The two hours of break passed faster than I expected.

After my meal, I curled up and dozed for a good while, drifting in and out of a pleasant food coma while Mira and Rinvara had a conversation about something.

Before long, a resonant bell sounded from the direction of the arena; the signal for participants to assemble for the afternoon duels. I stretched my limbs luxuriously and shook myself fully awake.

The arena buzzed with renewed energy as the crowd reconvened for the one-on-one duels.

High above the stage, a newly drawn tournament bracket was shown for all to see.

I scanned the bracket eagerly, my eyes tracing the lines and names.

Now it was finally clear who would be facing whom. In the very first round, eighty entrants were paired off into forty matches. My own name appeared on one of the branches, set to duel a knight from a minor order I'd never heard of.

None of my immediate opponents were anyone I recognized or particularly feared; a quick glance told me I'd likely have a straightforward path, at least for my first two fights..

Looking further down the bracket, I felt a ripple of anticipation. Elysium's name was on the opposite bracket from mine, meaning that if both of us kept winning, we wouldn't meet until the finals, one of the last duels of the day.

A quiet huff of what might have been excitement escaped me.

My paws flexed against the arena floor, eager to get started. Around me, the other contestants were likewise preparing, checking their weapons or eyeing opponents who they knew of.

Many eyes were drawn to the brackets where a few especially interesting matchups had formed. I noticed that two crowd-favorites: a hulking, armored brawler and a lithe elven duelist, were coincidentally slated to face each other in the very first round.

The audience, picking up on this, started to mutter in approval at the promise of an early clash between heavyweights.

There would be no easy path to the top ten; even luck of the draw could pit favorites against one another from the outset.

Before the duels commenced, the head marshal stepped forward to address both fighters and spectators. His amplified voice rang out across the grounds: "Attention! The rules for the duel rounds are as follows. Each bout will last a maximum of three minutes. If no victor is decided by then, one additional minute of overtime will be granted. Should there still be no clear winner, the match will be decided by the presiding judges' ruling."

I flicked an ear, taking in the reminder. I doubted any of my fights would need nearly that long, but it was good to know how long a fight lasted at maximum.

With formalities out of the way, the marshal gave a sweeping gesture and the first set of contestants prepared. The afternoon duels had officially begun.

What followed was a rapid succession of battles, like a violent dance tournament playing out in sequence. For the most part, the favored contestants, the ones who had impressed the crowd in the morning, advanced quickly.

I watched the frostmage shroud an arena in fog to overwhelm her foe in under a minute; in the next duel, a swordswoman disarmed his opponent with dazzling skill.

There were upsets, too.

In one memorable bout, those two early favorites I'd noted went head-to-head immediately, the clash of their skills drew huge cheers, and in the end, the elven duelist narrowly triumphed, knocking the brawler out cold.

Such surprises kept the crowd on the edge of their seats. But I couldn't afford to linger too much on others' fights, because soon it was my turn.

Over the course of the afternoon, I fought two duels, each one thankfully brief. In my first match, I lumbered into the ring to face a burly knight who was half my size, and that's saying something, given my size. He drew a massive greatsword with a flourish and greeted me with a respectful salute.

The instant the marshal signalled the start, the knight charged, letting out a fierce battle cry that echoed through the arena. I stood my ground, watching patiently as he barreled forward and swung his blade in a wide arc.

I simply tanked the attack, and the sword slammed into me, bending its metal. Before my opponent could recover from the surprise at the situation, I raised my paw and swatted him squarely on the backside, with enough force to send him tumbling head over heels.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

The crowd burst into laughter and cheers as the poor knight crashed to the sand, his sword flying from his grasp. To his credit, he scrambled up quickly, red-faced but determined, and tried to engage again.

After getting back his sword, he managed a couple more wild swings in my direction, which I batted away with my paw. It was almost playful, almost.

I figured I'd given the audience enough of a show, so the next opening he presented, I ended it.

The knight lunged, and I planted one massive paw on his chest, pinning him to the arena floor. "Yield," I growled softly.

Realizing he was thoroughly outmatched, the knight thumped a gauntleted hand on the sand, conceding defeat.

The match had lasted perhaps a minute.

My next duel followed a similar pattern. I let my opponent demonstrate a move or two, it only seemed sporting, and then I finished him with a single well-placed swipe or pounce.

If nothing else, I was efficiently conserving my energy.

Despite Mira's concerns, none of these Phase-6 fighters could truly challenge a Godbeast of Sunmire, even when we were the same rank. I even indulged in a nap between matches, curling up at the edge of the fighters' waiting area while other duels played out.

My relaxed demeanor earned a few chuckles from onlookers, but I knew what I was doing. There was no sense in wasting effort.

After all, I suspected the real challenges, if any, were yet to come.

What I did spend considerable attention on were Elysium's matches.

Whenever the bespectacled scholar entered the ring, I made certain to watch closely. I didn't have to wait long; Elysium sailed through his bracket with the same ease I did, but the way he achieved his victories was altogether different.

In Elysium's first duel of the afternoon, his opponent was a swift-footed swordsman who opened with an aggressive flurry of strikes. Elysium, appearing almost bored, flipped open his black book as the swordsman lunged and began jotting something down with his pen. He hardly even looked at the fight, seemingly engrossed in writing even as the blade sliced toward him.

At that instant, the swordsman's front foot inexplicably caught on something in the sand.

With a yelp of surprise, the man tripped forward, his sword stabbing only empty air as he lost his balance. Elysium took a single casual step back. Then, with almost comic precision, he snapped his book closed and swung it upward, cracking the heavy tome against the swordsman's jaw as the man toppled past.

The strike made a loud thunk that elicited winces from the crowd.

The swordsman crumpled to the ground, dazed, and the fight was promptly ended in Elysium's victory.

The audience was half-amused by the bizarre turn of events.

I found myself shaking my head in disbelief. That stumble could have been pure bad luck, but deep down, I doubted it. On Elysium's next fight, which I waited in anticipation for hours, solidified my doubts.

A similar pattern unfolded: Elysium would stand at ease with his book and pen, calmly writing a few words or a sentence, while his opponent unleashed their best attacks. Then, without fail, some freak misfortune would strike the other combatant at the worst possible moment.

It was absurd when a burly martial artist charged him: the poor man pulled a muscle in his calf while attempting a flying kick, landing in am awkward position in front of Elysium with a cry of pain.

After which, Elysium would swiftly finish the job. He showed no mercy whatsoever, he'd stride over and bludgeon his hapless foe with the spine of that big black book, doling out a surprisingly savage beating until the referees intervened or the opponent yielded.

It was a spectacle both unnerving and fascinating to watch. By the end of Elysium's second duel, a hush had fallen over many of the spectators. What they were witnessing defied easy explanation. Whispers ran through the stands, but Elysium himself offered no answers, nor did he show any emotion beyond a polite, almost indifferent smile.

I felt a prickle of concern mixed with admiration.

Elysium wasn't overpowering his opponents with strength or skill; he was making the world itself seemingly conspire in his favor. It was as if he could bend fate to his will, tipping the scales of probability with a few strokes of his pen.

I couldn't be completely sure, though. But the repeated "coincidences" were too deliberate to ignore. Observing him, I felt equal parts intrigued and wary. If his ability truly meddled with luck or destiny, then facing him would be a challenge like none I'd faced before.

How could I fight an opponent who could cause me to simply slip or err at the crucial moment?

It was a puzzle I continuously thought in my mind.

Thanks to the brisk pace of the duels, the field of competitors thinned rapidly. By the time the sun cast long golden shadows across the arena, the arduous elimination rounds were complete.

Out of the eighty who began the afternoon, only twenty of us remained standing.

They meant for everything to finish today, but it seems like they wanted to rile up the crowd even further by putting a small respite.

The head marshal's voice rang out one last time, congratulating the Top Twenty and instructing us to assemble again the next morning for the tournament's deciding Top Ten.

Overhead, the ten gonfanons bearing our symbols still waved brightly, while all others had been taken down as their owners were eliminated. I felt a surge of satisfaction at seeing my banner still aloft, and a corresponding flicker of pride when I noticed many in the crowd pointing at it and cheering.

As I made my way out of the arena floor, I couldn't help but cast one more glance at Elysium.

He was walking away in the opposite direction, surrounded by a wide berth of wary competitors who clearly didn't want to accidentally bump into him. sensing my gaze, Elysium paused and looked back over his shoulder. Our eyes met across the distance—his behind the glint of those round spectacles, and mine narrowed in quiet assessment.

He gave a courteous little nod. I answered with a slow, respectful dip of my head.

No words were exchanged, but in that brief moment, a mutual acknowledgment passed between us.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.