Chapter One Hundred and Nine - Civility

“Entering the third round of this competition, the first semifinal bout of the day, is Broccoli.... Bunch!” Zac shouted. “And her trusty chair!”

I stepped onto the stage, waved at the crowds that had, if anything, grown bigger since that morning, then focused really hard on my breathing. I set my chair down to the side, then sat down on it with a plop. I folded one leg over the other, then twisted and sat in the other direction. It didn’t make it any more comfortable.

“Oh my, it seems our little bun is nervous. And no wonder! On the right, one of the most powerful mages in this competition, the Lord of Dust, Weatherby!”

The crowd roared as, with a huge burst of dust that spun into the air like a tiny cyclone, a man jumped up and crashed onto the far end of the stage.

He was tall, with salt and pepper hair and a large white coat that had a bit of a lab-coat look to it. Beneath that, he was wearing normal clothes with tons of pouches sewn into them. He shifted where he landed, then reached up to adjust the large glasses perched on the tip of his nose.

“Greetings, Miss Bunch,” he said.

“Oh, um, hi,” I said. “Sorry, that was rude of me. I should have said hello already.”

“Nonsense, it’s fine if you were merely a little slow. After all, it seems as if you’re paralyzed with fear. I assure you, while I fully intend to defeat you, I won’t do so while causing any damage that cannot be healed or tended to.”

“Oh, thanks,” I said. “But I’m not afraid?”

“Miss Bunch, your legs are trembling in terror.” Weatherby shifted so that he fell into a sort of fighting stance, arms by his sides and legs bent just-so.

I felt my cheeks burning up. “That’s not ‘cause I’m scared,” I said. “There was a line at the bathroom and I’ve been drinking a lot of tea.”

Weatherby didn’t seem to know how to process that.

I grit my teeth together and tried to think dry thoughts. “Can we just end this?”

“Oh-hoh,” Zac said. “It seems as if our bun is done with the backtalk. The walls are going up... the last bets are coming in... and the fight begins!”

Magical walls sprang up all around us and I got off my chair and shifted into a sprinter’s stance, ready to cut the distance between myself and Weatherby.

“Well then, I suppose we ought to begin,” Weatherby said.

Twin pillars of brownish-black dust burst out of the oversized pockets of his coat, shot out towards the corners of the arena, then with a forward swipe of his arms, the two pillars came rushing down where I stood.

I took one lunging step forwards, then rolled to the side to avoid one of the bigger pillars before hopping above the second as it swept over the ground. Where it passed, the stone surface of the arena was scoured clean.

Landing on the balls of my feet, I prepared to run towards Weatherby, only to see the man raising a hand my way while a meter-long spear-shaped dust construct hovered over his shoulder. “Oh, shoot,” I said.

I tried to twist out of the way, but I knew there was no way I was avoiding that. Weatherby had me pinned right where he wanted me. I grit my teeth and jerked a knee upwards while blasting a wave of cleaning magic forwards.

Amaryllis had said that sometimes magic interfered with other magics and could help mitigate some of the damage. I just had to hope for the best.

The dust spear rammed into my thin barrier of cleaning magic and instantly broke apart. Particles of dust still pelted me, but with none of the force I had been expecting.

I stumbled to the side then regained my balance with a swing of my arms. Had my Cleaning magic negated his Dust magic? Could that even happen?

Hopping backwards to make some room between us, I kept an eye on the two dusty tendrils. When one of them snapped forwards I shifted to the side and fired a ball of cleaning magic into--and through--the magical construct.

It worked!

Dust fell to the ground, some of it evaporating like water being spritzed onto an open fire.

Still, that didn’t mean I could block every blow... not unless I used my aura.

Biting my lower lip, I waited for the next dust lance to come, but Weatherby was a clever man, and he fired three bolts of magic all at once.

I funneled magic into my cleaning aura and brought an arm up to intercept one of the bolts. No way was I going to stand there and take the blow head-on.

The nearest bolt burst apart a dozen centimeters away from my palm, turning into little more than glowing ashes that passed with as much strength as someone blowing air really hard.

I grinned. I was covered.

Running up towards Weatherby, I narrowed my eyes and ignored the two dusty tendrils as they came crashing down on me. The air filled with glowing motes. I jumped out of them and aimed a snap-kick towards my opponent’s chest.

He slapped my foot aside while taking a long step back and to the side. “Aura magic?” he asked.

“Cleaning,” I explained.

“Interesting. My Dust Magic is at Journeyman, I didn’t think simple Cleaning magic could do anything against it.”

“Mine’s at Expert,” I said as I moved closer to him.

Weatherby chuckled. “I see. I didn’t think I would witness weaponized Cleaning magic. What an interesting twist.”

“Thanks!” I said. “I just work with what I’m given.”

Weatherby nodded along, hands slipping into his coat. “Impressive,” he said. Then a whole pile of dust flew towards my face.

I pushed more mana into my cleaning aura, turning the dust into little more than a cloud of sparkling motes. A cloud that parted when a staff came rushing out of it.

“Eep!” I ducked to the side, barely avoiding the staff before it stopped, then shot off to the side.

Two dull ‘thwaps’ sounded out and I winced as I stumbled back. He’d whapped my ears!

“Terribly sorry. That must be rather painful. I’m rather surprised you didn’t pull them back,” Weatherby said.

I twitched my ears this way and that, then with a bit of concentration managed to make them fold around and back. “They’re new,” I said.

“That would explain the second pair of ears,” he observed.

I looked over to the man, eying his new weapon with trepidation. The staff was about as tall as he was and was covered in little carvings, all geometrically precise and square. “Where were you hiding that?” I asked.

Weatherby lifted the staff, twisted his wrists, and split it apart. “My coat,” he said.

“That’s neat!” I said.

“Why thank you. I do prefer magical combat, but sometimes rapping a foe on the head with a large stick just works.”

I grinned. “You’re pretty fun,” I said as I moved over to my chair. I kicked the legs and used the momentum of that to bring the chair up onto my shoulders. I took a moment to just catch my breath and control my bladder. “I hope you don’t mind me finishing this in a hurry?”

“You do seem somewhat indisposed,” Weatherby said. “I must say, this fight has been enjoyable so far. I wouldn’t want to end it on a negative note.”

I smiled over to him. “You’re pretty nice. I’m surprised you’re in the competition. Are you new to adventuring and such?”

Weatherby raised one black and white eyebrow. “Not quite. I discovered a new dungeon and decided to change my classes. I’m a bit old for it, but I had some interesting ideas. This is merely a test to see how those ideas pan out.”

“Ah, two new classes then?” I asked. “What’s the second? Mine’s Wonderlander!”

Weatherby smiled back and spun his staff around. “Merely Fire Mage. I had ideas about combining Dust and Fire magic.”

I blinked. “Are you trying to make dust explosions?” I gasped. “You’re making magic thermobaric bombs! That’s so cool!”

Weatherby lowered his staff a little. “You’re familiar with the theory?” he asked.

“Heck yeah! Those make huge explosions. You’ll put my little fireballs to shame.” I lunged at Weatherby, chair legs spearing out at him. He smacked the chair aside, and with the reverse swing of his staff, tried to hit me in the head.

I grabbed his staff, letting go of the chair for a moment. I wanted to use it as a way to pivot my legs up to kick Weatherby, but he twisted his end of the staff and left me with a foot-long bit of wood.

Ducking to the side, I avoided a jab, then I used the stick I now had to smack away a swipe.

Grinning, I pushed some stamina into my legs and shot up towards Weatherby. It was only after I’d jumped that I remembered that I didn’t know if I could do that or not. A question that had kind of just answered itself as I flew forwards.

A quick snap-kick hit him in the chest, but the older man just grunted and used my position to throw a punch that hit me in the lower tummy.

I stumbled back and raised a hand as a time-out. “Oh, that was mean,” I said as I rubbed my stomach. “I almost lost control there.”

“Apologies,” Weatherby said.

Then he stabbed out at me with his shortened staff.

I was already bending forwards, so I rolled out of the way, flicked the small bit of wood I had back towards Weatherby, and, since it was close, I picked up my chair before spinning around.

Weatherby didn’t seem to expect me to charge him headlong with my chair before me like some sort of battering ram. He landed a blow on my head, but other than making my helmet ring a bit it didn’t stop me from pushing him back.

I set the chair down, placed a foot on it, and used it as a jumping point so that I could punch into Weatherby knees first. He stumbled back, hitting the wall behind him. He brought his staff up, but I was already spinning around.

With both hands on my chair, I shoved it forwards and pinned Weatherby in a triangle made from the seat’s bottom, its back, and the wall behind him. His arms and staff were pinned to his side, but it didn’t stop him from kicking out at me and sending a burst of dust magic towards me.

I ignored the kick that hit my thigh with a grunt and fired off a big burst of cleaning magic to ward off the dust. When it cleared, I had a hand raised in a fist, aiming right towards Weatherby.

“I forfeit,” he said.

I paused. “Oh. Okay then,” I said as I took a step back. I placed the chair next to me. “Need a sit?”

He smiled. “I’m quite well. I merely couldn’t see a way out of that particular bind that wouldn’t harm both of us more than would be appropriate for a fight like this.”

I nodded. “That’s kind of you.”

He extended his hand and we shook.

“We should get together later, talk explosions,” I said.

“Certainly,” Weatherby said with a knowing grin. I smiled back. There was a certain understanding between people like us.

Zac cut in from above. “What a startling end to the fight! Truly, a display of civility amidst combat and--”

“Lower the walls Zac!” I shouted.

The spokesperson froze. “Pardon?”

I winced, legs crossing. “Lower those walls right away or... or I’ll do mean things to you! Hurry, I drank too much tea!”

There was a lot of laughter, but that didn’t matter. The moment the walls faded away I was bolting out of the arena on a straight path towards the nearest bathroom.

***