*Vera*

Nathlan fought hard, but there was little to be done in the face of overwhelming power. He used his impeccable footwork and long reach to stay in the fight for as long as possible, but Jacyntha of Grey-Rock held the perfect counter to his abilities. Stronger, skilled enough, with a range equal to his own and a ferocity that far eclipsed his quiet commitment. The end, when it came, was inevitable.

An aborted slash with the great axe from the powerful woman turned seamlessly into a strike with the haft of the weapon that broke through Nathlan's guard. It was a nasty blow, mashing his lips and causing blood to spray to one side.

Vera tensed but knew it would do the boy some good to face defeat in a controlled environment. She hadn't meant to get so protective of him, had initially been skeptical even, given her history and Nathlan's past. But he had won her over quickly. To walk away from what he did showed a spine and diamond-hard moral framework that most she had met had lacked. Especially those from similar positions.

He stumbled back, and though his sword still remained between himself and his opponent, the large woman was fast enough to close the distance before he could recover. A wide swing of the black-hafted axe finished the fight, but Vera knew the Holder would do their job and so wasn't initially concerned.

She had worked hard for years at controlling the roiling volcano of rage bubbling within her chest at every waking moment. While she slept, too. It was only those long years of diligent practice that had kept the beautiful cave they inhabited from bursting into flames as she watched Nathlan's opponent stomp his knee backwards even as the Holder intervened.

The armrest splintered beneath her hand, but no aura leaked out into the world, and nobody was looking her way to see the fire blazing hot in her eyes. They were all watching the scene below unfold, as Nathlan fell, and the Holder did what she could to to prevent his death.

Everyone in the room was over their 2nd tier, and all could see plain as day that his opponent had intentionally injured him even after the fight was clearly over. Sadrianna called in outrage, and her parents began a rapid-fire conversation with her.

Jorge turned to catch her eye and flipped her a bottle of something. "Go and see him, give this to the healer attending."

He didn't need to say more. She stood and moved towards the tunnel at the back of the cave, stepping aside adroitly to avoid a finely dressed warrior entering. The man was broad in the shoulder and wearing ornate armour made from overlapping plates of carved bark. He smirked at her as he brushed past, and if she hadn't been in such a hurry she would have made him rue his arrogance.

But she was. Nathlan would be in a healer's tent soon, and she would not have him wake alone.

*Lamb*

The Nathlan that I saw next was neither proud nor curious.

I was alerted by the raised voices and commotion in the next room and glanced through the open doorway to see a group of people milling around uncertainly. There was an excitedness to the small crowd of fighters.

I turned away before catching a glimpse of a limp arm hanging off the side of a stretcher, blood dripping to the floor as the group rushed through the antechamber. Curiosity stirred, I looked again, and this time saw the scabbard of a familiar blade held loosely in the fist of a man I didn't recognise.

Nathlan's blade.

My blood surged, pounding in my temple as I rose to my feet. People were jostling around to get a good view, but they parted before my shoves and elbows. I breached the moving circle around the stretcher and gripped the arm of the man holding my friend's sword in a vice of flesh.

He jerked and turned angrily, raising a fist in threat, but I was no longer paying attention. My grip had loosened as soon as I saw the man lying on the stretcher, being carried through the room.

Nathlan was insensate to the world, blood bubbling from destroyed lips and one leg bent inwards at the knee. The man I had accosted softened his stance when he saw my face and pulled me to the side as Nathlan was whisked away.

I tried to resist but he slapped me lightly and spoke.

"Hey. Hey! You with me?"

The words drifted over my head as I watched Nathlan's head loll when the stretcher turned a corner, the flesh of his face pulped and oozing crimson. It was only once the stretcher was swallowed by the darkness of the tunnel that my eyes refocused on the man speaking directly into my face.

"Friend of yours?" The man asked, watching me intently, as one does a skittish animal. At my nod, he proceeded. "Good. Nasty business but they're taking him to the healers now. He will make a full recovery swiftly, on my honour."

"What happened?" My voice was low, but the question was clear even if the words were not.

"What do you think? He fought in the circle! That sort of beating isn't standard, but it's not rare either. Did you not see the fight?" There was a note of disappointment in the man's voice with his last question.

"I was still stretching out after my last fight," I replied mechanically, and he nodded at that, realisation dawning.

"Ah you're a fellow competitor? Sorry, I'd assumed you came from up above. Anyhow, he fought well but got caught at the end. Nothing particularly strange about it really," he said cheerfully.

I felt anger build within me and forcefully tamped it down. This was an expected result of fighting. I would do the same to others without remorse, and as long as everyone was healed and played within the rules, there were no real problems. Good even, for Nathlan to get some real combat experience.

"Hard to see, is all," I muttered, and received a look of sympathy from the big man.

"Understandable, friend." He reached out a hand to shake, and I grasped it absently. "Name's Jax. Listen, your friend will be up in no time. A couple of weeks tops for the leg, but I suspect he'll be up and awake in a few hours."

"Weeks!?" I nearly shouted. His reassuring tone had not had the intended effect, as my outburst no doubt made clear.

He raised his hands in a calming gesture. "Yes, but that's not surprising. His knee was shattered, bent backwards from what I could see. Was a controversial strike, truth be told, but such is the way of things, right?"

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Again, my voice was low, a hard-edge bleeding into it. "What do you mean, controversial?"

Jax looked a little perturbed, but I saw the exact moment his desire to gossip overcame his concern for spreading rumours. He leaned forwards.

"You see, it was the final blow. Big woman with a big axe – nothing special, but crazy strong – she comes in with a final swing aiming to take his head right off. Obviously, the Holder steps in and stops the strike, but the Carhagg stomps on his knee at the same time. Holder can't stop both, and a head is a lot more valuable than a knee, yeah? Nasty business, as I said."

I felt my neck itch, the desire to break something bubbling up within me at the words. "You saw this?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I was in the stands. I lost a few rounds back and thought I'd at least get a show out of the whole thing – didn't get far enough to be considered for the loser's bracket, you see. I'm not sure it was on purpose, but I wouldn't be surprised. He gave her a hell of a fight. Seemed to be winning too 'till she stepped it up a gear."

He began to lose enthusiasm as I failed to react and slapped me on the shoulder. "Anyhow, I'm sure your friend will be fine. See you 'round."

He backed away, and I didn't bother to give him my name. He hadn't asked anyway. Was my anger that obvious? I couldn't find it within me to care too much though. Someone had hurt Nathlan, and needlessly, from the sound of it. In retaliation for a hard fight, even more likely.

I returned to my seat in the other room, stewing. Deep breaths came and went, and it felt like an eternity later when I had finally centred myself. Nathlan had fought and lost. He was injured, but not severely. No doubt Jorge and Vera would have the resources to get him fixed quicker than expected, and it would be a good lesson for the scholar.

Not much I could do about it at this point, either. I wasn't going to attack a fighter outside of the tournament for a slightly dirty blow. I'd talk to Jorge and Vera, see if they saw and knew what had happened. I could leave any follow up to them as well. Doubtless they'd do a better job than I would, and he would be out for likely most of day in the healer's tent. I didn't know exactly what they could do, but I was confident he'd be unconscious for it.

Slapping my knee, I rose and turned towards the long tunnel leading to the surface.

It was nice to have a plan, at least. I'd tried to summon up the enthusiasm to continue the fight – perhaps I'd even place highly in the loser's bracket, but what would be the point? I'd earn no experience from it, and while I had no doubt that my struggles in The Blending so far had massively helped steady and reinforce my Skills, I would still need to kill some creatures to actually gain the necessary experience to level them. I'd already learned the lesson that I suspected Jorge wanted to teach me; raw power isn't everything, and a unified path is key.

What more was there to get out of this?

When I entered the cave, Vera was nowhere to be seen. Sadrianna was off to one side, watching her parents chat to a big man with interesting armour. Jorge sat alone nearby.

Something about the scene felt subtly wrong. I couldn't put my finger on exactly what, but there was a tension in the air. I felt my gaze drawn to the back of the big man and frowned. He was loud, gesturing wildly as he talked, and while Ventus and Arynia were engaged, their expressions looked a little fake. He was also quite close to them, leaning over more into their space than I would have expected, especially so for Ventus.

Jorge turned my way as I walked in and he gave a genuine smile when he saw me, at least. I greeted him and Sadrianna and took my seat with a sigh.

"Tough day?" Jorge asked wryly.

"Aye, can't deny it," I replied. "There's something about getting beaten seven ways to Sunday that just takes it out of you, you know?"

"Don't be dramatic, lad. As far as I'm concerned you performed admirably." I waved him off, but he took my arm and waited for me to meet his gaze again. "I mean it. Well done, Lamb. You fought well."

Damn. I didn't need everyone to know how much I appreciated those words, but judging by Jorge's gentle smile, I got the sense he realised. He leaned back, giving me a few seconds to compose myself before asking, "so what are you doing up here, then?"

"I heard about Nathlan."

He puffed out his cheeks. "Aye, nasty business, but a defeat will do him some good, I reckon."

"I thought so too, but the knee looked bad when I saw him on the stretcher, and I've heard it might not have been an entirely necessary blow."

Jorge shook his head, tilting it subtly behind him to indicate the big man, who had not so much as acknowledged me since I arrived. "Forget about that for now, lad. We'll see to his recovery. Vera's on her way even now."

"What's the recovery looking like, do you think?" I asked, curious to hear if he had a better estimate than the stranger down in the arena.

"To get him back on his feet? Days." That was a relief, but Jorge hadn't finished. "To get him fresh enough to brave the Dragon-Spines?" He waggled his hand from side to side. "Perhaps a week. I want you both 2nd tier before we undertake that journey though, and this might set that timeline back a bit."

I sighed. "Such is the way of things. At least we both learned something, though."

Jorge just raised an eyebrow. "'Such is the way of things?'" he quoted back to me. "I know I've got a charming voice, lad, but at a certain point the mimicry goes from flattering to downright strange."

"Oh shut it, you old git," I said with a smile. "But yeah, I think I know the lesson you wanted me to learn. See, it's all about paths, right?" I started, and noticed Sadrianna perk up from where she sat in the corner.

"Go on, lad."

"I was trying to figure out why everyone seemed so… slow. That was obviously the amulet," I said, gesturing vaguely to my chest, "but even so, I was still left wondering how the hell I was beating these people that had years more, sometimes over a decade more, training than me. We had similar stats, their Skill levels must have been at least equal – I know that support classers level slower, don't tell me again – but they had better training."

I had looked to the floor as I got lost in my explanation, following the path of my hands as they sketched out my point in the air, but now I looked up to stare Jorge right in the eye. "And yet."

"And yet," he echoed, "you beat them."

"But why?" I asked. "That was the question. And I think the answer is that they lack cohesive paths. Sure, they've got Skills, and sure, they've got training and weapons and all the rest. But they don't know what they want. Their general Skills aren't built to do the same things that their class Skills are. You need to have every Skill driving in alignment towards a single purpose before you can really fight like a proper warrior."

"Well done, lad. I mean it, I'm genuinely impressed. 'Course, that's not the lesson I was hoping you'd pick up from all this, at all, but it's a good lesson regardless. How did you figure it out?"

I frowned, confused by his admittance before I got distracted by his last question. "It was Tilt that did it, I think. It's not a very useful Skill just yet – too weak to really do much but make someone hesitate a moment, much like my aura Skill. But I feel… different is the only way to describe it. Since I got that last Skill, I mean. Like my class makes a bit more sense, like each Skill is just a hair quicker to activate and I know exactly when to use it."

Jorge smiled again. "Good – remember this feeling. It's a good lesson, and one most don't learn until they're stuck in the 2nd tier. I expect Sadrianna over there is particularly interested in what you just said, isn't that right, girl?" he asked the last bit over his shoulder, just a little louder.

Sadrianna started, flinching slightly in place and then giving us a slightly chagrined smile. "Sorry, it's just… Yes, that was useful. Thank you," she said, nodding over to me.

I just nodded back. "You're welcome." I was completely ignorant of what revelation my words might have helped with, but if I was given an opportunity to look magnanimous, I'd never not take it.

"Anyway," Jorge said, bringing me back to the point. "That's not the lesson I wanted you to learn. It's related to that amulet," he said, pointing at my chest, "and it's far more relevant to you right now than your last nugget of wisdom, no matter how surprising it is to hear any sort of wisdom pass your lips."

He thought for a second, cocking his head to one side. I waited patiently, sure he was about to provide me with more insight on what lesson he wanted me to learn next. "Come to think of it, so much nonsense comes pouring out of that constantly flapping mouth of yours that it shouldn't be much of a surprise when you finally say something worthwhile."

"Bastard," I muttered, in what was becoming a familiar refrain. "I actually thought you were about to say something useful for one. More fool me, aye?"

He grinned without remorse. "Someone has to keep you in place, lad. Now in all seriousness, get back down there and see how you get on in the loser's bracket, alright? I want you focusing on what you can learn from these next few matches. How does it feel to be limited? What difference does it make to your fighting style? What are your paths to victory without overwhelming physicality? Think on it."

I nodded, giving him a brief slap on the back. "Alright. Let me know if things change with Nathlan, yeah?"

"Of course, lad."

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