Cursed Explorer of the Arcana

"Elyssia!" Martha joins me shortly after I'm healed and discharged.

Yeah, as it turned out, the shields were mostly for actual, serious injuries. Otherwise, the mechanism could be exploited by… say, laughably small, undetectable electric currents, or tiny, harmless blades of wind.

This also meant only punches strong enough and well aimed registered… But at least my fists landed more.

Martha looks to be in a good mood; she's smiling, but… It's that type of smile.

"Be so kind and tell me… Am I getting too old, or did you just taunt the audience, including even royalty, several times?" She asks a question without the right answer.

But I'm a veteran.

"Shouldn't you be congratulating me or something?" Placing my hands on my hip, I feign outrage. Okay, maybe it's not just an act. I do deserve all the shoulder pats.

All wholesome thoughts vacate Martha's mind in an instant – or at least that's what her face conveys – before she takes a deep breath. One step after another, she slowly walks up to me, and my body tenses up instinctively. She reaches out her arms and… pulls me into a hug.

"You did well. I'm really proud of you." She pats my back. It takes a second or two for my mind to register what just happened, but after that, my body melts into her embrace. "And you were super cool."

"Damn right!" I mutter into her chest.

I'm not so cheap or childish to be easily bought by my simple praises, but… this time around, I worked hard, really hard, and it feels good. It might be a little late to admit it, but I totally look up to Martha. Her presence, her attitude, her strength, and her grace in the face of any adversary, be that beasts or even inquisitors…

Almost as cool as Mom or Dad. I know, I'm disgustingly biased, but I'm not ashamed of it.

"But still, what were you thinking?" Martha pulls away and looks at me like I'm a complete idiot.

"Obviously, it was incredible showmanship." I lie, and do it way too seamlessly. "To make a lasting impression for fame and whatnot, I made sure to spice things up."

Yep, totally that. I was all fine with being treated like some animal to entertain the crowds. More importantly…

"When do I get my prize? I won, and a winner deserves a fitting reward, no?"

Gems, armor, a pet just like Alwi, a mansion, or even money… I won't refuse any of them, because I'm not picky. Although looking back, it would've made sense to keep Valka in the game just a little longer. This way, she missed the podium, and money might come in handy in the future.

"Only after all the events are concluded. In case you win something else…" She winks and puts an arm around my shoulder, guiding me to walk. "And while we're at it… That light?"

To show off a little – because that's in my blood, my very nature – I blow some air and create a tiny spark with the same move. This time, a normal one, visible to anyone and flickering like a firebug.

"What about dark?" Martha asks, showing no signs of that old wonder in her eyes. She's grown used to… me basically.

But her question does bother me as well. I totally expected the two to become mine hand in hand; however, I don't have the slightest clue how to crack the magic of shadows. Since darkness is simply the lack of light, I do a quick experiment right away. All I do is forcibly block every source of light from a small sphere in my hand and…

"No, this isn't it." I furrow my brows, already familiar with controlling my own shadow to a degree. "But it still might be useful for infiltration."

"Just use it in moderation." Martha wears a look similar to mine. "Too much darkness is similar to silencing all noise around you. Instead of masking something, you create a hole."

Walking a little further, we discover a gathering of my fellow fighters. The most interesting pair of them all is the womanizer and my brute, solely because of Alwina. The owlet who's not so little anymore is standing between the two with feathers ruffled, wings open wide, clicking her beak threateningly.

The metallic sound is actually quite eerie, and the thousand blade-like feathers make her look like a hedgehog that's able to fly. Sometimes I really can't decide if Alwina is an actual owl or a spirit with superb acting skills.

"This beast… out of the way! We're going to have dinner with the lady!" Gustavo tries to dance around, but the corridor remains blocked.

"Like hell we are!" Valka huffs, crossing her arms. "Go, Alwi, get him! Go for the eyes!"

Listening to the encouragement, Valka's spirit friend goes on the offensive, lifting her skirt of feathers and shiering menacingly. The boy is wide enough to realize that if he so much as puts a hand on the adorable thing, we'd take his head and so he retreats.

"This deserves a separate event. The crowd would love it." Martha chuckles, and I wholeheartedly agree. The crowd would love it.

"Actually, is there some sort of companion battle or something like that?" I ask. That'd be something I'd love to watch.

"There is." My mentor nods. "Although Kayla was banned last year. Every beast she went up against performed poorly because she somehow manipulated them."

Figure… Her Blessing is still the most cheat-like I've come across until now. At least her charms don't seem to work on Alwi, or at least not the the same degree.

Since the next match of free-for-all between the second-years is scheduled to start within an hour, we have plenty of time. Meaning I can watch this cabaret all I want… And also offer a bit of my time to a certain someone staring intently from he other end of the corridor.

He's been the second, no, third greatest pain in the ass to deal with. The trapper gnome, whose name I have already forgotten, and Aurora were definitely more troublesome.

Alwi lets me pass with a friendly chirp before resuming her terror campaign, and Val doesn't hold me up either.

"Next time, I'll win." She says with eyes burning and seething with competition, I haven't seen in a while.

Good. I'll need her to be comically strong.

Our first serious duel went to her, and this time it was I who came out on top. Even if this can't exactly be considered a proper battle between us two. Still, a win is a win, and I was the last one standing.

Behind her, the elf is already waiting, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "A fabulous display… Congratulations." The chocolate elf gives me a nod. Showing grace and elegance is above petty pride, but still, his words surprise me a little. "Looks like I'm not the greatest mage yet."

"You think so?" Stealing a glance towards Martha, I ask. "But why didn't you use your other element? Light can never best lightning or fire when it comes to destructiveness."

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"Oh, but it can…" He grins and gives me a cocky grin. "If you're beloved by Solaire, such as me!"

Ridiculous output and minimal mana expenditure, that damned necklace on his chest, thinking he's some sort of main character… Yeah, that's most likely his Blessing. Not the ego, that's elven standard, but the rest of it.

"Is that also why you look…tanned?" He's the first elf I came across who isn't pale as if trying to blend into snow.

"I'm from the south. The lands of endless sands, drowned in eternal light." He shrugs as if it were something enviable… Who the hell would even want to live in an oven?

Since the conversation is already getting tiring, I say my goodbyes and drag Valka along. Alwi needs to be persuaded ever so slightly, but the brave little thing can't resist my tricks. Still, she walks triumphantly as if she banishes some ancient evil.

Led by Martha and soon joined by a disheartened Sid, we make our way to the stands. During the downtime, the crowd has lost some of its fire. Compared to the last moments of my pyrrhic victory – those deafening cheers and eyes burning for the lust of more aggression – they now once again look like civilized people.

Although my return to the public does draw quite a few eyes.

To entertain the masses and maybe make up for my affront to all the dignitaries, I bow towards the noble pavilions. A small gesture of courtesy, signifying it's all for them and through their grace.

It's also meant to gauge their reactions.

Some look pleased with the honor and recognition I've brought to the Empire. It should be the standard, really. However, not everyone looks favorably on a commoner, an elf at that, stealing the spotlight. Great families sacrifice time and resources each year to nurture their children, and yet… It was not enough,

Against me, the new Tyrant, it was but a fluke. But man, I love this new nickname…

And then there are eyes so cold, calculating, and emotionless, as if they were playing a chess match. They are reactions more fitting for war than for this fanciful circus. Those eyes know me, have known me for a while now, and watched my rise for years.

Isn't that right, Custodian of the North, Duke Azural? As well as the Matriarch of the Velvet Cities, our Grand Admiral. The rest… They don't even dare look my way. Or rather, at the person standing right behind me and able to conjure storms whenever she wishes.

With that said, this much alone means next to nothing.

They might be involved or might not. And the Fist can't really make moves based solely on my questionable observations. But I'm satisfied for now.

"Where's the crown prince?" I ask my mentor once we spot our seats.

"He left soon after the event started. It's almost unheard of for the guest of honor to disappear like that." Martha frowns to herself and looks at the empty seat above all the others. "It doesn't bode well…"
Needless to say, Mom and Dad smother me once we get to our seats. Martha snuck them in along the delegation from the Fist, bless her heart. This place is not for commoners, and yet here they are.

They saw me… And maybe it's just me, but making them burst with pride almost feels better than winning the damn contest. Despite that, they also dote on Val and leave beating my ass to her in the duels.

Even now, seated and chatting merely – and of course munching on snacks, the price of diamonds – my eyes are kept on the mighty. Because there will come a day when the tables turn and I'm the one sitting high while you grovel below.

Whoever they may be, sooner or later, their houses will burn. Their lives will be in shambles as if the Gods decided to rip the world from under their feet. Cruel, vengeful, just… I don't care what it's called. Simply the idea of that very moment coming true makes all the effort worth it.

Eye for an eye, as they say… Even if it makes the entire world blind.

To keep the schedule diverse, every day of combat is followed by some miscellaneous crap, then a day of crafting competition. Needless to say, we are the main dish. It's also a chance for budding artisans to gain fame and support, but it's not every year that revolutionary inventions are presented.

Time passes in the blink of an eye, and soon the stands are filled to the brim once again. The new batch of contestants enters to perhaps an even greater applause than what we've received. Maybe because they're older, maybe because they've already proven themselves… most likely because about half of them are Blessed.

I keep half an eye on the events while going through the list I've been putting aside for far too long.

[Your Class [Shadowbrand Artisan] has reached lvl 72, +4 Free Points, +1 Free Points, +3 Speed, +3 Endurance, +5 Dexterity, +6 Intelligence, +8 Mana, +8 Willpower, +6 Focus, +2 Fortitude]

And now both my Classes are sitting at their peak. It irks me to even look at them, like a weird mental itch… But I also understand that the point of the Academy is refining what we have. Quantity over the usual rush.

[Your class Skill [Action for Reaction] has reached lvl 142-> 144.]

[Your class Skill [Mana Perception] has reached lvl 138.]

[Your class Skill [Focal Mana Trance] has reached lvl 138-> 140.]

[Your class Skill [Ethereal Stage] has reached lvl 124-> 129.]

[Your class Skill [Etherinity's Spark] has reached lvl 99-> 108.]

But it seems I won't need to delay this one too much with two of my most important Skills already maxed. Although I really want to put the work into Etherinity's Spark as well. Leaving it incomplete would be a blasphemy to magic.

[Your class Skill [Umbral Script] has reached lvl 69.]

[Your class Skill [Shapeless Lines] has reached lvl 59-> 60.]

[Your class Skill [Art of the Heart] has reached lvl 64.]

[Your class Skill [Shaded Embrace] has reached lvl 56.]

[Your class Skill [Depthless Dark] has reached lvl 44.]

Some of the goodness managed to trickle over, proving inscriptions can work in combat. And just how well they worked… If I had another half an hour, the entire meadow would've been teeming with traps and explosive charges… Not much, but it's still progress.

[The general Skill [Premonition] has reached lvl 143-> 144.]

"Sweet." I giggle to myself, earning some glances questioning my sanity.

[The general Skill [Martial Instinct] has reached lvl 110-> 114.]

[The general Skill [Divided Attention] has reached lvl 98-> 100.]

Here's all this improvement, and then I have crap like Survival taking up an entire slot and not pulling its weight whatsoever…

Before I can delve deeper into my Status, the horns announce the start of the tournament. However, unlike us, this set of seventy-two challengers doesn't wander off anywhere… Instead, the ground splits beneath their feet and swallows them all like the maw of those titan sandworms in those stories.

Once all their frightened screams are gone, a massive ring of light forms in the center of the arena. On it, we can see dozens of moving images showing each and every student safely landing in what looks like a mystical underground cavern.

"Kudos to the architect…" I give credit where credit is due.

The fluorescent mushroom and radiant monolith crystals make the place look like a real realm of wonder. Now all that's left is to kick back and enjoy the show. And maybe steal a few more tricks while I'm at it.

And so they battle on.

From the first minute, I recognize the difference not in the combat itself, but in how much my seniors utilize the terrain. Collapsing parts of the caverns system and creating illusion, both magical and natural camouflage…

Their battle seems a lot more moderate and reserved.

It's still exciting to watch, though.

From the caverns, they move onto a swamp, from the swamp, they arrive in a desert oasis, from the oasis to a town similar to Meliorport… And lastly, a tower of ridiculous proportions.

The fight grows heated, both rhetorically and literally, waged once again between mostly the representatives of major nations. But this time, White Pearl claims victory.

I don't know how that girl carved out victory – or whether or not it was even legal – because there were four of her. Not illusion, not clones… four magicswordsmen, all using mana and delivering strikes while looking, moving, and sounding the same.

"Some of these Blessings, man, I swear…" I sigh, resentful of the world for how unfair all this is. "Wait, Martha?"

I only now notice her return. Then my eyes are drawn to another figure gracing us with his presence, drawing the attention of the entire audience. Prince Kastor has returned, wearing a visage of trouble.

"Martha, what's going on?" It's only a hunch, but I've learned to trust my hunches.

She puts a hand on my shoulder and leans close to whisper into my ear. "We've just received intel… Talks in Barlek have broken down, and the country is drifting towards a civil war."

My eyes narrow, and something heavy settles into my chest. Even though war is not on our border, the Fist is famous for its unrivaled proficiency when it comes to the battlefield. And trainee or not, I'm still one of Krieg's soldiers.

Fearfully, I turn my head towards Martha. "Will we-"

"Not a chance." She grabs my head and forcefully turns it back towards the arena, before clapping like the rest. "Civil wars are worse and much more cruel than those between nations… You won't see those fields if it's up to me."

But it isn't… It isn't up to you, and the scale of what this might grow into is also beyond us.

I like fighting to a very specific, narrow degree. Not the blood, or the rush, or glory… I just love to beat the odds and win. But a war is different, and the Emperor is old.