"Good morning, and welcome to day three of Valencia's annual summer festival!" Octavia walked out onto the stage as the play's second act reached its conclusion. "Thank you again to the Soprano Theatre Troop for their excellent performance. As much as I would love to discuss their wonderful interpretation, I do believe there is a battle to be fought."

The display, which had once reflected Octavia from all different angles, changed to a picture showing Graham and Lana.

"Just two days ago, our very own Sir Graham of the Old Marinus March defeated Vel'khan's Lana Penhorn through an incredible demonstration of Cadrian tenacity and seized the first of our seven battles. Today is round two. Will Vel'khan even the score? Or will we pull further ahead? That's something that we'll all have to find out together."

A brown-skinned elf stepped into the arena as she continued, his face and status displayed on the projection. He was dressed in the same outfit he'd worn to the qualifiers—his lower half sported a pair of long, baggy pants while his upper body was fully exposed. He did technically have a shirt equipped, but it was tied around his waist.

"On Cadria's side, we have one of the few men known to commonly wander the Langgbjerns. Those who live in the northernmost lands describe him as a great protector, a ward against the monsters that spill from the mountains and a master of lightspeed combat. Even the gods recognize his mastery of Arc Plasma, and have assigned him a title to match. He is not one of Tzaarkus' favoured, but a usurper who has seized his power for himself. Ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together for one of the few to have conquered the Lost Library's trail: Leutgar Silverthorn, the elf from the land of sand!"

Leutgar Silverthorn

Health: 1179690 (100%)

Mana: 506410 (100%)

Racial Class: High Elf Lightningclad Mirage - Level 970

Titular Class: Heir of the Crackling Sky - Level 6099

Quinary Class: Llystletein Voidrent Blademaster - Level 3501

Notable Equipment: Sword of the Splintered Sun (Quality: 9810), Sword of Shimmering Starlight (Quality: 9031), Crowned Bird's Crest (Quality: 3597), Jittern Lord's Cloak (Quality: 3182), Winged Shoes of Soaring (Quality: 2011)

His numbers were absurd; his classes were ridiculously high level, and his equipment was somehow even better. But most insane of all was his ability score distribution. Most other fighters had somewhat balanced bars. Sure, some stats were neglected—Graham had almost nothing in wisdom—but one could at least eyeball their overall distribution. Leutgar, however, was not most other fighters. His agility stat was so ridiculously high that it left everything in the dust. Even his dexterity, his second highest number, was less than a hundredth the value.

"Standing against him is one of Vel'khan's most trusted. She is the deadliest maid to have ever walked on Prian soil, a veritable affront to public morals, and a dealer in both dinner and death. Even to her countrymen, she is an enigma, known only for her peculiar character. Her name is Chloe Grouset. And today, again, she serves her mistress' will."

Chloe Grouset

Health: 4049546 (100%)

Mana: 97165 (100%)

Racial Class: [REDACTED] - Level 913

Primary Class: Unidentifiable Ļ̸̾̓̑̿̃̓̌͘̚ͅͅl̸̡̘͙͖̘̤̣̜͖̤̺̮̟̉̂̄̃̎̐̅̾̽͊͘͝͠y̶̢̛̹̳͉͕̼̝͔͍͒͂̄̉͊̃̽͋̀s̸̢̡̢̹̪̻͇̰͑̍̊ͅṫ̵͉͖̗͖̤̐̇̕͠ͅͅl̴̠͍̫̰̦͕͐́̐̃͆̒̔̈́̒ę̴̫͉̋̊̅͊̒͌͝͝͝t̴̢̡͖̱͕͕̟̲͚̐̈̒̊̎̓̅͒̈̓̀͂̕̕ͅè̵͕̞̞͙̰̬̣͚͉͉͔̭ị̴̬̳͉͉̊̆́̓͑͑̕n̴̢̲̜̝̣̙̟̈́̾͛̑͆̈́̕ Maid Class - Level 2705

Secondary Class: Pervert (Tier LXXIV) - Level 5102

Tertiary Class: L̵̛̲̺͍͊͜l̴̼̳͈̒̂͒y̶̭͚̥̼̒̂̆s̶̢̡̻͕̘̋ţ̸̞̐͜l̸̞͂͂͌̂é̶̲̜̜͂̃́̉͜t̸̨̮̬͚̎̽ͅẻ̶̻̮̣̯̈́͌ǐ̵̺̙̩̦̀n̶̪̠͚̪͐̐̽̓ Thousand Edge Nightlord - Level 2553

Quaternary Class: Ĺ̴̼̠͚͜l̴̤̕y̷̫̏s̵̈́ͅt̴͍͎̓̐̅̕l̷̝͎̮̑e̸̹̝̺̍̈́̀̃t̵̬̿̀̿͆è̴̜͖͙̔į̶̧̺͇̀́͗n̷̡͔͔̰͘ Lunar Darkstalker - Level 1481

Notable Equipment: Unknown Consumables (Quality: Immeasurable), Daggers of Evernight Eclipse (Quality: 12702), Librarian's Ring of Greater Chastity (Quality: 5110), Orniferin Shell Daggers (Quality: 2310), Abstinence Jittern Death Needles (Quality: 2085), True Love's Used Panties (Quality: 250)

Her status was even stranger than Leutgar's, albeit not on account of a skewed value. Her ability scores were obscured, only showing up as a line of question marks.

"Before we begin, do any of you have anything to say to each other? Or the crowd?"

"Nope," said Leutgar.

"Nothing," said Chloe.

"Perfect." Octavia exited the stage with a smile. "The second round's map is a crowd favourite. Built into a cavern deep underground, it is a gloomy city locked in a lightless land."

The arena's walls grew, rising into the sky before forming a layer of bedrock overhead. Spires sprouted from the ceiling, shooting to what was once the floor as glimmering gems sprouted from within.

"Only with the discovery of brightstones did it find its first exposure to radiance. It is the land of eternal night, plagued by cunning thieves, all seeking to hoard every last glimmer. Welcome to The Underdark."

Like windows, the glowing rocks revealed the many rooms hidden within their containing structures. Sized like mansions and numbering in the thousands, the individual towers flooded the blackened settlement. Their arrangement was far from haphazard. Placed in neat columns and rows, they formed a grid measuring five streets in both directions, with the central intersection home to a giant, glowing rock. Like the sun, it illuminated the world, but only dimly.

"Take your stances!"

Gravity inverted, leaving the fighters to fall through the sky and into the upside-down city.

"Let the battle begin!"

But the signal was given before their feet touched the floor.

Chloe was the first to act. She threw a sewing needle into a nearby spire. Using the thread attached to its eye, she reeled herself in and vanished behind the tower. Her opponent, in the meantime, landed lightly on the ground and scratched his head. He carefully scrutinized his surroundings, only finally moving his hands to his swords when Chloe attacked.

Drawing just one of his three-metre-long blades, he knocked the incoming needle into the ground. It was a tiny little thing, about half the length of his pinky and thin enough to be practically invisible. The only reason he'd caught it was because of the way it sparkled as it traveled through the darkness.

Lifting it, he found that it was coated with a strange, viscous liquid. Its exact colour was difficult to make out in the darkness, but seeing it sent a shiver down his spine regardless. Something about it was so incredibly wrong that he couldn't help but discard it with a shudder. Taking a breath, he raised his sword, closed his eyes, and strained his ears. He listened carefully for the faint rustling of clothes, but there was nothing. She was dead silent. Either that, or perfectly still. He couldn't tell which. And even if he could, he probably wouldn't have bothered to listen any harder.

Hide and seek was never worth the effort.

He heaved a sigh as he gripped his sword in both hands and raised it over his shoulder with the blade upturned. A faint hint of electricity crackled as he took a breath, a tiny spark notable only on account of the encroaching darkness. It flickered through the air, dancing to and fro before finally darting around two corners and up the side of a spire.

The elf cracked his neck when it vanished. Bending a knee, he leaned forward and kicked off the ground, quite literally becoming lightning in the process. His flesh dissolved, turning into a barrage of thunderbolts that split just before he crashed face-first into the building in front of him. Each went in its own direction; as a thousand different pieces, he twisted and turned through the Underdark, reforming as a single entity only when he reached the place where his spark had vanished. Still made of pure energy, he raised his weapon and prepared to strike, only to frown, skid to a halt, and scratch his head.

He was supposed to have found the maid. The spark was a tracking spell. It would home in on any electrical impulses, such as the ones that ran through his target's brain. And yet, though he'd traveled hundreds of times faster than sound, she had vanished before he could reach her.

Upon closer inspection, he found his spark stuck on another needle. Unlike the first, it wasn't coated in poison. In fact, there was nothing special about it, save for the fact that it carried a tiny static charge.

A smile crossed Leutgar's lips.

He'd been hoping that she'd be fast.

It was always more fun when he got to stretch his legs.

He was allowed to entertain the thought for only the briefest of moments before it was intercepted by a barrage of projectiles. Thousands of tiny metal pieces flew through the skies, closing in from every which direction. Like the first, they glimmered in the darkness, their tips coated with the same mysterious substance.

The elf took a moment to survey his surroundings and search for his assailant before finally responding to the attack. It took only a single swift motion, a light swing of the blade, to repel the barrage. The sheer force of the horizontal slash created a massive blast of air, powerful enough to send the almost weightless needles flying in all different directions. But it was only for a moment that they veered off course.

They corrected themselves in groups of four, their tips suddenly rising and surging towards him again. The elf was confused, but a closer examination revealed that every last needle was stringed.

Laughing, he cracked his neck, turned to lightning again, and attached himself to the lines. He surged straight towards their source, the place where they were all connected, knowing that it was where she was waiting. Through the wires, he moved even faster, bridging the distance so quickly that even he barely had any time to react.

He shocked the maid's fingers, numbing her body as he materialised as a lightning bolt mere centimeters away. His blade surged into her stomach, its edge a brilliant blue. He expected no blood—the pure arc plasma that was his form would instantly cauterize any wound he created—so he wasn't too confused when his blade emerged from the exchange unstained.

But he was thrown off by the accompanying sensation.

Or rather, the lack thereof.

There was no resistance whatsoever. It was like he had missed, or perhaps cut through a ghost. His lightning, likewise, refused to travel beyond her wires. It simply sparked at the end of the line, unable to find another tether.

A dagger appeared out of thin air as he pondered the oddity. It went straight for his throat, but he blocked it with his hilt before it could bury itself in his neck.

He swatted at it lazily, only to raise a brow when the surprisingly heavy blow blew straight through his defense. Had he not immediately drawn his second sword, he surely would have suffered a heavy blow.

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Another blade suddenly manifested before he recovered from the recoil and bored straight into his stomach. Only then, upon observing the weapons' positions and directions, did he realise that he was dealing with an unseen foe.

He clenched his abs, locked her dagger in place, and retaliated with a diagonal slash.

The hit should've been guaranteed. She shouldn't have had any time to react. But somehow, she parried his blade. It wasn't a particularly fast block. He watched as she released the knife in his gut. He watched as she drew another from under her skirt. And he watched as she slowly raised the dagger to catch his sword's descent.

It was strange, inexplicable.

His own arms should've been too fast to see. But he watched as they too moved in slow motion, snapping into their intended positions at a dying snail's pace. They still listened well enough for him to block the next attack she threw his way, but their speed was but an impossibly tiny fraction of the usual.

Leutgar didn't understand until he opened his log and noted a fresh entry.

He had been afflicted with a slowing poison.

The drain on his health was practically inconsequential. The damage was only in the three digit range, far less than his passive restoration. But the accompanying effect decreased his agility by ninety nine percent. As far as his body was concerned, the next two minutes would feel more like three hours. Though certainly annoyed—she had found a direct counter to his greatest strength, he was more so impressed by the fact that she had managed to apply it.

He was technically still faster, even at only a hundredth of his total speed. It didn't make sense for her to have landed the initial blow she needed to get the poison to stick.

It was possible she'd gotten him earlier and that he just hadn't noticed, like maybe when he touched the first needle.

Very slowly shaking the thought from his head, he pushed against her dagger, making sure that they stayed in contact as he discharged a burst of electricity. Unlike his body, his magic wasn't dulled. It moved at its usual speed, but stopped short of reaching his foe. It fizzled out as it passed through her blade and into the handle.

Frowning, he upped the power of the discharge, but she released her dagger and leapt away just as his mana swelled. She didn't, however, avoid the attack that followed. He kicked off the ground and threw his knee in her general direction. He was half expecting to miss, but the blow caught something hard. He thought it was maybe her ribcage at first. It felt like a series of long, tubular pieces, but they shattered much too easily.

It took an odd, wet sensation for the man to realise that the tubes were containers. He'd detonated some sort of potion or poison and gotten it all over his leg. The accompanying glass shards bounced right off his flesh. Though jagged and sharp, they were much too flimsy to scrape past his skin.

But all that was irrelevant.

Because the liquid had provided him with everything he'd needed.

A conduit to transfer his spark.

Arc plasma crackled through the air, gripped her body, and fried her flesh. As far as Leutgar was concerned, it was a weak jolt, more of a greeting than a legitimate attack, but it broke her stealth regardless. Suddenly, she was standing in front of him, wincing as smoke rose from her body. Her hair was frazzled and her uniform was a mess, charred in some places and shredded in others.

She immediately retreated, but he gave chase. Turning into lightning, he circled her, a grin on his lips as he lightly nipped at her ankles. He clearly held the advantage.

But then, just as he wondered about her lack of panic, she suddenly upped and vanished.

The only hint was the step that she'd taken. Her whole body simply faded into nothingness the moment her foot touched the floor.

It was a function of her quaternary class. Its capstone ability granted true stealth whenever she stepped into the shadows, broken only upon sustaining a direct hit.

Chloe circled around the elf, taking slow, careful steps as she moved to his rear. The two daggers in her hand glimmered as they reflected the light all around them, but like everything else she had equipped, they turned invisible as soon as she stepped out of the light.

The elf was waiting for her, lazily scanning his surroundings with one sword lowered and the other held over his shoulder. Frankly, he terrified her. Even slowed by brugganost venom, a toxin capable of practically freezing one's time, he was still fast enough to react to her attacks. It wasn't just a factor of his absurd raw speed, but also some sort of resistance. That much was clear from the experiment that followed. The verglam poison she'd dumped all over his knee should've eaten through his skin and left him howling in pain. But it did nothing. In fact, he acted like he didn't even feel it, even though she'd concentrated the concoction to such a point that it needed a specially engineered container.

She stepped towards him with a gulp. Spinning the knife in her hand, she produced one of the flasks hidden in her sleeves and coated its edge with its contents. The green and purple substance bubbled atop the blade, sizzling as it slowly melted the orniferin shell. It was more of a contingency than it was a real plan.

Because while he suffered no damage, the elf was still subject to the verglam poison's effect.

It was a reverse anesthetic.

His sense of touch was isolated to the place where the substance had touched his skin. The rest of his nerves were dulled, unable to relay any messages. She knew that for a fact; her Nightlord class had a passive ability that allowed her to see active debuffs and it readily confirmed the numbing effect.

Taking one final breath, she closed the last bit of distance and drove both knives into the back of his neck. The plan was to sever his spine and prevent any further control of his body. The dragonsbane would handle the rest of the heavy lifting and ensure that he never recovered.

The execution went perfectly to plan.

Her blades glided smoothly between his vertebrae, severing his nerves with a clean, scissor-like motion. His flesh extended and reconnected as he ordered his body to heal. But it was never restored. All it did was bubble, swell, and explode into a fountain of pus. The corrupting poison overflowed from the wound and sank into his body, slowly but surely growing the surgical incision into a bloody gash.

Chloe breathed a sigh of relief, only for the man to twirl one of his swords into a reverse grip and stab her through the gut.

She didn't even have a chance to process the pain before she was electrocuted again. The man's mana coursed through her body and blackened her veins. Grimacing, she backed away as quickly as she could, but the sword was much too long. The second blade closed on her neck before she could get so much as halfway down the first. She threw a dagger in its path, but the giant longsword easily knocked her tiny knife aside and ripped open her throat. It barely stopped short of piercing her carotid. While the edge bounced off her hardened blood, the accompanying lightning saw no such barrier. It arced into her flesh, leaving a blackened mark that ran across her chest.

Only then did Chloe pull free. Leaping away, she vanished into the darkness and produced a flask from under her skirt. She poured the sparkling crimson fluid straight over her neck wound. The injury healed immediately, just like all the others she suffered. Despite its healing function, the substance was no potion, just a dose of blood drawn from one of the party's members.

The maid breathed a sigh of relief as the pain went away. She walked around the city, one eye on her foe as she contemplated her options.

Plan A was out the window. He was much too fast, even shackled, for her to meet him in direct combat. Plan B was likewise a non-starter. The dragonsbane had no effect on him while he was in his lightning-based form, and as far as she could tell, it didn't strain him to maintain it. But thankfully, she was prepared for that exact scenario.

She briefly fiddled with a golden vial—her last resort—before returning it to her skirt and drawing a bouquet of wires. Flicking her wrists and twisting her fingers, she set up a razor-thin net that spanned the skyline, a web with blades, poisons, and needles interspersed. As a non-mage, it was the closest thing that she had to a domain, a literal web of death in which she'd ensnared her enemy.

He took notice immediately. His eyes flashed as he traced the lines to their source and kicked off the ground. She could tell when he took his first step. The poison still sapped the speed from his limbs, but as lightning, he closed the distance in an instant, moving so quickly that her brain refused to process that he'd moved at all.

Again, her shadower class was her saving grace. One of its signature skills, Shadestep, allowed her to evade his attack and appear right behind him. Considering the pace of the battle, its three second cooldown might as well have been a veritable eternity. Everything could very well be decided before she had the opportunity to cast it again.

Especially since she had finally drawn Griselda's daggers.

The twenty four-knives served as one of the most ridiculous equipment sets that she had ever seen. Their baseline stats were nothing short of ridiculous and they shared four powerful abilities. The first was purification. Anything that the blades touched would be cleansed of filth. The property applied to the weapons themselves, and worked alongside their self-restoration to remain perfectly pristine.

The second ability aided in dealing absurd amounts of damage; every subsequent attack would have its output amplified, regardless of which dagger was used to perform the strike. The third was a modifier on direct hits. Connecting an attack with one dagger enabled the other twenty three to do the same exactly one time, distance be damned. If that weren't absurd enough already, each individual knife came with an additional unique effect.

Star Eater, the one in her left hand, would blind, deafen, and silence any target struck.

Eclipse, the one in her right, could remove all enhancements and status boosts. Any such removals were also disabled—briefly barred from reapplication.

Their one downside was that they couldn't be poisoned; their self-purification cleansed them of all filth, including that which the wielder applied.

It was a shame, but as was already proven, poison was a nonstarter.

The elf had found ways to mitigate the most potent substances she'd brewed.

Taking a breath, Chloe brandished both knives and attacked.

Shadestep had put her in perfect striking distance.

And yet, both her attacks went wide.

Leutgar twisted out of the way. Rather than dodging backwards and drawing his blades, the elf pushed towards her and struck with his handle. The wooden grip sank straight into her gut and knocked the wind out of her sails. But that was exactly what Chloe had wanted. She dug her heels into the ground and gritted her teeth to endure the accompanying zap. Though half charred, she aimed her dagger at his wrist and slashed with all her might.

He reacted immediately and parried the attack with his other blade.

And lost his lightning-clad enchantment.

Chloe had only wanted to remove it from his sword, but it worked much better than expected. The sparks that coated his frame vanished all at once and returned him to his stunted speed. Just because he'd touched her dagger's edge.

As far as the goddess' blades were concerned, it was more than plenty.

Stepping into the darkness once more, Chloe grabbed the belt strapped to her thigh and swung it through the air. Though the blades were undrawn, that alone sufficed to trigger their joint effect. Leutgar's body was suddenly assaulted by twenty two magical slashes, plus a stab from the dagger she still held.

His limbs flew in all different directions. His face was turned into a mess of cuts, and his throat was severed silent.

The daggers' effects kicked in right after. Blood Moon ripped his heart from his chest. Serenity blinded him with delusions of peace. Mirradel inverted his perception of left and right. Heavensfall quartered his ability scores. Glamour locked his muscles in place. And Apocalypse pounded every bone in his body into invisible dust. So on and so forth, he was subject to all manner of ridiculous effect.

He would have been fine if not for the dragonsbane.

Though not quite as tenacious as someone like Graham, and though he hailed from another land, Leutgar was a bonafide Cadrian warrior. The damage was nothing but a flesh wound. But the poison put a strict stop to his healing.

His body tore itself further apart whenever he tried to fix himself.

With his lightning form disabled, it was merely a matter of time before he succumbed to his incurable wounds, but Chloe stayed cautious. She backed away and raised her weapons, just in case he sprang back to his feet.

All she needed to do was wait.

There was only one problem.

She didn't know his trump card.

It wasn't her fault. He'd never shown it in any of the practice rounds.

In fact, he'd hidden that he was capable of using magic at all. And even if he was, it wasn't supposed to matter given his near non-existent wisdom.

He formed the blood seeping from his body into a magic circle and flooded it with mana.

More mana that he should have had.

Perhaps, if he'd simply output two, three, or even ten times more magic than expected, no one would've blinked an eye. It wasn't unusual for warriors to have skills that scaled up their stats inversely with their health and no one really knew what exactly his titular class did. But the discrepancy he'd demonstrated was much closer to two or three million. And it was only that low because his stats were reduced.

Suddenly, the whole arena was flooded with his mana.

Because his wisdom had grown to match his irrational agility.

It wasn't just his wisdom.

The display showed all his bars as being equal, and not because his highest stat had fallen.

Such was the ability granted to the heir of the crackling sky. And the reason his stats had been so lopsided to begin with.

The world shook.

The sky crackled.

The elf laughed.

Arc plasma descended from the clouds, a torrent of purple lightning wider than the colosseum itself.

Everything in its path was vaporised, instantly evaporated by the elemental surge.

Chloe reached for a vial of ether, but both the maid and the flask were reduced to ash before she could even pop the cork.

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