Rise of the Living Forge-Chapter 370: Honor

The roar of the crowd was nothing but a muted murmur to Art’s ears as he stepped onto the center stage alongside Kien and Vix. Starforge’s team approached from the other side of the arena, climbing up to stand across from them.

Art’s hands clenched at his sides of their own volition. Showing any amount of emotion in a fight was a bad idea. It gave his enemies something to work with. Weak links were always singled out and targeted first — but it wasn’t like Art could have been any more of a weak link.

He was a cripple in a sea of adventurers. It only took a single glance at his crutch to bring every single scrap of attention their opposition had down directly on his back. Targetting someone that couldn’t fight back would force his allies to spend effort covering his back, which would expose their own backs in the process.

So in that case, I suppose it doesn’t matter if they know just how much I hate them. Or perhaps its more accurate to say I hate their guild. I don’t know if these three have anything to do with the people they’ve killed.

The man in sleek white armor matched Art’s gaze, a faint smile playing across his lips. He was in his middle thirties, with the beginnings of stubble from a few days of not shaving sprouting up from beneath his helmet. His eyes were a stark purple and his features were confident.

Art didn’t have to speak to the gravity mage to ask what he thought of his chances. He definitely thought this was going to be an easy win. The man wasn’t alone in the thought.

Behind him, the twins behind him moved with the exaggerated grace of a dancer playing the crowd in a burlesque club. Every movement they made was measured — intentional. Art was more than aware that the women were far more warriors than they were performers, but they certainly knew how to play the crowd.

From the information I have on them, they’re fast. Both are acrobats with a lot of experience. Neither of them have very powerful magic, but they know how to use what they’ve got very well. Despite one twin using fire and the other using water, they actually work together to create steam that makes the battlefield harder to navigate for their opponents.

Then again, for most opponents it doesn’t matter how powerful they are. Even if I ignore the magic of the gravity mage, raw strength doesn’t always equate to threat. A dagger between the ribs kills far more efficiently than an axe. The twins are actually the bigger threat to me. They might take me out the moment the fight starts.

“Two options. Either the gravity mage postures and tries to toss us all out, or the twins go for me at the start of the fight,” Art said, his gaze leveled at Starforge’s team. “Each are equally possible. It depends how much they underestimate us.”

“I’d expect that to be quite a bit,” Vix muttered. Her words were barely even audible over the crowd and Kraven’s constant yelling. It wouldn’t be long before the fight started now, but the only thing from him that Art was waiting for was the announcement that the battle had begun.

“What’s your plan to deal with the mage? Or were you just going to send me at him?” Kien asked.

Art reached into his pocket and pulled his deck of cards free. He rifled through them, his eyes never once leaving their opponents. The corners of the gravity mage’s lips pulled up in a smirk.

“Thornhelm, is it?” the man called. “Didn’t think I’d be running into you here. You’d be the Duke’s kid, then?”

“How’d you know? Was it my charming smile?” Art asked.

The man let out a bark of laughter. “I’ve heard you had a sharp wit. Not sure I’m seeing it if you’re bold enough to show up at the Proving Grounds without the ability to defend yourself, but you’ve definitely got a quick tongue. If you know what’s good for you, bow out. This isn’t a place for someone like you.”

Art’s lips curled up. He’d heard that one more times than he could count. A fair number of those times, the mouth that had uttered the phrase had been his own.

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“I’m afraid that isn’t an option,” Art said. “See, I’ve already decided that I’m planning on winning this tournament.”

The gravity mage’s laughter was real, now. The twins joined in to snicker along with him. Raising a hand, the gravity mage shook his head as he fought back his amusement.

“Truly? With what team? We know the members of Thornhelm, Art. You brought your sister and a… homeless man with a broom to help you? Do you really think that’s going to be enough to let you win a tournament with some of the strongest Guilds in the Kingdom in it?” ℝ𝓪ŊǑ𝖇Ęṩ

“Were rumors of my sharp wit the only thing you heard about me?” Art’s head tilted to the side. “If that’s so, then your sources aren’t very good. Maybe your guild should spend less time trying to force someone away from the city they’ve overseen for generations and more time improving their capabilities.”

The gravity mage’s lips thinned. “Barbs aren’t going to win you the fight, boy. My name is Ursa. I’d suggest remembering it. Revenge is often a good motivator for growth. Maybe you’ll find a healer that can fix that lump of flesh holding you down. If you do, Starforge makes a habit of turning trash with potential into treasure. We could work with you. Your family is holding you back.”

That wasn’t a compliment. Art had no doubt Ursa wasn’t stupid enough to think a healer could fix his leg. There was no way for anyone to repair damage that the body saw as natural. The offer to join Starforge was akin to spitting right in Art’s face — and that wasn’t even getting to the insult Raven had just dealt his father and Vix.

Anger welled within Art’s chest. He was used to being looked down on. If anything, it was beneficial. But to openly slander his father and sister… that was unacceptable.

“Duke Aleric has kept Thornhelm safe for longer than you have been alive. Despite your guilds best attempts to terrorize our people, we still stand strong,” Art spat. “I’d return the offer you gave me, but my family doesn’t deal with scum like you.”

“Watch your tongue, boy,” Ursa said. “I can do a whole lot worse than just toss you off the arena.”

The anger burning in Art’s chest intensified. Vix cleared her throat quietly, trying to get his attention, but the pounding in his skull wouldn’t relent. He hadn’t come here for the sole purpose of defeating Starforge, but fate was a fickle mistress.

For whatever the reason, be it the Secret Eye fixing the matches or just sheer luck, he’d been put here on this stage across from Starforge’s team — and Art never wasted an opportunity.

“You’re welcome to try,” Art said. “By all means, I ask you to do your best. This will be the last tournament you ever participate in.”

Ursa’s lips curled in to a sneer.

“It looks like we’ve got some rising tensions between the competitors!” Kraven roared. “Let’s look forward to an exciting fight! Competitors, on your ready!”

“Which plan are we going with?” Vix asked, lowering into a fighting stance.

“You stay back. I don’t want you wasting anything on these bastards. I’m playing one of my own cards,” Art said, his teeth pulling back in a snarl.

Vix’s eyes widened. “What? But I thought we were going to save—”

“Some things are worth spending,” Art replied. “Kien, keep the twins off me. Vix, stay out of the way unless things go wrong. The more energy you save, the better.”

“Wait,” Kien said. “Are you implying…”

“I’ll deal with Ursa,” Art confirmed with a stiff nod. “Myself.”

“Are you serious?” Kien asked, his eyes widening. “This is a tournament, Art. One you and Vix need to win. Don’t get worked—”

“Enough,” Art said sharply. “You wanted to see what we were capable of. If we can hold our own. That’s what you’re going to get. All I want of you is to do your job.”

Kien grunted. “Very well. I will deal with the mages should they choose to fight me.”

“Trust me,” Art said, cracking his neck. “They won’t have a choice.”

Ursa pointed at Art. “You’d best brace yourself, boy. I’m not going to be gentle. If you talk all that talk, you need to learn to back it up. You’re here today to be put in your place.”

“No,” Art said quietly. “I’m here today to put you in mine.”

“Begin!” Kraven roared.

The crowd thundered.

Ursa thrust his hand forward — and Art pulled a card from his deck. He flicked it into the air…

And nothing happened.

The gravity mage blinked. He looked down at his hands, then back up to Art. Ursa thrust his hands forward again. Not a single one of Thornhelm’s team members budged from their spot on the ground.

Art’s card drifted gently to the ground.

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“What are you doing?” one of the twins asked Ursa. “Toss them! You know the strategy!”

“I’m trying! My magic isn’t working. It’s like there’s nothing there!” Ursa snapped. He wasn’t speaking loud enough to be made out over the crowd, but it didn’t matter. Art had learned how to read lips a long time ago.

“There’s a drawback to being too predictable,” Art called out, his crutch clacking against the stone as he started toward the armored mage. “Someone might figure out what you’re going to do next.”

“What did you do?” Ursa snarled. “What manner of magic do you possess?”

“It’s not about what I have. It’s about what you don’t. The magic is just the first of the things I’m going to take from you, Ursa.” Art said. His features were as cold as ice. “I told you before. On my father’s honor, is the last tournament you will ever compete in.”