Rise of the Living Forge

A streak of black energy carved across the arena. Ursa’s eyes only had a moment to widen before it was upon him. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, the humming fragments of his armor screaming through the air back toward him — but they weren’t fast enough.

Metal screeched as something carved deep into Ursa’s armguards, carving through the glossy white metal like it was nothing but paper. The air before him flickered. For the briefest moment, a hazy patch roughly the shape of a person was just barely visible before him.

Then it was gone.

The fragments of Ursa’s armor slammed back into place, cutting through the air where the distortion had been. He took a staggering step back as blood started to drip from deep gouges in his arms and his eyes darted around.

“What was that?” Ursa demanded, snapping his fingers. Several fragments split away from his armor and howled through the air around him, trying to slice the invisible attacker, but they met with nothing.

Art didn’t respond. His teeth were clenched so tightly that his jaw ached. Every single second that ticked by mattered. They weren’t just passing. They were being spent.

Stop playing around. Finish him!

He didn’t dare voice his thoughts. Rushing ahead, as tempting as it was, could end up throwing away everything they were working for. Ursa had to be dealt with methodically. And, in the end, Vix knew what she was doing.

Another streak of black cut through the air. Ursa twisted to the side, but no matter how much armor he wore, the man was still a mage, not a warrior. He hadn’t trained extensively for close combat.

It was a death warrant.

The black blur punched into Ursa’s left armpit, driving through the metal and burying itself deep into his flesh. He screamed in pain and jerked his hand down. Electric arcs of energy scourged the ground before him and the fragments tore through the air and stone alike, but nothing found its target.

Ursa’s eyes darted around as his lips pulled back in a savage snarl. “Reveal yourself! What manner of magic is this? An artifact? Ash, finish that idiot and help me! They’re stronger than we expected!”

“She’s busy,” Art said, his hands rifling through the deck of cards of their own volition. If there was one thing he knew, it was that Kien would hold up his end of the deal. The hero wasn’t about to get taken low by some fancy armor. “I’d suggest focusing on us, Ursa. We have a bone to pick with Starforge. You’ve murdered our people. Plagued our lands. We came here to remind you that Thornhelm still has a ruler. Our city is not yours to take.”

“You think you’re hot shit, boy? That you can toss your weight around with real warriors? I don’t know what your bitch of a sister is doing, but I know what she is — and what you are. And I know that no matter how fast she is, the only thing someone like her can do is kill. Assassins can’t protect. We’ll see how long she keeps fighting when you’re begging for your life.”

Ursa spat onto the ground. His eyes burned with fury as he lifted his uninjured hand and drove it up into the air. The fragments of his armor exploded out from his body, encircling him in a crackling electric tornado.

With the magical armor slicing the air to pieces around him, Vix’s increased speed and near-invisibility would do absolutely nothing to help her. There was no way she could get close to Ursa without carving her own body to pieces and they all knew it.

Ursa exploded into motion. He charged toward Art, his lips pulling apart into a savage grin as victory started to crawl across his features. The Starforge team leader knew he’d won — and he hadn’t even had to play whatever cards he’d been saving up for the rest of the tournament.

“You have it mistaken,” Art said, sliding a card free of his deck. His eyes met Ursa’s as the man closed the space between them. Anger made Art’s fingers tighten on the card until they left an indent in its surface. “I don’t need saving.”

He threw the card to the ground.

Mist exploded out from the ground, rapidly filling the air with a fog so thick that even a hawk would have been incapable of seeing through it. It swallowed Art and Ursa alike, plunging them into prickling wet darkness. Art tossed his crutch to the side and limped to the side, using the falling tool’s clatter to re-position.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“How?” Ursa demanded, his voice rising from within the mist. “You never stole their magic!”

Assumptions make an ass of us all. Never said anything about having to steal someone’s magic to copy it.

Art’s lips pulled apart into a thin smile, but he didn’t let his guard down. The fight was far from done. He’d only bought them more time. The mist wasn’t about to kill anyone. All it did was buy time — and time was the one thing that Art couldn’t afford to spend. Every second that went by was even more strain on Vix’s heart. The fight had to end as fast as possible. RÅＮ𝔬𐌱ĘȘ

Fortunately, Ursa didn’t know that.

He is, however, expecting a sneak attack. That’s the logical move, after all. Why blind someone if you don’t have a way to take them out while they can’t see? That’s the thought process of any adventurer worth their salt. You have to assume there’s purpose to everything so you can respond to it.

If you can’t see your opponent, then it’s safe to assume that they can’t see you either. So, if he’s assuming I’m going for a sneak attack while we can’t see each other, the best move would be…

Art released the stream of magic running from him to the card on the ground.

The mist evaporated instantly, vanishing as if it had never been there. Ursa stood only a few paces away from Art, his arm extended as magic gathered in his body, fragments of his armor still whirring and crackling around him. Surprise passed through the man’s eyes.

He thrust his hand down.

Nothing happened.

“Thanks,” Art said.

He pulled the newly charged card from his deck and flung it to the ground.

“No!” Ursa roared. He threw himself forward, closing the distance between them and ripping a long dagger from his side. The fragments of his armor swirled after him, still flanking the man but not quite able to keep up with his burst of speed. Ursa drove the weapon up at an angle, straight into the weak spot in the armor covering Art’s armpit — and the blade slammed to a halt, screeching against metal and failing to penetrate its enchanted metal.

Looks like my armor is better at being actual armor than yours is. @@novelbin@@

Art didn’t waste his breath or time on any words. Vix’s life was on the line, and she needed an opening.

He planned to make one for her.

Ursa jerked his injured hand down. The fallen fragments of his armor behind him shot forward. They carved toward Art — but they didn’t make it far. The weight of a world crashed down on Ursa’s back as his own magic was turned against him for the second time that day.

The Starforge team’s leader crashed to his knees with a pained grunt and the fragments of his armor slammed into the ground all around him. They fizzled out, their magical connection temporarily interrupted.

“You—”

Ursa suddenly jerked upward as Art let the gravity around him return to normal. He jerked to his feet faster than he’d been intending, stumbling right into the path of a black streak cut through the air directly behind him.

The rest of his sentence vanished with a wet thunk as a dagger connected with the back of his skull and drove in all the way up to the hilt. Ursa’s mouth lolled open in a brief instant of surprise. His eyes locked with Art’s; head unable to turn and look back at his killer.

Then he slid forward, landing on his knees before pitching over and falling flat on the ground. Blood quickly began to pool around his body. Healers rushed onto the stage, but it was too late for them to do anything.

Their magic couldn’t save the dead.

A shimmer passed through the air behind Ursa as Vix dropped her camouflage. Black coursed along her veins, reaching up her neck like a shadowy hand closing around it. Shadowy flames twisted around the blade gripped in her white-knuckled grip.

Art staggered forward, limping on his bad leg as fast as he could. Vix stumbled forward, her eyes glazing over. But, before she could fall, consciousness returned to them. She caught herself on Art’s shoulder and let out a pained hiss.

He ripped a card from his deck and pressed it against Vix’s heart, pouring power into it. The edges of the card burned and curled in on themselves, but the darkness in her veins halted. It receded away from her neck before vanishing entirely, its power contained within the card.

“You okay?” Art asked, letting his hand fall and sliding the card into his pocket, separate from the rest of the deck.

“Alive,” Vix replied, her grip tight. She let out a slow, controlled breath. “Thanks for the catch.”

“You did all the catching.” Art shook his head and glanced over to Kien. Through the entire fight with Ursa, he hadn’t heard or seen a single thing from the other side of the arena. Kien must have just been holding Ash off without —

Art froze.

Kien stood over Ash’s body. He held one of her daggers between two fingers, studying it with a deep frown crossing his features. The woman before him didn’t look dead — she was just unconscious.

When did that happen? How did he take her out so quietly?

“What happened there?” Vix muttered, following Art’s gaze.

“I don’t know,” Art said. He let out a slow breath, trying and failing to steady his furiously beating heart, and looked back to the body at his feet. The roar of the crowd was muted and distant — he could barely even hear it over the sound of his blood pumping in his ears.

They’d beaten Starforge’s team.

“Fuck it. I don’t care. We did it,” Vix said.

“Yeah,” Art said with a grim laugh. “But I think that, between this and Olive, the Menagerie is going to start getting a bit of a reputation. Anyone who’s crossed those wearing Ifrit’s armor in the past ends up dead.”

“Well, that’s certainly a statement.”

Art lifted his gaze to the roaring crowd as Kraven’s yells echoed out through the sky above them.

“Yeah,” Art said quietly. “So it is.”