The darkness that consumed my vision did not take very long to dissipate. The shadows withdrew back to the edges of my vision, and I finally took note of my surroundings.
Green, lush grass spanned farther than my eyes could see. There were no trees in sight, which made it incredibly easy to see the orange sky in the distance, tinted by the setting sun that blazed on the horizon. I could feel the warmth of the sun crackling against my skin.
I couldn't put a finger on why, but the star on the horizon somehow felt more prominent than the one on Earth, as if its very existence had more weight behind it.
I enjoyed the cool breeze trickling against my skin and the sound of grass rustling under my feet. For a moment, I allowed myself to smile. It was a serene smile, one that reached from ear to ear without looking sinister. So many emotions ran through my mind, and so many thoughts plagued me, yet, for once, I chose to focus on the moment. After all, if I was going to die anyway, why not make the most of it?
Why not make every moment count, as if every instance in this world were my last?
Slowly, I opened my eyes and stared at the screen that had appeared before me.
[As a Crown Games Candidate, you will need to prove yourself worthy of partaking in this event.]
[Crown Games Candidate – Prove Your Worth!]
[Objective: Kill your opponent, a fellow Crown Games Candidate, and prove yourself worthy of the honor of partaking in the event.]
[0/1 Crown Games Candidates killed]
I didn't bother waiting for my opponent to show up. I simply unsheathed my saber and began to weave a couple of hand signs. Simultaneously, I muttered under my own breath and fell into my mind as I allowed the enchantments to take effect.
Just then, two dozen meters in front of me, the air began to shimmer, and a crack formed in the air. A foot slowly left the crack and landed onto the soft earth, followed by the rest of their body.
The rays of the golden sun illuminated his figure, casting a heavy shadow behind him. His skin was a light bronze that could have easily been mistaken for a tan. The man had shoulder-length hair that he'd tied into a ponytail, and from up close, I could tell he was packing some muscle on his 6'3" frame. His clothes were simple, if not tattered. He wore sandals and looked rather calm, yet while he stood with a casual air around him, I could feel the sense of danger that radiated from him.
His entire being felt like a coiled snake waiting to lunge. Every muscle in his body looked like it was ready to explode into action.
"A kid?" the man asked, his voice coming out gruff as he flexed his fingers. His accent did not sound anything like that of anyone I had met before, but his looks and clothing alone told me that he was likely not from the Republic.
"Yeah. Can't even vote yet," I put on a smile and chuckled. My words were probing at his origins. There weren't many places on Earth that had a voting system.
I saw his eyes narrow before he spoke. "You sound Northern. And those clothes tell me you're from a lot further north than you look."
I barely stopped myself from cocking my head to the side. What the hell did he mean by "further north than I looked"? Was that an insult or just an observation?
"I'd make a comment about where you're from, but I haven't been around all that much." I sighed, as if I were genuinely annoyed for being seen through so quickly. All the while, I pushed my will into the runes that I had carved into the soles of my shoes.
The man let out a low laugh and took a casual step forward, as if he were walking toward a friend to greet them. Then, we both moved—he with the power of essence pumping through his body, and I with the strength of runes, powered by my will alone.
I swung my blade and watched as it cleaved through the air with an audible swish.
Yet, even with the saber descending at him, the man did not show a single trace of hesitation as he moved. His fist reeled back, and spectral tendrils of water coiled around his fist and roiled.
He moved his body at just the right moment, avoiding the incoming blade by a hair's breadth before launching a punch toward me with enough force to make the air ripple behind his fist.
He's experienced, with military training at a minimum, I mused, my expression barely shifting from the stoic thing it had become. I wasn't surprised, nor was I worried. The fact that he hadn't finished me off yet meant that he was miles apart from my sister in strength, which also meant there was a chance I could beat him.
The world seemed to slow as I watched the fist grow closer. He was most likely still at the Iron rank, having formed no more than four crests. The main giveaway was that his strength was not too abnormal.
Those who've reached even the Bronze rank tended to have strength that would be considered inhuman by most. Yet this man was not only just a little quicker than a normal human, most of his strength came from how he used his bloodline.
When the fist was inches from my face, I took a step back and dropped my center of gravity and barely allowed it to pass over my head. Just then, water erupted out of the ground in the form of a thin wall that was as tall as he was. It sliced toward me, ripping through the ground and filled with the intent to kill. With the intent to end this in one move.
From my crouched position, I couldn't help but wince as I sent an upward slash toward the thin wall. The earth shifted under my feet, and a stone spike erupted, whistling toward him as it barely nicked his face, leaving a small cut on his cheek.
I jumped back a few times, creating space so I could recover from the use of such a demanding spell. I could feel a dull pain now throbbing at the back of my head, which, by all intents and purposes, was not a good sign.
I'm going to need to lie down after this, I inwardly thought while trying to map out the next few moves of the fight. Using such a demanding spell without a chant or hand seals took a heavy toll on the mind, especially on someone like me. Someone who doesn't have a conduit like most other mages... Someone who can't channel magic as easily as others might.
"I don't feel you absorbing any world energy," the man said while standing up fully and backhanding the stone spike still jutting out of the ground, turning it to dust and pebbles.
"Heh. And you expect me to believe some random Iron rank can feel world energy past his own skin?" I scoffed.
However, instead of rising to my words, he stood there casually, allowing the dust to settle around him before a smirk curled up the corner of his lips.
"Ho-ly shit," he spoke, each word coming out in a drawl, each filled with a hint of contempt that I knew too well. "You're a cripple. One of those people with no essence channels. You know, the ones who don't usually live long enough to see the age of thirty." He chuckled, his eyes gleaming with mirth. Water began to coil behind him, turning into long, thick tendrils that jutted out of his back. "Is that why you rely on runes? Trying to borrow world energy to make up for your weaknesses? I'm impressed though. You're doing really well hiding the pain of that migraine that's beating against your skull."
"Thanks for the concern," I replied, my voice low enough to tempt a weaker man into leaning forward to hear what I was saying. All the while, I weaved a one-handed hand seal behind my back.
Then, I moved, and the world turned grey.
For a moment, I could hear it all. The beat of my heart, like a low drum against my ribcage. The rustle of grass under my feet. The breath coming out of my lungs.
And most importantly, the low whirl of world energy surging toward him.
I ducked to the side as a tendril of water shot past me faster than the eye could follow. I could see his eyebrows rising in slow motion, his eyes wide as if he thought he had me.
The agility rune engraved into the soles of my shoes flared, and my body turned into a blur that I would not have been able to control without the perception enchantment I had just cast. Yet, even with the speed boost, it felt like I was moving through molasses, my mind running far faster than my body ever could.
I swerved between the tendrils of water as the man tried to retreat. Water began to form under his feet, but I was faster.
Raising my blade, I pushed a strand of willpower down my fingertips and began to trace runes over the metal of the blade. My fingers were a blur, but the man that I had inwardly dubbed 'The Waterbending Asshole' didn't seem very willing to let me be. A crescent of shimmering water whistled through the air. I stepped to the side and avoided the desperate attack with ease.
"At your limit?" the man asked me mockingly, but he couldn't hide the waver in his voice. "You might as well give up. Sure, you might beat me, but you're a cripple. I doubt people like you can even form bloodlines. Isn't someone like me more useful to society than someone like you?" he asked, all the while desperately throwing sharpened water harpoons at me.
I barely reacted to his words and focused on the blade instead.
Suddenly, golden runes lit up on the blade—runes that were already engraved into the blade but needed a kickstart to take effect. And when I was only three paces away, the air around my saber shifted, warped, and almost imperceptibly sharpened.
Another harpoon shot toward me with a whistle, but this time I didn't dodge.
The man's eyes widened like saucers as I slashed right through his attack. He likely thought nothing without essence could cut through his attacks so easily. After all, there was a qualitative difference between essence and world energy gathered by willpower and runes.
Unfortunately for him, he was fighting someone who had been going up against bloodline users without any essence of his own for more than a decade.
My blade blurred once more. Even with the perception enchantment, I couldn't fully follow the speed my saber was now moving at.
The air didn't ripple, nor did the water. There was no sound when I swung. It was swift... silent. Like death swinging a scythe to reap what is justifiably theirs.
In that split second, a thought appeared in my mind—one that had no business being there in such an intense moment. This person, the man before me, would be my first kill.
In that moment, the world didn't freeze like they do in the movies, but the perception enchantment didn't make the moment any easier. I had grown up my entire life hearing about first kills, and today I would reap my first life.
A part of me, somewhere deep inside where logic was optional, hoped that I would miss. That the man before me would somehow move out of the way in time to avoid my attack... That he would survive the slash that I had already aimed for him.
Unfortunately, life wasn't a fairy tale.
The water that had coiled around his right arm splashed to the ground, and the first swing took his arm, soaring into the air with a spray of crimson.
The next slash only came a breath later, and it did not hold an ounce of mercy.
A graceful arc of blood curved across the grass behind him, like a smile drawn in red. A second later, the top half of his head followed it to the ground, severed cleanly at the brow.
He didn't have time to scream, let alone beg. One second he was alive, and the next, he dropped dead—his body lifeless, his eyes cleaved into two.
I flicked the blood off my blade and exhaled a breath that I didn't know I was holding.
That was... almost easy, I mused, before almost wincing at the thought. It was easy. Too easy. I had grown to have an expectation of what my reaction would be if I ever had to take a life.
My father used to often tell the story of his first kill. He was on an expedition when his platoon was attacked by a group of bandits who had taken over the local area. One man had attacked him, and my father fought tooth and nail before he eventually stabbed the bandit through the chest, killing him almost instantly.
There was always a certain amount of haunting in his eyes every time he told the story.
He'd recall vomiting for hours after the adrenaline wore off, and always mentioned that there was no shame in therapy whenever he told the story.
Everyone in my family who had been in a real battle had similar stories. Hell, even Gale's parents talked about having nightmares for months after their first kill, and they were a military family. So then... what was I supposed to do when I felt nothing afterward?
Releasing all three enchantments, I felt the air around me retract with a thump. I looked down at my sleeve and stared at the droplet of blood that had landed on me. An entire life reduced to a stain on my sleeve.
An entire story, with so much already written, and so much left to be written.
I was supposed to feel something. To feel anything.
Yet, I didn't.
In a calm and smooth motion, I sheathed my blade and turned toward the screen flashing at my side.
[Congratulations. You have completed your Objective and have been permitted to take part in Earth's Crown Games.]
The moment the screen appeared before me, I felt the darkness return. As it surged through the grass fields and consumed the sky, I closed my eyes and allowed the shadows to consume me.