A wave of molten heat rolled past Mordred’s senses. The intensity of the fire was enough to make his skin prickle all the way back where he sat safely in his room. White flame slammed down into a dome of glistening ice. A crackling roar and the scream of angry steam filled the air.

Thick clouds of white exploded across the arena, breaking against the surrounding combatants like waves against rocks on a beach shore. The mist dispelled as quickly as it had arrived, only to leave behind the dripping mess of what had once been a wall of ice. Less than an inch of what had once been a thick wall remained.

But that was still enough. The fire had failed to penetrate the armored woman’s defenses. Mordred’s eyebrows would have crept up his features had he actually been present in any physical manner. The intensity of that attack had been immense. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen flame reach this heat.

Mordred would have been hard pressed to find a way to defend against it. Though he was confident the attack wouldn’t have taken him out in one blow, his tools were considerably more effective at dealing with fire than ice. There probably wasn’t a worse magic to go up against a fire mage with than this one.

The only way an ice mage is going to be a true threat to a fire one is if the ice is so much more powerful that they can literally freeze the flames. Otherwise, their defenses are just going to get melted. This battle doesn’t favor the ice user at all. The fact she was even able to withstand multiple attacks is an immense testament to her skills.

He wasn’t the only one feeling impressed. The fire mage herself bared her teeth in something between a mocking smile and a snarl.

“You actually managed to survive that one, did you? That’s better than I was expecting. What’s your name, girl?”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been a girl,” the armored woman replied. Her wall of ice melted away, parting as she stepped through it with her sword at the ready before her. “But it is customary to know the name of your killer. I am Fuyin.”

“Killer?” The other woman’s lips curled into a deeper smile. “Coming to a friendly tournament with such cold killing intent. Whatever for? I haven’t killed anyone close to you, have I?”

“You don’t need to,” Fuyin said. Her words were as frosty as the white spiderwebs of ice spreading at her feet. She lowered her stance. “I know what type of person you are. I can read you.”

“Do you?” Tongues of white fire licked across the ground to twist up the blonde-haired woman’s body and gather above her wrists. “Well, you’ll do. I wasn’t expecting to find anything fun so early in the tournament. I figured it would be at least a few boring rounds of toasting incompetent opponents before I got a chance to have some real fun. How fortunate for me. Since I’m the one visiting… I suppose I’ll follow your traditions. You want to know the name of your killer, right? Then you can call me Cinder.”

“Did you come up with that yourself?” Fuyin asked, tilting her head to the side. “It is painfully uncreative. Choosing a name after your magic is just droll. Or did you fashion your magic after your name? That might be even worse.”

Cinder’s response was sending a thick wave of white-hot fire crashing toward Fuyin, scorching the ground between them black with its power. Fuyin swept her sword to the side. Ice crackled as sharp spikes burst up from beneath the ground in a jagged wall before herself. Their magic clashed with a deafening hiss, fire and frost screaming as they chewed into each other. Mist tore out across the arena once more, swallowing everyone unfortunate enough to have gotten too close in a wall of white.

Mordred pulled his consciousness back and lifted into the air above the arena. He’d taken both of the combatants’ measure. There was no need to keep watching the fight unfold. Pillars of light were still crashing down all around them as other mages were eliminated.

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Both Fuyin and Cinder were powerful. Neither of them were going to go down anytime soon — and that meant they were going to end up standing when everyone else eliminated each other. They were both going to make it to the next rounds of the tournament. Watching the rest of their fight wouldn’t be the best usage of his time. He’d already made that mistake once.

At the rate things were going, the first few rounds were already wrapping up. It would be a good idea to see if there was anyone else that particularly stuck out before time was up and the next round started. The chances of that many worthwhile mages all happening to be in the first round did seem a bit unlikely, but Mordred was not one who ever bet on coincidences.

***

“Not all of those mages look like they’re Rank 5,” Brayden observed. He sat slumped in his chair, leaning with one hand thrown over its back. His eyes were focused in spite of his relaxed posture. “There are some Rank 6s mixed into that group. I would have thought they’d filter them out. It’s not going to make for great show if all the Rank 5 talent gets wiped out right at the start of the tournament.”

“Maybe there aren’t enough Rank 6s to fill up multiple arenas of them?” Lee guessed. She eyed the rope dangling off to the side. Her attention wasn’t on the fight at all. She’d barely even looked down at the arena once. After finishing off all the food, all she’d done was stare at the rope, clearly pondering if they’d give her more food when she pulled it. “They could be rationing them out or something.”

Like you’d know much about rationing.

“Maybe they let the weaker Rank 6s into the Rank 5 groups,” Noah said. “I don’t think they’d have a shortage of Rank 6 mages in a place like Obsidia, especially since people are coming from all over. I haven’t gotten the feeling that the average Rank 6 is are anywhere near the top of the food chain anymore. I doubt they’re common, but they’re probably not as relatively rare as they were in Arbitage.”

“Noah’s probably right,” Brayden said with a small nod. He didn’t take his eyes away from the projection of the fight still unfolding in the air before them. It had started to slow down. The weakest mages had been taken out quickly. All of the ones that remained were either sneaky enough to avoid getting caught to easily or skilled enough to hold their own a bit longer. “Nobody’s cleaning up shop immediately. If there was a really powerful Rank 6, they’d have no problem wiping everyone else away.”

“Unless they were trying to hold back.” Noah frowned. “Everyone can see these fights. Rumors will probably go around, and I’m sure we aren’t the only ones with somebody on the inside feeding us information. If Mordred can do it… so can other people. And if I were a strong Rank 6, I probably wouldn’t broadcast the extent of my powers. There’s always a bigger fish. Keeping something stored up as a surprise is always a good idea.”

“You’re contradicting your own theory,” Braden grumbled. “Aren’t you supposed to stick with your guesses?”

A crackling buzz filled the room. Noah’s hair stood on end from static energy.

“How may we be of assistance?” A man’s voice warbled out.

Both Noah and Brayden spun toward the source of the voice. Lee had pulled the rope. She looked at them sheepishly.

“Food?” Lee asked.

“Understood.” The electric voice vanished, and the energy filling the air faded with it.

Lee released the rope. It retracted back into the ceiling by a foot. Then she cleared her throat. “I was hungry. And if you’re going to stick an infinite-food rope in front of me and expect me not to pull it, then you’re stupid. I am pulling the food rope.”

“I suppose that’s fair,” Noah said, shaking his head and glancing back to the tournament. There were still a few more mages being eliminated, but the number of people remaining had already decreased quite significantly. It probably wasn’t going to be long until it was over.

And sure enough, only around thirty seconds later, a ringing blast cut through the air like cannon fire. All three of them winced. The shimmering image in the air shattered, only to be replaced by Baun’s mustached form.

“The first round is over!” Baun thundered. “But don’t go standing up and getting out of your seats yet! There will be no delay in starting the next round. We’ve got lots of eager combatants just waiting for their chance to get into the ring. So, without further ado, get ready for the next round to begin! Combatants, check your badges!”

Flashes of light filled the air beneath his image as the mages on the arena floor were sent back to their rooms in rapid succession.

Fist popped into being a few feet away from Noah and Brayden. Her arms were splattered with blood. None of it seemed to be hers.

“Huh,” Fist said. She glanced at the empty table. Then her face fell. “Aw.”

“It’s okay,” Lee said. “I ordered more.”

But Noah wasn’t paying either of them too much attention. He was staring at his badge.

It glowed a merry green. And despite everything, an eager grin pulled across his lips behind his mask. He’d always hated waiting.

The time had finally come for Spider to make his appearance.