“It’s time for our debrief,” Euryphel said. The SPU delegation was gathered in a private room specially reserved by Shivin’i. Ian yawned, barely awake: it was just after 7:00 am. Even after jolting himself to wakefulness using his decemancy, he felt more exhausted than normal. Perhaps it’s to do with recovering from the influence of the mystery wine?

Unsurprisingly, Lanhui seemed completely fine, the practitioner staying back to participate in the battle royale; in contrast, Diana was already nodding off, her arms crossed protectively in front of her while her head lolled to the side. Euryphel had dark circles under his eyes but appeared highly functional, while everyone else present was equally alert.

Older people need less sleep, I suppose, Ian reasoned; most of the congressional delegates were at least middle aged. He knew Mother often subsisted off of four hours of rest, though when really exhausted she would sleep for longer. She had always been the type to consider sleep a waste of time.

Shivin’i began to compile a short list of people that everyone had spoken to at the gala, along with any useful information gathered. Euryphel and the two End practitioners in the congressional group had the most information to contribute since fate lines were easy to chart and analyze, but Shivin’i and one congressional Beginning practitioner also gained a few useful insights about a trade deal that had fallen through between Selejo and Adrillon.

Ian wracked his brain for anything useful he’d learned.

“Suran Rindo was meeting with several delegates from Suvva,” he contributed.

“What were they discussing?” Euryphel inquired. “Did they mention anything about the Ratherian Rift?”

“As soon as I joined their group, everyone became Yuma Tai.”

Everyone present, save Diana who appeared to be struggling just to keep her eyes open, groaned.

“I take it you didn’t hear about the rift, then,” Shivin’i chuckled. “Very well. While you four are dueling, I’ll be working with the congressmen to analyze what we’ve learned and prepare a report to send back home.”

“Much appreciated,” Euryphel replied, inclining his head. “Duelists, let’s get on our way. It’s going to be a long day.”

—

Ian inspected the tournament bracket. Nearly half of the competitors had been eliminated yesterday; even so, there were at least a hundred remaining. There would be seven rounds of duels with a battle royale for the defeated at the end of each, save the last. Only a few victors of the royale would be incorporated back into the dueling bracket.

Everyone was sitting on the black couches lining both sides of the cylindrical waiting room, the same space they’d stayed in yesterday while waiting for their respective duels. Ian noticed Lanhui sigh and close his eyes; he wondered if it was out of relief or resignation.

I don’t think Guardian Lanhui has liked me ever since the demonstration, Ian thought. Losing yesterday in the first round had only aggravated the man’s temper. He’d redeemed himself in the battle royale, but Ian had the sense that the guardsman was feeling insecure.

“Who are you up against?” Ian asked.

Lanhui turned his head to face Ian. “Yet another Dark practitioner. We’ll probably be evenly matched, unfortunately.”

“You’re up against someone so powerful?” Guardian Lanhui was the third-ranked guardian, a combat-focused water elementalist and the SPU’s most powerful Beginning practitioner, edging out Shivin’i.

Lanhui gave him a sad smile. “I’m going up against one of Iastra’s Elite, so yes, I expect my opponent to be powerful.”

Ian winced. “You have terrible luck.” Iastra and Datcha had the first and third spots in the state rankings. Ian’s own matchup was less than ideal, but he wasn’t genuinely concerned that he’d lose.

Lanhui’s brow twitched. “So it goes. If I must, I’ll just win a spot through the battle royale again. I’m better-suited for group engagements.”

“Who is Euryphel up against?” Ian asked, scrolling through the bracket on his glossY. He had missed Eury’s duel yesterday and was looking forward to finally seeing him seriously duel in person. “Hmm, someone from Feather, a Remorse practitioner. It’s as though he’s stolen all your luck.”

Lanhui chuckled at that. “That’s probably more accurate a statement than you think.”

“Are you referring to seeding the tournament to be more exciting?”

“It’s a reasonable strategy to maximize international excitement...but it still stings.”

Ian left Lanhui to his thoughts and looked up the name of his next opponent on the distributed network: Minerva Caffrey. He’d looked into her before, identifying her as a potential roadblock to sweeping the tournament. She was a decorated duelist from the Adrilli Isles, but that hadn’t been enough to arouse his attention; rather, her dual Remorse and Life affinities gave him pause.

He’d brought up Caffrey’s name to Urstes a few weeks back. The guardian had promptly provided him with relevant combat footage that highlighted her key offensive and defensive strategies. The details were fuzzy, however, so he decided to brush up while waiting.

Minerva Caffrey.... Ian frowned, gesturing across the glossY to continue browsing through nodes on the network tagged with Caffrey’s name. At first he thought he was searching the wrong person until he realized that Caffrey was both a popular model, socialite, and businesswoman, as well as a skilled duelist. The many pictures he found of her perfect body and glowing complexion were essentially just advertisements for her body enhancement company.

Ian wondered how she could find time to do everything; it sounded impossible. He would have been intimidated by the woman’s work ethic if he wasn’t already aware of Eury’s mind-boggling daily grind, the prince sometimes stretching minutes into hours while still barely finding time to sleep. Sometimes he wondered why the prince could afford to spend so much time with him.

Hanging out together is more fun than sleeping, Ian mused, his eyes flashing over to the transparent, hardened entrance that looked out onto the arena. Euryphel was leaning up against it, his hair coiled tightly behind his head in a pattern that resembled a rose, the sole eye that Ian could see scanning the arena with cold intensity.

“Euryphel,” he called out, getting up from his seat and walking over. The prince seemed to ignore him for a moment.

“Oh, sorry,” Euryphel said a few seconds late, turning to face Ian. “I almost didn’t realize that this time, you called me in reality.”

“You’re still running scenarios?”

Euryphel gave him a small smile. “Of course.”

“I thought there was a restriction in the tournament so you could only see five seconds ahead while in the audience,” Ian stated.

“Five seconds is plenty of time,” the prince retorted.

“Perhaps in combat; not when we’re just standing around.”

Euryphel sighed and tugged at a loose strand of hair. “You can never be too cautious.”

Ian cleared his throat and changed the subject. “How old do you think she is?” he asked. His glossY projected an image of Caffrey in a dramatic leaping position, sweat dripping almost artfully across her arms and highlighting her caramel skin.

“She’s a Life practitioner, so I know it’s a trick question. Also, while intentionally waiting over five seconds after my guess to tell me the answer is a valid strategy, I’ll be the first to tell you it’s obnoxious,” the prince said, giving Ian a lopsided grin. “I’m going to guess...forty?”

Ian snickered, holding up his right hand to slowly count down. He only got to the first finger before Eury cursed.

“She’s really sixty?” he exclaimed.

Ian visibly deflated. “Did you really have to spoil yourself?”

“Of course.”

Ian snorted, giving the prince a small smile. “Well, I probably won’t be the first to tell you that it’s obnoxious.”

Ian glanced at the projected image again before placing his glossY back in the small pocket on his thigh. Could Minerva Caffrey be the woman from last night?

She was older, and moved with the same kind of predatory grace when she took down her opponents...but Ian didn’t think she was the same person. Caffrey wasn’t an End or Beginning practitioner; her affinities wouldn’t have been conducive to discerning his identity, and he was still fairly certain that the masked woman had known who he was. Additionally, when going down the stairs in the dark, the masked woman had trouble seeing. Like Ian, Caffrey would have been able to rely on sensing vitality–or lack thereof–to navigate the steps.

So who was it?

Ian’s eyes gravitated to the dueling field. Once I hear her voice...I’ll know.

—

“If you thought the last match was exciting, the next features two champions over both Life and Death. On the left we have Minerva Caffrey, more commonly known as...”

The audience finished the announcer’s sentence: “The Dreamward!”

“That’s right! The Dreamward controls both the physical and the ephemeral, the body and the mind. On the right we have someone you might remember from yesterday, the mysterious masked master of bone...The Skai’aren!”

Ian noticed that the cheers for his name were less than for his opponent. It made sense: the spectators hadn’t seen much yesterday, but Ian figured that today would change that.

“What happens when peak Life meets peak Death? We’re about to find out...commence!”

Ian didn’t plan to mess around: He’d take her out as fast as possible. He swept across the stage like a phantom, his short cape rippling out behind him. Bones still lay across his face and over his clothes, though soul gems no longer covered his eyes. As he flew, bones spilled out of his pockets and hovered around him.

Caffrey surged forward as well, her legs pumping athletically against the ground, her muscles awash in empowering white vitality. Ian saw her simultaneously surround herself in an aura of viridescent energy, likely preparing herself against the kind of energy attack he’d used to incapacitate his previous opponent.

Ian sent his bone shards forward, enveloping Caffrey on all sides. Ian saw her neutralize the oncoming projectiles with small, targeted bursts of life energy that sent the shards off-target.

Caffrey conveniently missed the shards that he’d sent underground, leaping up in surprise when three larger bone pieces erupted out from underneath her. To her credit, she recovered quickly, flipping away and landing elegantly to the side. She anticipated another subterranean volley of bone shards and bounced away again, her eyes monitoring the ground for any vitality disturbances.

All the while, Ian kept his head clear and focused, the image of a massive tapestry fashioned from arrows at the forefront of his mind. Caffrey hadn’t tried using Remorse on him yet, but she would...and he needed to be ready.

Ian took advantage of Caffrey’s dodging to close the distance between them until he was almost on top of her, swooping in from slightly above. Caffrey entered into a martial stance and moved to throw him off balance, but Ian simply twisted his own body to dodge under her grasp, trip her with an outstretched leg...and deliver a kiss of Death energy at the point of contact.

Caffrey’s leg spasmed as she righted herself, but Ian didn’t give her the chance to recover, throwing his gauntlet of bone against her skull from behind and then headbutting her forehead, his armor physically punishing her while conducting a payload of Death energy.

Losing her composure, Caffrey snarled and lashed out, jabbing out at him with a life-coated hand. As Ian went to block her, a savage pain lanced through his mind, threatening to make his sight grow dim.

While Ian was stunned, Caffrey’s attack made contact on his chest, just over his heart. Unfortunately for the Dreamward, the bones reinforcing Ian’s armor were set up in a specific pattern that defended against energy attacks, diffusing them out across a network of bone nodes that grounded into a series of soul gems.

Ian was only incapacitated for a moment; before she could withdraw, he reached out and grabbed her wrist, his hand whipping forward unnaturally fast, as though thrown. Thankfully, I don’t think Ezenti ever held back, else I may not have reacted so quickly.

The Dreamward attempted to twist away, jabbing toward his hand rather than pulling away, but her time was up: with every moment Ian maintained contact, dark energy coursed into her limb. Caffrey resisted, her vital energy actively warring against Ian’s encroaching influence, but it wasn’t enough.

Caffrey kicked out with her leg, slamming it back into Ian’s side. Ian ducked away, his body pivoting upward into the air as though dragged by his feet. Her suit suddenly flashed green and a haze of vitality coursed over her skin, causing a burning sensation to envelop Ian’s palm.

Even if you try to melt my hand off, I won’t let go, he thought. A moment later, Ian felt as though his entire body were aflame; before he could even blink, he was before a mirror, his skin blistered and sloughing off as though doused acid.

It’s her strategy to strike hardest when cornered, when her opponent comes in for the victory, Ian reminded himself, trying to re-summon the image of golden and multi-colored arrows stretching across what could only be described as time and space. He knew it was easier said than done now that he was in the clutches of her Remorse image.

Or, I can get out using another method. I am still holding her hand. Two can play at inflicting pain.

A moment later, Ian found himself jarred back into reality, the burning sensation gone. Caffrey’s eyes were red, her lips trembling. Ian released his grip, revealing Caffrey’s ruined hand. The two of them both knew how extensive the damage was.

Caffrey pirouetted away, cradling the limb against her chest. “Who taught you how to carve the body?” she murmured, shifting back into a ready stance.

Ian’s eyes narrowed. I broke and re-fused the bones of her hand together...and she’s able to ask questions? Caffrey’s hand now better resembled a human-skinned claw than an actual hand, though the Life practitioner was already working to repair the damage. Ian hadn’t crushed her hand thoroughly enough for the damage to be irreversible, but it would take more than a few minutes to reconstruct the limb.

Ian’s Death energy was still suffused throughout her hand and arm. He could finish this now by slamming her hand to the ground; the pain and damage would probably be enough to force her capitulation.

Ian discarded the idea. You’re in a duel; it’s supposed to be entertaining, not grizzly. While it was perfectly acceptable for people to get hurt and sustain at-times serious wounds, nobody would smile upon unnecessary cruelty. Her hand was already injured enough.

Besides, Ian thought, I have no grudge with Caffrey, nor do I want one. I don’t want to be the kind of person who always takes the most efficient route, justifying his every action–not when I have the power to do better. Besides, the efficient route isn’t always the best or most satisfying.

Caffrey lunged forward and once more tried to hit Ian with a mental assault before jabbing out with a life-infused hand, this time aiming for his unarmored neck. Though Ian gritted his teeth, a small smile crept onto his face. That strategy won’t work on me twice.

Deflected, Caffrey danced away to come at him from another angle. Just as she changed direction, a volley of bones burst from the ground, shards stopping inches from her throat, heart, and eyes, while forming shackles around her ankles.

“Match! Victory to the Skai’aren!”

Caffrey took in a shaky breath, then bowed her head forward, her ruined hand preventing her from making the typical post-match gesture. Ian bowed in turn, his lips creasing into a thin line. The two of them began to walk off the stadium together, heading down to the exit leading to the medical bay. Ian hadn’t even realized he’d been following her until it was too late to turn back toward the SPU’s entrance, one door of many about 30 degrees radially to the southwest.

I suppose I can try to undo the damage I’ve done, he thought. If she thought anything of him following her, she didn’t show it. Ian searched for something to say.

“I taught myself everything I know,” Ian murmured, not even sure if he was intending for her to hear the late response to her question.

“Appearances can be deceiving,” she replied. “You remind me of myself. A real...self-starter. I’d like to meet again; perhaps to fix this,” she held up her hand and winced, “and to exchange pointers.”

Ian’s face lit up with a smile. He’d been worried she’d take the loss harshly, but she seemed intrigued rather than defeated. I guess that’s the kind of mettle that drives success.

“I was thinking I could try to help heal you now,” he said. “It’ll be easier to work while the wound is fresh.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Let someone self-taught work with me, the most famous body surgeon south of Rathaway, to heal my precious hand?” She gave him a deadpan expression. A bubble of laughter rose up in her throat, belying her stoic exterior. “I’d be a fool to refuse.” She winced as her arm brushed up against a metal railing. “I have a feeling you’ll be better than anyone in the medical bay.”