Hyperion Evergrowing

Chapter 149: Showmatch

Chapter 149: Showmatch

The expansive collection of ancient stone buildings was even more impressive in person than Lief had expected. Even the smallest of the structures was larger than the tallest apartment in Ahle-ho, the stonework that made up their construction an intricate and elegant series of carvings and engravings. Every wall, pillar, doorway and window served a purpose greater than they could alone, the buildings like an artwork, a complex puzzle that had been put together with incredible skill and effort.

The age of the place was also on display, with more than a few of the structures they passed showing signs of repairs, or minor damages caused by weather and time that had yet to grow serious enough to warrant attention. Vines took to the walls of the student dormitory they passed with incredible vigour, the plants growing up every surface though could manage in order to get close to the sun.

Ella guided their small group, an ordeal she was more than excited to undertake, the girl was practically bouncing with excitement as they drew closer to the arena. Guards in black and grey kept visitors from wandering off the path, but their presence was less of a threat, and more of a gentle reminder to guests of the Academy’s power.

Roy matched the excitement of the tour guide. Babbling an endless stream of enthusiastic questions to the older girl, who, in turn, answered in much the same way. They heard the sounds of the rumbling crowd well before the arena came into sight. The imminent beginnings of the quadriad echoing off the pillars that lined the wide path between two towering lecture amphitheatres. The acoustics of the nearby buildings amplifying the distant yells of the crowd.

In contrast to her brother, Lucia grew quieter the further into the Academy’s grounds they travelled. The girl adopting a mask of happiness and wonder that wasn’t matched by the simmering anxiety and trepidation Leif sensed bubbling just below the surface. He slowed his step to fall in beside her, Roy ran ahead to read the engraved plinths that described the lives and careers of former lecturers.

“What?” Lucia asked, her smile strained.

“You’re tense.” Leif said, looking down at her. “What’s the matter?”

“Huh? I… I’m not tense at all. What makes you think that?”

“I can read your aura. I can tell.” It wasn’t a lie, not technically. While emotions could be discerned from somebody's aura, having a skill specifically for the task made the task far easier. Lucia’s aura was weak, which ordinarily would make perceiving information from it significantly harder. But without an aura skill she had no hope of hiding from an empath.

Leif hadn’t been blind to the girl's emotional state, in fact it had been the primary reason that even after choosing to help both Lucia and her brother, he had been keeping his distance. Nobody’s emotions became knife sharp and clouded with a dangerous amount of desperation without having experienced far more than the recommended dose of tribulation and hardship.

“I’m fine.” She lied, not making eye contact.

“Is it the prospect of seeing combat?” He asked. “Or maybe the idea of being within a crowd?”

“I said it’s fine.” Lucia snapped. Then she winced and looked up at him guiltily. “I’m not… It’s nothing like that. You wouldn’t understand.”

“True. You would have to explain it to me.”

She clenched her fists and took a deep breath. Then exhaled, visibly relaxing. “It’s not… It’s my problem, my burden. I have to carry it, nobody else.”

“What about Roy?”

“He doesn’t need to worry about anything. He… He’s too young to really understand. And…” She sighed. “And he’s better for it. I just want to protect him, okay? He doesn’t deserve the life we were, are, living.”

Leif stopped, bringing Lucia up short. “Do you deserve it?”

Lucia flinched. “I don’t know.” She whispered.

“You don’t. Nobody does. I don’t know your story, the events that lead to the present or what you plan to do. But you didn’t deserve to be in the state I found you. Not your brother, and not you.”

“Was that why you helped us? Was it just sympathy and pity? Did you think we were pathetic, that we couldn’t help ourselves? That we needed your charity and-”

“Yes.” Leif said simply. Cutting off her growing rant. “Do I need another reason?”

She took several, deep calming breaths. Then, finally, Lucia looked him in the eyes. “There are people who might not want us on the islands. They might not want us alive at all. They might hunt us down and hurt us, and they might even hurt you for having helped us.” She blurted, then glanced around in panic to see if they had been overheard.

“I think the polite thing to have done would have been to tell me this before we got off the ship.”

“I- You’re right. You’re right… I’m sorry. I’m sorry… I can’t do anything right. I can’t even get help correctly. You should leave us, maybe-”

“I still would have helped you.”

“Huh? But… but why?”

“Because I can’t seem to help myself.”

Lucia snorted. “That’s stupid.”

Leif sighed. “Probably. Though I fear it might be in my nature.”

“It’s okay. I’m stupid too.”

“I think you’re selling yourself short.” Leif said, glancing towards the distant sounds of cheering. “How likely is it that these mysterious enemies of yours will be attending the tournament.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“I- I don’t know. Not very, they might not be in the Academy at all. I don’t really know who they are.”

“And how likely is it that the person you’re trying to find will be there?”

“She’ll be there.”

Leif waited for Lucia to continue, but the girl seemed more worried about Roy trying to climb up one of the statues legs.

“Okay then. Let's go.”

===

“Could I offer you a pre match drink, my lady?” Zane asked, dipping into a formal bow, a bottle tucked under his arm.

Hera raised an eyebrow and smirked. “When I’m about to fight your cousin? Do you think I’m stupid, Zane?”

“It isn’t poisoned, if that’s what you're worried about.” He said, standing up and making the bottle vanish with a pop of air. “A member of the house Low would never stoop so… well, the joke finishes itself doesn’t it?”

“You realise most of the students here think you’re a mysterious and enigmatic master of the sword? They would be so disappointed to see their illusion of you shattered.”

“That’s why there’s a magical veil over the VIP spectator booths. It’s to keep our dirty laundry out of sight of the masses.”

“Could you two stop flirting? Gods above it’s nauseating.” A large man growled, his wild blue hair tied back into a long tail, his uniform having burst open at the chest to reveal a veritable wall of muscle.

“Sir Mouric! I am a married man! How dare you insinuate such a thing?” Zane gasped, spinning around with his hand to his heart as if in pain. The longsword at his hip knocking a platter of food off a nearby table onto the floor. Compared to the much larger man, Zane was practically tiny.

“I’m fairly certain your wife is imaginary.” Mouric grunted, raising a glass of vibrant red liquid to his lips, then tapping it with a finger. In an instant the wine chilled, frost spilling out of the glass’s mouth and down its side.

“Rude. I contest that claim.” Zane sniffed, brushing a strand of white hair out of his eye. “Back me up Hera, you’ve met the woman. She’s lovely, right?”

“Anyone who can put up with you for more than a few hours is a saint.” Hera replied, half listening to the announcer’s voice that boomed across the arena, reaching even the furthest seat in the stands without difficulty.

“I’m not fighting today, but I feel like I’m being attacked.” The swordsman said, sounding offended.

“Maybe if you didn’t act like a clown we wouldn’t make fun of you.” Suggested Sabline, the slender woman hovering an inch above her own couch. “You just make it too easy.”

“I’m the strongest!” Zane protested. “I could beat you all in a fight! I deserve respect! I deserve worship!”

“You deserve a boot up your ass.” Mouric muttered.

“You’re hardly the strongest blade, Zane.” Sabline said sweetly. “Afterall, you’re the lowest level out of all of us.”

“By choice! I’m the lowest level by choice!” The man shouted, flopping down into the couch next to Hera and crossing his arms. “None of you have the guts to challenge me anyway. That’s why they have me paired up against Crest. It’s going to be so boring!”

“Because he’s going to beat you?” Hera asked, standing up to avoid the swordsman’s attempt to sling an arm around her shoulder.

“Because he’s going to do some cryptic bullshit, then hide his actual abilities! You know he’s going to do just that, it’s Crest we’re talking about!” Zane whined, elbowing Mouric as he gesticulated wildly.

“Zane, I am going to throw you into the sea if you don’t stop acting like a child.” The massive slab of muscle said, glowering down at his fellow blade. “Maybe you can meet one of the monsters Kastro encountered? Might even give you a little humility.”

Before the other man could reply a knock came at the door. “Lady Hera, the match will begin soon.” Said a voice from the other side, the sound partially muffled.

“Right. Coming.” She called in reply, stepping over the dropped platter of food and making for the exit. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need luck.” Sabline huffed. “You basically counter Kastro in every way.”

“Even in a little arena?” She asked.

“He can’t scare arrows. Just stay away from him.”

“True enough.” Hera said, opening the door and striding out. The official waiting on the other side dipped into a bow, then asked her to follow.

She activated [Prismatic Sight] as she walked down the slightly curved wall, the light from outside bending as it reacted to her skill’s activation. It wasn’t the same as being able to see directly through solid objects, but it was the next best thing. Combined with the skill’s visual perception enhancement and the way it filtered out unnecessary details Hera took in the entire arena all at once.

The stands were packed with students and their families. Academy officials and teachers, merchants and representatives from all over the empire. Grey was the predominant colour worn by the spectators. With most first and second years having not yet earned the greens or oranges of their older peers. Hera modulated her speed, not letting her attribute enhanced body race ahead of the babbling official that was trailing her.

It wasn’t her first quadriad, nor her first bout with another blade. But considering the eccentricity of many of her colleges she couldn’t blame the man for making sure she understood the rules. They entered a chamber with several massive arches lining the circular walls. In times long forgotten to history the room would have functioned as a minor teleportation hub, allowing her to arrive at the other side of the arena in a single step. But the arches remained inert, the power that once coursed through the ancient arena long dormant.

So instead of teleporting to where she needed to be, Hera and the official descended a series of well lit steps, before finally arriving below the arena floor. There were waiting rooms and waiting cells, but she didn’t enter either. The announcer’s voice echoed through the underground complex just as easily as it had reached the booth her and the other blades had been residing within.

She stretched as the speech reached its conclusion. Rolling her shoulders and flexing her fingers. Hera briefly considered conjuring her armour from her [Armoury of Light] skill, but decided against it. Her preferred combat style was quick movements and maintaining distance with her opponent. The armour, even made out of hard light, would only slow her down. Instead she conjured her bow, the shimmering construct of magic gleaming in her hand, its string an almost invisible strand of prismatic light.

“And without further ado! May I present the two combatants who will be starting off the quadriad! They need no introduction, yet for the sake of our newcomers and visitors I will do so anyway!” The announcer roared, the spectators letting out a cheer of approval.

“We have the ninth blade! An archer of terrifying skill! A woman who climbed to the peak of power in only a handful of short years! The radiant adventurer herself! Hera Kossia!”

Peak of power? What nonsense is this? She mused, the space around her shimmering as her aura focused the light. Why the Academy thinks teaching kids level one hundred is some sort of unassailable peak is beyond me.

“Her opponent is the tenth blade! The newest member of the Academies ten most powerful combatants! A man who’s very presence distorts the minds of those nearby with terror! A returner from the bottom of the sea! Kastro Low!”

The arena shook with the sound of thousands of voices screaming in unison. Hera shook her head, her blond hair swaying behind her. Time to get this little showmatch over with.