I spent her first few years of life—if one could even call them that—so bored that I regretted not ending it all. As an egg, our daughter did nothing but sit around and grow. She was kept on a shelf throughout her maturation, in a room with something in the range of fifty others. They were largely unsupervised, but someone would come around about once a week to do a quick scan. It was usually one of the servants. She was technically supposed to be a knight, but her duties were more skewed towards maidhood. Occasionally, the mother would visit herself, but it was rare, maybe once or twice in the summer just to check in, and a few more times in the winter to produce more batches of young.

A quick analysis revealed that all of the offspring were technically viable, but they died around the four-year mark. It was mainly a problem of their size. The snake-moose hybrids often grew too large for their shells before they could finish developing; for the weaker ones, that meant that their muscles and bones would contort under the pressure of the casing, ultimately leading to their passing. The stronger ones were hardly any better off. They would burst out of the leathery death traps, only to discover that they were far too underdeveloped to survive without them. Their internals would spill all over the floor, and they would quickly perish. It was clear that no amount of healing would save them from their premature ends.

I was worried that our daughter would wind up the same way, but it turned out not to be a problem. She was much tinier than all the others her age, only about two-thirds the second smallest individual despite her egg sporting the usual proportion.

___

Despite Gladora's death, the third battle's introduction mostly went by the usual script. The theatre troop put on a show and primed the audience for the upcoming duel, while Octavia took the stage and addressed the crowd with a brilliant smile.

"Thank you all for attending the proxy war's third battle," she said, after the usual introduction. "Cadria's contestant is, unfortunately, running a little late today. And as such, we will begin by introducing Vel'khan's."

She gestured towards the gate and prompted Krail to enter. He was wearing a suit of armour accompanied by a helm that fully covered his face. Its crown was lined with oversized plumes. The bright crimson feathers were so large that they couldn't have been used for fletching on anything but a ballista.

He still wore Griselda's gift underneath it. It was half to further the act. Someone would surely suspect prior knowledge had he been the only Vel'khanese fighter without his god-given relic on hand. The other half stemmed largely from comfort. Though skintight, the body suit was the most luxurious piece of clothing that he had ever worn.

"Today's combatant is a curious fellow who describes himself as an arrow mage. Coming from humble beginnings, he was once a simple adventurer who happened to find himself in the crown's service upon answering the call to action. He is the archer without a bow, the elf chosen by the goddess of night, and a powerful magus well-versed in three different schools of arrow-based magic. Please welcome Krail Greenwood to the Valencian stage!"

He was supposed to remove both his helm and the suit's facemask when he reached the center of the arena, but he was a little hesitant. Claire had met his act with a disapproving frown even when he thought it was perfect. Still, he followed the script and displayed his face as he reached Octavia's side. His hair was freshly cut. His front and top were only trimmed, but Chloe had shaved the sides to give him a more soldierly appearance.

Putting on his best stern smile, he waved to the crowd and basked in the cheering that ensued.

His status appeared in the sky soon after. The display was without any numbers, and frankly, his distribution was fairly typical for a true mage, but he couldn't help but feel like his privacy was violated regardless. Everyone could see the exact proportion of his stats as well as the full spread of his classes.

Krail Greenwood

Health: 850376/850376 (100%)

Mana: 12972346/12972346 (100%)

Racial Class: High Elf Runecaller - Level 925

Primary Class: Thousand Arrow Bladestorm - Level 4496

Secondary Class: Nighthawk Sniper - Level 7501

Tertiary Class: Langgbjern Skyfall Sorcerer - Level 1745

Quaternary Class: Master Auctioneer - Level 766

Notable Equipment: Evernight Stealth Suit (Quality:11924), Blighted Elderwood staff (Quality: 4011), Master Archer's Vlasch Armour (Quality:3104)

He'd asked Chloe for the trick she'd used during her fight. Evidently, she'd been able to hide some of the finer details from the device that read her numbers and classes, but her trick was inapplicable. The masking was a favour performed by her god.

Krail wanted nothing more than to sigh and bury his face in his hands, but maintained as confident of a smile as he could.

"Do you have anything to say to the crowd while we await your opponent's arrival?"

"I do have a few choice words," he said, reciting the script. "Our first two fights did not demonstrate the full extent of our power. Miss Penhorn is at half strength, and will be for another two or three seasons. Miss Grouset is just an unfortunate maid who happened to serve as a substitute after an unfortunate accident befell one of our original combatants. I am the first of our true champions and I will be demonstrating the full extent of Vel'khan's might. I can say with confidence that the second round is the last that we will lose, regardless of what Cadria brings to the table."

"What an incredibly bold statement!" said Octavia, with a grin. "It seems your opponent has yet to arrive. As per the standard ruleset, we will give her exactly fifteen minutes before she is disqualified. In the meantime, I'd like to ask a few questions on the audience's behalf, if you don't mind."

Krail could feel himself freezing up. He'd only delivered the first half of his speech and they were already venturing off script.

"Of course. I'd be happy to answer anything that you have to ask."

"In that case, I'd like to begin by addressing the elephant in the room. You mentioned that Vel'khan will win every duel going forward. Does that include the final battle?"

"Yes. Even knowing the absurd strength of your nation's most powerful fighter, I am still confident in our victory."

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

"That is very exciting. I can't wait to see how it all unfolds," she said. "Now, as for yourself. What kind of strategy are you considering, going into today's battle?"

"I have devised a complicated spell that will dampen my opponent's strengths. I have absolute confidence that it will shut down any and all of Gladora's attempts at victory," said the elf.

"I can't wait to see it in action," said Octavia. She was about to open her mouth when one of the guards rushed across the arena and whispered something in her ear. She opened her eyes wide as he continued to speak and brought a hand to her slackened jaw.

She took a second to take a breath and recompose herself before walking out into the open field.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have an unfortunate announcement to make. It appears that Gladora the Bloodbreaker, Cadria's third combatant, passed away late last night. The cause of death is currently judged to be foul play. An autopsy confirmed that her brain had been melted despite a lack of outward injury. We currently suspect that this is in relation to the Obloyd attack launched on the city, but investigations are still ongoing at this time."

Whispers ran through the crowd as she spoke. They were more curious than uneasy. Everyone knew that the alliance was hostile, but it was never considered to be much of a threat. The fools out west would send whole armies to attack tiny strongholds and still fail to take any notable names. The whole nation had always assumed that even the most powerful Obloyd fighters were too weak to be of relevance. Not even the previous night's incident had raised any notable concerns. The out-of-control magic had seemed like the Grand Magus' usual nonsense. And in fact, some of her failed experiments had turned out far worse.

"Unfortunately, this means that today's event has been cancelled. I'm sorry, Krail, but Cadria will forfeit this round. It is a shame, but you will not be doing battle."

The elf grunted. "That is… rather unexpected. Is there no one that can take her place?"

"I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience, but the rules dictate that the roster is fixed post submission and that no substitutions will be allowed."

"There goes my chance to show off." He sighed and shook his head. "I expected more out of Cadria."

"I hear you and agree," said Octavia. "We'll be getting to the bottom of this incident immediately. Rest assured that, while there isn't an exact replacement for Gladora, we have many powerful fighters happy to spar on another occasion."

"I understand." He said, with a shake of the head. "I'm sorry for pressuring you. I know there's nothing you can do about this, and I don't want you to misunderstand and have this reflect poorly on Vel'khan or the rest of the delegation. I was looking forward to crushing Gladora in person. The rest of the rounds aren't going to be like this too, are they?"

"We will take extra measures to ensure that all future battles will proceed as planned."

Krail frowned, but eventually nodded. "Thank you, Miss Augustus."

"You're very welcome." She turned to the crowd again. "For those of you concerned with the attack, please rest assured. The army will be deployed full force to drive out any invaders and ensure that the rest of the festival proceeds trouble-free. Please be aware that we will proceed with standard compensation plans. That means everyone present today will be refunded for any food and drink, as well as any sort of premium seating." The proxy war's regular seats were free on account of its national importance; only those who wanted preferential treatment had to pay.. "Government officials will later report to the address that you marked on the ticket and provide a set of vouchers that will cover the cost of several other events across the city. If your address is incorrect, please make sure to report the mistake to reception immediately. Thank you all again for coming, and we apologize for any disappointment."

Krail fought back the urge to breathe a sigh of relief. It was finally over. Sagging his shoulders, as per the script's instructions, he proceeded back to the gladiator gate while the crowd funneled out of the arena.

___

Though the elf was unaware, he was not the only one in dire straits. Up in the VIP booth, one of Cadria's champion candidates was practically shivering in his boots. He was at least trying to make himself inconspicuous—he carried himself exactly as he usually would and continued to play the part of a fool whose lands were far from prospering—but he couldn't stop his eyes from shifting about.

It didn't seem like anyone suspected anything, but he didn't want to risk it. The moment he was found was the moment that the lights went out. His countrymen didn't take well to traitors lest it was through violence that they staked their claim.

The attack on the capital was only one of the two that they had planned. The other still needed some time to come to fruition, and it would surely fail if he was caught prematurely. Without him to feed them the soldier's schedules, the alliance would surely fail to catch the locals off guard. That wasn't exactly a problem per se. The initial effort had already proven that the alliance's heroes were strong enough to dominate the average Cadrian warrior, but the same couldn't be said for the God-king.

It was over the moment he stepped onto the field. There would be no survivors.

That was why they'd planned the attack for the final day of the festival. And it was also why Darius, the lord of House Verus, was absolutely terrified by the scheme as a whole. The whole thing's success was predicated on the strength of Vel'khan's final fighter. If the intel he'd received was correct, the ensuing battle was sure to last for quite some time.

Whether his informant could be trusted was a whole other debate. Though Darius knew that the alliance had divine backing, he still found it difficult to believe that there was anyone out there that came close to matching Virillius Augustus.

There were many people in the nation that bore the same thought. But unlike them, Darius knew. He had seen first hand the havoc that the former general had often wreaked on enemy lines. He was like an avatar of death. Anything that crossed his path was immediately subjected to Xekkur's ultimatum. And that was exactly why Darius had sought out the alliance in the first place.

Though many described the king as a god, Virillius was mortal through and through. And it was not right for any mortal to wield such immense power. Of course, that was not to say that Darius was simply a fool who wished to pick fights with the strong—there was certainly a part of him that had been like that once, but it'd long died upon the field of battle—nor was he against the world's most powerful in general. He wouldn't have had a problem with Virillius if not for the fact that he had no intention to ascend.

He just hated the idea of an almighty being participating and meddling in mortal affairs. For so long as the God-King lived among Cadrians, he would be subjected to their influence. He would live, laugh, and suffer, as he did when his wife perished. And in doing so, he would single-handedly dictate the direction that the nation took.

That much, he had proven through his actions.

He was why so many believed that violence was the be all and end all of negotiation. He was the reason the children were raised with swords and spears in place of pens and papers. He was the reason that the benevolent saint known as the Eleven Horned King lay dead.

So long as he reigned over the nation, so long as he continued to serve as an almighty being that none could displease or otherwise contest, Cadria would only grow more warped.

It was only a matter of time before Darius' homeland lost all semblance of the standard warrior culture that had existed once before, only a matter of time before they truly devolved to the furthest extreme.

Clenching his fists, the man took a breath and returned his eyes to the arena.

Or at least he would have, had there not been a fox suddenly blocking his line of sight.

The tiny, dog-like creature tilted her head, looking carefully at him with her big amber eyes. He couldn't explain how or why, but for some odd reason, it almost felt like the critter could see right through him. It didn't help that her ears twitched when the thought passed through his mind, or that she suddenly righted them when he noticed, but shaking his head, he ultimately dismissed it as a figment of his imagination.

She couldn't have possibly been onto him.

It wasn't like she could read his mind.

For some odd reason, she giggled as he arrived at the conclusion, but writing it off as another coincidence, he clenched his fists, closed his eyes, and reviewed the attack to be launched on the festival's final day.

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.