To say that Flair was nervous wouldn't do his current feelings justice.

Relax Flair.

It was so easy to say that, but man, did he feel out of his depth. Just one glance at the display on his interface was enough to make his hands begin shaking again.

You deserve to be there. It's not a mistake.

"Flair, you look like you're about to pass out," Flair heard a voice call out as he turned around.

"Oh, hey, DeMar," Flair sighed as he saw his long-time friend. Walking up to one another, they bumped their forearms together in an X shape before Flair sighed.

"What?" DeMar asked, giving his shoulder a give thump.

"The bracket for the tournament is out."

"Oh shit, for real?" DeMar asked, eyes widening. "Let me see."

Sighing, Flair responded by flicking over his interface to his friend, whose face dropped.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"That feels like someone has it out for you," DeMar said with a whistle. "That is one hell of a division you're in. Those are-"

"Some of the top contenders of years prior," Flair said, finishing DeMar's sentence.

"But this year is different," DeMar pointed out. "None of the true elites are involved. I'd bet the top brass are all getting their gear with no strings attached. Do we really need the likes of the Dawn's Fire, The Quartermaster, or Grinning Demon involved to know they'd kick everybody's ass?"

Flair frowned, without denying what his friend pointed out. In years past, the yearly tournament was a 'ranking' tournament, which, outside of a prize pool of credits, didn't do much more than measure the strongest in the city. Outside of years when the Chief Protector participated, the winner had always been Grinning Demon Marcie, with the following few ranks usually some assortment of the same few figures. Excluding the Chief Protector, and including the now deceased Living Shadow, they had rounded out the Elite Four for, well, ever.

There had been some discussions about who the new elite four would be this year, as Living Shadow had fallen in last year's wave, which was already enough to stir some excitement about this year's tournament.

And then the announcement had been made. The Elite Four would not be participating. Instead, it would be a bracket of thirty-two top contenders amongst the city's tier sevens, and the winner would receive a custom set of gear from the Lord Founder himself.

Just at the thought of the Lord Founder, a shiver passed down Flair's spine. In truth, little was known about him. Hell, for the longest time, most figured he was either entirely made up, a morale booster, or some creation of E.O.N. that had blessed the early generations and paved the way for their growth. He was never meant to be real, not like a flesh-and-blood person; even the children knew that.

And then, nearly a year back, when all was lost, during what had ironically become known as the 'Fall of Ehkorrus,' he had appeared. Myth became reality. The Lord Founder had not just descended from the heavens themselves; he single-handedly wiped away foes that were too much even for the Chief Protector. Some even went as far as to say that it had been as easy as breathing for him.

As if that wasn't enough, even after returning to the city, he was essentially a phantom that was rarely seen or interacted with, and that only changed when, out of the blue, rumors of a daughter appeared.

A daughter who looked nothing like the rest of them. In fairness, Flair hadn't seen much of the girl; it had been a few decades since his school years, after all. Apparently, as far as the rumors went, she was a monster in terms of her capabilities —a girl, not even at her first level, already at a skill caliber one would expect of seasoned artisans.

Too much, it's all too much.

The point was that when it was announced the Lord Founder would reward the winner with custom gear, the tier sevens went wild. The Esteemed Luminary had shortly put out a schedule in which, leading up to the tournament proper, any tier seven could challenge another tier seven, gaining or losing points depending on a win or a loss, and gaining or losing more points depending on how many points their opponent had as well.

I still can't believe it.

Flair, as fortune had turned out, had just barely nicked tier seven only a few weeks prior, and then had only barely scraped enough points to make the top cut for the tournament proper.

"Hey, E.O.N. to Flair, you there?"

"Oh, sorry," Flair shook his head as DeMar waved a hand in front of his face. "Was just lost in thought."

"Did you catch anything I just said?"

"Honestly? No."

"Sigh."

"Did you just sigh verbally?"

"I did," DeMar laughed before sticking his clenched fist out. "To recap, I said this: Just because your division of the bracket is… rough, doesn't mean you can't scrap. A fresh tier seven, even making it into the tournament is already something few would expect, so you've got this."

Meeting the outstretched fist with his own, the two bumped fists as DeMar grinned.

"Alright, well, let's go get some grub now. I'll even treat."

Flair was still nervous, a week later. In fact, he was more nervous. Today was the day.

The tournament had officially arrived.

I can do this.

Pulling his interface up again, Flair stared at the names, committing them to memory. Or rather, further engraining them into his mind, it was almost all he had done for the last week.

Harrison. Jharrel. Morales. Rana. Thalia. Everett.

In years prior, they'd all landed in the top twenty at least once, with one name even touching the top ten.

Kai Rong.

Eight years ago, she managed to place in the top ten. Seventh, to be exact, and that was a year when the Chief Protector had participated. Excluding the Chief Protector and the Elite Four, she would have been second, placing only behind a woman who just so happened to be on the other side of the bracket, thankfully.

I am so out of my depth.

Had the universe really been conspiring against him, she would have been his first opponent, but thankfully, his luck wasn't that bad.

Harrison, top finish, rank twenty.

Just looking at the name, Flair felt his nerves return. He could recall being a tier five, watching that very battle, holding his breath from the stands.

And now he would be facing the man as his first opponent.

You deserve to be here. You deserve to be here.

It was a mantra he'd been reciting to himself endlessly, the only thing keeping his courage from collapsing entirely.

You deserve to be here.

Seated in a small room for competitors, there were only a few minutes until it was time to walk out there, to the city arena. It wasn't often used, but in the past two months, with the point hunt, it had seen far more usage. Flair had come to know it well, but that didn't change his nerves.

Walk out, sixty meters from the exit to the arena center. Shake hands. Fight.

"I deserve to be here. I deserve to be here. I deserve to-"

"Competitor Flair, it's time."

The voice was transmitted through some form of runic array on the wall, and for a moment, Flair considered whether running was an option.

No. No, I can do this.

Standing up, Flair did a quick check of his gear. It wasn't flashy; he had only been tier seven for a short period of time, so he hadn't really had the time to rake in the credits for anything really fancy, something commissioned from the Forgemaster, for example.

It doesn't matter.

His fists were covered in a black and purple metal, the city's famous Night Copper. It was far from cheap, but tier sevens got a discount, and it had been something Flair had saved up for in preparation for tier seven. Truthfully, they were just armored gauntlets with some pointed fingertips and ridges on the knuckles. Still, given that he wasn't really a 'traditional' fighter, they were the best option he could use, and more importantly, what he could afford.

As for the rest of his gear, it was just a traditional mix of runic leather with some inverted steel, the best 'non-elite' material adventurers or the likes could get their hands on.

"Let's do this,"

Now that the moment had arrived, the trembling in his hand stilled, instead turning his focus on the fight to come. Walking out of the small room, Flair was met with a rather loud cheer. The stands were packed. In years prior, he'd never seen such a crowd, and for a moment, Flair felt himself taken aback, until he remembered why.

Right, the Lord Founder is here.

Walking out to the applause and cheers, Flair saw his opponent, opposite him, likewise leaving from his staging area. The man had peppered hair, a mix of dark brown, light auburn, and even flecks of grey, with a matching beard. Hitched to his side was an axe made of the same night copper that made up Flair's gauntlets, large enough to be used as a two-handed weapon but still small enough for a man of his size and strength to wield one-handed without problem. His armor was similar to Flair's, though with far more heavily padded and thicker portions of inverted steel. All in all, the man could have passed off as a well-armed roving lumberjack, compared to Flair's much more streamlined gear.

"Is this thing-oh, there we go." A voice boomed out, one that almost everyone was familiar with. The Chief Protector stood behind a specially raised dais, with two other seats on either side of him. He was holding a magic rod that somehow amplified his voice; how exactly, was outside of Flair's wheelhouse. "I would like to start by welcoming everyone. While city tournaments are far from rare or unknown, this marks the first tournament of its kind. Not just because of the prize, but because of WHO is backing the prize. The top eight will win custom gear on behalf of the foundry, with the top four earning custom gear from the Forgemaster specifically. Finally, the winner shall be granted the top prize, of gear made by our Lord Founder himself!"

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

At the mention of the Lord Founder, the man seated next to the Chief Protector stood up, shaking his head as the Chief Protector offered him the magical voice-amplifying rod. The cheers erupted as the Lord Founder gave a wave, rubbing his throat for a moment before opening his mouth.

"Welcome all," The voice of the Lord Founder projected outward, needing only aura. "Many here likely have never met me personally, and so I would like to formally introduce myself. Some call me the Architect of the Precursors. Others, the Lord Founder. And to others still, a stubborn fool."

A chuckle went through the stands, most of those gathered laughing more out of apprehension of the thought of not laughing at the Lord Founder's 'joke.'

"The city of Ehkorrus has undergone hardships in my absence. While I do not regret what was gained, it is my duty to ensure that the city and its people never again face such a crisis. So we stand here today, one of many ways in which I shall give back to you all."

The mythical figure was silent for a moment as if letting it sink in, before he began to speak once more.

"Strength, safety, and most importantly, growth itself, cannot be fully embraced by those unable to take risks, to challenge themselves. Greatness can only be acquired by a path of adversity. Thus, it is my pleasure, my honor in fact, to bring you those who wish to grasp their paths for themselves, some of our own who shine most brilliantly in the dark. Thirty-two fine warriors and adventurers. Yet only one will stand above the rest. Who will rise, we shall see, but to all gathered here, it will be an unforgettable experience."

Sitting back down, the stands erupted in wild excitement, a palpable energy in the air crackling with anticipation. As the crowd cheered, the final figure stood, a woman whom anyone and everyone recognized as the Esteemed Luminary. If the Chief Protector was the heart of the city, then the Esteemed Luminary was the brain. Taking the amplification rod from the Chief Protector, she briefly cleared her throat before speaking.

"There is little I can say after the words of our Lord Founder, therefore I shall close with this. While these upcoming battles are ones of honor and sport, it is not just for themselves they fight. From their strength, it is all of us that they fight for, and so let us ensure we support each and every one of them and give them the respect they deserve."

Another cheer went up, this time slightly muted in comparison to what had erupted after the Lord Founder had spoken.

"Thank you to our wise leaders," A new voice said, speaking up. Seemingly from nowhere, the Grinning Demon appeared within the arena, holding her own amplification rod. "Due to the level of these battles, I will be the floor judge to ensure fair play. I will echo the words of our leaders and end with a thank you to all of you for spectating. Now then, shall we get this show on the road?"

A final cheer of confirmation rang out as the Grinning Demon stepped forward, in an instant crossing the distance until she was in the direct center of the arena.

"Competitors, you may step forward."

Here we go.

Walking forward, Flair came to a stop directly in front of his opponent, his face blank as they observed one another.

"Hands."

Obeying the Grinning Demon's orders, Flair held out his hand, offering it to Harrison, who likewise stuck his hand out, the two clasping one another in a customary handshake.

"And there it is. With that, competitors, you may return to your starting sides, and on my mark, you may begin."

Turning back around, Flair made his way back, around a hundred meters between himself and Harrison by the end.

"Three."

Here we go.

"Two."

A single tremble passed through Flair's body, but this time it wasn't nerves; adrenaline began to circulate, a week of preparation and thought culminating in this moment.

"One."

Fire away!

"Begin!"

Kicking off, Flair shot forward, and Harrison did the same; the two men charged at each other. Flair saw his opponent's mouth move, unable to make out the words clearly even as his hatchet began to glow silver.

Crescent Moon Cleave!

It was a move Flair had seen as a spectator but never had the chance to face it head-on.

Until now, of course.

Raising his hands in front of his mouth like he was holding a blowpipe between his index fingers and thumbs, Flair barked out.

"Salamander's Breath!"

A funnel of flames rushed out between his hands, just in time to collide with a crescent blade of silver energy.

The exchange of ranged attacks took a single instant before the two contestants were clashing directly, the hatchet swinging with gravity that seemed to force Flair forward.

Unable to resist the gravitational pull, Flair let it pull him forward, striking with his armored fists and redirecting the hatchet. With his other fist, he sent a quick jab forward, striking his opponent to barely any effect; the man barely grunted.

But he did grunt!

Rather than despair at the ineffectuality of the probing jab, Flair swept his foot upward in a snapping kick, catching the larger and more heavily armored man right in the side of his hip.

"Flame Wheel!"

Shouting out the skill, suddenly it was as if his foot was a comet flying through the heavens, a tail of fire trailing his heel. Speed and power multiplying in the last second, Harrison was taken off guard as the strike sent him flying and tumbling to the side, bouncing and rolling nearly a dozen yards before the armored lumberjack dug a hand into the ground, arresting his momentum and rising back to his feet.

"Not bad," The man said, speaking for the first time as he smiled, spitting out a wad of red. "A momentum skill?"

Damn, one hit was enough for him to catch on.

"Something like that," Flair responded.

"Not bad at all," Harrison chuckled before shaking his head. "My turn. Moonfall!"

Swinging the hatchet downward in a two-handed swing, the axe crashed upon the ground as a crevice ripped open, a silvery light shining from it as Flair's instincts and prior knowledge of the man screamed at him to move.

"Flame Wheel!"

Fire ignited from his heels, a burst of speed to avoid what was coming, but a grin from Harrison was enough to signal that Flair was in for an unfortunate time.

Proven correct a split second later when his attempt at moving seemed to fail; the shining crevice in the ground pulled him in, and the harder he resisted, the more it pulled.

Ah shit!

"Salamander's Hide!" Flair called out, cancelling Flame Wheel, and just in time, as a curtain of silver light rushed up from the crevice like a waterfall in reverse. Deluged in the silvery energy, Flair felt the frozen agony grip him like a vice. Yet as much as the freezing energy, like the coldness of space, attempted to invade his body, his skin, which had scaled over, held back the worst of the lunar freeze.

All the while, from within his mind's eye, Flair sensed the moment a spark seemed to ignite.

Go time!

His passive Ignition skill activating, rather than attempting to escape the clutches of the silver moon energy, Flair made the decision to endure it. For several moments, Harrison seemed pleased, until suspicion entered his eyes. Anyone who had made it to the tournament proper should have been able to escape the gravity of Moonfall by now.

Still enduring it, the flame within his chest rapidly grew from a mere candlelight to a blazing bonfire. It wasn't real fire, not like the insane boosting skill of Lady Dawnfire, so when those metaphysical flames coursed from his chest into the rest of his bodies, there was no chance of self-destructive conflagration.

Well, mostly.

Having caught on to the fact that Moonfall was being taken advantage of, Harrison cut the skill off, as Flair stood out in the open, no longer obscured by the silver torrent of energy. Visible once more, it was clear he had suffered some rather severe damage, blood freely flowing from cracks in the scales sporadically covering the entirety of his body.

"A bit of a crazy son of a bitch," Harrison whistled. Harrison's Moonfall was considered his ace skill, drowning an opponent in freezing lunar energy that increased in effect with each passing moment. The more cracks in the ground he opened, the more vents he could utilize.

Between a formidable defense, a potent stack of physical strength, and the ever-growing field of crevice vents created by Moonfall, the man was a pro at area denial and control. It had been speculated that his attributes favored Strength, Durability, and Pneuma, with little to no investment in the other attributes. He was considered a juggernaut, but not exactly a speedy one.

All of that was about what Flair had expected, minus the gravitational effect of his skills.

I can do this.

It was a thought that came unbidden, that facing down a figure he'd grown up watching, he could win. It was almost too much for Flair to truly internalize. Part of him had expected, for all his preparations, that he'd be unable to keep up; one hit from the man would put him out of the count. And yet, a fresh tier seven, against a seasoned tier seven adventurer, he wasn't hopelessly outclassed.

I can win.

Flair had initially wanted to get a feel for more of Harrison's skills and fighting style firsthand before he went straight for the Ignition play, but the opportunity had presented itself.

More like forced itself on me, but either way.

"It's only crazy if it doesn't work." Flair shot back, an orange hue coloring the air around him.

"Aye, good attitude!" Harrison boomed before launching himself forward.

Whereas before their speeds had been closer, this time Flair appeared in front of Harrison in a flash, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Lunar Body!" Harrison boomed, a sudden gravitational well dragging Flair off balance as Harrison glowed silver. The air began to grow cold as Harrison's skill drew out all the heat from his surroundings, converting it into a silver glow that grew more intense by the second. Flair knew it was Harrison's version of a boosting skill, something he'd seen before.

And yet.

Yet rather than step back, let Harrison regain momentum, Flair barked out a skill of his own a moment after.

"Flame Chariot!"

Whereas before flames had appeared only from his heels, now it was as if a gas leak had ignited from his heels, elbows, and even tendrils of flame flowing from the corners of his mouth.

Following a trail of flames, Flair unleashed a barrage of fiery strikes against the larger man, the glow of his silvery aura seeming to feed off some of the excess heat that Flair generated.

A risk I'm willing to take!

Harrison attempted to swing his hatchet at Flair, but with the enhanced version of Flame Wheel active, he was like a darting fly, far too fast for Harrison. While that was all well and good, with each missed strike, a new crevice opened up in the ground as Flair found himself not just tracking Harrison's relatively slower strikes, but also the gouts of silver energy that erupted from the vents in the ground at random.

He's so tanky!

Even with the boost from Ignition and with his enhanced Flame Chariot active, the larger man was taking the blows with surprising grace.

"Will your flames burn out before my moon sets?" Harrison half chuckled, half taunted.

Fine, if that's the case, I'm just going to have to go for it!

Backing off, Flair stood directly above one of the moon vents.

Here goes nothing.

Feeling the lunar eruption a moment before it happened, Flair dropped Flame Chariot.

"Vermillion Scales!"

The silver energy rushed out once more, and while the pain was undeniable, the resistance of Vermillion Scales was even greater than Salamander's Hide. The flames that had begun to slowly dwindle inside him suddenly roared back to life, even more intense than before. At the same time, Flair started to suck in a breath, the energy drawn straight into his belly. While the lunar energy was cold, in the end, it was still energy, and all energy could feed the inner flame of Ignition.

All or nothing, one final attack.

When the silver vent at last sputtered out, Flair stood there, dripping blood and feeling perilously damaged, even while the flame inside burned hotter and higher than ever before.

"Competitor Flair, are you able to continue?' The Grinning Demon asked as Flair gave a single curt nod.

"Ballsy. I like it!" Harrison laughed. "But you can't last much longer like that, can you? Well, let's get this over with, then. E.O.N. above knows I'm not the type to play keep-away. Come, let me see your best shot!"

"My pleasure," Flair said, grinning even as blood seeped through his clothes.

One hit, one shot. That's all I need.

Much like he had with Salamander's Breath, Flair raised his hands to his mouth in a funnel formed by his index fingers and thumbs. Harrison, roughly twenty yards away, matched him, lifting his hatchet skyward as the air above seemed to shimmer with lunar power, like the promise of night was right around the corner.

All or nothing.

"Vermillion Wind!"

"Full Moon Arrival!"

Calling out their final attacks at the exact same time, they rushed forward as Flair blew out a roaring column of coursing flames. At the same time, Harrison brought his axe downward as a silver orb of power fell, colliding with the inferno of hungry flames. Seconds passed as it seemed the two attacks battled back against one another, evenly matched.

Until all at once, it was as if the flames found purchase in the conjured lunar orb, the silver sphere shattering only to be consumed by the fire that suddenly rushed forward, no longer pushed back by an opposing force.

Far too fast for someone like Harrison to avoid, the fire breath swallowed him up, seconds ticking by, the larger man's last defense nothing but his aura and innate defense of Lunar Body.

After nearly fifteen seconds of continuous breath, exhausting all but a meager ten percent of the remaining flames within, the fire was blown away as Grinning Demon Marcie stood where Harrison had been standing prior.

The man had fallen to one knee, looking like a burnt potato. His skin was blistered and burnt, but Marcie had stepped in the split second that his resisting aura had faltered, when the flames would have turned from harmful to fatal.

"Competitor Flair, can you continue?"

"Mostly," Flair coughed out, nearly exhausted, but still enough gas in the tank that he wasn't about to collapse.

"Competitor Harrison?"

Harrison was silent, rather severely banged up, until at last, he shook his head slowly in denial.

"Then with this, we have our first victory! Give it up for competitor Flair, a fresh face to the seventh realm! Just how far will he go!?"

As the cheer rang out, Flair let his skills wither out, exhausting, sagging, but feeling very alive. That feeling was only heightened when a glance at the Lord Founder revealed that the legendary man gave him a single, slow nod.

I won! I really won.

It was only one fight, and things would only get harder from here on out.

But.

But for now, Flair was a winner.

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