The Tournament [A Non-Traditional Fantasy]

Divine Realm (30 days before the Tournament)

Radix's mind was practically short-circuiting as the strange, crystalline being with a floating dial on her back guided him through the mind-numbing insanity that was the Divine Realm. Just hours ago, he'd been finishing class and joking with friends. Now, he was literally walking on a cloud.

Overhead, floating rivers rained massive marble bubbles, which themselves floated in the sky and were hollowed to create an entire flying city to house the most bizarre winged creatures he could ever imagine.

"This is the weirdest dream I've ever had." he muttered.

His inhuman guide stopped at the entranceway to a grounded bubble home and turned to face him. Lenity, he reminded himself. Her name was Lenity. And, thankfully for his fraying nerves, she was at the very least mostly human-looking. Sure, her skin was crystal, her billowing gown glowed gold, and the jagged dial hovering behind her was disconcerting. But she had two arms, two legs, plain brown eyes, and neat blonde hair tied in a bun. At this point, Radix would take whatever scraps of familiarity he could get.

Lenity gave him a stern look, but he supposed she was just one of those overly serious types.

"This is all very real, Mr. Radix," she said. "And the devadoots hope you can treat it as such."

Radix shook his head in denial. "This has to be a dream! This is not earth, you are not human, and there is no way any realistic society would think plucking some random teenager out of 'space and time' could somehow miraculously slay an 'unforgivable evil'. It sounds like the plot of a poorly thought-out RPG!" He exclaimed with frustration. "I can't fight! I'm left-handed for god's sake!"

Lenity's gaze drifted down to the stump where most people would have seen a left arm. "Somehow I doubt that Mr. Radix." She deadpanned. "And I do not know the context in your world, but it is best to avoid using God's name here," she added flatly before turning and entering the building.

Radix blinked, jaw slack, the second part of her comments going completely ignored at the egregiousness of the first. Radix sputtered with offense as he followed her in. "I wasn't always missing this arm!"

"Oh, we know, Radix. But don't worry—we can fix that right up."

The new voice was soft and syrupy, almost musical. It slid over his ears like velvet, and as Radix turned, he found himself face-to-face with the most breathtaking woman he'd ever seen.

Her skin was a perfectly smoothed bronze, her eyes bright and full. She wore a nurse's outfit that clung like it had been sewn directly onto her curves—half the buttons were undone, revealing a generous swell of cleavage. Her pencil skirt was enticingly short, barely reaching a quarter of the way down her thigh.

She approached him with slow, perfect grace, every step like it had been choreographed by divine hands. Radix couldn't look away—he wouldn't. This woman wasn't a goddess. She was above that. And in the deepest core of his being, Radix knew he could never love anyone else.

She stopped at his left side.

"Now," she said, her honeyed voice sliding between syllables like silk, "let's see what the problem is." She pulled his stump gently against her chest, and Radix's heart tried to beat its way up his throat as he felt the warmth radiate off her body.

The nurse bit her knuckle seductively as she pondered over the wound. "Hmm… Yes, this is quite serious. I think the only way to regenerate the limb is with a… transfusion."

Radix could feel the heavy thump of his heart in his head. "L-like a blood transfusion?"

The nurse shook her head daintily with puckered lips "Nu-uh. Blood's not nearly potent enough for magic like this." She leaned in, her breath brushing his ear, and her breasts pressed against his side. "We'll need.. to use a more potent bodily fluid."

Radix's entire body seized—heartbeat in his ears, spine locked, every cell screaming confusion and hope and terror.

"Cicerone," Lenity snapped, arms crossed and voice cutting through the delirium. "Stop messing with our guest."

The illusion collapsed in an instant, the nurse popping like a soap bubble. In the corner of the room, a new creature Radix hadn't even noticed until now grumbled "Aw, you're no fun."

Radix's heart shattered.

Golden country – Outskirt of Unical the capital city (29 days before the Tournament)

A long procession of wagons and soldiers stood poised to depart, waiting for their signal. This was a momentous occasion; the turn of the century had arrived and the centennial Tournament would take place in a month's time.

This alone would have been cause for celebration. But this was different. This year, their very king had been invited to compete, and that very king was currently speaking with two other Tournament invitees who had found themselves in his borders at the time.

Rex stood before the two other invitees. One was a young man—clearly poor, judging by his worn rags—yet he carried an elegant, finely crafted case strapped across his back. The contrast was stark, and Rex felt a pang of sorrow. It troubled him deeply that someone as capable as to receive an invitation to The Tournament could still struggle within his borders.

And yet, he was proud—proud of this young man and proud of his nation. Including him, four of the Tournament's chosen hailed from the Golden Country. The other two had not been inside his borders at the time of invitation, but still, the fact remained: four invitees from a minor nation of its size was unprecedented. Compared to the great powers of Trammel, the Golden Country was modest in both size and population. That it could boast such a strong showing was nothing short of extraordinary.

Rex's primary concern was more with the other invitee before him. She wasn't a citizen of his country; she wasn't even human.

She looked like a gargantuan elderly woman, easily twice the height of the tallest man present; even with her hunched posture curling so far forward she had to support herself upon a large cane tipped by a furry sphere.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

That cane unsettled Rex. He could feel it dip deeply into the soul sea. That, and the fact that the cane's long black fur swayed along oddly with a non-existent wind.

The woman herself was a rough sight. She was dishevelled, haggard, and her damp skin crawled with thick clumps of moss. Where eyes should have been, there was only more moss, and nestled at its center bloomed a single, delicate white flower.

None of this bothered Rex; no, the issue he had with the monstrous woman was that she could see into the soul sea. She could see his spiritual companion.

Worst of all; was how the woman treated it.

"I have never seen a soul so powerful before," she croaked in awe. "Not even my little fruit could compare to you."

Even through Goldy's inhuman body, it was clear to see it swell with pride. "Yes, Rex! Don't you see? This is how a mortal should treat a deity such as I! Worship me, puny peons!"

The elderly woman chuckled like a doting grandmother humouring a child.

Rex buried his face in his palm. "Please don't encourage it."

This was going to be a long day.

Anhydrous desert – Edge of the Phlogiston tribe (27 days before the Tournament)

The entire tribe had gathered to see Hiemal off.

He hadn't been born with the tribe, but there was no doubt that he was one of them. Yes, his skin was a different shade, his accent carried a different rhythm, and unlike their near-nude forms, he was bundled head to toe in layers of thick, woolen, winter garb. Still, nonetheless, he was one of them.

The young fraternal twins, Mondo and Zen, stood near the front of the farewell procession. Each doing their best to hold back their tears, putting on a stoic face in front of the adults.

It was Mondo who finally built up the courage to speak.

"You'll come back right Mr. Crockpot?"

Hiemal felt his heart shatter at her plea. He put on a brave face and beamed the children his greatest smile. "Of course, and I'm sure I'll have all kinds of new stories to share too."

The twins couldn't hold back any longer. They rushed into his arms, burying their faces in his heavy coat. They strangled his waist with a crushing hug and hidden within the folds of wool, they let a few quiet tears fall where they hoped the adults couldn't see.

Hiemal looked up to the village elder. They didn't speak but they shared a knowing look.

With a final nod, he gently pried himself free from the children's grip and began to walk.

Cruor Swamps – (24 days before the Tournament)

Squally rode atop a great beast. It was crocodilian in form and rose from the muck with its disturbingly tall, twig-like legs. With such a mount, traversing the Cruor Swamps became trivially easy. He felt honoured that he could experience this strange form of transportation. The journey from the Tarragon monastery to the mountain pass was not one any human would embark on lightly.

It was truly lucky for him that one of the swamp denizens had offered him this assistance—a move that was strikingly out of character for the deeply insular group.

The creature he now shared the beast's back with was odd, to say the least. It was a lumbering, chitinous thing, its carapace swollen with fungal growths. Mushrooms strained at the seams of its exoskeleton, threatening to erupt out into a forest of algae and rot. Already, an eyestalk had been replaced by a pale, blooming cap, and what might once have been wings were now a tangle of rhizome tendrils.

Squally might have assumed it was diseased, perhaps even on the brink of death—if not for the Tournament invitation it carried that made abundantly clear it was anything but.

The swamp denizen approached slowly, raising a single thick, clawed arm. It was a little intimidating, but it didn't make sense that the thing would suddenly choose now to become aggressive, so he waited before reacting.

With a sudden jolt, the creature shook the appendage. A puff of spores burst into the air, along with a few mushroom caps that tumbled to the ground.

"Eat," it howled with an otherworldly bass, "We travel for long time more."

Squally barely managed to suppress a grimace. There was no way he wanted to touch any of that. He could imagine at least a dozen ways it could go horribly, irreversibly wrong. But then again, this creature was one of the most dangerous beings on the planet. And he didn't want to offend.

He tried for cordiality, "No thank you. I appreciate the offer, but I ate my fill before departing." Not necessarily true, but the creature did not need to know that.

It leaned closer, its bug-like expression impossible to discern. "You breathe. You eat."

That gave Squally pause. He wasn't fully certain whether that was a threat or not. He opened his mouth, ready to ask for clarification—then coughed.

It felt like something clawed at the back of his throat, and so he coughed again. It didn't help. The air seemed thick with something… thick with spores.

And then he understood.

He looked down at the pile of mushrooms scattered by the creature's feet. His vision was already starting to blur. His body distant from himself.

His mind began to fuzz.

It was a good trip.

Ocean – aboard a mokoi longship (23 days before the Tournament)

Upon the ship's deck sprawled the festering corpse of a dead horse. Shattered bones jutted through slick, exposed muscle. Charred feathers clung to its flanks, and a cancerous lump pulsed wetly on its back, leaking trails of putrid pus.

The rank stench of decay hung thick in the air, inescapable, overwhelming even that of the salty wind.

The crew gave the corpse a wide berth, careful not to cross the path of its giddily wagging tail.

It was so excited! It finally knew where to find its master—and when it did, it would hug her, and lick her, and they would live happily ever after!

The creature had also found that angry general who, as expected, was as angry and unfun as ever.

At the stern of the ship, General Zeal stood tall, his eyes fixed on the mokoi scurrying across the deck—each one doing its best to avoid that thing. Even Zeal found himself terrified of the monstrous parasite. He had seen its power firsthand. Regardless, he knew it would help in finding the princess. And he hoped that with her support, they could finally reclaim their homeland.

The mokoi depended on it.

Sodality of Cinder – Carriage travelling east from Sodality (22 days before the Tournament)

Three people sat in silence within the extravagant carriage, complimentary wine untouched, velvet curtains drawn closed.

Scoria idly turned a silken pouch of ash in his hands. Ever since he received the cursed item he couldn't help fiddle with it. Its weight was slight, but it pressed heavily on his heart.

Across from him, Sanguine fidgeted. She didn't know how to comfort her long-time pen pal. Besides, there probably wasn't much consolation a thirteen-year-old girl could do without appearing condescending. Truthfully, she wasn't feeling too fantastic herself either.

She saw the Tournament matchups.

She had been scheduled to fight the White Witch.

The idea of confronting history's most feared monster filled her with dread. As the dread built, she felt a stirring pull in her chest, a desire from deep within the soul sea pulling at her. Sanguine clamped down on it immediately, smothering the feeling before it could manifest.

Scoria pulled his gaze from the pouch, forcing a hollow smile as he looked at the two girls seated across from him. "It's nice to know you both got invited to the Tournament too. See, Épée? I told you you'd make it."

Épée perked up, seizing the chance to lift the mood. "Yeah, you should have seen my father's face when I got the invitation right in front of him and my brothers."

Scoria grinned at the image. He was genuinely happy for her. She needed the win. "I see you brought your own sword, though?" he asked, nodding toward the large black sheath resting beside her.

Épée clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Father says he'll only let me use the family sword if I win my first match."

Sanguine jumped into the conversation trying to distract herself from her own emotional malaise. "Then I guess you just have to win your matchup."

Épée smiled at that.