grip on the air even more, drawing it away from her. Just enough to keep it out of reach.

To starve her of breath.

Her chest hitches. Then hitches again, and her eyes narrow into dangerous slits.

“Finally noticing, huh?” I murmur, my own voice deadened before it can even reach her.

And for the first time since the fight began, Seraphine doesn’t retreat. She straightens and takes a step towards me.

Her spear comes alive in her hands, mana flooding into it in a way that makes my Sense Danger scream. The silver shaft hums, runes along its length igniting in flares of blue as if they’ve been waiting patiently for exactly this moment.

Then she explodes towards me, spear leading the charge in a haze of red mana that splits the still air between us.

I grin, more than happy to reveal my next trick. Just before she reaches me, I shunt another portion of my health and mana into another activation of Scarlet Barrier.

It reforms in a violent spiral around me, blood and wind screaming outward as it snaps into existence once more, fully restored.

She doesn’t stop. Her spear strikes the barrier as I twist out of the way, but it doesn’t hit the barrier.

It passes through it, leaving only annihilation in its wake.

Where the spearhead touches Scarlet Barrier, the blood crystals simply cease to exist, erased in a clean, circular void as if the my Skill had never been cast at all.

Every single crystalline fragment that spins into the spear, trying to knock it aside, meets the exact same fate the instant they touch its metal surface.

My own breath catches.

Suddenly, the thrust of her spear is turned into a sweep, then a snap of the haft, each one carving holes through my defenses as if they’re nothing more than decorative glass.

I keep a hold of the air around us even as I stagger back under the onslaught, scrambling to reinforce the barrier even as its being chewed apart faster than I can sustain it.

But the tone of the battle is different, now, and every part of me wants to just let loose and give in to Fae Ferocity. To tear her to shreds and take my pound of flesh and mana.

I beat back the urge, almost losing control of the air as my willpower shifts to restraining myself instead.

Losing control here wouldn't end in victory.

Her every movement is as precise as ever. Intentionally overwhelming, despite our no doubt massive stat differences and my efforts to keep her off balance. Even with Fae Ferocity active, her spear only moves marginally faster to counteract me at every turn.

Each time I lash out, it’s as if she’s predicted it long in advance, and the spear is already there to deflect just enough to keep her safe.

Each time I try to disengage, to give myself space and keep control of the air and just let her burn herself out, her spear pulls her towards me like a magnet.

And each time I try to push her, the spear is there to lance through my barrier, threatening critical strikes as punishment.

Sweat beads on my skin with the effort it takes to hold the air, but I can see her face turning red. I know that if I can keep her—

Mana flares again, this time across her entire body, Sense Danger comes to life again, the heat of the desert suddenly turning ice cold

But suddenly, she's too fast. Somehow, even with my stats boosted by All For One and Fae Ferocity, she's too fast.

How?

That's the only thought I manage before the butt of her spear slams into my ribs, completely erasing my barrier as it passes through. The strike drives the breath from my lungs in a sharp burst of pain, lessened only by Total Suppression.

But it puts me off balance for an instant, sending me half a step to the side.

I react on instinct, lashing out with my outstretched hand.

I don’t actually need it to control the air, but it helps, acting like a kind of physical image to back up my intent. Now, though, I have to act, to keep her moving and distracted. Or at least try to.

The spear lashes out again, and I feel another sharp tap against my forearm that knocks my attack off course, my fist brushing past her ear instead of cratering her nose.

Sand shifts beneath my feat as I turn the missed attack into a claw swipe, pulling my arm back towards me. At the same time strike out with my other fist, but she once more twirls out of both.

Her spear swipes at the same time, and I feel another sting.

Pain flares at the back of my legs as the haft hooks behind my knee and twists. My footing vanishes, and the desert tilts violently as I fall.

I try to reach back, to get an arm on the ground for leverage, but yet another explosion of mana pulls my attention for the briefest of instants.

Mana flares around her arms, its bright red hue showing the activation of another Skill, or possibly even multiple Skills, given the density of the mana.

In the moment between blinks, before my hand even touches the sand, the spear flips in her hands.

The butt of the weapon strikes my ribs, chest, and neck in three unbelievably fast and measured blows.

Three critical strikes, each made without a drop of blood being spilled—on purpose.

I hit the sand hard, skidding to a stop just as a pair of barriers flare to life between us, the force of the impact rattling my teeth.

“Seraphine wins,” the Mage proctor announces calmly. “Victory by critical strikes.”

I lie there, staring at her as she crashes to her hands and knees, her spear clattering to the ground as she gasps in the air that I’d just let go of out of shock. At the same time, Fae Ferocity fades, and a single thought echoes in my mind.

I… lost?

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