NOVEL WEB The [Mage] and the [Sorcerer]
“You cunt!”
Ivory dodged another bolt of electricity, torn between rushing over to the twitching, smoking Misoe and running over to break Fabian’s skull.
She wasn’t dead, he knew, but still injured severely; the relic clearly was not properly calibrated to [Mage]-adjacent companions or familiars.
He heard nothing of the jeers coming from his corner, either. Blood was pounding in his ears along with the familiar rumble that, on better days, he would activate on and off out of boredom. Such a hateful look had never worn itself on his face as he beheld Fabian, standing there contemptuously, as if Ivory were but a smear of shit on his boot.
Absolutely not.
After taking one last look at Misoe, he began sprinting towards Fabian. The gap was only 20 metres.
“[Tripweeds], brat!”
Ivory felt pressure underfoot, and saw ugly, grey foliage sprout and wrap around his legs. The constriction was uncomfortable… but that was it. The [Tripweeds] broke as he continued his sprint, unable to overpower the strength of his legs.
His rage abated ever so slightly at seeing Fabian’s smirk weaken, giving him a flash of realisation.
“[Flash of Darkness]!”
The fuckwit was g—
Nullified. Spell: ‘[Flash of Darkness] disabled this skirmish. Arbiter: Fabian Crototia.
Fabian cackled, sending forth more [Tondorian Neuroshocks]. Ivory was forced to fall down and skid on his knees to dodge the dangerous spell. He knew that getting hit by that was an instant loss, and damn his knees.
It went to show how outmatched he was—the best possible move caused him to be in his most compromising position yet.
Fabian aimed down and fired consecutive match-winning arcs of electricity, ready to hear that beautiful notification. Each found its stationary target with ease, with each subsequent spell snuffing out the paltry ball of fire that followed.
Both parties were losing mana, fast—but [Whelp’s Barrier] was a greedy mistress, demanding far more than the hungry [Neuroshocks].
That was it, then. If he continued, he’d faint and lose instantly. His sight had already starting to blur intermittently.
“Die!” Fabian shouted, forgetting himself in his overwhelming desire to see his quarry utterly humiliated.
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“What the fuck’s he going to do, Nozumu?!”
Corina was gripping his arm terribly hard as she stared at the horrific scene before them.
He didn’t reply. His thoughts were focussed on the promised inevitability of Ivory’s victory here. At least, that’s how he interpreted the [Meat Witch]’s words. What a waste of time this magic was, he thought, that it—
“Look!”
Corina tugged him out of his spiral and pointed at the battlefield.
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This [Whelp’s Barrier] was the final one. Any more, and he would surely wake up in a [Healer]’s bed.
“Ah well,” he thought, “Was a good run.”
The [Neuroshock] snaked its way through the air and made contact mere inches from Ivory’s face against the invisible barrier. The emitted fireball was swiftly electrocuted into nothingness by Fabian’s magic. Not, Ivory realised, by incoming [Neuroshocks].
Ivory had to smirk. He realised that he was actually going toe-to-toe with him; it wasn’t a complete stomp. He was running out of juice, the same as Ivory. Comparatively, he was doing far worse—he was ground-bound and almost completely spent. Fabian was at least standing.
Wordlessly, Fabian raised his staff into the sky and began gathering his magic towards his final spell. The mana that soaked the air around Fabian began to leech inwards, forming a funnel towards the tip of his staff. It was inefficient; there was mana leaking from the stream, like a pipe with multiple little holes through it.
Ivory’s eyes fluttered, bringing with it a sinking emptiness inside of him. His mana was at its limit.
The orb atop the great staff began to come alive with light. The first syllable of his winning spell left his lips—
“Ouurgh!”
The undignified sound bellowed out of him as Misoe barrelled into his torso. The only thing stopping his coccyx from shattering was his robes enchanted with [Extra Padding].
“M—”
Ivory hacked, unable to form the words. His vision was blurry now, but her mana signature was like a flare in the night, and it was growing bigger, and bigger.
Suddenly his vision returned, and the growing pit in his stomach was replaced with a small well. Misoe, bruised from the powerful [Lightning Bolt], eked out a croak and used the last of her reserves to meekly hover towards the nearest wall.
He looked back at her, the great light now but a dim glint.
“You. Are fucked.”
Rallied, Ivory got up and ran once more at Fabian, hunched over and using his staff to support him.
Adrenaline was coursing through his veins; his [Magical Inspiration] running wild. Ivory dropped his wand as he pulled at his magic, moulding it with chaotic conviction.
“W—[Wall of Earth]...!”
A thick slab of waxy mud rose from the arena floor, as wide as a carriage, completely obscuring Fabian. Ivory kept his pace, waving a hand up in a rushed, pinching motion.
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Fabian was appalled. Disgusted. Ashamed! At this farcical match. That he was brought even vaguely close to defeat was unheard of, and by this little shit? Oh, this wouldn’t stand. No, it will not. It cannot.
He had moments before the brutish [Sorcerer] rounded the corner and showed himself; he’d hobbled back two metres so he could react accordingly to whatever side he chose. That fat little rat looked to be out of commission for good—curse the damn thing—so there would not be any more surprises
Fortunately, victory was assured. [Tondorian Neuroshock] was already loaded and ready to unleash on him.
Whooooooosh.
Fabian’s head snapped around, muttering an oath from his homeland, darting his eyes around wildly.
And then he saw, out of the corner of his eye, him. The sound of wet mud preceded Ivory’s appearance atop the [Wall of Earth]. Turbulent wind rolled around his legs, disturbing the liquid earth.
Fabian raised his staff again, attempting to cast the spell again in panic—
Fabian fell backwards under the weight of Ivory’s body; he had slid off the [Wall of Earth] and launched forward with a great kick that hit him squarely in the gut.
The look on his face was, at the time, an intoxicating sight. To see that arrogant prick’s face twist into one of terror almost made it all worth it.
Thwack.
Corina gasped in shock as the briefly known, strange yet pleasant young man began wailing on the prone [Mage]. The speed of his punches weren’t natural, either—a Skill?
One, two, three and four. With each punch, his fists seem to come alight, as if from friction, until his hands were literally on fire. The fourth strike singed Fabian’s bloody mouth; Ivory felt the warm breath from his gargled moans on his fist as he went for a fifth strike, and—
“F—ack!”
Ivory’s hand lost all feeling as a massive jolt of electricity raced up into his hand, grasping him. Fabian’s last ditch attempt against lesser undead worked equally as well against a living foe—a whip of electricity hurled Ivory back, sending him flying through the air. The true use of his barrier.
A cornered beast was a dangerous one, and Ivory didn’t know what other tricks this particularly brutish beast had up his sleeve.
Fabian erected a second [Wall of Earth], sending Ivory into a panic. He had little strength left; the intense physical exertion, strengthened by his on-the-spot spellcasting, had left him barely enough power to blink.
That now-familiar feeling of wretched exhaustion began to rush through his system. Before a great tsunami came the recession of water as a portent—this was that portent.
With it came a sudden flash of memory: the crack of lightning, the rush of air, and the thump. Tears began to pool in the corner of his eyes.
Then the ire. Ivory flexed his hand, employing a magic that he’d not yet used in earnest since he first discovered it. Blood—Fabian’s—began to pool in his palm, like streams feeding into an ominous pond.
Unlike in the past, his mind was working on not only instinct, but experience. Ivory conjured a singular ghostly ball of fire… and squeezed his hand shut, with all his might. The last ounce of castable mana burned in his hand, a mix of cold heat and emotion.
The feeling lasted barely a few seconds. Ivory squinted his eyes to reset his vision and exhaled a breath he didn’t realise he had held. What did I do? Did it work? Is Fabian—
“No,” a wobbly voice called out.
Ivory was, again, unable to move much of his body; the adrenaline had faded. The sound had come from his opponent’s direction.
“I don’t care. No, stop. They have no—stop!”
The last word was uttered through gritted teeth, and charged highly with feeling.
“My e—aaaaahhhhh! Get it off!”
A harrowing, ear-piercing howl followed; it was a sound Ivory had never heard before.
Victor: Ivory Henderson.
Fabian’s howl dropped several octaves, sounding now like an aggressive, brutish snarl, interspersed with loud breaths.
Ivory, now, had the strength to turn his body to see Fabian on his hands and knees, glaring hell at him. He turned around to see that Misoe was no longer sitting in the corner; she had at some point returned back up to the stands, in the loving embrace of Nozumu. Must have been in the rules.
“You! Again!” Fabian screamed, scrambling upright to challenge Ivory again. He turned up and exchange a wordless glance to Nozumu, who nodded—and Ivory bolted for the exit.
“Get back here and fight fairly, coward!”
Ivory turned his head at the sad excuse of a man coming towards him, and then shifted his gaze a few degrees upwards. He whispered into his palm and blew softly into it, as one might do to a far-away lover with a kiss. This perturbed Fabian, who stopped suddenly upon feeling the weak magic fly overhead.
Fabian turned around and looked up at his master, Magus Rendon, the recipient. The [Word on the Wind] touched his outstretched claw and snaked up his body and dissipated beside each of his ear holes. This is what he heard:
“You can your minion can get absolutely fucked.”
A wand whizzed through the the door to the combatant’s arena; it slammed shut moments later, the remnants of laughter petering out.