“Winner is Embla Feuerdrache!”

Embla let out a sigh of relief as she lowered her blade. Her opponent lay sprawled out on the arena floor before her. She held her hand out in a show of sportsmanship. Her opponent smiled and eagerly grabbed her hand. Her opponent had been an older woman. Judging from her armor and spear, she had been her party’s vanguard.

“You were a good match,” the woman said, using her spear as support.

Embla laughed, wincing in pain. The woman had landed several good blows on her and she wondered how she even won. “It hurts to laugh.”

“Broken rib?” the woman asked.

“Yeah,” she said.

Embla looked towards the audience, using her Farsight skill to spot her party. They were cheering as she waved at them. And with that, she exited the arena.

The final matches of the preliminary rounds were dawning on the city. Adventurers and members of Midgard’s military were all excited for the chance to move towards the second round. Of the one hundred and sixty fighters that enlisted in this year’s tournament, eighty were moving on to the second round.

The fervor of each match in the preliminary round was heightened this year. The mere presence of Three Great Sages were enough to kick charge the festivities into maximum overdrive. And even those in recovery from their match couldn’t help but bear through the pain of healing as they were too soaked up in the festive mood that had enraptured the entire city.

“Ow!” Embla winced as the healer used healing magic to set her ribs back into place.

“Embla!”

She looked over the healer’s shoulder to see her party standing at the door.

“Hey guys! I won!” she said, pumping her fist only to regret it a few seconds later.

“Miss Feuerdrache, please refrain from any sudden movements. We may have healed you but you will still feel some form of phantom pain from your internal injuries,” the healer said.

“Right, sorry about that,” she said.

“Looks like four of us are moving onto the second round,” Cal said.

“All that’s left to fight in the preliminaries is-”

“Me.” Pandora gripped the hem of her habit. She was one of the matches that were up next and that alone was enough to give her anxiety. The final set of matches for the preliminary rounds were set to launch the next day.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think you’re going to win. You have your Triangle Casting going for you and you know the most magic skills and magic bursts out of anyone here so you can just rain down death and destruction,” Embla said.

“Em is right. You’ll do fine,” Cal said.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll do fine.” Pandora clenched her fists and smiled at the two.

“Oh right, Mister Healer, am I good? Can I head back home now?” Embla asked, glancing over at the healer, who had just stepped back.

“You’re fine. I’ve healed your ribs and multiple counts of internal damage. That adventurer really did a number on you,” the healer said.

“Yeah, well, I don’t take Power Thrusts to the torso every day so yeah, my ribs aren’t used to it,” she said with a sheepish smile on her face.

Pandora sat in the yard of the house with her eyes closed. Her match was in several hours and she needed to prepare herself. Everyone in the house had gone to rest for the night. It was understandable. Their matches were today and Embla had been out like a log after eating dinner.

She chuckled at the memory of her brother piggybacking the ravenette and her deadweight up the stairs to their room.

Pandora exhaled and held her hand out. A small ball of light manifested in the middle of her palm. She crushed the light and opened her palm once more. A small ball of ice manifested from the swirling white mist in the middle of her hand. Around it, a ball of fire and a ball of lightning orbited the small orb.

“Out practicing in the middle of the night?”

Pandora yelped and the elements in her hand went haywire, erupting into a bright elemental pillar that shot into the night sky.

“Odin’s beard Cal, you scared the holy shit out of me!” Pandora yelled, clutching her chest.

“Sorry, I didn’t think you were that unaware,” Cal said, taking a seat next to her.

“Why are you out here? I thought you went to bed already.” Pandora huffed and turned away from her twin.

“I didn’t. I went upstairs to put Embla in her bed but she had a strong grip so I spent an hour trying to get out of it,” he replied.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Enjoy what?”

“Nevermind,” Pandora said, placing her finger on the ground.

“Are you nervous?” Cal asked.

“Gee, what gave that away?” Pandora gave her brother a deadpan snark.

“Well, you were playing with magic which you only do if you’re nervous about something. It’s one of your tells aside from playing with your left bang,” Cal said.

“I’m nervous about the upcoming match. What if I lose? Embla got her ribs broken by one of the competitors and Red almost went down. Only you and Yuki came out of your matches relatively unhurt,” Pandora said.

“That’s what you’re nervous about? Sis, you’ve been in worse than a tournament match. You blocked an attack from a Gusisnautar and you’re nervous about fighting some random drunk from the guild?” Cal asked.

“Sorry, this and that are different. I’m not hopped up on adrenaline at the moment,” Pandora said.

“Look, what I’m trying to say is it’s okay to be nervous but you can’t let it get to you. It’s just a tournament match. None of us will blame you if you lose,” Cal said. He gave his twin sister a tender, reassuring gaze.

Pandora’s face visibly calmed and her body relaxed. She was still nervous about fighting in the next round but her anxiety had been somewhat alleviated by her brother’s reassuring words.

“Right, thanks,” Pandora said.

“Just make sure to win,” Cal said.

“And there you go, ruining the moment,” Pandora said.

“And stay out!”

He had been kicked out. Two days of straight drinking himself into oblivion only to wake up and begin to cycle once more.

That bitch, he thought, spitting on the street. He shakily got to his feet and stumbled down the alleyway. In a fit of drunken rage, he punched the wall, sending spiderweb cracks across the wall. How could I lose to such a dainty bitch like Kaguya?

His alcohol and pride riddled mind had failed to comprehend how someone as illustrious and powerful as he bent a knee to the foxkin. As he drunkenly walked down the dark alley, his muddled adventurer mind was still able to notice that he wasn’t alone.

“Whoever the fuck you are come out!” he slurred, grabbing nothing and throwing it as if there was something.

His eyes widened slightly as a cloaked figure stepped out from one of the waste disposal bins. Their face and body were covered in a hood, making their gender and identity completely ambiguous to the man.

“Who the fuck are yew?” he said, walking forward. Compared to him, this person might as well have been a dwarf.

“That’s not important right now. Are you interested in getting stronger?” the voice was distinctly female. But none of that mattered to him. All that mattered were her words.

“St- Stronger?” he hiccuped as he uttered those words.

“Yes.”

“Like how strong?” he asked.

“Strong enough to the point that you might even beat that girl you lost to in the prelims,” she said.

The man leaned back and thought it over. Under the hood, she smiled. Whatever decision this drunk made would benefit her and her friend either way. She already knew what he was going to answer before he even said anything. He had fallen for her half-truth after all. There was a chance he could gain strength but he would nowhere be strong enough to even beat that girl.

“I’ll dew it,” he said, slurring the do in his sentence.

“Alright. Here you go. Just drink this vial whenever you’re ready and watch as the magic happens,” she said. The cloaked figure held out a vial filled with a pulsating blue liquid with black wisps swirling in the mix.

The drunken man gingerly grabbed the vial and eyed it with the analytical prowess of an alcoholic teenager.

“Just drink this now?” he asked.

“You can drink it now but how about drinking it when you see her? You’re too drunk to fight sir so drink it when you’re sober enough to remember and enjoy the massacre,” she said, smiling.

Upon hearing the word massacre, the man let out a demented drunk grin. He raised the vial to the light of the moon and instantly agreed with whatever he just heard. The drunk looked back to see that the cloaked figure had disappeared. Pocketing the vial, he stumbled out of the arena and tried to find his way home.

“You got this. You got this. This is really uncharacteristic of me freaking out over a match,” Pandora said, glancing over to Embla.

Embla crossed her arms and smiled. “Stage fright much?”

“Probably,” she said, sitting down on the bench.

“Well, if you have performance anxiety, my trick is to imagine the audience in their underwear,” she said.

“That’s what Cal said.” Pandora gave her a dry look.

“Just ignore them. You’re not there to put on a show. You’re there to beat people up in the name of winning a tournament.” Embla gave her a pat on the shoulder.

“That doesn’t help but at least you tried,” she said, sighing.

“Next match!”

Pandora gripped her staff and got up. “Wish me luck!” she said, giving Embla a nervous smile.

“Good luck. I know you’ll do great out there,” Embla replied, waving.

Pandora walked down the hall. The caterpillars that were in her stomach had become full blown butterflies. As she walked out of the locker room and onto the arena, the electrifying air of the stadium filled her lungs. Her pupils dilated as her breath hitched.

Calm down. She gripped her staff tightly. Pandora looked out over the crowd, seeing the cheers and roars amongst the sea of faces. Her stage fright began to die down as the adrenaline began to slowly take over. Her heart was pumping at over a million miles per minute. Inhaling, she closed her eyes and counted to ten.

Pandora opened her eyes to face her opponent. “M- Mary!?” the shock in her tone was as evident as it was on her face.

Standing across from her was the sleepy shop owner. Mary yawned as a light breeze blew her unkempt lavender hair slightly. She was wearing something different from her usual sleepy attire. Her outfit consisted of a violet shoulder cape that reached down to just above her elbows. She wore a light blue mage’s robe with violet at the edges of the sleeves and the collar. Her collar split open at the middle, giving the crowd a healthy view of her impressive bust. She wore a skirt that went to her mid thigh and knee high black stockings with brown boots.

Her violet eyes sharpened ever so briefly before reverting back to their usual narcoleptic stare.

“Oh, I didn’t know I’d be fighting you this round,” Mary said, straightening herself. Her posture immediately fell back into a slight slouch as she pulled an orb from her pocket. The orb began to levitate and orbit her.

“Yeah, me neither,” Pandora said. Her white knuckle grip threatened to snap her staff in half.

“On your marks!”

The two snapped out of their personal conversation as they heard Azalea announce the match’s beginning. “GO!”

A large fireball suddenly rocketed towards Pandora. Pandora raised her staff into the air, summoning a yellow barrier around herself.

Mary levitated off the ground and raised her hand into the air. A ball of fire and lightning appeared in her hand, merging together into an electrifying sphere of flames.

Pandora bit her cheek. She’s using Dual Casting Skills already?

“Plasma Bolt.” The ionized ball of flames shot forth towards Pandora.

Pandora twirled her staff and aimed it at Mary. Well then, if that’s how she wants to go… Icicle Ballista!

A spear of ice infused with lightning quickly formed above her and shot forth, colliding with the lightning infused fireball. An explosion rang out through the arena, sending debris and dust everywhere.

The end of the preliminaries had began with an electrifying bang.