The Tournament [A Non-Traditional Fantasy]

Liederkranz charged.

A step away from striking range, her baton snapped from her hand like a javelin. Poetaster slipped aside with a languid twist, the baton streaking passed empty air. But before the weapon could fly too far, a swarm of spectral arms erupted out of Liederkranz's back, encircling Poetaster in a cage of writhing limbs. One hand snatched the thrown baton midair; the instant it touched, the arm went rigid, petrified in place. Another spectral fist hammered it, shattering both limb and weapon free, hurling the baton back toward its mark.

The audience gasped. Poetaster dodged again. A third hand seized the baton and a fourth batted it back once more. Poetaster darted wildly within the cage of spectral limbs, evading the flying baton.

Within the cage, another collection of shorter arms sprouted from the woman's sides, solidifying into bright light as she dove into the fray. The baton flew all across the cage, while Liederkranz jumped and twisted in an erratic dance that thrashed her army of spectral limbs. Poetaster side stepped and backed away to garner distance from the pummeling to retaliate with a flurry of prismatic bolts. Liederkranz kept pace undeterred by the counter-spells, sticking uncomfortably close.

Belabor leapt out her seat, hands clamped to the belvedere railing until her knuckles turned white, half leaning over. "How is she doing that?!"

Picayune hardly registered the question as he struggled to follow the dazzling, lightning fast battle. His eyes were hungrily soaking up the countless decisions and strategies counterplaying against each other across the span of seconds. Despite the real fight's commencement, The two combatants still moved with the elegance befitting a dance. Liederkranz constantly shifted stances like flowing water and Poetaster adjusted to the erratic pace without a break in step. If one didn't know better they would have thought the whole battle was choreographed.

Belabor waved a hand behind her trying to draw Picayune's attention without breaking her gaze from the fight. "Picay! Picay! How is she doing that? It's like her magic is alive, there's no way arcana should move that way."

Liederkranz's body was scarcely visible through the semi-transparent nest of limbs, yet still it was clear to see she was a storm of motion. The limbs flew around with each flip and roll and kick, turning one attack into a hundred and Liederkranz took the clear lead in the flow of battle. The slightest slip in Poetaster's optimized movement was gravely punished by that flying baton. Every hit, a blunt trauma that slowly added to an exhaustive advantage.

Picayune saw it then, the trick so simple causing a snort. "The magic isn't moving. It's attached to her and she's the one moving. She's basically using the magic like swinging a bat."

A spectral arm lanced her baton at Poetaster who dodged, but before it even reached its path's end, another phantom hand smacked it sideways, diverting its flight. The wood cracked against the bridge of Poetaster's nose with a loud crunch.

Cartilage folded. Blood spattered. Poetaster's head snapped back, and while stumbling back, Liederkranz pushed the advantage. Poetaster could barely get their feet under themselves as Liederkranz hailed down a rain upon them.

Belabor laughed at the display, the only way to release the tension of disbelief. "But it's so coordinated! How can she control so many different weapons with such a crude method?!"

Picayune joined his girlfriend by the railing, eyes glued to the arena. "I… I don't know. Practice?"

Poetaster finally got back up, but only to be welcomed with two kicks to the gut and a fist square on the already-broken nose. It bent disturbingly inward, collapsing like wet parchment. Another spectral arm hurled the baton at Poetaster's chest. The audience braced for impact.

But Poetaster was no longer there.

They reappeared behind her, voice nasal, laughter dripping between bloody teeth. "You almost got me."

The rapt audience was teetering at the edge of their seats, sat in such tense silence they could hear the pop of cartilage snapping back in place and echoing off the arena walls. Picayune was so shocked by the turn of events that he accidentally dropped the remainder of his potato wedges over the edge of the belvedere.

Liederkranz whirled, disbelief wrinkling her brow. "But… how?" Poetaster matched her gaze with a bloody smirk. She wondered with complete bafflement "You can't cast Teleportation."

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Poetaster laughed. "You're not the only one with tricks." Before her mind could catch up, Poetaster vanished and reappeared point-blank, a palm bursting with prismatic force. Five bolts hammered into her chest in rapid succession, hurling her backwards. She crashed hard against the arena's stone, the thud ringing like a struck drum. Pain cleared her stupor; her body moved on instinct, leaping back to her feet—

—just in time for Poetaster's fist to collide with her jaw.

But there was no pain. Only weightlessness. The world spun. The ground was gone.

Poetaster had transported them both into the sky.

High above the arena, with the crowd a tiny blur below, Poetaster grinned. And then, with a cheeky little wave, vanished again.

For one stretched heartbeat Liederkranz hung there. Then gravity seized her by the throat and dragged her down to the awaiting stone, air rushing cold against her face.

She plummeted, panic clutched in her chest but training took charge. She slammed her spectral arms beneath her and coalesced them into solid arcana, shattering the conjured limbs but breaking her fall enough to only knock the wind from her on impact. Liederkranz pulled herself off the ground, catching her breath for Poetaster's next attack. She regrew a new set of spectral limbs. They returned more slowly than before. Her energy was draining, but still she stood ready.

Poetaster languidly paced to the arena center, giving Liederkranz the courtesy to recoup, and the audience time to gawk.

"Well," Poetaster drawled, voice carrying easily across the hushed arena, "I suppose my dirty little secret's out now."

Then—gone.

Poetaster flickered back into view off Liederkranz's periphery and fired a prismatic bolt; the disappeared before she even dodged, appearing on the complete opposite side and fired again. Poetaster jumped all over the arena like a faulty reflection. Each reemergence came with a prismatic bolt lashing out, forcing Liederkranz to dive, duck, and sacrifice ever more spectral limbs as makeshift shields. No hits made it through her defence, but still, angry purple bruises were building as she constantly threw herself to the ground.

Two bolts fired from opposite directions. She flipped between the two attacks, cartwheeling to her baton. Just as she was about to reclaim the dropped weapon—

—Poetaster's voice tittered against her ear. "You know…" A crushing kick split her ribs. She wheezed, then felt weightlessness—again in the sky. Poetaster smirked beside her. "Despite its uniqueness…" Poetaster vanished. Gravity claimed her.

Ready this time, Liederkranz spread her arms, large spectral fans bloomed into thin parachutes on either side to slow her fall.

From below, Poetaster laughed theatrical, back turned to her, addressing the audience. "I've never been a fan of my teleportation!"

Poetaster reappeared beside the gliding Liederkranz, hand clamping around her uniform. The two instantly appeared on the ground and Poetaster slammed her into the stone and vanished again before the scattered dust even settled.

Her parachutes shattered. Her head spun, her breath ragged.

Poetaster taunted. "It's not particularly showy, you know. First I'm here—"

Poetaster was suddenly beside her. "Then I'm here." a foot cracked into her side, sending her tumbling across the arena.

"No lights, no sounds," Poetaster called out, arms spread in a mockery of disappointment. "It's just so… low-key."

Poetaster disappeared again and Liederkranz hurriedly curled her magical arms around herself, hardening them into arcana once more and shielding herself under a cocoon of magic while an onslaught of rained bolts assailed her.

When her shield broke she lashed out with a thorny spectral whip that caught onto Poetaster and stuck like glue. Poetaster vanished—

—but this time, bound by the snared whip, Liederkranz vanished as well.

When the two reappeared, she was already striking. A high kick snapped across Poetaster's jaw, then two jabs pummeled the chest, wind forced out their lungs. Liederkranz detached her spectral whip from her body, kicked Poetaster back, and detonated the whip in a burst of raw arcana. The explosion ripped through Poetaster's pliant flesh, staggering them long enough for her to dash toward her fallen baton. As she ran, a haze of near-invisible spectral hairs radiated from her body solidifying into razor-thin arcanal whiskers.

She picked up the baton and Poetaster teleported near her, bristling a few arcanal whiskers that snagged into the billowy gown. Liederkranz curled her body to direct as many spikes toward the caught Poetaster and then fired, needling a barrage into flesh. Liederkranz closed the distance and slammed her baton against one of the embedded spikes, driving it deeper until it punched through bone. Poetaster screamed while teleporting away, but Liederkranz caught them with an arcanal arm teleporting along. Reappearing on the other side of the arena, she brought her baton down across Poetaster's skull with a brutal crack.

The crowd gasped—half-horror, half-awe—as Poetaster's body convulsed, shaking hands reaching for the spike embedded through a rib. Liederkranz's arcane limbs burst forth again, pinning Poetaster to the stone floor. She raised her baton overhead, poised like a spear for the finishing blow.

Poetaster's voice broke through the silence, ragged and strained: "I… yield."

Liederkranz locked eyes with Poetaster, contemplating. She gripped her baton, limbs tensing, knuckles whitening… then her face softened and she stepped back. Her spectral arms dissolved, and she wiped a streak of Poetaster's blood off her cheek as Dionysus's formless voice finally boomed out in judgment to the world: "Liederkranz wins!"