Magma Dragon's Heir

Chapter 35 - Worthier Opponents


75th of Season of Earth, 56th year of the 32nd imperial era

The speed at which Newt successfully replicated the seals from Dandelion's handbook snowballed, past experience making each seal easier and easier to scribe, the final four he made correctly on the first attempt. As for the other three tournament matches he fought, they were just as interesting as the first one, knights relying on their strength and nothing else, but their strength proved insufficient to challenge Newt.

His match of the top eight was that evening, and with nothing better to do, Newt went to watch the other quarterfinalists. The remaining combatants were either in the second realm or at the peak of the first. Newt wasn't certain how he felt about grown men in their thirties having lower realms than him. Given his family's lack of resources, Magmin's realm and sheer luck were what had changed his fate and stopped him from joining the number of the less fortunate.

Opportunities to earn manarium in the first and second realm were next to none. Other than being born rich, Newt could only think of gambling, banditry, and entering slavery for a wealthy family or organization. Even roaming the Summersweald was a gamble, since even non-manabeast saurians possessed the strength to threaten those at the second realm, so a tournament such as the one organized in Hailstown was a blessing.

The two men fighting in the expanded arena were quite good. Their swords clashed as they retreated or riposted, their movements much smoother than Newt's. After filtering out the rabble and people trying to win easy money, only the skilled remained, or in Newt's case, the strong. As a noble scion, he had weapons training. He had practiced every day before Victor cast him into the mines, but the three-year-long break left its mark and riddled Newt with flaws and insecurities. He almost certainly couldn't win through skill alone.

Fortunately, he had an ace up his sleeve. He was the only mageknight, or if there were others, they hadn't revealed themselves yet.

The crowd screamed, some in shock, some in bloodlust. The man in red slashed the arm of the one in yellow. His strike severed bone, and the loser's forearm hung by bits of skin and muscle as blood gushed from the wound.

"The winner, Brightcloud Redleaf!" the referee shouted while a pair of healers wearing a stretcher rushed to offer as much help as they could to the defeated.

Healers bandaged the wound and stopped the bleeding in a matter of seconds before carrying the young man into the keep. Fortunately, there were no deaths yet in the tournament. The rules pushed the combatants to disarm their opponents, which led to flashier matches with more clashing weapons and frequent showers of sparks.

It also resulted in an abnormal number of ruined weapons. Fortunately, Newt's swords were forged in the time of his ancestors, when third realm knights guarded the castle gates and when the rich lord believed his retainers deserved high quality equipment.

Clenching the sword's hilt, Newt pushed his way through to the participants' area. His opponent already sat there. The brawny man's hair and bushy beard were crimson, his eyes closed while he softly clicked a pair of menacing hand-axes one against the other. The movement was almost like whetting them against each other, but too soft, done either out of habit or to aid his meditation.

Newt sat opposite to him, and examined the savage, for the axman really looked like a barbarian. The bulky warrior wore a light leather jerkin of green and black scales, and if it was made of a manabeast's hide, as Newt supposed, its appearance deceived the eye. The lightweight armor was probably tougher than mail. A string of fangs and claws hung around the axeman's neck, black claws forming a contrast against the much smaller white teeth.

The man's trousers were of the same leather, reaching halfway to his calves, and the oddest thing about him were his bare feet. The man was shoeless.

Newt's gaze remained locked on those hairy legs, shocked that someone would walk around without proper shoes.

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"I hacked it too many times." The grunt snapped Newt out of his thoughts.

The youth looked up to face the hard-faced man. "Pardon?"

"The raptor - it put up a good fight, and I ruined its scales, so I didn't have enough for longer pants. Is that what you were wondering?"

"Yeah, thanks." Newt nodded.

I guess he didn't have enough to make boots either.

Newt's were painted black, as was his belt, while his pants and tunic were of a dark red matching his hair. He kindly asked Dahlia to get his clothes in order while he read the introduction to seal scribing and practiced its seals.

Before Newt could consider the clashing fashion statements in even greater detail, the referee called him and Axle Strongax into the ring.

The two got into position, and Axle charged towards Newt as soon as the referee gave the mark. Axle swung his ax, his powerful physique blurring the difference between his and Newt's realm. Newt blocked the blow, but Axle swung his weapon's twin at Newt's exposed upper arm, aiming to end the match in two moves.

Newt jumped back out of reach, but giving space proved disastrous against the woodsman. Axle devoured the yard between them, the distance vanishing as soon as it appeared as he swung both his weapons before Newt regained his footing.

Newt panicked and allowed himself the fall and roll to the side, Granite Crust creeping over his body. The sight momentarily stunned Axle, and Newt seized the lost initiative. He smacked the ax out of his opponent's hand, but the attack jerked Axle back into the match.

The axeman swept for Newt's head, and Newt caught the ax with his sword, his arm at an awkward angle. Axle heaved, pulling the ax towards himself, snatching Newt's sword out of his hand and disarming the youth. In doing so, the axeman left himself wide open, and a granite fist smashed into his face, followed by another and another. The warrior stumbled, swaying on his feet, before he collapsed unconscious on the cobbles, his face smacking the stones with a wet sound.

The crowd was silent.

"We will need to check the rules again and discuss them before deciding on the match." The referee broke the quiet, unsure of how to proceed. "Blows to the head and chest were marked as illegal."

What? Newt blinked, his gaze drifting down towards Axle sprawled on the ground with a bloody nose and a red trickle pooling where his mouth lay. The healers were running towards them, a stretcher between them. Axle wasn't heavily injured, just unconscious, but Newt had bigger problems to consider than the knocked out brute.

His heart raced. In the heat of the battle, he had forgotten all about the rules. Axle aimed for his head at least once, and then the tournament, rules, and everything else evaporated from his mind, replaced by survival instincts. Could he argue he was just defending himself if the organizers disqualified him? Where was Blackfist?

Newt looked up, but failed to spot the townlord, then watched the referee enter the keep and consult with others up on the wall. The surrounding crowd murmured, and he heard quite a few people mutter, "Mageknight." Some wondered what a mageknight was doing in a small provincial tournament, while others commented on how an illustrious mageknight nearly lost to a savage axeman who hunted saurians for a living.

Newt's ears burned with shame at that. He recalled how Blackfist had dubbed Newt's action 'stealing from children', but Newt was the youngest participant. He focused on that thought to vindicate himself while the murmurs went on as commoners speculated about his origin and the purpose of his participation. Helpless, Newt could only curse his mindcore for enhancing his senses enough for him to make out what the audience was saying.

Finally, Blackfist's brother neared the wall and cleared his throat.

"The rules of the tournament forbid weapon attacks against chest and head, but unarmed attacks are fine. There's even a mention of headbutts and fists to the face being legal moves." Newt swallowed the lump in his throat, relieved that the exact move he had used was mentioned as legal.

"There's also a part about magic being legal, should mages or mageknights join. Anyone who wants can read the full rules posted at the entrance."

That rule also made sense. Mages had to rely on magic against knights, and any who joined would have needed it. The odds of mages or mageknights joining were minor, but there Newt was, and he frowned, wondering whether the rules were made with him in mind.

No way, they announced the tournament before I arrived, and even if they had done it later, would they specifically cover me in the rules? Newt found the egoistical thought ridiculous and dismissed it immediately.

"The winner, Newstar Salamandra!" the referee announced from the wall, signaling the end of the day's battles.

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