Alistair had hardly stepped in the door before Liliana and Emyr had catapulted out of their seats to crash into him.

The tank stumbled, back colliding with the door and shaking it under the force of the assault. Blinking owlishly, he looked down at the two forms wrapped around him before chuckles shook his chest and he wrapped them in one of his trademark bear hugs, bones creaking under the stress of his strength.

“You did well, brother.” Liliana told him, her voice muffled from where it was pressed to his armored torso. Emyr nodded beside her, by all appearances trying his hardest to burrow into the other boy.

It was never easy watching one of their friends fight. It was harder still watching Alistair, Emyr or Liliana fight alone. They’d fought side by side for so long, for years, that sitting still while one of the others was in danger felt wrong on a bone deep level.

When they’d had no one else beside them, they’d always had each other.

Liliana could only pray that the elder years and her memories were right in that the fight types rotated year by year. Sometimes several rounds of single battles. Sometimes doubles or group battles. She wasn’t sure she could do this seven more times over the next three and a half years, watching her friends, her family, fighting alone with no backup. Shields or no shields, it was wrong to sit back and do nothing.

“Can I sit down now, or are we just going to keep blocking the door and keep Basil from getting to his fight?” Alistair asked his new human barnacles.

“Mmph. Fine. You stink anyway.” Liliana backed off, rubbing at eyes that definitely weren't wet in the slightest. And anyone who claimed they were was a filthy lying liar who lies.

She wouldn’t cry over her brother winning a fight. Especially not one he was in no danger during. Not her. Not Liliana Rosengarde, a paragon of mental health and stability.

You’ve discovered the General Skill, Denial. Would you like to accept this General Skill?

Liliana glared at the System notification, shoving it aside. Har har, very funny. Good to know the System still has a sense of humor when it feels like it. Liliana mentally grumbled. The frequency of sassy alerts she’d gotten had lessened over time, but it seemed the System still liked to joke when it felt like it. She was almost curious enough to ask if anyone else got borderline prank notifications, but the fear that it was something specific to her made her keep her mouth shut.

Vita had implied the system was above even the gods. There was a chance it was a god in its own right. Perhaps the creator of the rest. If it was sentient, there was every chance it was quite well aware she was a transmigrator. In fact, if it was sentient, it definitely knew. Her boon list said as much. Perhaps she had more than simply Vita keeping tabs on her.

But it did make her wonder, did the goals of Vita and the others gods line up with the goals of the System? Or did it even have any at all?

The trio made their way back to the couch, Marianne moving to the side so they could all fit, squished together tightly on the surface, Alistair bracketed by Liliana and Emyr. No one seemed upset by the close quarters and borderline cuddle pile they had formed. Legs and arms were thrown over other limbs without a care as everyone settled in.

“Guess it’s finally my turn.” Basil stretched in his seat like a cat before standing, all liquid grace and noble poise.

Despite his clothes, far under the normal quality of a duke’s son, Basil still managed to exude an aura of nobility that many nobles failed to ever achieve. He ran a hand through loose, platinum blonde hair and shot the group a self-assured smile.

“Wishes for good luck, or are we all assuming I’ll win?” Basil asked.

“Well, with all that confidence, who needs luck?” Liliana teased. Basil gasped at her, clutching his chest dramatically.

“Not even a token from my fair lady before I go off to battle?” Basil demanded, throwing a hand over his eyes as if he was prepared to faint.

“Here Basil, a token of luck from a real lady.” Marianne shot Liliana a faux glare before placing a kiss on Basil’s cheek accompanied by a wish for good luck.

Liliana and Alistair let out twin wolf whistles, shit-eating grins firm on their face as the princess pulled back. Basil bowed with a flourish at Marianne, his own grin spreading across his face. The group called out wishes for good luck as he walked to the door and left.

“So, betting on the underdog or on Basil?” Emyr leaned around Alistair’s considerable bulk to address Liliana.

“Basil, obviously. I have some loyalty. Unlike some princesses who play with people’s hearts like they’re toys.” Liliana sniffed, handing over her gold to Emyr. Marianne screeched, swatting at her as Liliana tried to block the incensed princess’ strikes, light though they were.

“Are you calling me a cheat, Liliana? I’ve never been so slandered in my life!” Marianne squealed, her swats turning to pokes as she sought out Liliana’s ticklish spots with a cruel accuracy.

“I give! I give! Mercy, your highness! Have mercy on this poor pitiful being!” Liliana choked out between giggles, Marianne finally ceasing her tormenting and falling into Liliana’s side with a huff.

“If everyone is done flirting,” Koth’talan started, sighing when shouts of protest arose and waiting out the cacophony, “the match is about to start.” He finished, pointing at the illusion.

The room settled down into a semblance of calm, which they all knew was a thin veneer one teasing remark away from shattering, as they looked to where Basil was facing off against Johanna Baker of class E.

“The girl with the hammer, right?” Marianne asked. Liliana and Emyr immediately responded with affirmatives.

Unlike Lawry, who had at least looked like he could easily wield a giant hammer, Baker was easily dwarfed by her weapon. Basil wasn’t the tallest in their group. That award went to Koth’talan, but he was only a scant handful of inches taller than Liliana herself. And even in comparison to him, Baker was small. What she lacked in height she more than made up for in pure muscle mass.

As her hand wrapped around her weapon, flames flowed to cover her once more in a deadly armor. Her tactic would have far more effectiveness against Basil, whose affinity of choice was Nature, than against her previous opponent who had used Water.

Basil removed his hands from his pockets, fists closed tightly around whatever he had kept in them as Baker charged. Basil danced back several steps in leaping bounds, one hand coming up and tossing out whatever he had hidden. Baker paused for a moment at the projectiles, blinking in confusion when several burned up in her flame armor as others pattered to the ground harmlessly.

Liliana didn’t need to read lips to know the words that came out of the class E girl’s mouth.

“Seeds? Really?”

Basil shrugged carelessly as he backed up several more steps, Baker shaking her head and charging forward. Only to face plant two steps in when vines sprouted and wrapped around her feet, withering as quickly as they could grow. Basil paused his retreat, opening his other fist and tossing seeds around him in a wide arc.

Baker struggled back to her feet, kicking off blackening vines by the time she had regained her stance. All the vines Basil had summoned were dead, charred bits left as casualties at her feet. Basil shrugged his shoulders again, palms open as if saying, ‘Oh well, what can you do’, with a smile on his face.

Baker seemed to huff, setting her shoulders before she marched forward towards Basil, her confidence in this match coming to a quick conclusion obvious. Basil dropped his hands, his smile turning into something mischievous as he back up again. Vines erupted from the sands like a wave of green, blocking Baker’s path.

Flowers burst into bloom along the vines, a riot of dark purple bordering on black, edged with a bright blue that seemed almost neon against the dark of the purple. Liliana sucked in a deep breath, finally understanding Basil’s strategy.

A disbelieving laugh spilled from her lips as Baker threw her head back in annoyance before attacking the vines and flowers with hammer and fire, ignoring the way her flames birthed a bright purple smoke, threaded with vivid blue like lightening, even as it surrounded her.

Basil, by comparison, was surrounded by thick, fern-like plants that blocked the smoke from reaching him.

Liliana knew those plants. Of course she did.

Papaver Pasithea, or more commonly known as the Nightmare Poppy. A mix of a sleeping herb and a hallucinogenic. It was great for putting someone to sleep if you wanted them trapped in their worst nightmares. Most potent if burned.

Liliana wasn’t entirely sure how the shields worked for airborne poisons. She knew they blocked them out to some extent as she’d never been poisoned, even if her shield would reflect damage she should have gotten from such attacks. The shields seemed to recognize what Basil had done as a type of poison, leeching Baker’s shield slowly towards red.

Baker hardly noticed the color change, her movements growing sluggish, answering Liliana’s question if sleeping poisons could get through the shields. Evidently they weren’t registered as ‘harm’, though she assumed, hoped, the secondary effect of the plant were blocked.

Baker never made it past the walls of vines, body falling limp to the ground, hands still clutched to her hammer as she passed out, coated in dangerous smoke that shifted her shield from yellow, to orange, to red. The entire time, Basil stood, unaffected and uncaring behind his shield of air-purifying Arachiodes Filiformis.

When the match was called to an end, Basil banished his vines, leaving his protective ferns until the dangerous smog was cleared by some unseen professor’s skills, and finally those too wilted and vanished. Basil nodded towards the professor acting as referee. Baker’s unconscious body had already been cleared from the field, and Basil turned and walked off.

“Gimme my money,” Liliana turned to Emyr the second Basil vanished from the illusion, hand held out, fingers curling and uncurling until gold was placed in her waiting palm.

“I did not think you had it in you,” Koth’talan greeted Basil when he returned. The southern heir raised an eyebrow, looking slightly insulted, slightly amused at the comment.

“Plants are often overlooked, but a flower can kill as many as any sword.” Basil told the dæmon as he settled back into his seat.

Liliana nodded in agreement. She knew that well. She handled deadly plants often in her potion making, and Nemesis was a very solid reminder that flowers could have fangs.

“Many poisons begin as nothing more than an innocuous plant,” Koth’talan conceded with a nod, turning back to his sword.

“A flower for my lady fair, whose token gave me the strength to persevere and achieve victory in her name.” Basil turned to Marianne, producing a white rose with a flourish of his hands and magic.

“Could you not? You sound like an old grandfather trying to woo someone.” Liliana covered her face with her hands as Marianne took the flower, flushing and giggling like a schoolgirl. Which, to be fair, she was. But it didn’t make it any easier to hear or witness.

“Dost the lady harbor jealousy for the treatment of thy dearest friend?” Basil leaned harder into his act, and Liliana could respect him for committing to the bit, but it was going too far now.

“The lady dost have a dagger most sharp she will sink into thine throat if thy does not cease his antics post haste.” Liliana lifted her head from her hands, grabbing a dagger and waving it at Basil to punctuate her threat. Basil leaned back, delighted laughter spilling from him.

“Alright, how can I deny the flower of my heart when she makes a demand of me?” Basil teased, summoning a second flower, a sapphire blue rose that looked almost too vibrant to be nothing more than a plant, and not a jewel disguised as an innocent flower. He handed the flower to Liliana, who took it with a suspicious look.

“You will always be the only one in my heart.” Basil winked, a rakish grin spreading across his face, and Liliana huffed to disguise the way her cheeks flushed.

“Incorrigible flirt. You missed your calling as a bard.” Liliana grumbled, but she cradled the flower gently in her palms, a thumb stroking the silky soft petals.

“How would I give a flower to all the beautiful ladies I meet then, if I was a master of music instead of nature?” Basil asked, incredulous.

Liliana snorted and shook her head, relaxing into her seat. Basil seemed pleased his act had gotten a smile out of Liliana, at least. Though Koth’talan was glaring at the whole of them, and Liliana could hear the accusation of flirting in his eyes.

Liliana lifted her gaze from the flower in her hands to the match on the illusion. Howard Lale of class B and Austen Hillington of class C. A bard versus a… bard?

“Speak of the devil and they shall appear, or in this case. Bards.” Liliana muttered quietly as she watched the match.

Lale’s strategy was different from Hillington’s, showing that even in the same class, there was ample variety in fighting styles. Lale apparently had no shortage of affinities that he made ample use of, floating mirrors made of water and light surrounded the arena. Somehow, they bounced his music off of them.

It effectively turned Lale into a one man marching band, and Liliana regretted the lack of sound once more. She could tell that something was happening, the illusion showing the magical music in the air but not letting them know what it sounded like as it whipped through the arena.

Typically, a bard on bard battle would come down to who had more songs in their repertoire, who was more skilled with their fingers or lips, and who could shoot their spells and skills off faster. But when you could bring an entire orchestra to bear, a single bard had no hope against it. Hillington fell under the onslaught of music, his lone voice nothing against the chorus Lale had brought to bear.

The match ended and one bard stood victorious, harp held high as he soaked in the applause and adoration of his audience before strutting off the field with that cocksure confidence all bards seemed to have as a requirement for the class.

The next round started soon after, Diana Upperton of class B and Solomon Oliver of class A. They’d already seen Oliver in his explosive debut on the sands, when he burst his was through his opponent’s defensives. Liliana wondered if Upperton would have a better time against the Combustion user as she mentally giggled at her own puns.

In the back of her mind, Liliana could already feel the familiar thrum of adrenaline pulsing in her veins. She’d once more follow Oliver. Her match was next up.

As the match was called to start, Oliver erupted into action immediately, hands and feet sparking with explosions as he propelled himself at Upperton. The girl, to her credit, seemed to have paid attention to Oliver’s previous fight and a wall of dirt and stone rose from the ground in Oliver’s face.

His momentum was too great to veer off his course, and he crashed headfirst into the barrier, tumbling through it in a rain of dirt and stone, his shield a cheery yellow as he fell on the other side in a heap of limbs.

Upperton used the chance and moved. Like a viper striking two arms’ length weapons, Liliana hesitated to call them daggers they more closely resembled long needles, lashed out. In a flurry of movements, Upperton landed several strikes before Oliver let off a blast around his entire body, sending her flipping back. Upperton landed in a crouch, odd weapons at the ready.

Oliver’s shield had suffered for his fumble, inching closer to orange with each heartbeat. In fact, Liliana pressed a hand to her chest, feeling her own heart thudding under her skin, sped up as it was by her upcoming battle. His shield was changing, tinting subtly darker, in time with an accelerated heartbeat.

“As if he’s been poisoned.” Liliana muttered, Emyr humming in agreement.

Poison was a deadly weapon, all the more so on a battlefield, where hearts thundered at a quick pace, spreading the toxin through the body at a breakneck pace.

Liliana watched in admiration as Upperton began to play a game of cat and mouse with a dead man walking. Dodging fluidly out of Oliver’s reckless charges. Charges that worked well against stationary, easily cowed opponents but failed when confronted with someone who moved with all the grace and speed of a deadly serpent.

Several more times Oliver was tripped up by walls of dirt and stone appearing in his way, Upperton capitalizing on his weakness. Oliver struggled with hairpin turns and quick adjustments while airborne. All power, no dexterity. Every time Oliver was thrown from the sky, Upperton was there, her fang like weapons striking and filling him with more poison.

Liliana committed the match to memory, certain Nemesis would find interest in this human who acted so similarly to a snake.

The fight was called when Oliver’s shield dipped to bright red, undone by poison he had never realized he was falling victim to. Or maybe he had, and it was why his attacks had gotten more desperate and erratic at the end. Either way, he had lost the second he let Upperton strike him. In a real fight, even if he had taken her down, it would’ve been nothing more than a Pyrrhic victory.

Liliana let out a long breath as the fight ended and the combatants left the field, one looking far more pleased than the other. She could feel the familiar tingle of adrenaline in her fingers, her muscles warming as she stood and stretched them out.

It was time to fight again.