Information is the lifeblood of those who wish to deal in goods and coin.

  - The Path of the Merchant by Gelgor Badawi.

  The ground rumbled as the very stone tiles at our feet answered the dark man’s call. Stone became viscous liquid, pooling around his feet before pouring over his chiseled frame. This was certainly not what I had been expecting.

  Gritting my teeth, knowing that to interrupt would damn my word, I could but wait until the Geomancer’s transformation was completed. Stone slabs had become his new skin, his new armor. The man had become a monster of heavy stone.

  I had thought that Earth Golem would have been a simple summoning spell… This, well, this… this was cheating. With a snarl, I finally unleashed the black coils of dark song that was Greater Drain. The black magic sought sweet life, penetrating my target's armor of granite stone.

  Where there is a will, there is a way, I thought, smiling to myself under my face cover. The Geomancer, now Earth Golem, rumbled to me on heavy feet, the earth seeming to shake with its tread. The crowd was going wild with this display of magical might. A part of me almost felt jealous that I did not have any flashy offensive spells or transformations in my repertoire.

  The Golem moved with surprising speed for its bulk and weight, and a great punch flew my way. I dodged the fist, but the heavy hammer blow cracked the granite where I had been. I snarled in animalistic response, a counterpoint to the raw joy filling me as I stole away the Golem’s essence. Still, even with over eight hundred Health or not, if one of those fists connected against my unarmored form, it would do heavy damage.

  Feasting on raw exhilaration, I casually dodged another blow, letting it come close enough that I felt the air whoosh by me. Laughing, I began to feel invincible, my focus slipping. No, focus! I told myself. Loath as I was to admit it, this one was a threat. Added to this, was it my imagination, or was Geomancer getting faster? I tripped, a crack in the arena’s floor making me lose my footing. A backhanded strike was incoming, too fast for me to dodge, so I held up both my arms to block the blow. The Mimic residing in my shield arm took the brunt of the attack, but physics could not be ignored, and I was lifted clean off my feet and sent flying.

  Almost spinning through the air, I landed badly, the air forced out of my lungs with the impact on the hard floor. Something inside, I could feel it, had broken. The Geomancer, I refused to call him by his name, had done almost two hundred points of damage. My hands sought purchase to help me get up, but found only empty air. The damned fool had almost sent me out of the arena. Shocked and annoyed, I slowly got up on ragged feet.

  It was the dark man’s turn to gloat. “I applaud that you were able to survive. Were you not so skilled, I am sure you would be dead. Truly, the Iron Body technique taught in the Land of Streams is something to behold. I thank you for the honor of it.”

  My head still ringing, I let him prattle on as I summoned a quick Heal spell. The magic of its song worked through me, healing me for a good chunk of the inflicted damage even as he continued to prattle on. Never before was I so grateful for my Improved Pain Nullification, a skill without which I am sure would have led me to be debilitated with raw agony.

  I straightened my shoulders, feeling my body repair itself, and considered my options. My fists and feet, even with my enhanced Strength and speed, would do little against solid stone. There was the option to lure him to where I was, possibly pushing him out. I considered this for only a moment, before rejecting it utterly. Such a method was beneath me. However, defeating this monstrosity through sheer physical power was a daunting prospect.

  My Mana rose by one point even as the Golem’s dropped. A backhanded blow of inspiration struck me, and I almost laughed in cruel glee. Sometimes, just sometimes, the greatest victories could be won without truly fighting. The universe, as ever, was on my side.

  Biting down my pride, a most bitter pill, I focused exclusively on just staying out of the range of the stone mallets that were his fists. Again and again, he smashed and struck with his fists and feet, a windmill of focused violence, but with my attention solely focused on defense, it was child’s play to avoid them.

  Laughing, I began to dance and dart around him, keeping my distance and dancing out of the way as he continued to flail at me. This gave me joy; the heady rush of Greater Drain drove me to extend this turn of events for as long as possible. The match degenerated into a farce, and the crowd jeered at my performance, but I just kept running away, kiting him around the arena. Just a bit more, I promised them and myself. The Geomancer’s Mana and Stamina were edging ever closer to nothing. Just a little bit more.

  And then it happened, his Mana dropped to that most blessed of mathematical inventions—zero. My time had come. The grey stone of his skin cracked, lines of weakness spreading in an uncontrolled spiderweb pattern. He took a step, and flakes of stone fell off him like rain.

  I allowed the man to approach, the remains of his armor now only dusting him in a faint layer. His shoulders stooped, and one eye was only half-open through exhaustion or simply because of the stone dust.

  "Ha... just a bit more time and I would have been victorious," he panted pitiably.

  "Sure, whatever gives you comfort in the next life. Mine is a Strength from saga and verse, and you, you will be but a footnote in my epic," I declared, crouching low to the ground, coiling up like a spring ready to fly.

  I ended him with an Improved Rush Strike, my hand forming a spear that pierced his throat before he could declare that he yielded. His eyes widened in surprised disbelief, as if I had done something so unexpected. His hands clutched futilely at his throat as he gurgled his last.

  Without his best spell, he was basically nothing.

  Well, this one had been an improvement over the last loser, I thought grimly. Yet the mere thirty points of experience did not quite match the level of difficulty he had presented. In retrospect, it was mostly my fault for allowing him to unleash his full power. Still, a part of me would have felt rude not letting him do so.

  The beast howled in appreciation, and a thousand and one people stood almost as one. The air vibrated and shook with their cruel glee.

  Such a poor reward for the trouble I had to go through, but I would not refuse it. An awkward-looking official offered me the healing and services of the Council, but once again, I refused. Let them wonder at the resilience of the man who went through the whole tournament relying on nothing more than his own natural resilience. It was the stuff of legend.

  Refusing the official’s insistence yet again, I chose to sit down on a stone bench at the arena’s side for a few moments to bask in their adoration while I went over the long list of what made my greatness.

  It was many long minutes before the crowd finally settled down.

  *****

  For the first time in a long while, I found myself truly conflicted. Next up would be Larynda against that old windbag Tai-san. It would be a loss for me, no matter who won. Yet after pondering my situation a bit more, I reached the final conclusion that I wanted Larynda to prevail. After all, there was hardly anything more humiliating than losing to a mere girl.

  Having settled on this line of thought, I decided to cheer for the girl, giving her a quick salute, which she did not seem to acknowledge. Sometimes, emotions and good feelings were wasted on people.

  The pair bowed to each other, old and young, male and female—polar opposites of one another. The judge presiding over the bout looked them both in the eye before announcing them to the wild crowd.

  Somewhere, lost in the frenzy, I thought I saw Melianna the Blade Dancer cheering on my ward somewhere in the crowd. It looked like whatever bad feelings had existed between them were lanced and excised in their last confrontation. It was a beautiful friendship. The dark-haired girl was a pretty enough thing, that was if you could look past her strange ears and boyish attitude. Having sampled Elenora, I found my tastes broadening, now developing for the more slender women.

  The judge, caution as always coloring his actions, made his way to the edge of the arena before cutting down with his sharp ornamental sword.

  The judge, ever cautious, approached the edge of the arena, his sharp ornamental sword gleaming as he raised it to signal the start.

  "It will be interesting to see you try your magics against my Kai," the old man mused, stroking his snowy beard.

  Larynda ignored him, beginning her chant to cast a spell. I had expressly forbidden her from using her Chaos magic here at the Festival—I thought it wise that she not reveal the full extent of her powers in front of so many. It would remain to be seen whether she would heed my warning and command.

  A solid ball of water formed between her hands, and she launched it toward Tai-san. The old man didn’t budge. But just as the ball was about to strike, he let out a deep, rumbling shout.

  The half-elf’s magical projectile exploded in a mist of fine spray. The girl's mask of concentration slipped for a bit, revealing her surprise and disbelief. It seemed that Tai-san had a way of neutralizing magics with the equally mystical force of Kai. It was an energy that I, at least up until recently, had had no success in utilizing properly. Damn Fen and her misguided teachings.

  The Mage narrowed her eyes, the light within them taking on a dangerous aspect as she began to chant again.

  However, now, it was the old man’s turn to attack. He burst into sudden speed, a swiftness of hand and foot that made a mockery of his advanced age. A dervish of flashing limbs that even I had a hard time tracking. Had the old man been holding back when he faced me?

  He would give her no reprieve, no chance to finish casting her spell. Larynda was being overwhelmed by the old dervish. For three blows she was able to block or dodge, one got through. Again and again, she grunted and hissed in controlled pain. Losing the threads of her spell, she was repeatedly forced to start again from the beginning.

  She was able to grab one of Tai-san’s feet after a kick, trying to bring him down to the ground. However, the ancient one twisted away, hands on the floor, unleashing an upside-down spinning kick that caught her chin.

  I grit my teeth, watching as my ward was knocked off her feet. The old man, hands behind his back, hopped from one foot to the next like a jester as the cruel crowd applauded his performance.

  Larynda did not get up. And just like that, my ward had lost.