Chapter Two Hundred and Ninety - Don't Cut Yourself On All These Edges

Chapter Two Hundred and Ninety - Don't Cut Yourself On All These Edges

Chapter Two Hundred and Ninety - Don't Cut Yourself On All These Edges

The worst part of getting into any sort of tournament-y fight, I was discovering, was the waiting.

Sure, this was only my second time experiencing this, but still. Having to wait in a little room while watching sylph fill the stadium seats above wasnt all that fun, not while waiting for stuff that was out of our control.

I was mostly waiting for Augustus to return with my broom and dustpan. He applauded my choice in non-standard weapons, then refused to allow me to take anything unenchanted into the arena because that would infringe upon his honour or something.

Theyve arrived, Amaryllis said. She was staring out the window and across the arena, eyes narrowed to see into the darkened room just like ours on the other side.

I shifted over to her side and looked across too. I could just make out the three mercenaries wed have to fight milling around. Looks like it, I said. Any last-minute strategies?

None that I can think of, Amaryllis said. I know you have a tendency to hoard points on occasion, and thats fine, but now would be a good time for even a small boost in your combat ability. This one fight might very well determine the entire war.

Right, I said.

I only had one Cinnamon Bun skill point to spend. It was meant to get my Cleaning magic up a rank, but Amaryllis was right.

Congratulations! Way of the Mystic Bun is now Rank C!

Way of the Mystic Bun

Rank C - 00%

You have taken your first big hop on the path of the Mystic Bun, combining devastating magic-laced physical attacks with incredible mobility. You may now expend your own mana to manipulate an enemys own.

I blinked. What did that even mean?

Ive upgraded the only skill I really can, I said. I, uh, don't know if itll help all that much.

Which one? Amaryllis asked.

But before I could get her to give me some advice, the door at the back of the room opened, and Augustus stepped in. He had my broom and dustpan! Ladies, Captain, he said before placing the broom and dustpan to the side. The hour is upon us now. The referee will be calling out your name as it is picked out of a hat. The hat is enchanted to prevent tampering, so no worries.

Someone tampered with the hat before? Amaryllis asked.

We used to use a goblet, Augustus said. Very dramatic, but alas, not tamper-proof. Now, there are quite a few faces out there, but, as I always suggest, just dont pay them any mind. Do your best and Im sure youll come out on top!

I nodded, then slapped the lion-faced helmet Id picked up onto my head. It took some wiggling to get my ears to poke out from the right spots, but I managed.

New Skill Acquired: Pit Fighting

Rank: E

How do I look? I asked.

Like some sort of hideous lion-rabbit crossbreed, Amaryllis said.

I turned my head this way and that. The helmet was acceptably snug, tight without being too tight. It did limit my range of vision a little bit, but not enough that I thought it would really impact me mid-fight.

Augustus left us while I was getting my helmet on. I sighed, picked up my weapons, then put them back down. Okay, no, before we head out, we should do buffs.

Do you have a tea set? Amaryllis asked.

No, but I have arms, I said. I raised them. Hugs?

Amaryllis made a show of being huffy, but we were just between friends, so there was no heat in the protests. Awen, on the other hand, giggled and wrapped her arms around us both to make it an even better hug.

I did my best to snuggle my friends, which was hard given the helmet. Maybe if I had practised more, my hugging skill would be a bit better. I regretted not hugging people more. But that regret wouldnt stop me from making the change I needed to become a better hugger.

Augustuss voice snapped us out of the hug, and we all glanced over to the arena where the sylph was talking up to the crowd, his voice amplified by a microphone-like device hanging from the ceiling by a long wire.

Awen started to move forwards again while Jacob walked in a wide circle to reposition himself. His first two blows had been more like testing attacks than anything else, it seemed.

Then Awen swung her arm around her shield, and a dozen little things caught the air as they scattered on the ground before Jacob.

The mercenary paused, eyes narrowing. He continued to sing even as he knelt down and pinched something off the ground. A caltrop, made of four bits of twisted glass.

Well, shes not holding back, Amaryllis said.

Awen flung more caltrops around her shield, then even more of them, most disappearing into the sand so that they were nearly impossible to make out.

Jacob whistled, and a sword shot towards Awen. She carefully stepped to the side and battered it out of the way with her shield, but a second whistle sent another sword flying towards her, then a third. Soon, Awen had to twist and crouch behind her shield while three of Jacobs swords spun around her. Theyd dart in, then back out, cutting at her shield and trying to poke her from behind.

I winced. Awen was having to dodge and block a lot, while all Jacob was doing was humming his constant dirge. I was starting to make out very faint changes in pitch and tone that seemed to help the swords move, but there was no way I could figure out the pattern without a whole lot more studying. It was a neat set of skills.

Awen ducked under her shield, then she flung her arm out.

Instead of more caltrops, a foot-long scintillating crystal dagger shot toward Jacob's chest.

His song shifted as he took a quick step back, and one of the swords near him swung around and placed itself between him and the dagger.

Awen twisted her hand, and the daggers flight path changed in mid air. It arced around the sword and stabbed into Jacobs armour.

The blade burst into shards on impact, and it left a stub of broken glass jutting out of his armour. Not deep, but it was first blood.

Jacobs song deepened and sped up ominously. He jumped up just as one of his swords swept down and landed on the flat of the blade.

Damn, I heard Awen say as he surfed over the ground shed trapped.

Jacob plucked a sword out of the air and landed next to Awen already swinging.

She staggered back, shield imposed between herself and the mercenary to parry the swing. It was a lot heavier than the blows from the flying swords though, and it battered her arm out wide.

Jacob moved in, still singing and still with his other swords flying circles around himself and Awen.

One of the blades nicked her in the back, and I winced as Awen squeaked. They were circling in closer.

I think we all sensed the moment that Awen started to lose steam.

So, she went out with a bang.

Thrusting her shield forwards, Awen rammed it into Jacob. But the mercenary was quick on his feet, and he rolled with the blow, stepping to the side as she moved past. Then he let out a long hiss, and I noticed that the shiny glass on the ground had been moving.

Awen had pulled the glass closer? Maybe since hed moved out of her trap, she moved her trap to him!

It didnt help much.

Awens shield was shoved aside, and she only just caught his sword mid-length with her gauntleted hand.

Jacob let go of it, grabbed Awen by the shirt, and with a shove and a flip, threw her up and around to crash into the sandy ground with a hard oomph.

One of the flying swords came around and rested a handspan over Awens neck.

In a flash, Awen had a gorget over her throat, then the glass continued to grow until her head was encased in a crystalline helmet. It was a bit crookedy and was obviously rushed, but it was enough that Awen was able to roll around and back to her feet even as Jacobs swords hounded her every move.

Awen was incredible, but her fight wasnt turning out well. The more armour she added, the slower she moved and the harder Jacob hit her.

He was twisting his blades to only strike with the flat side, but it was still tossing Awen around, and after the third time she landed on her back and had a sword stop above her, she stopped fighting back.

Awen reached up and tore off her helmet. She glared up at the sword, then let her head fall back. Fine, I yield, she said.

***Fôll0w current novÊls on n/o/(v)/3l/b((in).(co/m)