The line stretched far beyond the arena grounds, a testament to the allure of the promised prize. I couldn’t help but marvel—and grimace—at the sheer number of hopefuls. Hundreds of bodies packed into the narrow streets, and it was already afternoon. Corvin’s sources were spot on; the tournament was announced shortly after our discussion. He wasn’t wrong about the hype, either.

  The surrounding chatter was alive with excitement, drowning out the usual dull hum of the city. For once, the gloom had lifted, replaced by endless speculations about glory and gold. People weren’t just whispering about survival or rationing supplies anymore; they were openly dreaming. Laughing. Debating. It was infectious, and it made sense why the emperors of Old Rome had such an obsession with the colosseum.

  The duel tournament was the star attraction, especially since the entry fee was laughably low—just a few gold coins. As for the other contests, they felt like afterthoughts. No one cared about throwing spears or strength trials when blood and skill were on the line in the arena.

  What struck me most was the constant buzz about class matchups. Everywhere I turned, it was, “Spellbreaker counters casters,” or, “Windrunner always beats Duelists.” To be honest, I didn’t know enough about classes to weigh in. My knowledge was limited to what I’d encountered, and even then, I didn’t exactly put that much effort into it. Fighting wasn’t a world I wanted to immerse myself in.

  But now? Now, it seemed unwise to stay ignorant. Not just for the tournament, but for everything. So I started listening. And asking questions.

  “So, you’re saying Duelists are the best?” I asked, nudging into a conversation between two men.

  The first man, wide-eyed and eager, jumped on my question, trying to display his knowledge. “Definitely top three! They adapt to their opponents. No other class does that so well.”

  “Casters destroy them,” countered another, arms folded.

  The Duelist fan bristled. “Only if the caster’s fast and can outlast their stamina. Those are big ifs!”

  Before I knew it, the conversation spiraled. People inched closer, throwing out class names like bets in a card game. ShadowStalker. Beastmaster. Shadowbinder. Runesmith. Paladin. I tried to keep up, mentally piecing together what little I could infer from the names.

  Then, a grizzled older man cut through the noise with a sharp tone. “Ever been in an official duel?” His question silenced the group.

  The bravado evaporated. Even I found myself paying closer attention. He pointed a weathered hand at the crowd. “It’s not just about the class. It’s about the arena. The opponent. Context matters.”

  “So what?” one man scoffed. “We know the arena’s layout, old man.”

  The elder’s gaze turned sharp, assessing. “Let me guess. You’re some stealth-dagger type?”

  The man puffed up. “And what of it?”

  “Nothing,” the elder replied, voice dripping with disdain. “Except you’ll learn the hard way that stabbing someone in the dark is a hell of a lot different from dueling under the sun, with no place to hide in.”

  Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd, punctuated by curses from would-be assassins lamenting their bad luck. I couldn’t help but smirk.

  “So, what classes are the best, old man?” someone asked, cutting through the murmurs.

  The elder shook his head with a sigh, as though the question itself annoyed him. “If you plan to win without relying on luck, you need versatility. Something that can adapt to any opponent. Take a Runesmith, for example. Facing a strength-based fighter? Enchant your armor with protective runes. Going up against a caster? Lay down wards to deflect spells. That sort of thing.”

  The crowd murmured in agreement, but the bravado had dimmed. Their confidence was visibly shaken, replaced with a collective realization: maybe they weren’t as prepared as they thought.

  “So, what class are you, old man?” I asked, my curiosity outweighing my tact. “You must be pretty confident in it, considering your age.”

  He gave me a sly grin. “Why would I hand out free information to potential adversaries?”

  A younger voice from the back piped up. “Aren’t you already giving up information?”

  The old man snorted, his eyes narrowing. “What, these simple tips you could pick up from the first book on dueling? Young people these days. Reading a book won’t fry your little brains, you know.”

  His words stung more than I cared to admit. Maybe a trip to the library wasn’t the worst idea. Still, I pressed on. “Alright, then. What classes counter mages?”

  He turned to me, giving me a long, appraising look. “You’re wasting your gold there, sonny. Everybody and their dog can slap on some magic-resistant armor and spank your ass.”

  Laughter erupted around us, loud and unrelenting. My cheeks burned, but I forced myself to stay composed.

  “Maybe,” I said, lifting my chin just slightly. “But the arena is big, and they do say mages are the smartest. Some of us might actually put that big brain to use and find a workaround.”

  The laughter softened, and I caught a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Well, if you’re half as clever as you think you are, you might just stand a chance.”

  The conversation drifted to other topics, but his words lingered. Maybe I shouldn’t consider my fights already won. Winning without using my Chaos Bolt spell was the real challenge, especially with how much this world seemed to thrive on anti-mage measures. Using that spell would put me on everyones radar since it was considered impossible. Surprise would evaporate, and with it, my slim advantage.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  ─── ????? ───

  The discussion around me shifted to lighter topics, letting time slip by until I found myself lighter in gold and headed back to the new safehouse. The first fights were scheduled for tomorrow morning, and common sense screamed for a solid night’s sleep. Instead, I trudged toward a late-night meeting in the harbor district, its labyrinthine streets crammed with narrow alleys and tightly packed houses.

  No map, just vague directions. Naturally, I got lost, circling endlessly, trying to make sense of landmarks that looked identical. At least I could console myself with one thing: my erratic route ensured no one was tailing me. By the time I arrived, the cramped meeting space was already packed. No formal gathering, just small knots of people chatting and exchanging wary glances.

  Bendis was the only one standing alone, her calm presence a sharp contrast to the noisy clusters. She caught my eye with an inviting smile.

  “Nice of you to join us,” she said as I approached.

  I sighed. “Did the directions really have to be that vague? I’m still getting used to this city.”

  She leaned in conspiratorially. “Want to know a secret? Someone was following you. They wanted to see how careful you’d be.”

  My face flushed with embarrassment. “So my… backtracking didn’t throw them off?”

  “On the contrary,” she said, her tone serious. “You clearly getting lost made you stand out,” but then added with a small smile, “They made sure no one else was following you.”

  I groaned internally. Embarrassment on my first day, great start. “Are there any spells for stealth?” I asked, half-joking, but her headshake made me murmur, “How hard could it be to make one?”

  Her brows lifted. “You’ve created spells before?”

  I met her gaze, steady and deliberate. “People underestimate mages here, but honestly, that’s on them. Hoarding knowledge the way they do? It keeps them small. If they embraced a full understanding of magic, they could accomplish incredible things.”

  Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “And where did you learn if knowledge is so tightly controlled?”

  I hesitated for a fraction of a second, keeping my tone casual. “Where I’m from, people share information. I guess I just got lucky.”

  She tilted her head slightly, her curiosity sharpening. “You must be from pretty far away…” Her words slowed as if piecing together a puzzle. Then her eyes locked onto mine with startling clarity. “From another world?”

  That caught me off guard, though I shouldn’t have been surprised. She didn’t seem to be the type to miss details. I nodded, keeping my expression neutral as my thoughts raced. How much could I afford to share?

  She studied me for a long moment, the weight of her realization clear in her gaze. “Then mages there must be more powerful than they are here. It explains... certain things,” she said.

  I could see the gears turning in her head, but some truths were better left untouched. I simply nodded again, deflecting with a slight smirk. “Doesn’t make it any less irritating when people laugh at me for signing up for the tournament, though.”

  Her lips curved into a knowing smile. “No one likes being underestimated. But I’m sure you discovered how you can take advantage of that,” she said softly, and for a moment, her calm understanding made the frustration feel almost manageable. Almost. “You’ll get a chance to silence them tomorrow.”

  I didn’t share her optimism, and she may have seen my reluctance. “Not that confident? But…”

  I stopped her, since I knew what she was going to say. “Theres a problem your boss didn’t care to think about.”

  She tilted her head, intrigued. “Oh?”

  “I have a spell,” I began, my tone measured. No need to reveal too much, but enough to make her understand. “Something he won’t expect.”

  She nodded, her expression steady, but her eyes betrayed curiosity. She was listening intently, weighing every word I said.

  I leaned back slightly, letting out a breath. “The problem is, if I use it in the tournament, the surprise is gone. Everyone will see it, hear about it, and by the time I get to him, he’ll know exactly what I can do.” My voice dropped slightly, frustration simmering just below the surface. “I can’t afford that. Not against someone like him.”

  Her expression softened. “No one expects you to win, you know. Making it to the final four—or even the top eight—is enough. That’ll earn you plenty without getting too famous. And as a bonus, get Sedeus to underestimate you, as he might watch the last matches.”

  “Good to know,” I said, leaning against the wall and crossing my arms. “So, you working on anything else? Between the line to register and all the chaos, I haven’t really had the chance to talk to anyone.” My tone was casual, but I was genuinely curious.

  She glanced at me, her expression measured. “We’ve got a new plan for next week,” she said after a pause. “It’s... complicated. Time-sensitive, too. But if it works, it would solve our gold problems.”

  “Well,” I said, trying to sound upbeat, “if you need any help, don’t hesitate. Honestly, I’d rather do anything else but duel.” The thought of standing in that arena, under the watchful eyes of a crowd—all for entertainment—made my stomach tighten.

  She tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “You’ve dueled in other tournaments?”

  I couldn’t help but smile at that, a faint, almost rueful curve of my lips. “No,” I admitted, shaking my head. “But trouble seems to follow me wherever I go. And when trouble shows up, duels just seem to be part of the package.”

  Her lips twitched, the ghost of a smile. “Sounds like an interesting life. You must have faced some powerful opponents," she said, a hint of amusement in her voice.

  I tried to laugh it off, forcing a casual tone. “Oh, you know, just the usual—there was a giant, a bear-man, and even an... undead construct.” I said, struggling to describe a robot. ”Interesting is one way to put it. But enough about me. Here I am, rambling on without even knowing what class you are,” I said, trying to shift the focus off myself.

  “Spellblade,” she answered, watching my reaction. My blank shrug must have been more obvious than I thought because she added, “I know it’s a little more obscure, but you should really take the time to familiarize yourself with the main classes.”

  “I was planning to,” I said quickly, though my growing mental list of things to learn felt heavier by the second. “But tell me more about your class.”

  “It’s a hybrid. A mix of warrior and mage. Elemental attacks, magical defenses, and even a healing spell.” She said.

  I blinked. “That sounds ridiculously overpowered. You’ve got so many options; it must be perfect for a duel.”

  “It would be,” she admitted, her voice tinged with regret. “If not for my sudden notoriety.”

  “I take it you actually have some experience?” I asked, watching her carefully.

  She seemed to weigh her response before speaking. “Yes, I was trained by a skilled teacher, a mentor you could say,” her voice tinged with a subtle note of regret. It was enough to make me wonder about the story behind it.

  “Still in the city?” I pressed. “Because, honestly, I could really use a proper teacher. Learning as I go isn’t exactly efficient.”

  Her expression shifted slightly, and for a moment, she looked distant. “He grew old… and, unfortunately, time spares no one,” she whispered, before shaking off whatever memory had claimed her.

  There was a pang of sympathy I didn’t expect. “Then maybe you and I can spar sometime,” I suggested, trying to sound casual. “You could pass on some of his wisdom. I’ll admit, I’ve won more than a few duels thanks to luck rather than skill.”

  Her eyes focused on me, sharp and assessing. “Your experience seems to lean toward dealing with beasts and creatures. Humans, though, bring a very different kind of challenge.” She paused, as if deliberating. “Let’s see how you handle your first matches,” she said with a faint smile. “Maybe you’re a natural, and there’s nothing I can teach you.”

  I scoffed, a wry grin forming. “I sincerely doubt that.”