It took a while for the ekari to warm up to him, but after weeks of hard work, he felt like he was making serious progress. Even Luran had started to show him some respect in his own superior kind of way. Yet try as he might, there was one person whom he couldn’t convince—Elarissé.

  Thomas purposefully went out of his way to try and win her over, but nothing seemed to work. He ate with her when he could, struck up conversations when they went out hunting as a war band, and he even sparred with her from time to time. But nothing. He suspected the only reason she agreed to spar was to use him as a training dummy. After each session, he came away black and blue, no closer to earning her trust.

  Still, there was some success to be found in the experience. Like Luran, Elarissé was one of the ekari’s most skilled fighters. And the time spent training with her massively improved his swordsmanship. In just a few weeks, he had progressed from incompetent to what Luran called “okay.” Thomas imagined he was good enough to at least hold his own for a short while against an average swordsman. A human one, that is. He was a long way off from surviving against an ekari.

  Progression with his power was also advancing rather well, too. Further testing had confirmed his theory that emotions played a role in his electricity. If he felt threatened or angry, his power multiplied considerably.

  Increasing his output had been one of his main goals, and after lone training sessions where he pushed himself to the brink night after night, his base output increased an absurd amount. It was far from deadly, but finally, he’d worked his way up to forcing Krag to take a knee. This shifted most of his concerns over to accuracy.

  Thomas had his sword trick, but it was very one-dimensional and couldn’t be relied upon. He actually convinced Luran to spar with real swords a few days back, and zapped him right out of the gate with his sword when the ekari defended. His teacher was less than impressed with this little show and proceeded to beat him over the head with one of the wooden sparring swords. It left Thomas with a lump that was reluctant to settle. It somehow kept getting struck during training, which was probably part of the reason. But no matter. Today was contest day.

  Every six months, the village held a contest of combat skill. The warriors competed in one-on-one duels, bracket style. This gave everyone a ranking, marking their placement among the clan. It was a prestigious event that everyone looked forward to. All the warriors were keen to test their strength and move up the rankings, while for everyone else, their usual duties were suspended for the day so that they could enjoy the thrill of the fights.

  He didn’t expect to fare very well. His swordsmanship was far below even the weakest ekari warriors, but there was one saving grace—abilities were fair game. And thanks to his rigorous training, he had the capability to put anyone down. That is, if only he could touch them. His sword trick was out, for they would be using the wooden sparring weapons. That meant he would have to bypass any attacks that came his way if he wanted to zap his opponents. He was pretty confident such a feat was well beyond his current ability.

  It was strange to see the training area so packed. Ekari from every corner of the village funneled it to get a prime viewing spot for the day’s showdowns. Some stood, some sat, some climbed onto rooftops, but what was consistent was that all were present and excited. The atmosphere was buzzing, like fans at a football game. They were only hushed into silence by the arrival of the Chief. He stood alone in the center of the fight zone, marked by a circle painted in the sand.

  “Good morning, my fellow ekari! Are you ready for a day of action?” he boomed, raising both arms. The crowd roared with applause to the point where the Chief laughed and had to settle them back down.

  “Of course you are!” he said. “Will this be the year Krag finally breaks the top five?” he questioned, causing waves of cheers to burst out from all around. It seemed Krag was very well-liked.

  “Or will we have a repeat of history that sees our top warrior retain his crown for the fifteenth year running?” Surprisingly, the crowd grew even more animated.

  “Alright then! Without any further ado, let’s proceed with the fights!” The Chief proceeded to draw names at random from a box to set the first round of duels. Thomas found himself paired with Crasstan. He hadn’t sparred with him before, but he heard he ranked below average at the last tournament, so he’d gotten pretty lucky with his draw. Not lucky enough, though, it seemed, as he was bested in emphatic fashion, lasting no more than ten seconds.

  Entering the loser’s bracket, he lost his next two fights rather convincingly, too, although in the third, he was able to actually land some glancing blows. Yet as for using his electricity, nada. He just couldn’t get close enough to touch anyone. By now, everyone knew the limits of his power, so they were sure to keep him away. It was mighty frustrating, because if they were using real swords, he suspected he might win.

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  With the top eight decided, Thomas stepped into the combat area to make his last showing. Of the 73 warriors, this bout would be to decide who ranked the lowest among them. He was met by Dagon, an old warrior who appeared around 60, probably on the brink of retirement from combat.

  He had been attentive to this ekari’s matches, as he suspected they would meet. While Dagon was clearly skilled, he was several touches slower than everyone else—a result of the years catching up with him.

  There was no doubt the man had him beat when it came to skill, but strength and speed? These, he believed, he might actually have the edge in. Consequently, they would be his key to victory.

  As the Chief did their introductions, Thomas could feel the eyes of the crowd bearing into him. He was a Summon. A force of unrivaled power. And here he was fighting to claw his way out of last position. The pressure couldn’t have been greater. It weighed down on him like a waterfall. Not enough to immobilize, but more than enough to hinder. He shook his head, dispelling the pressure from his mind. He could do this.

  As the Chief signalled for the match to commence, Dagon wasted no time attacking, swinging his sword with the controlled precision of a man who had a lifetime’s worth of experience. He immediately felt outmatched and struggled to defend the onslaught. If Dagon were faster, the fight would already have been over.

  The ekari’s strikes were purposeful and efficient, testing all elements of his defense. Despite his speed edge, Thomas found himself pressed back in the face of Dagon’s superior skill. He offered up attacks of his own, but they were deflected away with seasoned ease.

  Eventually, though, his moment came, an overextended thrust. He was quick to slip to the side and fire off a thrust of his own. Dagon barely recovered his sword in time to defend, which shifted the flow of the fight into his favor. Now he was the aggressor.

  Strike after strike, he kept his attacks fundamental but fast, leaning on his superior speed. It had the desired effect, as Dagon was too preoccupied with defense to counter. But the longer his barrage continued, the more certain he was that he could not penetrate Dagon’s defense.

  Time to shift his strategy. He slashed downward with all the force he could muster. Dagon hurriedly raised his sword to meet the blow and was forced to hold as Thomas pressed downward. There was his opportunity. With his free hand, he grabbed Dagon’s wrist, preparing to summon a jolt of concussive electricity.

  In that split second, Dagon activated his essence, hardening the tip of his elbow and striking his hand with it. The impact felt like the swing of a baseball bat, and with a painful groan, he was forced to release Dagon’s wrist. He’d gotten faster at generating electricity, but it still wasn’t instant—he should have electrified his hand before initiating the attack. Hopefully, it wouldn’t cost him the bout.

  As he retreated, shaking his injured hand, Dagon pressed, seemingly finding renewed vigor. He rained down a relentless series of blows, a few of which passed Thomas’s defense: a slash to the shoulder, and a glancing strike to the abdomen. He couldn’t keep defending like this. It was only a matter of time before he made a fatal mistake.

  As Dagon slashed for his mid-section, he ducked beneath the strike—a rather unorthodox move which caused the crowd to applaud in wonder. In the split second he was down, he snatched a handful of sand from the ground and threw it into Dagon’s face. The ekari recoiled, flailing blindly with his sword as he clutched his eyes with his free hand.

  Thomas couldn’t believe his impromptu strategy had worked so well. Not missing a beat, he timed one of Dagon’s wild swings of the sword and grabbed his wrist. Dropping his own sword, he bent the wrist, causing the sword to fall from Dagon’s hand. He kicked both away out of reach. At this point, Dagon’s vision had started to return, but it was too late.

  He snaked around to his back, locked his legs around his mid-section, and placed the ekari in a rear-naked choke. The crowd let out a collective gasp of astonishment. Previously, he wasn’t sure how familiar the ekari were with martial arts, but their reaction told him all he needed to know.

  Opting to give his martial arts the limelight, he surprised himself by resisting the urge to use his electricity. In the position he was in, he didn’t need it. And he could show everyone just how useful he was without his electricity—it didn’t define him.

  Clamping down, he squeezed Dagon’s neck like a boa constrictor. The ekari desperately clawed at him, trying to pull him off, but his grip was too firm; there was no chance he was going to let go. As Dagon continued in his desperate attempt to break free, he fell over his own feet, and the pair hit the ground. Thomas continued to squeeze, but offered the man an out.

  “Yield!” he commanded, loud enough for all onlookers to hear. The old warrior continued to struggle before realizing it was for nought. He was bested.

  “I yield!” Dagon managed to splutter through his vice-like grip. A roar of cheers erupted from the crowd, and Krag rushed the combat area to embrace Thomas in a submission of his own—an unbreakable hug. He wheezed in pain, but the sound was drowned out by the crowd.

  “Wow, Tommy! What was that?! You fought like a snake there at the end!” he said, eyes wide and innocent, like a child learning of Santa Claus.

  “That, my dear Krag. Was martial arts,” he informed, raising a finger with a prideful voice. Luran was next to join. He arrived smiling and shaking his head in disbelief.

  “Very resourceful. Well done,” Luran praised, jabbing him in the arm. Thomas smiled, feeling bashful. Genuine praise from Luran? Was the world ending?

  “Oh. But you might want to think twice about throwing away your sword mid-fight. Especially when you have your enemy blinded. Not a smart move,” he cautioned. Ah. There it was. He knew it was too good to be true.